#oc fanfiction writer
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mrstransformersfanfiction · 2 years ago
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Now I'm feeling contented. I can't believed I wrote all that plot and I'm favouring Stand By Me.
Though I was honestly going to change the Title and summary. Somehow I can see a long chapter ahead for this book I'm writing
I love the random chapters and it's definitely going into this second projects for Transformers. Is it going to be a crossover with Hawaii Five-0? Hell yes. I was going to also write like a singular book for that fandom. But, there's a lot I want to do
I also want to focus a three way romance relationship:
• for the bots there will be a twisted story and twisted surprise for all of them. I just wrote it out and stayed up until really late which I done before 😂 until 5:00am due to my insomnia issues.
• OC/Jazz, OC/William Lennox, OC /Steve McGarrett (Don't hate me for the plot. You will need tissues!)
I feel very contented and would like to focus on guardianship, friendship and family theme going on as well. I won't publish for a long time because until I'm really satisfy and did write a random scene, random plot. I was tempted to write NSFW too 🤣💜
I also can't believe I extend a lot of plot holes for Dreadwing.
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rae-butter · 2 months ago
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Honestly, I love it when characters relapse. When someone who’s gotten over their anger issues falls into a situation so out of their depth they fall back on their old habits. When someone who’s learned to open up becomes a recluse again in order to cope with something outside their control.
There’s just something so horrible, so toxic, about watching a character grow and then slip back into their old selves in order to cope, bc you know they still care, that they’re the same inside, but watching them hurt so hard they don’t know what else to do brings a sense of catharsis.
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missadangel · 5 months ago
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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC!Princess) All Chapters
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Summary:  You are a secret medicus (physician) who embarks on a perilous journey to heal General Marcus Justus Acacius, who was wounded during the war. However, there is a hidden truth: you believe yourself to be an orphan, but you are mistaken. In reality, you are a Roman princess, the daughter of the previous emperor. Everyone, including your half-brothers who now hold the throne, thinks you died long ago. You remain unaware of this truth, but everything you know is about to change forever.
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x OC/Princess, She has golden hair and hazel eyes, her age is 26, and her name is Aya, (later called Aurelia when she finds out she is a princess)
Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut
Word Count: 226,051 so far (sorry for writing loong chapters:))
Warnings: falling in love, loss of virginity, mention about virginity, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, pregnancy, childbirth
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ao3 link
I. Heal the Heart
II. The Letter
III. The Intention
IV. The Desire
V. The Council
VI. The Battle
VII. The Wedding
VIII. Lust, Threat, Tension
IX. The Rage
X. The Conflict
XI. The Accusation
XII. The First Kill
XIII. The Missing
XIV. The Ambush
XV. The Plan
XVI. Separation and Triumph
XVII. The Birth
XVIII. The Unexpected
XIX. Trouble
XX. Game
XXI. Retaliation
XXII. Hostile
XXIII. Farewell
XXIV. Grief
XXV. Sorrow
XXVI. Trap
XXVII. Comeuppance
XXVIII. coming soon
XXIX. coming soon
XXX. coming soon
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My playlist if you care to listen while reading
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hanahaki270 · 11 months ago
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♡ Sharing a Dorm ♡
♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡
Synopsis ┊Your dorm is going under renovation and you need to find a place to crash in for a while. Luckily a certain someone offers you to stay in theirs for the time being.
Characters ┊Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya.
A/N ┊beginner Writer here, these were harder to think of than I thought ngl. If you have any requests please send them to me, I'm open to do different characters and also different anime's!
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♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡
Katsuki Bakugou
❥ By no means whatsoever does he offer his dorm out of the kindness of his heart. He just got pissed off of seeing you sleeping on the couch in the commons area every morning, and accidentally stepping on your blanket or pillows. After stepping on your blanket once more he grabs your shit and puts it in his dorm and acts like he's bothered by this but really he doesn't mind at all.
❥ Makes you sleep on the floor for the first two nights until you convince him to share the bed. He's reluctant at first but then allows it as long as you stay on your side of the bed. Do you really though?
❥ Expect to sleep earlier and get your sleep schedule in check because his dorm, his rules, lights are off at ten pm sharp with no exceptions.
❥ Also expect your grades to go up. While he's your roommate he's going to make you don't slack off on your studies.
❥ When he wakes up in the morning and notices your head resting on his chest he gets somewhat annoyed but secretly likes it. he's willing to get behind on his strict schedule and let you rest on him a little longer. but just a little.
