#black fanfiction writers

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Honestly, it is a necessity more than ever nowadays for Black women fic writers to create. We aren't getting the real life media content we deserve. All these fine and talented Black women and men out here never being paired TOGETHER in interesting projects across various genres? A travesty. Please write that Blackety Black fic. Throw in whatever tropes you want. See your fellow Black writers creating similar stories on the TL? Who cares?! You are providing a gift that readers want and buying time for another writer to finish a story. No Black reader has ever said, "Damn, too many Alex Cross, Terry Richmond, Killmonger, whoever fics out here doing whatever." Black fic writers are such a small percentage in fandom writing that every story is an important patch to our collective quilt. Write that shit. Even if you think no one is reading it. I promise, somebody in the world quietly is, and they are grateful to see you post or update. Write for yourself so you can read your own words. I write for myself all the time because I rarely see stuff I want in the world. The world is anti-Black, but I'm creating pro-Black worlds. I get stoked when you are, too, like we're the Dora Milaje of fic writing. Thank you for coming to my Black Fic Writer Ted-Talk.

Write when you can. Post when you can.

[thewavesofmel]

Can I just say how much I love and appreciate black fanfic writers?

You all are so talented, creative, and bring your writing to life in such an incredible way. I feel lucky to witness the writing you all share with everyone. As a fellow black fanfic writer, you all inspire me so much and help to give me the motivation to keep writing

And the black fanfic writers that write reader insert fics with a black reader? I love you all so much! As a black reader your reader inserts you all make me feel special, wanted, and SEEN

Black fanfic writers are awesome!

[innorality]

you find their dickpic in your camera roll

contains : gojo, geto, toji (nothing too crazy just suggestiveness lol) also this is very lazy sorry guys,,,,,,

[nyxunderwood]

there is no better feeling than converting a complete stranger to your favourite rarepair ship. welcome to a life of suffering and deprivation, my friend. this must be what cult leaders feel like.

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[greengoblinswifey]

Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

[blackynsupremacy]

idgaf about what’s canon, if you want to romantically write them to be with a black girl, do it!

[ticifics]

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞

── sirius black x f!reader

Summary: “You know what's funny?" His voice is low, drawling, like a secret whispered against your wrist. "What?" Your own voice trembles. "I swear my plan was just to make you sleep." His teeth graze your skin lightly. "But you're not helping, doll." Warnings: language, est. relationship, suggestive, love bites, no use of y/n, the marauders' reaction when they saw that you spent the night in the boys' dormitory. A/N: sirius' m.list is my oldest draft (from early december), but only now have I dared to do something with it, I hope it didn't turn out too bad <33

Your footsteps on the stone staircase barely make a sound as you climb toward the boys' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower. The castle is drowned in the silence of the early hours, and the only light illuminating your path comes from the weakly dancing flames in the common room fireplace far below.

You've been here before. Many times. The path to him is as familiar as Sirius himself.

Reaching the top of the staircase, you push the door open slowly, slipping into the dark room. The air is thick with the dormitory’s woody scent and something unmistakably his—a mix of leather, smoke, and Sirius.

The other boys sleep deeply, their steady breathing filling the space. But your gaze is drawn to the bed at the far end, where crimson curtains are partially parted, revealing a cascade of black hair spread across the pillow.

Sirius lies on his side, one hand tucked under his face, his breathing slow and deep. The moonlight slipping through the window cracks casts a silver glow over him, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the soft shadows beneath his closed eyes, the dark hue of his long lashes against his pale skin.

You move closer, soundless, kneeling beside his bed. Your heart pounds in your chest as you lightly trace your fingers over his arm, the tip of your nail grazing the warmth of his skin.

"Sirius..." your voice is barely a whisper.

He stirs, frowning slightly before his eyes slowly flutter open. Sleep-clouded gray meets yours, and a shadow of a smile tugs at his lips.

"Ah," his voice, rough and drowsy, slides through the silence like a secret. "So my imagination has finally materialized into flesh and bone?"

His lazy, slightly teasing tone sends warmth flooding through your chest. You smile softly. "If you're dreaming of me, then your imagination is terribly dull."

Sirius lets out a short chuckle, rolling onto his back and stretching an arm toward you. "Since you're already here, come on."

You don’t hesitate. The bed creaks slightly as you slide in, molding yourself against the warmth of his body. Sirius shifts to make space, pulling the curtains closed around you both with a lazy flick of his wand before murmuring a silencing charm. The world outside disappears.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his bare chest. The heat of his skin is comforting, and you can feel the slow, drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, his lips brushing the top of your head.

You shake your head against him, feeling the movement of his smile before you even see it.

"Lucky me, then."

"Why?"

"Because now I have an excuse to do this." His fingers trail idly up your arm, skimming over your shoulder, your neck, until finally threading into your hair. He plays with the strands absentmindedly while his other arm tightens around your waist, as if making sure you won’t slip away.

You sigh, sinking further into him.

Sirius tilts his head, pressing his lips lightly to your forehead for a lingering moment, his breath warm against your skin before he murmurs:

"Want me to tell you a story?"

You lift your face to look at him. "Since when do you tell stories?"

He shrugs, a lazy glint in his eyes. "Since now. I have a very selective and highly demanding audience to entertain."

You laugh softly but nod. "I do."

Sirius thinks for a moment, his gray eyes lost in the shadows of the bed canopy. Then, in a deliberately dramatic tone, he begins:

"Once upon a time, there was a great hunter in the sky. He was strong, invincible, arrogant as hell, but handsome enough to make up for it—"

"This is about Orion, isn’t it?"

"Hey, who’s telling the story here?"

You smile, resting a hand on his chest. "Go on, then."

Sirius clears his throat theatrically. "As I was saying, Orion was a legendary hunter. But he was also a little impulsive—and pissed off powerful people, which, let’s be honest, is a familiar trait."

The implication in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. You smile against his skin, feeling Sirius's muscles relax beneath your fingers.

"He boasted that he could defeat any beast on Earth," Sirius continues, lowering his voice to a deep whisper. "And the gods, being the bastards they are, didn’t like that. So they sent a scorpion to kill him. And just like that, the invincible hunter fell."

He pauses, his eyes locked onto yours.

"But the gods placed him in the sky," he finishes softly. "A bright constellation, never to be forgotten."

The silence between you is filled only by the sound of your soft breaths and the slow beat of Sirius’s heart under your palm.

"Tragic," you murmur.

Sirius smiles faintly. "All the best stories are."

You watch his face in the dark, the soft fall of his dark hair over his eyes, the strong line of his jaw softened by the dim light. He looks caught between two worlds—one where he is Sirius Black as everyone knows him, and another where it’s just you and the way he melts into you.

You touch his face lightly, letting your thumb graze the curve of his mouth. "If you were a constellation, which one would you be?"

His lips part slightly under your touch, something warm flickering in his gaze.

"If I could choose..." he murmurs, "any one that’s next to you in the sky."

Your heart clenches.

Sirius seems to notice, because he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss, as if trying to trap the feeling of you here, as if trying to make this moment eternal.

And in a way, it is.

The kiss starts soft. The kind of kiss Sirius gives when he wants to savor, when he wants to feel. But there’s something about you—the way your fingers tangle in his hair, the way your body molds against his, the way your lips return to his without a shred of hesitation—that makes him lose his patience.

The sound he makes against your mouth is deep, almost a low, satisfied purr, and then the softness dissolves. His hands tighten on your waist before sliding up your back, pulling you closer. You feel the tension in his muscles beneath your fingers, his breath becoming more uneven against yours.

Sirius kisses like it’s hunger.

And you surrender.

You get carried away.

Your bodies fit together in an almost desperate way, his hands traveling up your neck, into your hair, his fingers firm against your skin, as if he wants to memorize you. He takes your mouth with more insistence now, deepening the kiss in a way that makes it hot, consuming.

When you let out a quiet moan against his lips, Sirius exhales an almost exasperated sigh and flips you over in one swift motion, pinning you beneath him. His weight is comfortable, warm, and you feel every inch of him against you.

Sirius' gray eyes gleam in the dark, intense, hungry. He leans down, brushing the tip of his nose along your jaw, trailing slowly down your neck, letting his breath warm your skin. A shiver runs through you.

"You know what's funny?" His voice is low, drawling, like a secret whispered against your wrist.

"What?" Your own voice trembles.

"I swear my plan was just to make you sleep." His teeth graze your skin lightly. "But you're not helping, doll."

The shiver rolls down your spine even before you feel the first bite.

Sirius presses his mouth to your neck, sucking slowly before biting—not hard enough to hurt, but enough that tomorrow, you’ll see the marks and remember exactly how they got there.

You cling to him, fingers digging into his bare back, feeling the satisfied chuckle he lets out against your collarbone before biting there too, as if he’s claiming you, leaving his signature on your skin.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he trails his lips up to your jaw, then back to your mouth. The kiss now is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the effect he has on you.

Then, as abruptly as he started, Sirius stops.

His lips still brush against yours, but he doesn’t push forward. His breathing is fast, just like yours, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze hazy, intense.

The silence between you is thick, full of everything that doesn’t need to be said.

Then, with a sigh, he lets out a low, husky laugh. "If I keep going, you’ll never sleep."

He doesn’t pull away completely, but you feel the weight of his restraint in his shoulders when he closes his eyes for a moment, controlling his breathing.

Your fingers touch his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the tension beneath his warm skin.

Sirius opens his eyes again, and there’s something so devastatingly intense in them that your heart clenches.

He gives you a faint smile, lips still a little swollen. "You’re killing me, you know that?"

You smile back, sliding your arms around his neck. "If it’s any consolation… we’re dying together."

Sirius lets out a short laugh, then kisses your forehead and pulls you against his chest.

"Now sleep, my love." His voice is low, laced with the sleep that’s finally catching up to him.

Sirius' body is a warm shelter against yours, his chest rising and falling steadily as he holds you tightly, but not trapping you. He lazily runs a hand up and down your back, tracing invisible patterns with his fingertips, the touch so tender it makes your heart ache.

"Breathe with me," he murmurs into your hair, his voice still thick with sleep.

You obey, inhaling when he does, exhaling in the same rhythm. His chest vibrates against you when he lets out a contented sigh, and then, in a tone so soft it feels meant just for you, Sirius starts to hum.

The melody is gentle, little more than a low, resonant hum against your ear. He doesn’t sing words, just lets the sound fill the space between you, as if he’s lulling you into a song only he knows.

And it works.

Your muscles slowly relax, your eyes grow heavy, and the last thing you feel before finally slipping into sleep is the warm press of Sirius' lips against your forehead.

Morning arrives lazily, with the sun filtering through the heavy curtains and spreading a golden glow across the room. You're still deeply asleep, nestled against Sirius' chest, while he rests his hand possessively on your back, his fingers lazily curled in the thin fabric of your blouse.

Sirius is awake, but he doesn’t move. He just stays there, watching the way your relaxed face looks even more beautiful in the soft light, the way your breath against his collarbone sends shivers down his skin.

He could stay like this all day.

Unfortunately, the world has other plans. The bed curtain is abruptly yanked aside.

"WHAT THE F—"

"Shhh! For Merlin's sake, James!"

Potter’s shout barely has time to echo through the room before it's interrupted by the urgent whispers of Remus. Sirius narrows his eyes, irritated.

"Fuck off, James, shut up," he grumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

James raises his hands in surrender, but his eyes are still wide as he stares at the scene before him. Remus just rubs his face, exhausted before the day even begins.

Peter, who has just lifted his head from the pillow, gapes and immediately looks anywhere but at the two of you. "Merlin!" he murmurs, his skin flushing instantly.

Sirius, now burying his head against your neck, lets out a low chuckle. He moves just enough to pull the blanket over his body, not because he wants to hide the marks—he’s actually completely satisfied with how they look—but because he prefers no one else sees them.

James, standing at the foot of the bed with his glasses askew and a scandalized look on his face, points an accusing finger. "Those are marks, Sirius!"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Do you really have to shout about it? Fuck, she’s still sleeping."

"It’s impressive! You were irresponsible!"

"I was passionate," Sirius corrects, a cheeky smile forming on his lips.

Remus, who’s seen worse, just lets out a sigh. "Can we at least pretend to be adults?"

Sirius shrugs, lazily looking at them before simply pulling you a little closer against him.

"You guys talk too much in the morning," he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

James grimaces. "I’m going to puke."

"Then puke outside."

Peter makes a muffled sound, clearly too embarrassed to contribute to the conversation.

Remus, always practical, crosses his arms and watches Sirius with an unreadable look. "You’re a shameless dog."

Sirius grins—a lazy, insolent smile that clearly says no, he definitely isn’t ashamed.

"Guilty," he says, his voice drawling.

James shakes his head, frustrated. "Merlin, Black. Could you at least try to look sorry?"

Sirius just smiles more.

And then, in an absurdly possessive gesture, he lowers his face and places a lazy kiss on your exposed shoulder, as if wanting to make it clear to everyone that yes, the marks are his, and yes, he wears them proudly.

"Now, if you don’t mind," he says, pulling the blanket over both of you and closing his eyes again, "get out of here before I get even more graphic."

James lets out a horrified grunt.

Peter rushes to grab his things and leave.

Remus just sighs, clearly used to this.

And Sirius, satisfied with himself, settles back against you, completely ignoring the chaos he’s caused.

[henneseyhoe]

Sunshine

Aaron Pierre x BLACK!FEM!Reader

ORDER:Coffee (Smut) Tea (Fluff), Strawberry Cheesecake (Hair Pulling) , Jelly Filled Donut (Creampie) , Vanilla Beignet (Blind To Love) and a Brownie (Sunny vs Grumpy) served by Terry Richmond.

SUMMARY: Shitty jobs are made worth it cause pretty, funny girls exist!(ig idk chile)

The Bakery<3

✮✮✮✮

“How the hell do you deal with that?”

Was what people would ask Terry when they saw you two together. You were loud, anyone could hear your laugh from miles away and your smile radiated bright happiness that annoyed most, especially in your field of work. You were enthusiastic about nearly everything, seeing the bright side to dark situations that some just couldn’t bear. Maybe that’s why Terry held onto you the way he did. He even gave you the nickname ’Sunshine’ to show.

Everything that was listed, he indeed was not. He was not happy go lucky, he was not enthusiastic about things he had to do and he definitely wasn’t looking on the bright side, for reasons that could probably be justified.

When he was happy, it was mostly because of you. You were best friends (or he was definitely YOUR best friend) and working together in close proximity made it so much easier for Terry to get use to you. It was hard for Terry not to crack a smile when you were constantly in a good mood, bouncing off the walls. You found the spots in him that were soft and poked at them until he gave in, you learned his humor and kept him laughing when he didn’t want to.

He couldn’t lie, he was growing accustomed to being with you, he could even say he loved having you around (he would probably never say that out loud) . He just couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest when you were near, butterflies in his stomach when you made eye contact with him. Little did he know, you felt the same.

Your heart beat down on your rib cage faster than it was on your first mission. You loved a challenge, and Terry was exactly that, testing your abilities to be professional, dangerous, light on your feet, but also keeping your brand of being the happy person you were.

Whenever Terry came into work, even if it was just to train, you were up in his face cracking jokes like you hadn’t just ran two miles. Of course because he was a rank higher than you, he use to send you on about your way the first few times, a little annoyed with your presence and attitude until realizing he couldn’t get rid of you even if he tried. You were everywhere and the crew was slowly growing a liking to you too.

You were like a leech, as he would describe. A cuddly and cute one, but a leech nonetheless.

Coming up on the date of the official homecoming for soldiers, it was time to head back to your respective states and you offered Terry a day to spend with just the two of you, enjoying the scenery of downtown and all it had to offer..as friends, Which he accepted after a huff (which was obviously faked, his ass was happy you asked) . Somehow, Terry found himself not wanting to leave when night had came. Something he had NEVER felt before, and he hated it. He hated that he knew it was because of you too, nothing else. Hell, he didn’t even like the state he was in, he was ready to go when he landed.

Babysitting a beer in your hand, you two sit close around the fireplace of your apartment, or what was yours till tomorrow.

“Feel like we been here forever” He breaks the silence, sipping on his drink while staring at the flicker of the fire in front of you both.

You shrug.

“It kinda has been? Seven months, two weeks, five days, and 21 hours is a long time!” You nod, Terry giving you a look before stifling out the chuckle he tried so hard not to free. You smile, satisfied at how easy it was to make him laugh now.

“So!…You ready to go home to the missus?”

Terry raises a brow, swallowing the bitter drink in his mouth. “Missus?”

You hum, waiting for an answer, but he never confirmed.

“Yeah. I mean, you never said anything about a wife or a kid, but I just assumed-“

“Never said because I don’t have” He interrupts, laughing. He couldn’t even imagine what about him gave husband. He didn’t wear a ring, on the right finger at least, and he thought the flirting he did confirmed him to be single already..Or what he thought was flirting. The making sure you ate and drank every day and teasing about how many push ups you could do didn’t really connect the dots for you. You were looking for a more forward approach considering he was a blunt man.

“What the hell about me made you think I was married with a kid?”

You laugh along with him to save yourself the embarrassment. Truthfully, you asked on purpose to see if he was single or not. To your surprise, no one had snatched him up yet.

“I-…I don’t know. I just see a nigga like you and just expect it” You respond, the palms of your hands already sweating. Your body was once again defying you, you felt like you were in highschool again.

Terry’s laugh shrunk until it was no more and his eyebrows rose at your statement. “A nigga like me?”

“…Yeah. Ya know…” You trail off, shyly looking away. By now regret had already set in your stomach for bringing up shit and snooping in his business. It would have been easier to search his name in the database and read his files, keeping your stalker shit on the low.

“Hm…Elaborate, sunshine. I wanna know what that mean” He presses, his squinted eyes searching for yours, but you refused to give in and see what may have been rejection.

“Look” You huff, shaking your head. “I just mean…You are a very handsome man, and I expected you to be…spoken for? Can you even say spoken for when talking about a man?”

You both laugh, but tension was still thick in the air, you just didn’t know what kind of tension it would turn to. Whether sexual or awkward tension, your nerves were getting worse by the second.

Terry on the other hand seemed cool as a cucumber, his tongue subtly tracing the rim of his beer bottle as he thought to himself before taking his last drink, finishing the beverage off.

“I don’t think so, but still. I appreciate that…so”

“So…”

He tilts his head. You could see it all from your peripheral view. His strong presence demanded attention from you. It was like that while working and it happened to never change outside of it.

“You aren’t spoken for?” He asks, his shoulder softly bumping yours to pull an answer quicker.

You shake your head, simultaneously setting down your bottle.

“Not since a year ago. Maybe if it was possible to pack a niggas dick with you when you leave for work, it wouldn’t be inside your bestfriend, right?”

“…You shittin’ me?” He leans, almost shocked that anyone would dare to cheat on you. Not only because of the person you were on the inside, but also because you could be classified as a high threat even while ass naked. That’s just the type of woman he wouldn’t cross, even at his rank.

“Nope, deadass”

“Damn..” He mumbles. “Whatever nigga out here silly enough to let little miss sunshine walk the earth without being right behind her need his ass beat. Shit, i’ll do it for you actually”

You giggle. “You’re silly”

“Nah, I’m serious”

Who knew that conversation alone would end with you getting ate out by someone you considered a friend, someone who you looked up to just a little, someone who just admitted he’d fuck somebody up for you…maybe giving it up was justifiable.

On the couch with your legs spread to each side, you forced yourself to open your eyes and bask in reality as Terry began the journey of taking you apart and putting you back together again. He placed soft kisses around your lips and on your clit before he licked long strings from your entrance, then sucked, earning a soft gasp from you.

His hands gripped your thick thighs while holding them apart, his strength not allowing you to hide from him at all. He wanted to taste all you had to offer, his tongue doing all the hard work slithering inside of your warm walls as his nose nudged your clit. You tensed up with every nudge, watching as he freely put his face in it. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of you, your pussy glistening like he just doused you in oil.

“Look at that, mmm” There was a grumble that came deep from within his throat. His green eyes on you made it so hard not to be bothered even with him not doing anything, your poor clit jumping with excitement as he spread your lips open.

“She happy to see me, huh?”

You moan and nod eagerly, bringing your hand to your mouth to suck on a finger. Terry smiles at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He just wanted to bite you all over.

“Yeah, I know. When the last time you had some?”

“I-I don’t remember” And you truly couldn’t. Nothing worth remembering.

“Yeah? Imma make sure you remember this shit” He ends off with a bite to your thigh, almost as if he was warning you for what’s to come before he dove back into your heat, slurping up your soaked clit. Your belly was doing summersaults, you could barely contain your volume. It seemed Terry didn’t care about his.

When he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned. He was having just as much fun as you.

Your legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, your hands gripping onto the top of his white tank since that was all you had to hold on to after he practically ripped your oversized shirt off of you beforehand, and you feared ruining the couch if you got to pulling on it.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m so close” You struggled to keep your eyes on him even with his staring back up at you, low lidded and dark. They beckoned you to stay, but pleasure had came rolling through like natural disaster and wiped all thought from your brain, leaving you a shaking, blubbering mess.

His mouth pulled off of you and his hand moved in place of it, rubbing your clit in tight circles.

“Feel it, baby. Let it happen” He coos as you fight against his hand, thighs closing around his wrist which he just smacked away and kept at it until he felt he was done.

“Stop moving, let that shit happen, baby”

You felt like you were literally about to float to heaven, back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

“Okay! Fuck!”

He moves his hand and allows you to go through the motions, twitching until that special feeling left your center. “Good job, pretty girl” A kiss from him was placed beside your opened mouth as heavy breathing left you.

He gave you time to recover while undressing himself, items of clothing fluttering to the ground until he was in nothing but his shorts.

Your eyes never left his length as it bobbed out of the bottoms. You hadn’t even noticed there was nothing under the shorts till now..So all of that print you were eyeing was all him. He was nothing little, nothing that you had ever seen before and it almost made you ask if that was all of it, hoping he had added something extra, if possible. You wanted to taste him, to lick up the dribbling precum from his tip and test if you could take him in your mouth first, but Terry desperately wanted to be inside you. You protested, pulling him in and stroking his shaft to solicit him into going your way, but he was stern, nearly completely ignoring your advances and lifting you to your feet.

You yelped, legs wobbly from your first orgasm, but you had no need to worry about falling because you were lifted off of your feet as fast as you got on them.

“D-don’t drop me!”

You begged, holding onto him while he bounced you to catch you in the right position to fuck you good, your legs swinging over his arms and his hands cupping your soft ass.

“I gotchu, baby”

He reassured as he kisses your lips. You could smell and taste yourself all on him, slightly sweet and herbal from the beer. All while sucking on his tongue, you felt the tip of him swipe against your entrance, your heart beating so hard in your chest that you were convinced he could hear it, and it was the same for him. He couldn’t wait to feel you, to be connected in other ways than just conversation and friendship. He longed to know what it would be like, and when he got a taste, there was no turning back from then on. Not that he would want to, anyway.

There was no way you were getting away from him. You were strong, but Terry was strong. The man trained relentlessly and always being on his toes payed off at work and apparently in the bedroom too.

Your thighs ached with a burning sensation as he bounced you on his long dick effortlessly, the tip of him kissing your cervix ever so slightly, but he knew good enough not to hit it dead on, fearing hurting you in the process. You appreciate the thoughtfulness, seeing as you were already losing the part of your brain that made thought out decisions.

“So fucking deep!”

You cried out weakly, nails scratching down his broad shoulders, creating red streaks he’d try to hide with a long sleeve the morning after, the feeling of you still dancing on his tongue as he got dressed. He grunts, palms squeezing the fat of your ass as his pace never seemed to falter. He was determined to get you there. To feel you cum around his dick so hard that the neighbors would wonder if you were hurt, that they would think about calling the cops just to check on you.

“Cmon, baby. You a big girl, take this dick like I know you can” He encouraged you sweetly, voice unshaken and stable as if the ribbon of release in the pit of his stomach wasn’t threatening to come undone, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

It wasn’t long until he decided to change the position and lay you on your stomach instead, a soft pillow placed underneath your hips to make sure you could meet his height and your ass stayed up right for him. Before he entered back into your warmth, he took his time to spread your cheeks and licking up whatever your pussy had started to drip, earning whiny, pathetic mewls from you.

He licked from your clit to the winking rim of your asshole, the tip of his tongue circling around it before going back down to your sensitive bud, teasingly suckling on it softly.

You drooled into your sheets. You knew you looked so damn stupid right now, but you couldn’t help it with how he was turning you every way but loose.

“Taste so fucking good”

He says from behind you, fully standing now with a hand in your silk press and the other laid directly in the middle of your back to help that arch. He didn’t even have to guide his dick into you, you were so wet and open for him already that all he did was wind his hips back to line up with you and push forward.

You could swear your breath was being sucked out of your lungs with each inch he dropped into you. It felt so good that you could almost ignore him pulling on your hair, forcing your head back to meet him for a slow, nasty kiss.

“Fuck- My hair, Terry!” You whined against his plump lips, one of your hands reaching for his wrist, but the tugging only made it worse for you. The sharp stinging in your scalp oddly satisfied something within you, your clit twitching at the newfound feeling.

“Fuck it. I’ll pay for it” He grunts, his teeth tugging at the bottom of your lip.

You both kissed with teeth and all as he fucked you, your ass loudly clapping back on his toned body with every thrust. He felt every motion of it, the waves clashing with his hips so mesmerizing that he couldn’t help but wanna stare.

As he pulled away from your lips, he opted to grab a hold of your throat instead, your moans immediately getting caught.

He made sure to grab you by the part where it was safe to hold, safe enough to where you could still breathe a little, but still got the sensation to feel held.

“Why-“ You managed to choke out, yet you couldn’t finish a sentence.

He cracked an almost cocky smile then moaned out a curse, his dick violently throbbing inside of you and reaching beyond what you thought was gonna be his limit.

“Why what? Spit it out, ma” He teased, his low cut nails almost scratching up the side of your throat when his thrusts got more fluid, the man putting way more wine into every collision.

You began to cry out, him muffling them slightly by letting go of you and pushing your head down into the bed. He only fucked you harder when your arch fell with your hips, your legs giving out as your pussy cried right along with you.

This position had you feeling everything. From the tip of him grazing your gspot to the veins that traveled up his dick and massaged your walls, giving you texture that you never felt before.

Him demanding a word out of you was like speaking to a brick wall. You had already came without warning, now you were just wetting up the sheets with incoherent words spilling from your mouth. He imagined you fucked out under him like this plenty of times before but he never knew it’d feel and look this good.

“Shit! Keep doing that and imma cum” He warns, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to feel him fill you up to the point you were leaking. You began purposely clenching around him, the first squeeze prompting him to lay a smack on your ass, and the second one making his hips stutter against you. He could feel himself becoming lighter, a swirl of heat blooming in the bottom of his stomach.

“Nut in this pussy, baby. Let me feel it, please” You begged hopelessly, doing your best to keep a good hold on his dick until he released with a loud groan, grinding his hips into your ass. You could feel each and every spurt of his cum being released inside you, warmth and fullness is what laid in the bottom of your belly.

“Mmm, fuck” His hips bucked one last time before he was pulling out with a grunt, large hands gripped on your ass and spreading you apart to see what he had done to you.

“So pretty. Push it out” He demanded, and you abided by it, pushing his cum out of you until you no longer felt full.

✮✮✮✮

💌- I’m criiine, this was supposed to be a headcannon too- LMFAOAOA. and yall wonder why i take so long, lawd. i told yall, i cannot do shit right smh. Anyway! i hope you liked this, homegirl 😭 i also managed to get this out before my first college class so hallelujah! *does ring shout*. also this was the longest smut i wrote in a whiiile lmfao. a whole 3k+ words so yaaay! eb clap for henny and wish her luck on this class 😋

[allaboutlov3]

I can’t stop thinking about the discussion James and Regulus must have had when Harry was sorted into Gryffindor. James would smirk at Regulus for a looooong time.

But oh how sweet Regulus comeback was when Harry was chosen as seeker for the quidditch team.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

The One That Got Away

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): Angst, Explicit Sex, Sad Girl Romance, Break-Ups & Reconciliations

Summary: After globetrotting as a digital nomad for three years, Michaela Maxwell returns to her hometown and meets the man of her dreams in a soldier named Terry Richmond. The only problem is, dreams happen when one is asleep to the truth. In Michaela's case, she wakes up to the sad reality that Terry won't really be the happily-ever-after she desires if he cant let go of a past love.

Word Count: 9.5K

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm gonna tell you 'bout

One of the many men, name is irrelevant, height is irrelevant

He was a one out of a ten, I wish that I knew it then

I'm still recovering

Truly, I'm vulnerable, I love a sentiment

Quickly I opened up, I learned my lesson then

Thought I was safe again, thought he was innocent

I was so wrong"

Raye – "Oscar Winning Tears"

He came back to his place later than she expected.

The Super Bowl had ended hours ago, and instead of hitching a ride back with his cousin, Terry had taken a Lyft. She waited for him in his apartment dressed in a sexy strawberry colored push-up bra and thong set.

Lounging on his bed, she listened to him use his key to get in and his cell rang. He answered, but it was difficult to make out exactly who called him. His voice sounded tired, and he ended the conversation with, "We can talk tomorrow."

He dragged into the bedroom, and his eyebrows rose.