❥ Demands you now be his training partner but is careful to not get carried away. You're strong, but he still doesn't want to run the risk of hurting you. therefore, he always keeps Aid kits in the bathroom just in case you do get any scratches, even if they're minor.
❥ Constantly threatening to kick you out over every little thing but actually has no intention of doing so. He won't admit it but he enjoys your company. "I swear if I see one more sock lying around I'm grabbing your shit and throwing it out."
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♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡
Shoto Todoroki
❥ "Why don't you sleep with me." he said boldly unaware of how his sentence had more than one connotation to it. I mean you need help and as your friend he's more than willing to help you out. plus he has the biggest dorm compared to everyone else, if anything he's the most suitable to offer his help he thought.
❥ Asks you what temperature you prefer to sleep in so he can use his quirk to either make the room colder or warmer depending on your preference. and ALWAYS makes sure to make both sides of your pillows cold.
❥ When he's out visiting his mother you make sure the place is clean (though it usually is since he tends to be on the neater side) and prepare some soba for him as a token of your appreciation. After a couple of times he starts to look forward for it and got saddened the one day you forgot.
❥ In return he made sure not turn on the lights when getting ready in the morning as to not wake you up. Part of it was for a selfish reason though, he thought it was cute how you slept soundly on his bed.
❥ Speaking about sleep; During the night he would find himself cozying up next to you, not on purpose though. He just felt comfort in your presence and he realized you felt the same way when you also moved closer to him during the night.
❥ Leaves out coffee for you in the mornings since you tend to stay up late on nights and wake up always running late to your classes.
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♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡
Izuku Midoriya
❥ Overheard you talking to Tsuyu and Uraraka about how you need a place to sleep in and walked over to offer his help without a second thought. You already spend most of your time in his dorm room during the day to share notes anyways. The only difference would just be you spending the night.
❥ Offers for you to sleep in his bed while he sleeps on the floor. After you refuse to let him sleep on the floor he shyly agrees to share the bed with you constantly asking you if you're okay with it.
❥ Midoriya stays up late at night writing in his notebook and murmuring thoughts to himself. You persuade him to go to bed and leave his worries for the following day. he deeply apologizes for the burden kind of embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry! was I keeping you up? I'll go to bed in a few minutes don't worry."
❥ Always invites you to go out with him whenever he leaves the dorm, even if it's something as simple as going to the gas station to get some snacks.
❥ he loves to talk your ear off geeking out about the knowledge he knows about the top heroes and their quirks. When he notices he got carried away he gets all types of flustered but even then he doesn't get the sense of being judged.
❥ Since he's constantly getting injured and going to see Recovery girl he always comes back exhausted. regardless, his stubborn ass still tries to go out on missions and push himself to the limits. he get's frustrated when you don't let him do so and force him to rest and leave his chores to you. But he loves you for it.
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henneseyhoe · 5 months ago
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Sunshine
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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
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“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.
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💌- 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 😋
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sugarplum217 · 16 days ago
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Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)
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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?
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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.
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imreidswifey · 1 month ago
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♬♪♫♩𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬٫𝐋𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬٫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 -𝐒.𝐫. 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟- ♬♪♫♩
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Summary: Famous singer-songwriter [Your Stage Name] and FBI profiler Dr. Spencer Reid have been secretly dating for four years, having met before her rise to stardom. As their relationship remains hidden from the public eye, an unexpected series of events—including an enthusiastic Penelope Garcia desperate for concert tickets—leads to their secret being revealed.
Warnings: Fame-related themes: Mentions of paparazzi, invasive media, and public scrutiny. Mild language, Romance, and Emotional topics
———————————————————————————
Spencer Reid had always considered himself a creature of habit. He liked routine. He liked predictability. But four years ago, he walked into a tiny café in Georgetown, and everything he thought he knew about his life changed.
The café had been unassuming—just a place he stopped at to recharge after an exhausting case. He was halfway through a book on early Mesopotamian cuneiform when your voice floated over him, soft but commanding. Spencer looked up from his page, his focus immediately stolen by you, standing on a small makeshift stage with a guitar.
You weren’t just good. You were breathtaking. Your lyrics were raw and poignant, carrying an intimacy that felt as though they’d been written from his own heart. You sang about vulnerability, love, and the fear of being misunderstood—concepts Spencer knew all too well.
After your set, he intended to leave quietly, but you stopped him.
“Did you enjoy the show?” you asked, your voice warm and inviting.
Spencer stammered, unused to being addressed so directly. “Uh, yes. You’re… very talented. Your lyrics—there’s an honesty to them. It’s rare to see someone articulate emotion so effectively.”
You smiled, charmed by his nervousness. “Thanks. It’s rare to meet someone who can actually articulate their feelings about my music.”
From that night on, Spencer was hooked—not just on your music but on you. You exchanged numbers, and what started as casual conversations about art and literature blossomed into something deeper. For two years, you were each other’s anchors, finding solace in each other’s differences.
Then, everything changed. One of your songs went viral. Record labels came calling. Your debut album skyrocketed to the top of the charts, and suddenly, you were everywhere—magazine covers, award shows, and the playlists of millions.
Through it all, Spencer remained your constant, your sanctuary. But fame brought scrutiny, and you both agreed early on to keep your relationship a secret. It wasn’t just for his privacy but for yours too. You wanted what you had with Spencer to stay pure, untouched by the chaos of your public persona.
Two years into your stardom, life was a whirlwind of rehearsals, interviews, and sold-out shows. But at home, things were wonderfully ordinary. You and Spencer still spent your evenings debating books, watching obscure documentaries, and writing songs that you sometimes teased were “for an audience of one.”
One evening, Spencer sat at his desk in the BAU bullpen, immersed in paperwork, when Penelope Garcia burst into the room, her energy as vibrant as her brightly colored outfit.
“Oh. My. God,” she announced, clapping her hands together. “I just found out that [Your Stage Name] is performing in D.C. next month! It’s like the heavens are smiling upon us, you guys!”
Spencer froze, his pen hovering over the paper.
Emily Prentiss raised an eyebrow. “You’re really into her, huh?”
“Are you kidding?” Garcia exclaimed, practically bouncing. “She’s the voice of a generation. Her lyrics speak to my soul. But,” she sighed dramatically, “the tickets sold out in seconds. So now, I’m doomed to live vicariously through concert clips on TikTok.”
Spencer hid a small smile behind his hand. That evening, as you sprawled across the couch, humming the melody of a new song, he recounted Garcia’s predicament.
“Poor Penelope,” you said with a chuckle. “She sounds like such a sweetheart. I wish I could give her tickets.”
Spencer hesitated. “You could…”
You turned to him, grinning. “Tell you what. You give them to her and say a friend got them for you. She’ll never have to know the truth.”
Spencer tilted his head. “You’re really okay with that?”
“Of course. She’s my fan! Besides,” you added, smirking, “I think it’s adorable how much she loves me. Almost as much as you do.”
A week later, Spencer handed Garcia two VIP tickets.
“A friend had extras,” he explained casually.
Garcia stared at the tickets as if they were made of gold. Then she threw her arms around him. “I knew there was a reason you’re my favorite genius!”
On the night of the concert, the BAU team arrived at the venue, buzzing with anticipation. Garcia had outdone herself, wearing a sequined jacket with your name bedazzled across the back.
Spencer stayed a step behind the group, his heart pounding as he saw your name in lights. It wasn’t his first time attending one of your shows, but it was the first time he’d be here as just another face in the crowd.
When the lights dimmed and you took the stage, the arena erupted into cheers. Spencer watched, mesmerized, as you commanded the audience. You were magnetic, effortlessly moving between heartfelt ballads and upbeat anthems.
Then, you paused, your eyes scanning the crowd. “This next song is special,” you said, your voice warm but tinged with vulnerability. “It’s about someone who sees the real me, even when the world doesn’t.”
The first notes of the song filled the air, and Spencer felt his breath catch. It was his song—the one you’d written just for him.
Backstage after the show, the team was led to your dressing room, courtesy of the VIP passes. When the door opened, Garcia froze.
There you were, your arms around Spencer as he pressed a kiss to your temple.
“You’re…you’re dating [Your Stage Name]?” Garcia squeaked, her voice high-pitched with disbelief.
Garcia blinked at your outstretched hand before letting out a high-pitched squeal and pulling you into a hug. “Oh my gosh, you’re real. And you’re dating Spencer?! This is the best day of my life!”
The rest of the team quickly recovered from their shock.
“Well, Pretty Boy,” Morgan teased, crossing his arms with a smirk, “you’ve been holding out on us. How’d you land the biggest pop star in the world?”
Spencer adjusted his glasses nervously, but you just laughed, slipping your hand into his. “He doesn’t have to do much. He’s Spencer Reid—how could I not fall for him?”
The group spent the next hour chatting, and you made sure each of them felt at ease. You even invited Garcia to play with some of your stage props, much to her delight.