"Surprise," Michaela said.

Her boyfriend of nearly a year stared at her and smiled. But the smile didn't reach all of his face. Especially his eyes. He recovered quickly though, and took off his Eagles football jersey, jeans, and the rest of his clothes. Climbing into the bed next to her, he admired her underwear and rubbed on her booty absentmindedly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"The Eagle's lost."

"Aw, sorry babes."

"Maybe next year we'll get that ring."

His voice sounded sad, but not because of the football game. She stroked the perfect waves in his hair and kissed his luscious lips. He held her, and his affections turned to nibbling on her ear.

She didn't know it was the beginning of the end.

Michaela Maxwell spent three fruitful years traveling the globe as a digital nomad, creating content for three travel websites while also house-sitting in exotic locations such as Costa Rica, Mallorca, and Belize. By the time she returned to her hometown in Louisiana, she was ready to settle down in a familiar place for at least a year before she was ready to fly the coop again.

Her parents loved this of course, and her mother, a choir director, even got her back to church singing. She found a tiny studio apartment that would allow her to coast financially until she was ready for more travel.

Standing in line at a Starbucks, she fingered the silver compass necklace her father gave her when she first left the country after graduating from college. On the back of the necklace, he had a Henry Miller quote inscribed for her, "One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."

She ordered a slice of lemon pound cake and a matcha green-tea latte, and when she tapped her phone against the scanner to pay, the app didn't work. Trying again and failing, her jaw tightened. She had no cash or cards because she hadn't taken a purse with her when she went out to jog that morning. Now she was holding up the line.

A large hand reached forward, holding a debit card toward the cashier.

"I got it," a deep tone said.

Michaela glanced at the face attached to the hand and let out a breath.

The sexiest-looking man she had ever seen in the states for a long time stared back at her with a grin. He wore military fatigues and had the lightest eyes whose color she couldn't discern in the light. They could've been green, or gray…maybe even blue if she squinted.

"I left my house without my purse," she said.

It was obvious from her skin-tight mint-blue jogging outfit and smartphone in hand that she had nothing else to pay with.

"If you hang here for a minute, I can get you the money."

"Don't worry about it. Pay for someone else next time," he said.

"Thanks a lot."

Michaela moved down to the waiting area for her items and watched the stranger order strong coffee and a danish.

That's how she met Terry Richmond.

On a clear spring morning, with her long hair freshly cornrowed in six braids down her back and decorated with six huge silver hoops, she left Starbucks with a smile on her face, thrilled there were some good-looking men in town.

It was only six degrees of separation, meeting him again at a barbecue. Her close friend Sandra dated a guy named Mike, who was Terry's cousin.

"Matcha green-tea latte," he said, showing her pearly whites near a food table where guests piled on fried fish and pork ribs.

They only spoke to each other the entire time and exchanged numbers when the sun went down. For the first month, it felt like a whirlwind of dates getting to know each other.

As a marine stationed nearby, he trained soldiers in specialized martial arts and other combat techniques. It afforded him the ability to stay close to his family. Their dates consisted of nice dinners, movies that she wanted to see, and long romantic drives in the country. He was smart, attentive, and a skilled conversationalist. Fascinated with her travels, he spent hours listening to her talk about rainforests in Central America, parasailing in the Caribbean, and nightlife in Spain.

In their second month of dating, he found a new luxury apartment to move into, and Michaela helped him pick out furniture and decorated it with an international flourish. Their friend groups began to overlap, and that's when Michaela suspected him of getting more serious about their relationship. His male buddies adored her, often insisting that she join them on their male outings to bars to watch sports, and to go fishing on a boat one of them owned.

There came a time when she spent more hours in the day at Terry's place than her own studio apartment. He dropped hints of being open to moving in together. Even gave her shelf space in his bathroom cabinet. The apartment had two bedrooms, and he offered the unused one as her temporary office to work on her new venture as a house sitting expert. It was his way of keeping her close to him without rushing her.

His place had a pool, state-of-the-art gym, and a nature walk trail perfect for early morning jogs. Michaela only wanted to date and have fun with Terry. Nothing too serious. She had more traveling to do and different parts of the world to see still. The pressure of a serious relationship was too heavy to pick up at that point in her life.

By then, they started sleeping together regularly, at least three times a week.

The first time they made love, a company had just delivered Terry's brand-new bed, and she had bought him designer sheets as a housewarming gift. They were oyster-blue with an outrageous thread-count that made them buttery soft. She helped him make the king-size bed up with a new blanket and goose-down pillows. They both jumped on the bed and marveled at how comfortable it was. That's when he turned to look at her. Her hair cascaded across her arm and he stroked it like it was expensive silk.

"You are so beautiful, Michaela. What would I do without you in my life?"

Her heart did a happy dance in her chest, and he leaned over and kissed her lips. He undressed her with his eyes first, and her body went limp from the searing gaze of lust that drenched her skin with desire. Terry dragged his index finger up her arm and she would've sworn on a bible that her flesh burst into flames the way he sparked her nerve endings. To have him look at her that way again for the first time!

They'd fooled around before.

Long, slow kisses for hours. Heavy petting. Jerking him off in his two-year-old Honda Civic. Going all the way was inevitable after their first month of sexual touching. They came close once at her place while watching a basketball game. She sat next to him on her couch in a pair of stretchy shorts and he fingered her slowly during commercial breaks, edging her until she nearly peed on herself. Her swollen labia melted under his fingertips and by the time he inserted his digits, moving them slowly in and out, she had tears in her eyes. She turned into a soggy noodle pressed into him. His fingers rubbed on her clit in gentle circles, bringing her orgasm to a raging explosion that had her entire frame throbbing in release. She scooted out of her shorts and panties, only to be disappointed that he didn't have condoms on him. Mentally kicking herself for not re-upping her personal stock after her Gulliver's Travels gallivanting the world, Michaela had to settle for him eating her pussy on the couch, her legs casually thrown over his shoulders and those seductive green eyes daring her to cum in his mouth and all over his lips. She rolled over and tooted her ass out, and Terry licked everything from behind, glossing his full lips until she came again, screaming into the couch cushion.

Their first time was magical in his bed.

"Why are you so wet?" he whispered in her ear.

He lowered his face to her breasts and sucked each nipple until they became perfect pebbles for his tongue to titillate further. His pretty caramel skin looked like a creamy topping against her cherry-brown color.

Returning home had taken an adjustment she hadn't expected, and having Terry in her life smoothed the tensions of small-time life. She'd outgrown her place of birth. He allowed her to tolerate it. Living outside of America showed her its obvious deficits, and Terry reminded her of the good things it still had available…like family.

Michaela grew closer to her parents, especially her father, and re-connecting with childhood friends grounded her to familial life. Singing solo gospel songs in church also brought her back to a spiritual side she'd neglected since leaving home. She started thinking about her future away from traveling, and Terry gave her other fleeting thoughts, too. Like what having companionship with one partner would be like over a length of time in one place. Michaela wasn't itching to settle down, but life handed her the man of her dreams, and it was hard to view Terry as anything less than the best boyfriend she'd ever had.

He still had four years to go before he could leave his military contract, and Michaela imagined taking him to all the places she shared with him through stories and pictures. The hard part of waiting was watching the growth of her business. She wanted to put together two conferences, one in Costa Rica and the other in Spain. That meant time away from Terry to plan and execute. She started getting calls from a travel collective in the U.K. that asked her to be a keynote speaker at a digital nomad event at the end of the year. More time away from Terry.

His kisses strayed down her neck, and she sighed.

"So wet…" he murmured, licking the hollow of her belly button and trailing down between her thighs.

He catered to her clit like it was a queen on her little throne. For what seemed like a teasingly long time, Terry ate her out until her legs shook and she whimpered, "I want more."

She rubbed on his hair, and he left her side to dig his hand inside his nightstand. The gold foil condom ripped easily. He rolled the prophylactic down his girth, pinching the top. She widened her thighs, and he nestled against them, his tip resting at her slick entrance. He kissed her while pushing inside, and they locked eyes. The intensity of their gazes brought forth laughter from both of them, and as he moved in and out, they laughed again at the joy of finally connecting through intercourse.

His dick stretched her out until her eyes wanted to cross. She arched her back to feel the muscles in his chest pressed against her breasts. Her nipples brushed against him, and he moaned at their softness. He lifted her right leg and sank in deeper. The slapping of their bodies created delightful sounds in the bedroom. Her pants and his deep groans in her ear took it to a new level of pleasure. There was no need to switch positions or try any tricks to impress each other. Their joining was enough, and her vaginal walls squeezed him unexpectedly, thrilling even her at the loss of control she experienced under him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting him closer, yearning to keep him next to her like that for hours and hours.

"Shit," he groaned.

His hips pistoned, and the bed thumped under her. The headboard hadn't started smacking the wall yet, but it was close.

"Michaela…fuck…baby…"

He pushed her thighs back, his eyes glued to the sight of his dick taking her down thrust by thrust.

Their foreheads touched. He jammed his fists on the bed, giving her the fucking she deserved. She'd had lovers in every place she stayed overseas, but coming home to a southern man that shared the same culture was exquisite. Caressing his biceps, Michaela submitted to the synergy they created.

"You're beautiful. Look at you Michaela…making me feel so good."

If he talked her all the way through her orgasm, she wasn't aware of it. All she could concentrate on was his Siren eyes boring into her and the fullness of his dick taking her to greater heights physically. Her lips puckered and then she let out a cry as her walls clenched in rapid throbs around him.

"Ohhhhhh!" she shouted.

That's all it took for him to join her. She felt him pulsing inside of her. His body seized up and a loud groan roared out of him. He slammed a hand on the headboard and cursed above her face before grunting and crashing down on her.

She giggled, and he laughed out loud, his deep voice resonating around her like a cape of tenderness in their intimate moment.

Michaela had hoped to experience that type of lovemaking again after the Super Bowl game.

The day of the game she had an online panel to attend for her business coaching Black women to house sit around the world. She missed the Super Bowl game at his friend's house, but promised Terry she'd be at his place afterward to have a little party of their own. He didn't have to go to work the next day, and they planned to brunch and shop for a camping tent.

She pulled out her fancy underwear, plucked and shaved hair from her legs and private area, and prepared to put some sugar on his dick. It was supposed to be an unforgettable night in her mind.

Once he climbed into bed with her, she sensed a change in him.

Terry went through the motions of lovemaking.

It felt good, and she came hard on his dick with his fingers gently touching her clit. However, the passion wasn't at its zenith, as if his mind were elsewhere and not with her.

He fucked her from behind with long strokes, and after he came, he tied off the condom and kissed her forehead. Leaving the bed soaked in sweat, he took a long shower and she tucked the sheets under her chin and tried to fathom what had brought him to a place of disconnect.

They went to brunch at their favorite restaurant, and he picked at his food. Once they bought the tent he wanted, chats of planning a camping trip went by the wayside as he complained of a headache and went to bed to sleep off his unease.

She left his apartment and visited a girlfriend to not waste the rest of the day. Her schedule and his job kept them busy for two days. Until Terry called her to come back to his place before the weekend.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said.

She sat down on his couch, and he paced in front of her. Folding her arms across her chest, she waited for him to speak. He finally sat down next to her.

"My ex was at the Super Bowl party last Sunday," he said.

"Your ex…Eve?"

Michaela tilted her head with her lips already in a defensive pout. He dated Eve two years previously and broke up with her for reasons he never explained. It wasn't her business, so Michaela didn't care. They were getting to know each other, and she'd spoken about her past lovers, too. No big deal.

His eyes were shinier than normal, and her stomach bunched up in a single knot, already knowing the ending before he even foretold it.

"Yeah…it's been a long time since I've seen her…and we talked and …"

He couldn't keep eye contact and flexed the fingers of his right hand nervously. It scared her.

"And? Did you sleep with her or something? Is that why you came home in a Lyft instead of being dropped off by Allen?"

"No. I wouldn't do anything like that. We talked…the entire night."

"All night where?"

"At Dex's."

"Until one in the morning?"

"We weren't alone. Mike was there…a bunch of people stayed to hang out after the game. She and I talked outside in the yard."

"Okay…talked about what?"

Her voice sounded sharp, like broken glass. His eyes kept darting away from looking at her face.

"How we were both doing now. I didn't have to say anything about this, Michaela. I'm telling you because I trust you…I can confide in you about anything on my mind. I've done the same for you. I want to talk about this because it's bothered me all week…seeing her again. All kinds of emotions came back up that I wasn't prepared to deal with. It was the same for her, too. It's been two years and seeing her hurt me…"

He started leaking tears from the corners of his eyes, and Michaela couldn't move or say anything. The man she'd been dating for eight and a half months shed tears for another woman that he left behind.

He wiped his face and sat back on the couch. His eyes still captured her with their intense color. She exhaled and the pain in her stomach grew. Her voice came out shaky and unsure.

"Seeing her hurt you? Why? People run into their exes occasionally. You dumped her, so you weren't happy."

He nodded. His lips parted, and he wiped his face again.

"I wasn't happy. But I cared for her. Leaving wasn't easy for me…I didn't try harder to fix things between us. We weren't getting along and I ended it. That's it. I didn't know I would react this way after seeing her again. I needed to tell you so you'd understand why I've been so distant the past few days."

"Okay. I can understand that."

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Before she could entwine their fingers together, he pulled away and closed his eyes. Eve really had him shaken up.

Michaela stroked his hair, and he stared at the ceiling, relaxing into her touches. More tears ran down his face like silent assassins to her heart.

"She told me she still loves me…misses me."

"What did you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything…I was surprised that she said that."

He finally looked at her. The tears on his face spoke for him.

Michaela bit her bottom lip and fought back the welling of water behind her eyes.

"You still love her?"

"I don't know what I feel…I'm conflicted."

"Conflicted about what? Do you want her back?"

"I don't know what I want."

"Terry, we've been dating for damn near nine months. I'm your girlfriend!"

"And I'm your boyfriend telling you what's on my heart and mind. I talked to my ex, and it affected me. I didn't sleep with her and we had no physical contact, if that's what you're really worried about."

"Yeah? Well, she got to you emotionally, and that feels like the same thing to me right now."

"I came home and made love to you, Michaela. If I wanted to fuck Eve, I could've done that and not said anything if I had that type of dog energy in me."

"Thank you for small favors, asshole!"

Michaela jumped up and grabbed her purse.

Terry tugged on her jacket sleeve and pulled her back toward him.

"Where are you going? I'm sitting here being honest with you about my feelings."

"Basically telling me I was a placeholder this whole time."

"We're having fun and enjoying each other. That's what you wanted, and that's what I want. I thought I could tell you everything going on with me, but clearly that was a mistake."

"Am I lacking something, Terry? Is that why you're so discombobulated with a woman that didn't make you happy?"

"You're perfect."

"Am I?"