The next morning, photos of you and Spencer together backstage leaked online. A fan had snapped a blurry shot of you holding hands and posted it with the caption: Did anyone else see [Your Stage Name] with some mystery guy? Who is he???
At first, it was just speculation. But the internet quickly did what it did best—digging. By mid-afternoon, Spencer’s name was trending, along with side-by-side comparisons of the two of you. Fans pored over your lyrics, analyzing them for clues.
The BAU team tried to shield Spencer from the chaos, but he wasn’t bothered. You, however, were worried. “Are you okay with this?” you asked him over the phone, pacing in your living room. “Your life is so private. I don’t want to ruin that.”
Spencer’s voice was steady. “You’re not ruining anything. If this is the price of being with you, I’ll pay it. Besides, they’ll lose interest eventually.”
But they didn’t. Within days, reporters camped outside the BAU office, hoping to catch a glimpse of “Dr. Love,” as the tabloids had started calling Spencer. Fans flooded his social media accounts with messages, some supportive, others invasive.
Two weeks later, you decided to take control of the narrative. You posted a picture on your Instagram of you and Spencer sitting on your couch, a book open between you.
The caption read: For years, I’ve kept this part of my life private because I wanted something that was just mine. But this man—this incredible, brilliant, kind man—has been my anchor through it all. He’s my person. And I couldn’t be prouder to share him with the world.
The response was overwhelming. Fans flooded the comments with love and support. Many praised how grounded and genuine your relationship seemed, calling it a “real-life fairytale.”
The next day, Spencer was stopped on the street by a group of your fans.
“You’re Dr. Reid, right?” one of them asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Uh, yes,” he said, awkwardly adjusting his satchel.
“Can we just say… you’re, like, the cutest couple ever? She’s lucky to have you.”
Spencer smiled, a little overwhelmed but touched. “Thank you. I’m the lucky one.”
Over the next few months, you and Spencer found a new rhythm. It wasn’t always easy—paparazzi were relentless, and internet trolls occasionally reared their heads—but you faced it together.
The BAU team became fiercely protective of Spencer, treating any criticism of your relationship like a personal attack. Garcia even started a fan page called “Team SpenStar,” which quickly gained traction.
Through it all, your bond only deepened. Spencer began accompanying you to red carpet events, looking dashing in his tailored suits. You started spending quiet weekends at the BAU office, bringing donuts for the team and brainstorming song ideas in the corner while Spencer worked.
One night, after a particularly hectic gala, you curled up on the couch with Spencer, your head on his chest. “Do you ever regret this?” you asked softly.
“Never,” he said without hesitation, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Not even the crazy fans?”
“Not even them. You’re worth it.”
You smiled, closing your eyes as his arms tightened around you. Fame had brought its challenges, but in the end, love—real, enduring love—was stronger than any headline. Together, you could handle anything.
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notapradagurl7 · 1 month ago
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Hey girl I was wondering if you could do a fic with Aaron and basically him and the reader are married and just had a baby. Reader is having a hard time adjusting with the baby, work, etc and has a meltdown. Here incomes Aaron to rescue, and if you wanna end it with some 🍆 ✨(that’s fine by me 😏)
Bundle Of You.
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Pairings: Black Fem!Wife! Reader x Terry RichmondHusband!
Summary: See Ask. You and your husband Terry just had your little one, and happily married. However you're having a hard time adjusting with everything, your mom babysitting. But your husband comes to the rescue.
WC: 3972k.
A/N: Here you go, I loved this, ask and you will receive, thank you for this! lovely anon, I had fun, that last part is fine by me too,🤭 but had something extra. 🩷 don't forget to like, comment, reblog and drop a request if you like, enjoy!
Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque
@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj
@becauseimswagman1
@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics
@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage
@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24
@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky
@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz
@uniqueoutlierblog
@dxddykenn
@secretlifeoofmarpessa @dpennedit
@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere
@mind-somewhere-else
@kindofaintrovert
@5starr-staciii
@lady-olive-oil @23jammy @zillasvilla @yassbishimvintage @musicisme333
@chaoticcoffeequeen @saturnville @enchantedillumination @kaylalb @mogul93 @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @fakxmbj @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @mama-2001 @ororosdaughter
Warnings: fluff, filthy smut, sensual eye contact, a feral reader, spanking, praise, unprotected sex, a feral Terry, breeding kink, angst, dirty talk, consensual for both parties, a horny reader, mention of death, mention of suicide, cussing, stressed-out reader, creampie, meltdown, slight daddy kink, pet names, breast milk, nasty!Terry, rough sex, the reader being picked up, dacryphilia.
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Your elegant black Honda arrived at your home's driveway, and you let out a sigh. You glanced over the charming single-story brown-painted house, which featured seven windows. Lush green hedges trim the house corners, neatly trimmed and short. Birds sit at the tips of the branches, singing a lovely tune.
“Another day is over, thank God,” you mumbled lowly, sighing in relief.
Grabbing your keys and briefcase from the passenger seat, you pulled the door handle and stepped with a groan of exhaustion.
On your first day back from work after maternity leave, it felt like chaos with your difficult boss breathing down your neck and colleagues inquiring about your baby, Terry, and your pregnancy, draining your energy.
You spotted your mom’s car parked in the driveway, rolling your eyes. Not in the mood to talk to her about anything but you needed someone watch the baby. You had a hard time adjusting with work, the baby, and your mom stressing you out, etc. It was so overwhelming. You couldn’t wait until your husband got home.
The last time you talked to your mom was an argument about Terry, the marriage and having a baby.
Your mom wasn't too happy about finding out about your marriage and baby through your cousin Raelynn at a family reunion who found through Instagram. You blocked her and every family member that day.
She believed she had the right to question your choice to marry a former Marine, and you gazed at her with a gentle look.
This originates from your mother's negative experience with your father, a former Marine suffering from intense PTSD, who would have nightmares at night. Screaming.
It left your mom crying, praying to God that the pain would away, but it wouldn't go away. Your father was tired of the nightmares, tired of the pain.
Until one night, your dad stood alone in the backyard with his gun in his hand, he wanted the pain, and the violent memories to end. Tears rolled down his face, He aimed the gun at his end and a gunshot aired out.
After that, you and your mom did your best to keep going, she was sad about your father but never mentioned him again, she would usually say that she was finally free of it. The two of you didn’t struggle but
Terry had endured so much, from the loss of his cousin Mike after he was stabbed in jail and battling the corrupt law enforcement in Shelby Springs.
But you made it clear that Terry was different, he was quiet and reserved about being a great dad.
Mentally it took a toll on him, after the court battle and eventually winning it, it wasn't enough to bring his cousin back to Earth.
If Terry could conquer heaven’s angels and talk to God Himself, asking The Creator to bring him back. He would do that in a heartbeat.
Hell, Terry would do the same with Satan and those rotten demons, if he had the power or believed in the afterlife.
But when Terry met you at a black-owned coffee shop, for him everything changed. He had a family with you, a daughter. He wished Mike could meet the little one.
You shook your head, trying to dismiss the thoughts swirling in your mind as you stepped inside.
You opened the door and were greeted by your mom, and you responded to her.
As you made your way through the hallways into the bedroom, you tossed your briefcase onto your desk, grabbed a pen, and noted down important dates and names related to your work as an assistant in a cubicle.
Once you flopped on the bed. You heard your baby cry.
Groaning lowly, pouting your lips. You quickly raised up from the bed and hurried into the room where your mom was holding the baby in her arms. “Hello dear, how are you?,” she replied in a annoyed tone.
“I’m fine, You’re holding her incorrectly,” you shot back, flanking her immediately.
Raven’s bedroom was quite spacious, the four walls painted in chocolate brown, and white macaron cream, an armchair in the corner of the room, and her square-shaped baby bed was filled with three stuffed plushies of a star, swan and a teddy bear with smiling faces, thin blankets rested atop.
“Hello there, my beautiful girl, how are you?” You said, in a warm tone, gently taking your baby from her arms.
“Nice to see you too,” your mom shot back, her eyes softened a bit.
You and Terry were married along with your baby girl, Raven, her hazel green eyes and brown skin, her tiny curls framed her face, She was so beautiful.
Your mom mean-mugged you, arms crossed. “I raised you, I know how to hold a baby, and why the hell would you name your child Raven anyway?”
Anger boiled within you, “It’s our baby, Mom, why do you think we had a private wedding, private pregnancy, private proposal, we wanted it to be just us,” you explained to her, narrowing your gaze at her.
You gained the baby weight, your tittes got bigger and tried to work out with Terry since he was looking mighty delectable lately, he reminded that it was progress, not perfection. It didn't help that random women over the internet were lusting over your man.
But he’s all yours now, he was an amazing husband to you, a great father to the baby.
You cradled Raven close, her soft whimpers fading as you rocked her gently. In that moment, everything felt right, but the tension in the room with your mother was palpable.