"Michaela…please."

"So what now? Do we keep seeing each other or…?"

He stood once he noticed her eyes spilling tears of frustration.

"Michaela, I didn't tell you this to hurt you. I'm confused by all of this inner turmoil. I shouldn't be feeling like this, but I am. Can't help it."

"I don't want to be confused with you."

Terry hugged her and it felt icky. Like he was giving her a consolation hug as the loser. Instead of coming back to her on time, he stayed behind to talk with a woman who didn't see a future with him two years ago.

"Were you thinking about her while you were fucking me last Sunday?"

"Michaela, stop."

She pushed away from him. They faced each other with teary eyes and trembling limbs.

"Where does this go with us? Am I supposed to be with you while you sort out your feelings? Have you spoken to her since then?"

"We talked last night. Briefly. Less than five minutes. She told me it was good seeing me and hoped we could be friends again."

"Are you going to see her again?"

The sight of him blurred in her wet eyes. Her tears fell faster, and her mind couldn't process how to move forward.

"I made a mistake telling you."

"Terry…I'm glad you told me. It's a reality check. But I'm not a third wheel."

She expected him to protest and hug her again. If he had done that, she could've coped and pivoted to another way of handling her emotions.

But he didn't do that.

He stood there silently, his glossy eyes staring into a future without her by his side. The truth was so fucking obvious. Seeing Eve brought on regret for him. He never wanted to leave her.

In that moment, Michaela knew the pain flowing through her was because she loved him. She never said it out loud to him. She'd never been one of those women who fell in love easily. It was a slow trek for her to establish trust and intimacy, and she'd reached that stage with him when it was too late. The sting of losing his full, undivided attention to unfinished relationship baggage hurt. She'd lost him the moment he shared his truth.

"Maybe it's best that we postpone the camping trip this weekend. I have a lot on my mind, and you're busy getting your business up and running," he said.

"So you see your ex, talk to her again, and now our trip is cancelled?"

"Postponed. Not cancelled."

"Why?"

"I told you…I have a lot on my mind, and work is stressing me."

"A trip away is the best thing for stress. Tell me the truth, Terry. You want to think about her without me all up in your face—"

"I'm simply asking for space to think by myself without having to go anywhere or do anything."

"Think about what?! Either you want to be with me or her. Simple!"

He winced at her tone. Those beautiful eyes narrowed with irritation at the sound.

Michaela crumbled on the inside, but she kept her poise on the outside.

"Fuck you," she said.

She pulled his house key off her key ring and tossed it on the couch.

She didn't speak to Terry, nor seem him, for a month.

All of her social media blocked any contact dealing with him. She dropped him like a hot potato and kept it moving. No sense waiting around for him to give her a sad break-up chat of 'It's me, not you'.

His friends reached out, wanting to check on her and wondering why she wasn't around anymore. Terry's best friend Dex even drove over to see her, and she joined him for a coffee chat at the neighborhood Starbuck's, where she first met Terry.

She pumped Dex for information about Eve.

"They were engaged two years ago, and he broke it off."

"Engaged? He never told me that."

"He was embarrassed about it. His family spent a lot of money on their engagement party. Booked them an entire Paris honeymoon in advance. When he ended the relationship, they lost a shitload of money that he paid back."

Dex sipped on a berry refresher drink, his handsome looks attracting attention from bystanders in the coffee shop.

"Why did he leave her?"

"He told me she was immature. Narcissistic. He saw some other things he didn't like after her bridal shower that gave him doubts about them lasting as man and wife. I told him to break it off waaayyyy before he asked her to marry him, but he said he was in love and hoped she'd change."

"I guess she finally changed if he needed to talk to her all night after your party."

"I don't think she's changed at all. In fact, I suspect she only came around because of you."

"Me?"

Dex glanced about and leaned forward in his seat.

"Do you look at his social media? It's just photos of you two and him cheesing like he's won an Oscar for having the coolest girlfriend. Shit, I thought he was going to ask you to be his wife the way he bragged about you to us."

Michaela fiddled with the straw in her iced raspberry tea.

"I don't believe that."

"Eve sure did, because she swooped in on my party as a plus one. She loved him back then, of course, but why show up out the blue now? She saw those happy pictures and all thirty-two of his teeth grinning and didn't like it."

"She can have him because I don't care anymore."

Dex smirked.

"Do you love him?"

She closed her eyes. The first prick of tears spilled out.

"Aw, Michaela…talk to him. Let him know how you feel. He probably thinks you aren't serious about him because you didn't stay and fight for your shit."

"I shouldn't have to fight for him if I was already his."

She wiped the corners of her eyes with a napkin.

"That's not what I meant," Dex said. "Terry likes direct feedback. If you never told him you loved him, he's thinking you just want to keep the relationship casual. Exclusive for sure…but y'know…chill with no pressure."

"He never told me he loved me."

"Perhaps he was going off your vibes. The last woman he said 'I love you' to broke his heart. I'm not trying to make excuses for him, but he's been gun-shy with women. You're the first one he's brought out in two years. That makes you special. I know he showed you how he felt without saying it. If you tell him out loud, he'll snap to attention."

"He should've done it first. I don't want to look like I'm crawling back begging…"

Dex's cell rang on the table. He answered.

"Hey, speak of the devil. What's up, man? I'm chillin'…actually I'm sitting here with Michaela chatting at Starbuck's."

"Bastard!" she hissed.

"Alright, man," Dex said.

He tapped his phone.

"He's down the street and coming over to see you. Now's your chance to tell him how you feel."

Michaela jumped from her seat and cursed him under her breath.

"Being with him should've been enough for him to know. It goes both ways," she said.

"Okay, so you both fucked up by being quiet about the love part."

"Bye Dex."

Michaela shuffled out of the door, fumbling with her purse and jacket. Outside, she rushed down the street, only to see Terry strolling her way. She did a one-eighty in her stride and stomped away in the opposite direction.

"Michaela!"

He called out to her and dashed down the sidewalk to catch up to her. Her building was another block over.

"Wait up…I just want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk, Terry. You should've come home to me, but you still wanted her. Dex told me you were going to marry her—"

"I was—"

"I don't like mess. I don't like exes showing up to throw a wrench in my relationship with you. I don't like that you never told me you loved me—"

"Can we talk inside?"

Seeing him rattled her. His gorgeous face had lines on his forehead from the stress of their uncoupling. Those green eyes threatened to weaken her if she didn't stay strong. The hurting in her chest never went away.

"Are you still talking to Eve?"

"Not really."

"Not really? Either you're talking or you're not."

"We've spoken a few times since you left me."

"Then there's nothing for us to discuss. You made a choice."

"I haven't done anything other than try to figure out why you can't…why you can't…."

"What? Spit it out, for God's sake!"

"I never thought you were this selfish, Michaela. You pretend to be this sophisticated world traveler and you can't even give me space to sort out my shit. I was this close to marrying someone I deeply loved, and it messed me up for a long time to let that relationship go. I beat myself up, wondering why I didn't communicate my unhappiness or frustrations to her sooner, and I promised myself that the next woman I got involved with would never have that problem. But you closed yourself off from me. My honesty hurt you. I can't change that. Running from me isn't going to fix us."

"What was there to fix, Terry?! We were doing fine until she showed up. There's no us if you keep talking to that woman."

"Why are you so threatened by her?"

"If you can't see why, I can't help you."

She pushed past him and headed for her secure building. His footsteps trailed after her. She ran inside her lobby after punching in the code. The heavy glass door slammed in Terry's face.

"Michaela, I did love you…I'm sorry I never said it…I love you…please. Talk to me."

"Go talk to Eve!"

His voice faded as she climbed the stairs to her studio.

Michaela co-chaired a conference in Costa Rica and rekindled her love of travel. A year after leaving Terry, she stayed busy expanding her venture as a self-employed entrepreneur. She found a luxury villa to house-sit for three months back in Mallorca and would use that time as a vacation and a chance to plot her next move.

First, she had to go home to see her parents for a week.

Winters in Louisiana were harsh, and she couldn't wait to get back to the Mediterranean climate she loved.

Sitting in her parent's cluttered dining room, she ate jambalaya, fried chicken steak, and cabbage croquets. She caught up with cousins and siblings and soaked up as much of Louisiana as she could.

She also had an obligation to go to church.

"I need you to cover for Marcus on Friday," her mother said.

"Friday? What's going on Friday?"

"A memorial service for one of our deacons in the church. Deacon Tolliver."

"What song?"

Her mother, Iris, marked a line under a note in her music book on the stand in front of their church's pulpit. The entire Baptist choir of eighty singers took a break to catch their breath.

"'Praise Him in Advance'. Marcus has a sore throat, and I know you got it down front to back. Can you help me with it, baby?"

"Sure."

Michaela took her place at the soloist mic and went through the song twice. It was a regular part of her mother's repertoire, so it wasn't a big deal practicing. Her tone of voice was just as good as Marcus' singing it.

After she finished, she stepped back into the choir pews and played her part with all the altos.

Her mind wandered as her mother's arms waved and dipped, guiding the rich voices.

Word on the street, according to her bestie Sandra — who still dated Mike—Terry went back to Eve about four months after Michaela left town. After hearing that, she made Sandra promise not to tell her anything about that man. He clearly chose who he really wanted, and she'd been correct in feeling like a rebound. Those tears he shed gave the performance of his life, and she was smart not to fall for it.

It tore her up inside knowing Eve was getting good dick, passion, and excitement all wrapped up in a Terry package. No more light-skinned niggas for her. Every single one she ever dated was a problem, and if they were pretty? Forget about it. She should've smacked the shit out of him when she had the chance. The saddest part for her was cutting off all contact with Terry's buddies. She genuinely liked them all. The man had an amazing circle of friends.

Sandra texted her about going out to a movie, and she accepted, only to find out it was a set-up with a co-worker of hers. It pissed her off to be ambushed that way, but Michaela sat through the "Wicked" musical because the man was cute. It became a no-go when he knew all the songs and sang them at the top of his lungs. A fucking theater kid…with great pipes, though.

The day of the memorial, she packed her suitcases with freshly washed clothes to be prepped for an early morning flight to Atlanta. She had a few more friends to see before she left the country again.

Dressed in a stylish indigo dress and her best heels, Michaela fluffed out her hair. She opted to tie it up high to give herself a little oomph. She switched out her hoop earrings for diamond studs and smoothed a fresh tube of bronze lipstick across her lips.

Riding over in her parent's car to church, she received an urgent text message from Sandra.

Michaela threw her phone back inside her purse. She pulled it back out, curious to know how Terry looked after all. Sandra wouldn't have to know she was peeking.

No.

Fuck him still.

But…

She scrolled the old people's social media. Facebook. Hopping onto Mike's page, she checked out his recent photos and found a group one posted six months after she left. Her heart fluttered seeing Terry in a fishing trip photo. He wasn't smiling with teeth, but held a crooked grin. Next to him, with her name tagged, was Eve.

Michaela enlarged the photo.

"She's not even all that cute," she grumbled.

"You say something, baby?" Iris said from the front seat.

"Talking to myself, Momma."

Eve was bottom heavy in her shorts and wore too much make-up for a fishing trip in the raging sun. Her twist out hair looked nice. She was nearly the same skin-tone as Michaela with a wide, flat face that reminded her of bread dough ran over twice with a rolling pin.

She wondered what went wrong this time. That thought paused her. What difference did it make?

It must have meant something because she thought about Terry while walking into the church, which someone had decorated with bright blue and white flowers. This wasn't a funeral, but a celebration of life. The sanctuary pews were slowly filling up, and Michaela followed her mother and the rest of the choir through a side hallway. They weren't wearing choir robes because the family requested they all don Deacon Tolliver's favorite color. All shades of blue surrounded Michaela. They looked like a pretty winter bouquet.

Her purse vibrated. She ignored Sandra's new message and silenced her phone with a quick swipe of her finger and hung up her coat. Pastor Greene looked out upon the flock and began speaking words of comfort as the choir waited to begin their processional from the side wing.

Would it hurt to see him? It had been a little over a year since she had flounced away from him. He could see how fabulous she looked and hopefully he'd regret losing her this time.

Michaela strode in from her position on the line and sang an upbeat song with the choir to stir up the congregation with feelings of joy and not sadness. Deacon Tolliver's family walked in as a large group down the aisle to take their seats in the front.

Michaela nearly fell over.

Terry walked solemnly behind the elderly Tolliver relatives dressed in a dark blue suit and tie. Ushers led them to their reserved rows, and he sat down next to some older women. He looked at the memorial program in his hand and glanced up to take in the flower arrangements and the size of the choir.

Michaela ducked her head down, hoping he wouldn't notice her. He didn't. The sopranos partially hid her on the side. The sea of blue helped camouflage her, along with holding the program directly in front of her face.

The pastor read a short scripture and then asked for the congregation to bow their heads in prayer. Michaela thought she could coast through the first half of the memorial, but the closer it got toward the choir singing again after heartfelt speeches from Deacon Tolliver's close friends, her stomach twisted in discomfort. She read the memorial program for the ninety-six-year-old deacon and learned that Terry was a great-grand nephew.

Her mother rose from her seat and stationed herself in front. Terry stared at Iris, and his expression changed from sadness to awareness. Those captivating eyes searched over each face in the choir until they rested on Michaela's as she stepped forward to sing for his great-grand uncle.

She prayed her throat wouldn't close up. The organ player tapped out the keys and the drummer gave a rousing introduction to her vocals. Michaela focused on Deacon Tolliver's widow and the memories of her husband's good work in the church. She had a job to uplift the family, even if one of them was her ex boyfriend.

"I've had my share of ups and downs…times when there was no one around…God came and spoke these words to me…praise will confuse the enemy…"

Deacon Tolliver's widow shouted "Amen!" and the choir brought up the rear, repeating what she sang in a powerful, harmonious sound that brought people to their feet.

Michaela relaxed into her vocal performance, letting the lyrics build up on their own, not doing too much as she led the call and response with the choir, her runs clean and touching hearts in the audience. She used her fingers to point on certain words at the family that held meaning to Deacon Tolliver when he was alive.

"That's when I praise him with my hands…"

Michaela hummed at the end of the line and raised her hands up, her eyes cast toward the stain-glassed depiction of a Black Jesus with his flock of sheep. As a child, Deacon Tolliver told her that Jesus was a rock she could depend on whenever she felt lost. He told her the same thing four years ago before she left Louisiana. She could almost feel his hand on her shoulder like back then, reassuring her about the path she was on. Funny how she ended up falling in love with his great-grand nephew.

Her eyes flicked over to Terry. He stood clapping his hands double time with the choir as she went up a notch to celebrate a good man who supported her call to adventure, even when her parents were worried about it. Hands were up in the audience and she heard shouts as the spirit came down on several people.

She brought the sound down softly and sang to the congregation like she was preaching the word and not just singing. Stepping down from the stage, she approached Mrs. Tolliver's frail form and held her hand, keeping her voice soft.

"Praise him, when things are good…praise him…trouble on every side…and when I'm broke…I will praise him…"

Mrs. Tolliver squeezed her hand and said, "Yes, God…praise him."

Michaela went down the family line to give the message of comfort, and the palpable feeling of love enveloped her. Faced with Terry up close, and knowing this would be the last time she would ever see him, she smiled and gave him some joyful notes that volleyed back and forth with the choir. His lips trembled, and he held steadfast, listening to her sing life into him and his family. She made her way back to the stage and put the cordless mic back on its stand, taking final direction from her mother as the band went off, creating a musical frenzy getting everybody charged up with emotion.

Back at her seat, she breathed in deeply, thankful that she got through the song and seeing Terry at the same time without bursting into tears.

"Nah, nah, Sister Michaela, come back, come back," the pastor said. "One mo' 'gin! I don't think they heard you!"

The band struck up the music again. The choir led her this time for another stirring reprise. Her voice soared over the church and even her momma jumped up and down, shouting. The entire church double clapped as she did a run of "ohs" that ended with a crescendo from the choir. Michaela felt touched by a higher power then, and shook her fists, feeling the spirit move through her. The choir connected her to the only thing that mattered in that moment: to love and be loved in return among her community. She shook her head, rooted to the floor, and another choir member helped her find her seat.

Iris led them through some classic gospel songs and threw in a few newer ones. Michaela sang and snuck glances at Terry who did the same. He pulled back his lips and gave her a smile that reached his eyes, and she did the same back at him.

The memorial ended, and the congregation headed over to the church-owned building next door where the repast was to be held. The food was buffet-style, and Michaela made herself a plate and sat with some church friends. Terry sat with his family on the other side of the room and she relaxed to eat and drink punch.

Eventually she mingled, sharing stories of getting in trouble at vacation bible school and Deacon Tolliver setting her straight.

"Michaela."

It was unavoidable.

Michaela inhaled and turned to look at Terry. His suit was perfectly tailored to his physique. His soulful gaze took her breath away again, and it was like being at Starbuck's that first time, hearing the robust sound of his voice. Her cheeks rose, lifted by the smile she tried to pull off, but she couldn't do it. Regret washed over her like a heat flash and her face grew warm. She didn't fight for him like she should've. She didn't support him with his jumbled feelings. Running off to Costa Rica had been her answer because she didn't want to hear him say he didn't want her anymore. Fear of abandonment caused her to react in a way that didn't help them overcome an obstacle.

"Sorry for your loss," she sputtered.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for a lot of things, too," he said.

Her eyes watered, but the tears held in place. He sensed the battle within to hold it together and looked around to see who could hear them. She blinked several times to clear her eyes. He'd led her to the punchbowl. Handing her a cup of punch, he sighed and moved closer to her so their conversation wouldn't be overheard.

Her heart thumped rapidly, being next to him, and her hands sweated. She wiped them against the cup of punch.

"Can we go outside? It's kinda loud in here," he said.

"Sure."

She pulled on her coat and grabbed her small purse to follow him out a side door. He held out a key fob. Tapping it, a maroon SUV chirped, and he opened a back door for her to get out of the cold.

They sat in the far back seats of the seven passenger vehicle. He tapped the fob again, and the engine came on, blasting much needed heat in the interior. Tinted windows prevented anyone from seeing directly inside. She took off her coat after the temperature grew comfortable.

"You look great," he said.

"You too."

"You sang like an angel. Uncle Bo would've loved it."

"Oh, he's heard me sing before. I didn't even know you were related to the Tollivers."

"On my father's side."

His eyes never wavered. There was a softness behind them that matched the tone of his voice. God had really broken the mold when he made Terry.

He glanced down at his hand near hers.

"I wasn't careful with your heart, Michaela. I'll never forgive myself for that. I loved you…still love you. When you left town, I thought you did what you needed to do. I dealt with that pain, even when you refused to accept my calls or attempts to contact you."

"Why did you go back to her?"

"You left, and she…gave me what I thought was a second chance. I couldn't get you back. You were worried about being a rebound, and that's what Eve became to me. She didn't feel right at all…nothing about her was different. We went out a few times to test the waters. Tried to be friends instead. Dex told me I was stupid for doubting myself about her motives for coming back into my life. The moment she learned you left the country, she turned right back into her vindictive, jealous self. I let her fool me into thinking I'd made a mistake about getting away from her. She played me. I paid a heavy price for it by losing you. I'm sorry for not listening or taking your apprehensions about it seriously. You loved me and I didn't…I lost the plot of us, Michaela. That's all my fault for thinking I knew better."

"I was scared. I met someone truly special, and I held you away from me because I didn't know if you felt as deeply as I did. I've been burned in the past enough times to be cautious," she said.

"Where does this leave us now?"

"I'm going back to Spain in two days. I won't return to the states for a while."

He nodded and glanced away from her face.

"I guess there's nothing more to say. We missed our chance."

The defeat in his voice broke her inside.

"Terry, I loved everything about you—"

He smothered her lips with his.

His hands cradled her face. The reunion of his mouth against hers made her swoon. She parted his lips with her tongue and he took advantage of the opening and swept his tongue around hers. Their passion for each other never left. It pleased her that Eve turned out to be exactly as Dex predicted. That woman didn't want anyone to claim Terry after her, and only popped out to sow confusion in him, knowing how vulnerable he'd been to end their engagement. He figured out her charade and dumped her again, making her a two-time loser. She also relished that Terry got what he deserved on a purely petty level. That flat-faced ex showed him for all time that he never should've considered her as anything less than a dodged bullet. But at what cost?

Their kissing aroused her.

Her panties dampened, and Terry started moaning into her mouth. She ran a hand down his chest and brushed her fingers across the bulge in his pants. So stiff.

He cupped a breast and squeezed, then groped a nipple, pinching it through her dress and bralette. She came undone by looking deeply into his eyes. Love stared back at her. Regret, too.

She gave him love with her mouth, sliding her tongue against his with slow, succulent kissing. Rubbing on his dick through his pants had him panting her name. He lifted her dress, and she helped him pull down her pantyhose. She kicked off her heels, knowing she had to have him. He unfastened his belt and lowered his pants and boxer briefs.

She climbed on top of him as he held his erection up for her to slide down. Her pussy swallowed his dick easily, and they both sighed loudly when she reached the bottom with her ass resting on his balls. They kissed again and Michaela bounced on his dick, her slickness pleasing him.

She clung to his neck, pressing her cheek to his and pounded on that thickness, making a wet mess in his lap. He grunted and held onto her ass cheeks. Unprotected sex was something they never indulged in, but there was always an exception to that rule for a desire that overpowered them both. A final fuck was very necessary.

"Fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…raise up, raise up…now drop it back down hard on that dick…yes! Just like that, Michaela…fuck me, baby. Fuck that dick…fuck it…fuck me…shit…that's your dick…."

The throaty moans into her neck heightened her pleasure to the extreme. His voice sounded deeper than it ever did, and it serenaded her grinding into him fast and furious. Her clit rubbed against his shaft and electrified her walls, sending tiny spasms of pre-orgasmic release. She reached behind and squeezed his balls.

"You're trying to make me nut all in this pussy. Aren't you?" he choked out.

"Yes!"

He moaned, helpless to stop himself.

"I'm 'bout to give you the biggest nut…fuck, Michaela…why you do this to me now?"

He whimpered as she went stupid on his dick. All he could do was hold on to her plump ass cheeks and go along for the ride. They both had nothing to lose. Their foreheads touched, and desperate breathy pants sent warm air across their lips.

"Take this thick creamy nut, girl. I'm gonna fill you up… right now…oh shit! I'm cumming…I'm cumming…..!"

Terry's body bucked, and he held her so tight against him. She couldn't breathe. She felt the swelling of his dick and the quick pulses as he eagerly spurt a hot nut inside of her. His erratic panting and the pressure of him squeezing her tight compelled her to let go. Her eyes rolled back as her pussy clenched like it would never let his dick go.

"Terry…oh, God!" she cried out.

"Damn…Michaela…you fucked the shit out of me!"

They laughed.

Their voices bubbled up, a shared release like the old days together. Except this time, his warm cum flooded her pussy.

"We're going to look a mess going back inside," she grumbled.

"I don't care," he huffed into her hair.

She leaned back and his eyes held more desire for her. The feline quality in them brought shivers, and she had to look away from the intensity. He kissed her, and she gave in again, allowing their tongues to make a pact she knew they couldn't keep. Not anymore.

When her legs started cramping, she lifted off of his dick and lap, falling back into the seat. Cum pooled out of her, wetting her inner thighs.

She pulled up her underwear and pantyhose. Slipped on her heels. He fastened up his pants, and they looked at one another with longing. Outside of the SUV, he helped her put on her coat. She closed it up tight and cinched it with the belt.

They returned to the repast. She hoped God and the church couldn't smell the sex on her. Now and then, she glanced over at Terry and they burst out laughing, unable to hide the awkwardness of being together like that in a church parking lot. She became bashful whenever their eyes met, his thick lashes so seductive with his eyebrow arched, watching her move around the space.

When her parents said their goodbyes to the Tolliver family as the repast wound down, she and Terry bid farewell with silent eye contact. She rushed out behind her mother, feeling a hitch in her chest and a lump growing in her throat.

The summer sun in Mallorca did wonders for Michaela's rich skin color.

She wore long slinky dresses and drank chilled gazpacho by the pool in the small villa she tended for a British family who went to Australia for a long winter holiday.

Peace and tranquility spoiled her. Part of her house sitting duties were caring for two rowdy Ibizan hounds that snoozed at the foot of her pool lounge chair, the heat wearing them out into quiet submission.

Her cell vibrated next to her hip.

She swiped, and her eyes lit up behind her big shades.

Terry sent her a picture of himself wearing the gold compass necklace she bought for him in a pricey Mallorca jewelry shop. She had it engraved and mailed it to him in time for his birthday two weeks ago. He'd been on her mind a lot after leaving home. Wistful days passed by as she pondered her horizon. But he was always on the fringes.

He had the nerve to wear a sweater with no shirt while sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and sunlight making him look like a movie star.

Michaela let her index finger hover above the smartphone keyboard. She grappled with what to say. Touching her own compass necklace, she read the words her father put on it again.

"One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."

Under a Spanish sun, Michaela Maxwell decided to trust with an open heart. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

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[thelyinggrapevine]

The Marauders & Regulus out in town, enjoying the day...

Peter: Guys, where's Regulus? I don't see him anywhere.

Sirius: Eh, he'll make his way back eventually - he's like a cat in that regard.

Remus: I got this, no worries. *Deep breath* SIRIUS BLACK IS A SHIT BROTHER!

*Silence*

Sirius: Mooney, that's not gonna work, we're barely on speaking terms right now.

Remus: I have a back-up plan; JAMES POTTER IS WEIRD AND NOBODY LIKES HIM!

Regulus, getting closer the more he yells: HOW ABOUT YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, PIECE OF SHIT?

Sirius: See, Mooney, I told you he wouldn't answer to mine.

Regulus, suddenly there now: No, I answered to yours, I was just too far away. Also, Remus? I will hit you if you say shit like that again about either of them, joke or not. I'm the only one who can talk shit about my brother, I don't care if you guys are dating. *crosses arms over chest*

Sirius, tearing up: Reg... OW-

Regulus, trying to hide his blush: Shut the fuck up.

James, leaning on Peter: Did you hear that, Pete?? He defended me!! That has to mean something, right?? Do you think he likes me? Oh, I hope so!!

Peter, rubbing in-between his eyes: James, he was literally sitting in your lap last night and letting you play with his hair. Not even Barty's allowed to do that anymore.

James, clueless: Yeah?

Peter: I do not get paid enough for this.

[dukevividwriting]

By The Fire

Jack-o watched him sleep across from her, on the other side of their campfire. Thoughts of how she felt about him. She knows she was part of Aria Hale...Well, wholey in a way...but she was still Jack-o Valentine and he knows that...He calls her that.

Jack-o.

And she adores him for that.. The gentle gruff tone if her name from him...but she knows.

She knows that she can't stay here.

Out here..

it wasn't her life to live anymore, her purpose...her obligation was to allow Aria to be reborn. To be the bridge to reunite them after two hundred years.

To give Sol...

To give Fredrick...

His rewards for his struggles.

So why can't she do it? Why does the thought of losing him... Losing these moments with him...

Hurts... so much.

Why is she covering her sniffles and wiping her eyes?

How did she fall for him? 

And is it her feelings or the one inside?

[sugarplum217]

Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) contains sexual explicit content, heavy smut, spit play, oral sex, A VERY HEAVY USE OF “daddy” and “mama”, unprotected sex, cursing, major dirty talk, creampie, mentions of murder, lots of heavy sexual flirtation, detailed sexual acts , fluff

AuthorsNote: Please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy the story and remember to be kind and if you want to be tagged in the next part let me know.

Summary: Everyone and their mama has been trying to either set you up on a date with someone or continuously remind you that your clock is ticking away. That you weren’t getting any younger and your looks would eventually fade. What they didn’t know is that you already had your special someone. In fact you’ve had him a while. You know how that saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait” and for you in this instance. It was nothing but the waiting game for your special someone to finally walk into your life. The question is .. would it be acceptable for everyone else?

You never expected to fall in love with a man behind bars. It started as nothing more than a random click—some late-night curiosity fueled by boredom and an ad that popped up between Facebook posts. Find love where you least expect it. Meet single men looking for companionship. You damn near scrolled past it, but something made you stop. Maybe it was the way the words “love” and “companionship” stood out, teasing something you didn’t realize you were craving. Maybe it was just the boredom, the same mundane routine of work, home, sleep, repeat, stretching on like a treadmill you couldn’t step off. Either way, you clicked. Scrolling through the profiles felt like flipping through a catalog you had no business browsing. Men of all ages and backgrounds, some looking for friendship, others for love. But none of them caught your attention. That is—until you saw him. Inmate 07541, Terrance Richmond. Baby, that mugshot stopped you cold. Rich buttery light caramel skin, sharp jawline, and full lips that looked like they could whisper secrets straight into your soul. His nose was strong, his features chiseled, but it was those damn piercing uniquely colored eyes that did it. Deep-set, hooded, with a stare so intense you could feel it through the screen. Something about them made your heart stutter—like he was looking at you, past you, into you. There was no forced smile, no tough-guy posturing. Just that stare. You hesitated, hovering over the message button. What the hell were you doing? Messaging a man serving time? A man who, according to his bio, had been locked up since he was 18? Still, curiosity won. You typed out a casual introduction—something light, something safe—and hit send. Then you pushed it to the back of your mind, fully expecting no response, but he wrote back. And not just some half-assed, one-line reply. He wrote you back.

That first message turned into another. And another. Emails became long letters, paragraphs bleeding into pages, until you found yourself rushing home from work just to see his name in your inbox. You learned everything about him—the way he used to play football before his life changed, the music he listened to, the books he read to escape the four walls of his cell. He told you about his past, the pain, the betrayal, the night everything changed. And you told him about yours—how life felt like it was happening at you instead of for you. How you wanted more, but you didn’t know what more even looked like. Then came the sweet video calls. The first time you saw him move, saw that sharp jaw flex when he smiled, heard that deep, velvety voice rumble straight through the screen—you were done. Hooked. Gone. Two years later, here you were. In a relationship—a real one, even if nobody knew. And in a few days, he’d be free. And that? That scared you more than anything.

“You always got an excuse, girl. What is tea?”Sonya’s voice snapped you back to the present, and you blinked, realizing your fork had been hovering over your plate for way too long. It was lunchtime at Taste Of The South Cafe, your usual Friday spot with the girls. The table was cluttered with half-empty margarita glasses, plates of fried catfish and mac and cheese, and the scent of honey butter croissants floating in the air. Normally, this was your escape from the monotony of work. But today? You were ready to go.

“I just wanna relax,” You half way lied, pushing your food around. Sonya wasn’t buying it. Neither was Deja.

“Girl, please,” Deja scoffed. “Every time we plan a girls’ night, your ass come up with something. What’s up? You sneakin’ around with somebody?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’.” You forced a laugh, shaking your head. 

“Then why you always rushin’ home like you got a man waitin’ on you?” Sonya arched a brow, swirling her margarita.

“Because I do.” You thought to yourself. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you shrugged, hoping they’d let it go. They didn’t.

“You sure it ain’t that new dude in accounting?” Deja pressed. “The one with the Audi and the beard? Girl, he is fine.”

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

Sonya snorted. “And what is your type? Because last time I checked, you were single as hell.”

You just smiled, keeping your real thoughts locked up tight. Because your type wasn’t something you could explain to them. Your type wasn’t sitting in an office, making six figures, and posting gym selfies on Instagram. Your type was locked behind bars. A man who had spent more of his life inside than out. A man whose voice alone made your thighs clench, whose absence felt like a missing limb. But they wouldn’t get that. So you just laughed it off, switched the subject, and counted down the hours until you could talk to him. The day dragged. By the time you made it to your car, your feet were aching, your patience was shot, and you were tired. But none of that mattered. Because in just a few minutes, he’d be calling. The drive home was full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the usual call from your mama.

“Hey ma” You greeted, honking the car in front of you to move their ass. 

“Hey my baby. You comin’ to dinner this weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You make a face, thanking god she can’t see you.

“Good. Your sister’s bringing her fiancé.” She said, her tone laced with excitement. Of course, she was. Your older sister had the picture-perfect life—a man, a ring, a timeline that fit neatly into the family’s expectations.

“And he’s bringing his brother,” You mother added casually.

You sighed. “Ma—”

“Just be open-minded! You’re a beautiful girl, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She reminded for the hundredth time. You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel. If only she knew. But you decided to let it go. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” You shook your head, hanging up.By the time you got home, it was 6:59pm. You barely had time to drop your purse before your phone lit up with that Incoming Call from your ‘Big Daddy’. You squealed, feeling your heart flip. 

You snatched it up, answering with a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Damn, I needed to hear your voice.” A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, deep enough to send heat pooling between your thighs. 

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

“Long as hell,” He sighed. “But I knew I’d be hearin’ from you, so I got through it.”

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? I missed you more baby” He smirked. You could hear it in his voice. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

So you did. You told him everything—lunch with your nosy-ass friends, your mama trying to set you up. And he listened quietly like always when it came to your day and what crazy ass story you had ready for him. That was one of the many things you loved about Terry, how he could just listen and never get tired of you talking. 

“Don’t sweat that shit, baby. You got a man.” He chuckled, low and smooth. That possessiveness made your toes curl.

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

“Hell yeah,” He murmured. “And in a few days, you gon’ have me in every way possible.”

Your breath hitched and your body got hot. Because in just a few days, Terry Richmond would be free. And you would finally be his.  You adjusted the phone against your ear, stretching out on the couch, letting his voice roll over you like thick honey.

“You talkin’ real reckless, Mr. Terrance,” you teased, biting your lip. “What makes you think you gettin’ all this good good so easy?”

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. “Baby,” He drawled, voice rich and slow like he was savoring every syllable. “Don’t play wit’ me. You and I both know the second I touch down, I’ma have you laid out for me, just how I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Your thighs pressed together at the promise in his tone.

“Hell yeah. First thing I’m doin’ is spreadin’ them thighs, makin’ up for lost time. You know I been starvin’ for you. Ain’t had a taste of sweet pussy in years. I need my plate, ma.” He stated, making your breath hitch and heat coil in your lower belly. 

“Terry…” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Say my name just like that when I’m between them legs,” He murmured. “Matter fact, scream it. I’ma put my mouth on every inch of you. Them thighs? Mine. Them hips? Mine. That spot you say makes you weak right under your belly button? I’m kissin’ it first. And you already know where I’m endin’ up.”

Your body responded to his words instantly, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your blouse. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. You were so tempted to rub on your clit as he talked to you, but you knew big daddy’s rules. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself at all unless he gave the permission and could listen to you without any interruptions. 

“You talkin’ crazy,” You whispered, your voice thick with need.

“Nah, baby, I’m talkin’ facts. You gon’ see. Soon as I get out, you ain’t leavin’ that bed for at least three days.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, so I’m just gonna be held hostage?” You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

“Damn right,” He said without hesitation. “Ain’t no way I been locked up this long just to finally get my hands on you and let you go. Shit, you gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe.”

Your stomach flipped. You wanted that. Needed that. But then, reality settled back in. The system didn’t make things easy.

“Speaking of that…What did your lawyer say about your release date? Will you be out on my birthday like we want?” You exhaled, shifting the phone closer to your ear. It was silence for a moment. The weight of it pressed heavy between you, thick and uncertain. You held your breath preparing for the worst case scenario possible. 

“They still pushin’ for my original release date, but you know how this shit go. Paperwork, red tape, all that. My lawyer confident, though. He say if everything lines up, I should be out right on time. Maybe even a couple days before.” Terry let out a slow breath.

“For real?” Your chest tightened with cautious hope. 

“For real, baby. But…” He hesitated. “You know they been tryin’ to trip me up in here. COs, some of these jealous-ass inmates. They know I’m close to freedom, and they hate that shit. I gotta keep my head low, stay out the way, but it’s hard sometimes. Real hard.”

“They still on that bullshit?” Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” He muttered. “They hate a nigga like me gettin’ a second chance. And these lame ass inmates tryna set me up don’t help either.”

“Terry, I swear to God if they—”You closed your eyes, frustration bubbling inside you.

“Relax, mama,” He said, voice dropping into that deep, soothing register that always made you weak. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I promise you that. I done made it through too much to let these motherfuckers take my freedom again.”

“Baby, please promise me you won’t do nothin’ to mess this up. I need you here. I need you home.” You frowned, Terry remained silent allowing you to vent because he knew this was becoming harder everyday for you to cope with. You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I just…” You hesitated, then admitted softly, “I just need you here. I don’t want anything messin’ this up. My 28th birthday… Terry, all I want is you.”

“I know, ma. Trust me, I know.” His voice softened, turning serious. “You the only thing keepin’ me sane in here. The only thing keepin’ me goin’. I promise you, I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get in the way of me comin’ home to you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I trust you.” You inhaled deeply, letting his words settle over you. 

“You got me for life baby,” He said assuring you, voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, baby. If I gotta fight every damn day until that judge signs my release, I’ma do it. ‘Cause you worth it. We worth it.”

“You better mean that,” You whispered. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“I do. And when I’m finally out, when I got you in my arms, I’ma make sure you never question that again.”

“I love you so much.” You exhaled shakily.

“I love you more, baby.” He bit his lip, feeling his heart speed up. 

“You swear you gonna come home to me, Terry?” You exhaled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your free hand absently trailing over your bare thigh. 

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice came through the receiver, deep and unwavering. “I need you to hear me when I say this. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I done wasted enough years locked up, dreamin’ about what it feel like to be free, to wake up next to a woman who actually give a damn about me. I ain’t lettin’ no CO, no hating-ass inmate, no system take that from me.”

You closed your eyes, soaking in his words. A small tear escaped your eyes as you just let him talk and calm all of your fears. 

“And you really think I’m about to let you be out here spendin’ another birthday without me? Nah, ma. That ain’t happenin’.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Matter fact, you should start gettin’ ready now, ‘cause soon as I step through that door, I’m givin’ you somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? What you givin’ me, Terry?” A slow smile spread across your lips. 

“Ain’t it obvious? My last name, first of all.” He stated matter of factly. 

“Boy, stop playin’.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Who playin’?” He challenged. “You really think I been doin’ all this talkin’, dreamin’ about you, makin’ plans, just to be out here on some casual shit? Nah, baby. You my woman. And when I get home, I’m puttin’ a ring on that pretty lil’ finger. You ain’t gon’ be nobody else’s but mine.”

Heat spread through your chest, settling deep in your belly. He always had a way of making you feel claimed, but this? This was different. This felt all too real and that he was promising you the moon and the stars and would actually reach up in the damn sky and get it for you. 

“Terry…” You purred slightly. 

“Say it again,” He murmured, voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always did something to you. “Say my name just like that.”

“Terry.” Your lips parted, slowing your words down for him. 

“Mmm,” He groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear every morning, every night. That’s what I wanna hear when I’m makin’ love to you, when I’m in it so deep you forget how to say anything else.”

“You tryna kill me, huh?” You sucked in a breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively. 

“Nah, ma. Just tryna remind you who you belong to.” He smirked, licking his lips. 

You chewed your lip, heart pounding against your ribs. The thought of him finally being here, of feeling him, touching him, owning him in the flesh—it was almost too much.

“Terry…” You started, voice soft, hesitant.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He adjusted the phone on his ear, eyebrows furrowing. You hesitated a moment afraid to tell him what’s really been on your mind. Afraid he wouldn’t understand but truth was Terry was more than understanding when it came to you. 

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s gonna happen once you’re really here. Like, when it’s not just phone calls and emails. When it’s real. When it’s us.” You honestly confessed, sighing. You heard a brief pause making your stomach tighten out of angst. You held your breath afraid he’d be upset but after a few seconds, he then spoke gently. 

”That’s what you scared of?” He asked, voice soft. 

You swallowed. “Not scared, just… it’s gonna be different. You been inside since you were 18, Terry. That’s—” You did the math in your head, stomach twisting. “Seventeen years. That’s a long time.”

“I know,” He said simply. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I been countin’ down to this moment. I know it’s gon’ be an adjustment. I ain’t naive to that, baby. But what I do know is that I want this. You. I ain’t spent two years fallin’ in love with you for nothin’. And I damn sure ain’t finna let somethin’ as small as a transition period shake me.”

You exhaled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I just want you to be happy, Terry.”

“I am happy, ma. You make me happy.” He professed from his heart, making your heart squeeze and stomach flutter. 

“Now,” He continued, voice laced with that familiar hunger. “Can we get back to what I was sayin’? ‘Cause I still got a whole list of things I plan to do to you soon as I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Go ‘head then, baby. I’m listenin’.” Your stomach flipped.

Terry exhaled through the receiver, the sound slow and deliberate. “Aight, so… First thing I’m doin’ soon as I step through that door? I’m droppin’ my bag, pullin’ you close, and kissin’ you like I been starvin’ for it.”

“Mmmm.” You bit your lip, already picturing the scene.

“Ain’t gon’ be no soft, sweet shit neither. Nah,” He rumbled. “I’m talkin’ about deep, wet, tongue all in your mouth, my hands locked around that waist, pullin’ you so tight you feel my dick pressin’ up against you.”

“Damn, Big Daddy. Can I at least take my heels off first?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Hell nah,” He said smoothly. “Matter fact, leave ‘em on. I want you just like that. Fresh off work, tight lil’ skirt ridin’ up, them pretty ass legs wrapped ‘round my waist while I pin you up against the door.”

“Oh shit..” Your entire body heated at the image. You had to fan yourself, and cross your legs to avoid any wetness seeping out. 

“You know how long I been dreamin’ about that, baby?” His voice dropped an octave, turning into something dark, possessive. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I been locked in this hellhole, surrounded by nothin’ but concrete and steel, knowin’ I ain’t got a real woman to touch, to taste, to claim. And then you came along…”

“B-Baby..” A soft gasp slipped from your lips. You squeezed your thighs shut tighter, already soaking your panties. 

“And now all I can think about is how you gon’ feel underneath me. How soft your skin is. How good you smell. How sweet you taste.” He growled lowly in your ear. 

“Shit.” You cursed, shifting on the couch, thighs pressing together.

“Mmm,” He hummed knowingly. “You wet for me, ain’t you?”

“Terry—” You swallowed.

“Nah, don’t try to play it off now,” He interrupted. “I know you, ma. I know you sittin’ there, grippin’ that phone tight, breathin’ all heavy, body heatin’ up just listenin’ to me talk. I don’t even need to be there to know how bad you want me.”

“You lucky you locked up.” You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

“Lucky? Nah, baby. Unlucky. ‘Cause if I was home right now, I’d have you laid out, ass up, back arched, moanin’ my name so loud the neighbors call the cops.”He chuckled, voice dripping with amusement.

“Boy, stop!” You laughed, shaking your head. “You talk all that shit, I hope you got the stamina to back it up.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Oh, you doubtin’ me? That’s crazy. Lemme find out my baby think I ain’t gon’ put in work.”

“I mean, it has been a long time, Big Papa,” You teased.

“Aight,” He drawled, tone dangerous. “Keep playin’ with me. You gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe when I’m done with you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, so smooth and confident like he had zero doubt in his ability to back up every single word. The next few hours passed in a blur, the two of you tangled in conversation like it was your own little world. Terry told you about the meals he was craving—real food, not that processed mess they served on metal trays. He wanted collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, fried chicken, all made by you. “I need a home-cooked meal, baby. Something made with love,” He said, his voice full of longing. You laughed and promised to have a whole spread waiting for him. Then the conversation shifted to the small things—how he couldn’t wait to sleep in a real bed, how he wanted to go outside at night just to feel the wind on his face without fences in the way, how he wanted to sit on the couch with you and watch a movie with your legs draped over his lap. “Shit like that, ma,” He murmured. “The simple stuff. That’s what I miss the most.”

And you listened, hanging onto his every word, feeling your heart swell with each confession. The world had taken so much from him, stripped him of so many years, but somehow, he still had softness in him. He still had love to give. You found yourself telling him about all the things you wanted to do together, too—how you wanted to take him out to eat at a real restaurant, go on a drive late at night just because, lay up with him on a Sunday morning while the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. The more you talked, the more the reality of him coming home settled deep inside you. “You really gon’ take care of me, huh?” he asked, his voice low and full of something tender. “You damn right,” you whispered. “Somebody gotta make up for all that time you lost.”

If someone had told you years ago that you’d fall in love with a man behind bars, you would’ve laughed in their face. You always wanted love, prayed for it even, but you never imagined it would come in the form of Terry Richmond—a man with a past heavier than most, a man who had seen the worst parts of life and still found a way to hold onto his soul. He was the most fascinating, most alluring man you’d ever known, and you had never been more open with anyone in your life. You craved him in ways that scared you sometimes. You wanted to be the one to feed him, to run him a hot bath and wash years of struggle off his skin. You wanted to rub his shoulders, his chest, his back, to remind him that he was human, that he was home. And the way he talked to you, the way he poured into you, made you feel like you were already his sanctuary.

After you finally got off the phone, you moved into your nighttime routine, taking your time washing your face, patting your skin dry, smoothing your serums in like a ritual. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how your life was about to change. In just a few days, he’d be here, in your space, in your bed, in your life outside of those prison walls. As you reached for your bonnet and wrapped it securely around your head, your phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime. Mama. You sighed, knowing she’d scold you if you didn’t answer, so you slid your thumb across the screen and propped the phone up.

“Hey, Mama,” You greeted, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” She said, peering at you through the screen. “Just callin’ to say goodnight and check on you before you went to bed.”  

“I’m alright , Mama. Just gettin’ ready for bed. Doing my usual routine.” You smiled. 

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, then her face lit up. “Oh! Guess who I ran into today? You remember Kiana Perkins from high school?”

You frowned, digging through your memory. “Kiana Perkins… oh yeah, the one who used to run track?”

“Yes, her! Baby, she married now, got two babies, livin’ all happy with her husband. She showed me pictures and everything. And I just… I don’t know, baby, it got me thinkin’.” She started in on you. 

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

She held up a hand. “I know what you ‘bout to say, but hear me out. You not gettin’ any younger, baby. I just want you to have somebody. You always been my dumplin’, my soft-hearted baby, and I just—” She sighed. “I just want you to be loved, baby. I want somebody to take care of you for once.”

You bit your lip, heart squeezing at her words, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know that you did have somebody. That you had Terry. That soon, you wouldn’t be coming home to an empty bed anymore. You leaned back against the bathroom counter, swallowing the lump in your throat as your mother continued, her voice full of concern. 

“You know, I just don’t want you to end up like me, raising a family all on your own. You’ve got so much to offer, baby, don’t let it go to waste.” She paused, waiting for you to respond, but you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t—not yet. Terry was still behind those walls, and the world wasn’t ready for your truth. Not yet.

“I hear you, Mama,” You said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I’m good. I’m happy with how things are right now.”

She eyed you, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” she finally said, her tone softening. “Just don’t wait too long, baby. Time don’t wait for nobody.”

“I won’t, Mama. Promise,” You replied, though you knew the promise wasn’t to her. It was to yourself. You weren’t going to waste any more time. The conversation moved on, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling her about Terry. She didn’t know that every night, you fell asleep with thoughts of him, that his voice had become the lullaby you never knew you needed. You thought about his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. But for now, it was a secret. Your secret. You wrapped up the call with your mother, promising to be at Sunday dinner over the weekend, and hung up. The air felt thick now, like the weight of your own desires had settled in your chest. You finished getting ready for bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Terry, wondering if he was thinking about you too, wondering how much longer you’d have to wait before he was finally home. As you slipped under the

covers, your mind drifted to your happy place and that was Terry. Eventually after saying a quick silent prayer for him and his safety like you did every night, you finally went to sleep. 

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across your bedroom. You lay there for a moment, tangled in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with a heavy mind. The anticipation sat on your chest like a weight. Today could be the day you got answers—real answers—about Terry’s release. No more guesswork, no more waiting in limbo. Either he’d be home in time for your birthday, or he wouldn’t. And if it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wouldn’t. Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, shaking you from your thoughts. The number was unfamiliar, but you knew who it had to be before you even swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but there was an urgency beneath it.

“Good morning, this is Michael Walker, Terry Richmond’s attorney.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, but you caught that slight edge—like he was bracing himself for a conversation you might not want to have. “I wanted to give you an update on his case. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. What’s the update?” You pushed yourself upright, resting your back against the headboard.

Michael exhaled. “So here’s where we are. We’re still waiting on the judge’s final decision regarding his release. As you know, we’ve been pushing hard for full release instead of parole, but the system moves at its own pace. Right now, it’s looking like one of two things will happen—either the judge will sign off on his release, and he’ll be free to come home, or he’ll be granted parole with conditions.”

Your stomach twisted at the word “conditions.” That could mean anything. A curfew. Mandatory check-ins. Restrictions on where he could go, what he could do. You wanted Terry free—not still tangled in the system’s web.

“Is there a chance he’ll be home by my birthday?” You asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

Michael hesitated. That damn hesitation. You hated it. “That’s what we’re aiming for,” He said finally. “But it’s all in the judge’s hands. We’re doing everything we can to make it happen, but we need to be realistic.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. “I just… I need him home.” The words left you before you could stop them, more vulnerable than you wanted to sound.

“I get it,” Michael said, and for the first time, there was something softer in his tone. “But here’s the thing—you need to make sure Terry understands how important it is for him to stay in line right now. He’s close. So damn close. But if he gets into it with the COs, if he so much as breathes wrong in there, it could delay everything. Or worse.”

A lump formed in your throat. Terry had been through hell in that prison. You knew how hard it was for him to bite his tongue, to play the game when the guards disrespected him just for breathing. You also knew how much some of those inmates hated to see another Black man about to touch freedom. Envy was a dangerous thing.

“I’ll talk to him,” You said firmly. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good,” Michael replied. “I’ll keep you posted on any updates. Until then, just keep him focused on what’s waiting for him on the outside.”

And that’s exactly what you planned to do. Because he was coming home. To you. To the life y’all had spent two years dreaming up. And you weren’t about to let anything or anyone take that away. The weight of everything that needed to be done before Terry came home sat on your shoulders like a mix of excitement and pressure. There was so much to prepare, so much to buy, so much to perfect before your man walked through that door and took his rightful place in your life. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, cologne—he was stepping into a world he hadn’t been a part of since he was barely legal, and you were determined to make sure he had everything he needed to start fresh. And then there was you. Your own upkeep was just as important. You wanted to look good good for him. A fresh Brazilian wax so your skin was baby smooth, eyebrows snatched, lashes full and fluttery, and your hair? Oh, that had to be flawless—not just for your birthday but because you already knew he was going to have it all over the place by the end of the night. You could already hear the headboard knocking, already feel his breath on your skin, already picture the way he’d grip you like he was making up for lost time. The thought alone made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

But beyond all the surface-level preparation, there was a deeper feeling swirling inside you. Letting a man you’d only seen through a screen and heard through a receiver move into your home was a huge step. Some would call it crazy. Hell, a part of you knew it was risky, but love had never been about playing it safe. And with Terry? It had never felt like a risk. It felt right. He was your soulmate—plain and simple. The man you wanted to

wake up to, fall asleep with, build a family with. You’d spent two years loving him from a distance, and now, you were stepping into a reality where he was yours in every way. You weren’t naive to the adjustments that would come with it, but you also weren’t afraid. He was worth it.

With a stretch and a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself out of bed, the silk of your nightgown clinging to your curves as you padded across your bedroom. It barely covered your ass, the hem rising with each step, and you lazily reached for your robe, wrapping it around you before making your way into the kitchen. The house was still, quiet, but soon, it would be filled with his presence. Him walking around shirtless, his deep voice filling up every room, his scent lingering on the furniture. You couldn’t wait. As you reached for the fridge, your eyes landed on the Polaroid photo of him taped to the door—one of the few glimpses of him outside of a call or a video chat. He had sent it during one of the rare inmate photo days, his expression serious but his eyes still burning with something that made your stomach flip. Damn, you fine. You ran a finger over the image, smiling to yourself before pulling out the eggs and milk.

The one thing people probably wouldn’t understand was why you had never visited him in prison. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God knew you had begged to. But Terry? Terry was territorial to his core. It had taken months of back-and-forth, of pleading and arguing, before you finally accepted that he wasn’t going to let you step foot in that visiting room. He didn’t want no prison guards or inmates looking at his woman—studying you, lusting after you, imagining things about you that only he was allowed to. You belonged to him, and the thought of other men—especially those locked up with him—laying their eyes on you sent him into a rage he didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t just possessiveness; it was protection. He had seen too many things go left in that place, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be a part of any of it. So, you let it go, trusting that the day would come when you wouldn’t have to love him from a distance. That day was almost here.

You were in the middle of whisking the batter for your waffles when your phone vibrated on the counter. Without hesitation, you snatched it up, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Terry’s deep, raspy voice sent a warmth down your spine. His morning voice was dangerous.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” You hummed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continued mixing. “How’d you sleep?”

“Would’ve slept better with you underneath me,” He murmured, the smirk in his tone evident. “What my baby got planned for today?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Just a quick Target and BJ’s run to stock the house up for you, then I gotta get my nails done. Oh, and I gotta swing by the post office to pick up my bundles that came in.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Mmm, you tryna get fine for Big Daddy?”

“Mmhmm.” You giggled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Damn, girl…” His voice dropped a little lower, and you could almost see him licking his lips on the other end. “Ima eat that pussy like crazy, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched, a heat sparking between your thighs. “Terry!” You squealed, laughing. “Stop being nasty!”

“Nah, I’m deadass serious.” His tone was dark, full of hunger. “You don’t even know what you got coming.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling up your skin. “Listen, nasty man, we need to talk.” Your tone shifted, getting serious. “Your attorney called me this morning. We need to discuss what he told me.”

“What he say?” There was a pause before he answered with a serious tone. 

You exhaled. “Baby…” You gripped the phone tighter, staring at the batter as if it had the answers. “It’s about your release.”

Terry was silent for a moment, and you could feel the shift in his energy through the phone. That easy, teasing tone from before was gone, replaced by something heavier—something cautious.

“What about it?” His voice was lower now, tight with restraint.

You sighed, setting the whisk down and gripping the edge of the counter. “He said they’re still waiting on the judge to sign off, and it could go either way. Either parole or full release.” You paused, running your tongue over your lips. “I asked if you’d be home by my birthday, and he said that’s what they’re pushing for, but the judge has to approve it first and it appears the judge is taking their sweet ass time. Same shit you told me last night.” 

“Man… I been waiting years for this moment. If they try to stall this shit…” Terry sucked his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Baby, don’t even put that energy in the air,” You cut in quickly, gripping the phone. “It’s gonna happen. You just gotta hold tight.”

“I’m tryna hold tight, ma, but you don’t understand. I been locked down since I was eighteen. Half my life. I done played by they rules, kept my nose clean, did everything I was supposed to do. And now, when it’s finally my time to touch down, they wanna drag they feet?” His frustration was raw, and you didn’t blame him one bit.

“That’s why we gotta be smart about this,” You soothed, lowering your voice. “Your attorney said you need to walk a fine line, Terry. These COs and some of them inmates? They don’t want to see you win, baby. You getting out means they lose power over you. And if you let ‘em get under your skin, if you give them any reason to stall this—”

“I know, baby,” He gritted, cutting you off. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were,” You softened, biting your lip. “But you know they’ll do anything to keep a black man locked up. You know that. You can’t afford to slip.”

Another deep sigh. “I just wanna be with you, ma,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability cutting through all the frustration. “That’s all I been holding on to. You. Us. The life we ‘bout to have.”

“And you will be with me, Terry. Soon. I promise.” Your heart clenched, and you closed your eyes for a second.

“You the only thing keeping me sane right now, baby,” He muttered. “You really are.”

“And you the only man I want. Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.” You swallowed hard, that warmth creeping back into your chest.

He went quiet for a beat, then, “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

“Boy, you already know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Say it,” He murmured.

“I love you, Terrance Richmond.” You bit your lip, smiling. 

A deep exhale came through the line, like those words alone were enough to ground him. “I love you too, ma. More than you even know.”

“You better love me with your fine self.” You giggled, continuing to whisk the batter. He chuckled lowly, the sound making your ears perk up at the nostalgic sound.

“You know I want a baby soon as possible, right? Just like we talked about.” Terry’s voice dipped even lower, that familiar edge of possession curling around his words. 

“I know, baby.” You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your belly at the certainty in his tone.

“Nah,” He pressed. “I mean, soon as I get home, I’m filling you up. I ain’t playing.”

A giggle bubbled out of you. “Well, that’s good to know,”  You teased, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers. “Because I already got off my birth control, and I’m ovulating real soon.”

Silence. Then a sharp inhale from Terry. “You serious?”

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips 

“Good,” He growled. “‘Cause I ain’t pulling out. I want you pregnant, mama. You carrying my son or my baby girl. I already see it.”

A deep shudder rolled through you at the sheer conviction in his voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt—he wanted this, just like you did. Now you knew having a baby before a ring wasn’t the most conventional thing. You were raised better than that, taught that marriage first was the way to go, that being someone’s “baby mama” wasn’t the move. But Terry? He wasn’t that type of man. This wasn’t some half-thought-out, heat-of-the-moment decision. You knew exactly what you were signing up for. From the moment you told him you wanted his baby, he made it crystal clear—both you and that child would have his last name. There would be no question, no hesitation. You weren’t about to be just someone’s BM. You were his woman, his future wife.

The plan was already in motion—soon as he got out, y’all were hitting the courthouse and making it official. No long engagement, no drawn-out wedding planning stress. He wanted to be your husband immediately. And once he was settled, once he was back on his feet, working and bringing in real money, then he’d give you that big wedding, the

one with the flowers, the dress, the family all gathered to watch you walk down the aisle. But for now? The paper, the commitment, you—that’s what mattered most to him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t set up already. You made damn good money, and your degree in business administration had you sitting pretty in a high-paying corporate consulting job, helping multi-million-dollar firms streamline their operations. Your salary was more than enough to hold things down while Terry got back on his feet, and you’d already mapped out a business plan to help him reintegrate. Finding a job after doing seventeen years inside wasn’t easy, but you had resources, connections, a plan. You weren’t just bringing him home—you were making sure he stayed home. You were building a life with this man, and every step of it felt right.

“You think your family gon’ like me?” Terry exhaled through the phone, his deep voice softening just a little. Your smile, bright and easy just seconds ago, slowly faded. It was a fair question. A real one. But it wasn’t an easy one to answer. You knew your mama. Sweet, nurturing, and warm when she wanted to be, but judgmental as hell. A devout Christian woman—saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. She wasn’t fond of anything remotely sinful, and Terry… well, Terry was the walking definition of sinful.

There was no denying he was a fine-ass man. That wasn’t the issue. Standing tall at 6’3”, with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to shift between ocean-gray and a stormy blue-green depending on the light. Rich, light caramel skin that deepened into a golden bronze in the summer but softened into a fairer hue in the colder months. A strong, chiseled jawline that made him look both dangerous and regal. His lips? Plump, full, always looking like they were ready to be kissed—or used for something far nastier. His short-cropped curly fro was just long enough to grab, and those thick, corded muscles? Yeah. His time behind bars didn’t just sculpt his body—it turned him into a damn statue, cut from flesh instead of marble. His tattoos, inked along his thick arms, added to his edge. Especially that sleeve—his latest one, a masterpiece he got done while inside.

He was the kind of man that turned heads when he walked into a room. The kind that made women cross their legs and bite their lip. But he wasn’t the “good, God-fearing man” your mother had envisioned for you. Terry was the complete opposite. And yet, his heart was the purest thing about him. Despite his past, despite the anger and the hurt buried deep in his soul, he was a good man. A gentle soul trapped in an exterior so hard, so intimidating, most people never got to see the real him.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the right words. “Baby, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm. 

You sighed. “I don’t know. My mama… she can be a bit much. And the fact that I’ve been hiding this—hiding us—for the past two years? Oh, she gon’ have a fit. And my sister? Whew, she gon’ have a mouth full too. You’d probably have better luck with my aunties than my own mama.”

Terry chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flutter. “I get it, baby. I do.” His voice was soft, understanding. “But I ain’t going nowhere. She can side-eye me, throw oil on me, pray over me ‘til she blue in the face—I’m still gon’ be here. And I’ma do whatever I can to make her love me. To make her see I ain’t some monster. ‘Cause I want this, ma. I want us. I want your family to be my family, too.”

That made you smile. A big one. The kind that deepened your dimples and warmed you from the inside out. But there was something else weighing on you. Something heavy. Something you knew Terry wouldn’t want to talk about, but you had to ask.

You hesitated before carefully pushing forward. “Baby… you gon’ reach out to your mama once you’re free?”

“Nah, Y/N. I’m not.” He answered, his voice, tight and clipped. 

You swallowed. “Baby—”

“Ain’t like she gave a fuck about me in the first place,” he cut you off, his voice colder now. “I’m in here ‘cause of her. You know that.”

“I know. I do. But, baby… you gotta forgive. Not for her. For you. You need peace, Terry. You deserve that.” You exhaled slowly. His breathing was heavier now, like he was trying to keep himself from slipping into that dark place. You hated when he went there. When the bitterness and resentment started to eat away at him.

“I got peace, baby. I got you.” His voice softened just a little, but you could still hear the hurt beneath it. “That’s all I need.”

“I hear you baby.” You softly replied. You decided to respect his wishes and let the conversation about his mother rest. He had been through enough, and you weren’t about to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, you brightened up, shifting the energy as you let out a little squeal.

“Oh! Baby, my birthday dress came!” You announced excitedly, twirling a loose curl around your finger. “I can’t wait for you to see me in it.”

Terry’s smirk was damn near audible through the phone. “Oh yeah?” His voice dropped an octave, turning rich and smooth like warm honey. “That’s cool, baby… ‘cause I can’t wait to take that shit off you.”

“It is literally nine in the morning, and you already on go.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Because I got this pretty, brown-eyed woman waiting on me,” He murmured. “And I can’t stop staring at her picture, picturing our life together beyond these walls. I just need my woman bad.” He let out a breath, voice thick with longing. “I wanna turn your body inside out, have you laid up exhausted, and then make you breakfast in the morning while you recover, boo.”

“Leave the cooking to me, Richmond. Don’t need you burning our house up.” You smirked, scratching your head. You hadn’t even realized you said it like that—our house—until the words left your lips. But Terry caught it instantly. His heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire.

“Our,” He repeated, grinning through the phone. “I like the sound of that. And don’t worry, baby. I could never destroy anything of ours.” His words settled over you like a warm embrace, making your stomach flutter.

Terry cleared his throat after a beat. “So, your girls still takin’ you out for your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” You confirmed, stretching lazily. “We’re hitting this grown and sexy lounge. Got a section, a table, should be real nice. I just wanted something low-key. Nothing too crazy.”

Terry hummed in approval. “That’s what’s up. You think your girls gon’ accept me?”

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk. 

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head. 

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers. 

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?”  He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone. 

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple. 

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh. 

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered. 

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him. 

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head. 

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got. 

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry. 

 You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath. 

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart  plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

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[soupinaboot]

I wonder how many good fanfictions I'm missing out on just because people don't know how to tag 😔

[grimmsbride]

▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─ ⠀ NYCTOPHILLIAC ⠀ ⠀ 𑄼ల۫ thanos / reader

getting caught up in thanos’s web was a mistake, especially when it interfered with your sleep.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ TAGS unconsensual voyuerism (thanos & reader have sexual relations in her bed while everyone is asleep. even though they are asleep, i still put this warning because i know some people can get uncomfortable). ooc thanos (first time writing for him). oral sex (fem. receiving). porn no plot. mentions of past sexual relations. fingering. dirty talk. unrealistic expectations of quiet sex(?). overuse of pet names (senorita, mama, etc.) etc.

���� ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ NOTES please heed the warning above as i would hate to make anyone uncomfortable while reading this fic. with that said please enjoy and i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos.

Despite different games being assigned each day, it all felt the same — as if you had just stepped inside this odd room, surrounded by strangers that held far too many similarities with you. You couldn’t count the amount of times you flinched or teared up as you watched and heard bullets tear people apart, how their strangled cries escaped in a last ditch effort to somehow convince the ruthless guards to spare them. You nearly screamed yourself when blood hit your cheek, tainting the already sweaty area — which you gingerly cleaned up the moment you got time to.

You somehow survived, in just the nick of time too. You wondered if you had any right to be happy for your victory, or you should be remorseful for all the lives lost today. You pondered it for a complete moment before deciding doing so was useless, and not impertinent to your current situation.

Getting out with enough money was of the upmost importance, nothing more and nothing less.

Which is why you were quick to settle into bed the moment the opportunity arose, slipping out of your socks and jacket, pulling the blanket up over yourself, and shutting your eyes. The world around you seemed to cease — aside from the old man’s snoring beside you — your body melting into the mattress. Sleep was the only comfort you could afford to cling to in this situation, anything else was an unnecessary distraction.

Including the one that stood infront of you, taking form as a purple-haired devil.

You never intended to get entangled with any of the other contestants. You could smile and cheer together, but it wasn’t a secret how quickly that relationship could turn sour. Mixing any type of deeper attachments just seemed like a bad idea.

But you fucked up horribly, one thing leading to another, with you in the arms of a man named Thanos, who said just the right words at the time.

You promised yourself that one time was it, you wouldn’t slip up again. You couldn’t afford to slip up anyway.

“Thanos.. go away.” You murmured, courteous of the other contestants around you. You wondered if the two of you were the only ones awake.

Through the dimmed room you could spot Thanos tilting his head, elbow pressing against your bed as he leaned closer.

“C’mon don’t be like that.. just checking on you.”

You rolled your eyes, growing more frustrated by the minute. You desperately wanted sleep- actually, you needed it. You refused to suffer the next morning, especially since your life was literally on the line. You adjusted your pillow, basically staring daggers into the man.

“I’m fine, now, go to your own bed—“

“And.. I’m also cold.”

You blinked rapidly, nearly slapping that stupid smile right off his face. You decided to turn your back to him, ignoring that soft sound of disapproval he released.

“Wear your jacket or something.. hell— steal your friend’s blanket. Just let me sleep.”

You chose to ignore the second sound he released, which seemed to be an unusually pitiful whine, mixed with an obnoxious groan. You wanted to tell him off for his volume, but decided not to— trying to seem as stern as possible so he could finally leave you alone.

But Thanos wasn’t the type to let up, something you quickly learned the moment you met him. Seeing as his fingers began to graze your blanket, rising closer just so his lips were hovering over your ear.

“But you’re right here.. can’t we share some warmth until morning? You wouldn’t want me to freeze, right?”

Thanos’s words were tempting, as usual. Whether you liked to admit it or not, he knew just what to say. Which is why you called him a devil, a sickening demon with that silver tongue.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to fight mind over matter. Not only was this bad for your sleep, you were also at risk for breaking some unknown rule. And if you got shot over cuddling, you would definitely haunt this place like a vengeful spirit.

But in the end you gave in, the reason fleeting at the moment. You could only focus on the fact he would hopefully shut up when he got what he wanted. So, wordlessly, you brought up the blanket behind you; hearing his small giddy voice as he climbed in with you.

At least the man was nice enough to allow most of the blanket to cover you, the rest of your exposed self covered by his larger frame. Thanos made quick work of wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him as his face found your neck.

“You have to leave before morning.”

Whether acknowledging you or not, the man just let out a hum, lips treading across your warm skin in the process. With a shiver you attempted to focus on sleep, admitting to yourself that the extra warmth was comforting. It also allowed you to truly relax, knowing your back was covered— literally.

Your hand found the back of his, fingers spreading along it as your eyes settled shut. You felt your self slipping in slowly, body growing heavier as that relaxation began to reach its peak.

Only to tumble down the moment you felt a thumb play at the waistband of your pants.

“Thanos..”

“Hm?”

You slowly turned your head, tight-lipped and squinting at him through the darkness. “Don’t fucking hm, me— what are you doing?”

The shit-eating grin that developed was telling, his thumb now slithering under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Not a thing.. yet.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping!”

The man was quick to raise his free hand, placing a taunting finger to his lips. “Don’t wake the others Señorita, that’ll be just plain rude.” The circles on your skin continued, Thanos closer as his lips brushed against your own yet didn’t fully touch.

“This will help you sleep better. Erasing alll your worries in the blink of an eye.” He breathed, eyes flicking low as if attempting to see beneath the blanket. Instead his hand did the seeing for him, fingers breaching your pants and underwear; tips stroking your soft cunt. He couldn’t help the little twitch of a smile the moment he felt you release a strangled breath, using two long fingers to spread you open to his hand.

And when your lips parted to speak, his own covered them; a gentle kiss that caused your mind to grow dizzy. You couldn’t help your legs spreading, hand wrapping around Thanos’s wrist the moment you felt him at your clit. He rolled his thumb so perfectly, applying delicious pressure to the little bud that caused you to see stars.

The moment you needed to breathe you regretted leaving his lips, seeing as you struggled to keep your voice down. He wasn’t even touching you much yet here you were, panting and releasing the softest moan. With a quick raise of your hand, you covered your mouth— teeth biting into the flesh the moment you felt a finger slowly sink into your wetness.

“Wish I could see..” The soft comment made you groan softly, hips rising the moment he began to piston his finger. Within moments a second was joining, scissoring you open and plunging deeper then your own fingers could. Your eyebrows knitted close, the pain of your bite washing away with each thrust of his digits.

“Thanos.. please..”

“Oh no.. keep your voice to yourself— I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear how pretty you sound.”

As usual his words held such a teasing tone, face moving back to your neck to kiss and bite gently. Even with his small request the man wasn’t making the situation any easier, especially when his thumb moved right back to your sensitive clit; rubbing those same dizzy inducing circles.

You felt way too good right now, your body practically shaking with how much you struggled to keep in. The thought of anyone waking up right now with you in this state — under the mercy of a certain purple-haired, tattooed rapper — was a thought you couldn’t even imagine without your heart pounding with anxiety.

The best thing to do would be to push him off before things progressed. You hadn’t a clue how far he wanted to take this, nor did you think it would end in time for the lights to cut on. And Thanos wasn’t a creep, he would listen to you the moment you expressed actual discomfort from the situation. But you weren’t, that pain you felt all day, that anguish; did truly wash away in seconds just from the flick of his fingers.

The thrusts against your velvety, soaked walls were perfect— your eyes rolling to find your skull the moment the ferocity increased. A metallic taste invaded your mouth from how bad you were biting yourself, but you didn’t care; it was a concern for morning [Name], not horny [Name] who was currently being cared for by the hottest contestant in this god forsaken place.

“Oh, all this clenching— you’re close aren’t you? Can barely get my fingers out.”

The smile in his speech was obvious, breath fanning against your skin as he urged you more and more; curling his fingers just right to hear your muffled sounds peak into a small squeal.

Your nails dragged across his tattooed hand, feeling it flex with each movement of his fingers. Your mind was growing cloudy, barely being able to register the words that were being pressed right against your ear.

“How about I get a taste, huh? Wanna come all in my mouth, mama.. it’ll be such an easy clean up.”

Before you could even think to speak Thanos was pulling his hand out from within you. You had little time to protest when you felt him grabbing your blanket, pulling it over his body as he crawled down your own. Your eyes slowly widened, realizing his words and actions; a new sheen of sweat finding your skin. Your nerves were on fine at this point, inner mind screaming to tell him to do anything else but that.

However, the moment you felt him pulling down your pants and his lips finding your pretty cunt, all hope was lost. The back of your head quickly found your pillow, hand going right back to your mouth to bite down even harsher than before. His tongue exited his mouth in a long stride, gliding across your wet center, and parting you easily.

Thanos created similar ministrations with the tip of his tongue like his thumb, circling your bud and slowly pulling it between his lips. There, he began to suck, the sound noisy but muffled by your blankets and other’s snoring.

Muffled gasps pushed against your skin, hips rising and legs closing around his head; bringing him even closer to you. The peak that was steadily approached seemed to pick up speed far too quickly, your mind turning to mush.

No more were you number so-so, victim to madmen and their sick games. No, you were simply [Name], moaning wantonly with little care for the environment around you.

Your other hand slithered under the blanket, finding his hair and tugging the soft tresses; feeling them stick between the gaps of your fingers. Shamelessly you rubbed against his face, desperate for that sweet release. Your pussy convulsed with each struggled breath you took, stars impeding your vision as you got closer and closer.

You felt it before you heard it, Thanos’s sweet urges right into your pussy. His wet words of make me a mess, pretty girl— don’t hold back on me now, causing you to tip over the line.

His mouth latched to you, drinking up your release as if you tasted better than any drug within his cross. It didn’t help he was practically praising your taste, a sloppy groan being delivered right into your pussy. Gingerly, Thanos licked you clean, assuring not a single drop was left.

Only when the man was fully satisfied did he let up, climbing up from the blanket and popping his head out to look down at you.

“See, it helped— you can barely keep your eyes open right now.”

You released a soft breath, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh as you stared up at the man. “You gonna let me sleep now?” You spoke softly, watching his wet lips curl into a gentle smile.

“Of course. Good night, [Name].”