"Mom, I appreciate your help, but you need to respect our choices," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
“Respect? You think marrying that man and having a child without telling me is respect?” she countered, her tone sharper than a knife's edge.
The baby began crying again, and you sighed. “See, you don't know what you're doing,”
You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap back. Instead, you focused on Raven's tiny fingers curling around yours. “He loves me, and he loves Raven. Isn’t that what matters?”
“Mhm, love this, love that,” she shot back, but the fire in her eyes dimmed just a little as she glanced at her granddaughter.
You backed away from your mom and sat down on the armchair, “Just leave me alone, I'm trying to comfort my child,” you pushed back, your tone laced with frustration.
Just then, the front door creaked open and closed shut, and there was Aaron, a breath of fresh air. Your dark brown skin shone underneath the light, your hair styled in black box braids, pulled back in a ponytail.
His tall frame filled the doorway, and you could see the weariness etched on his handsome face. His cornrows perfectly showing, his light skin shined under the light.
“Hey, my love, I'm home,” he called out, his voice wrapping around his words like a warm blanket. He pecked your forehead and your lips sweetly.
His eyes flicked toward the baby who smiled at Terry, once he picked up the baby in his arms.
Your heart swelled at the sight of him, and you felt the chaos in your mind begin to settle. As he stepped inside, you could see the way he lit up at the sight of you and Raven. “What’s going on in here?”
“Just a little family fight,” you replied, shooting your mother a pointed look.
Terry walked over, those warm eyes scanning the room before landing on you, his expression softening. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
You nodded, but the exhaustion was evident. “Just a bit overwhelmed. My first day back honey, you know?”
You sniffled and wiped your tears, “It is been so overwhelming lately, and i don't think that I can do this Terry, I…” your voice shaky and words stuttered, you got up and ran into the bedroom.
Terry finally put the baby to sleep, settling her in the bed, your mom followed behind the man into the bedroom.
He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and drawing you into his side. “You’re doing brilliant, babe. The world’s mad right now, but you’re handling it like a queen,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
Your mom huffed, crossing her arms again. “You call this handling it? She’s falling apart, Terry,.”
Terry’s gaze flicked to her, a hint of protectiveness in his stance. “And what do you know about it?” he challenged softly, but there was an underlying tension in his tone. “She’s just had a baby. This isn’t easy for any of us.”
You could feel the warmth radiate from Terry, and you leaned into him, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little. “I just wish…” you began, but the words caught in your throat.
You didn’t want to voice your insecurities, not now, not when he was trying to reassure you.
“Wish what, baby?” he prompted gently, his thumb stroking your arm soothingly.
“Nothing,” you finally said, but his eyes searched yours, and you could tell he wasn’t buying it. Your shiny wedding ring glowed brightly with the golden ring on his finger.
“Don’t lie to me, yeah? I know you better than that.” His voice was low, but it was filled with warmth and understanding.
You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I just feel so lost sometimes, Terry. I don’t know how to balance everything. I want to be a good wife, a good mother, and I feel like I’m failing.”
Tears falling down your face, crying softly. Feeling like the world was falling apart into tiny pieces.
He cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “You’re not failing. You’re doing more than enough, and I’m here, every step of the way. We’re in this together, remember?”
His words wrapped around you like a healing balm, and you felt the tension in your chest ease. “I just need you, Terry. I need you to remind me that I’m not alone in this.”
“You could never be alone with me around,” he replied, his voice a low promise. “Let’s get through this together. And if anyone tries to come for you, I’ll be right here to defend you, baby. Always.”
Terry’s eyes flickered toward your mother, “And as for you, get the hell out of our house, now,”
Your mother’s mouth fell open, made an unpleasant noise, left the room and the house, and then slammed the door. You were bursting out in laughter with your husband.
“Now that is how you snap back,” You giggled with covering your mouth.
Watching Terry gently kissed her forehead, and gently settled the baby in her bed, hearing her softly snore peacefully.
The two of you quietly walk out of her bedroom, walking through the hallways and into the spacious bedroom. You grabbed your briefcase and settled it at the corner of the room. “I’m so happy you're home,” you coaxed softly, kissing his face.
As your mother left the room, Terry’s eyes darkened slightly, a playful glint appearing. “Now that we’ve dealt with that shit, how about we focus on something a bit more…intimate?” he suggested, a smirk playing on his lips.
You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and the flutter in your stomach ignited. “Intimate, huh?” you teased back, your voice dropping an octave.
“Yeah, baby,” he replied, stepping closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”
“Missed me?” you echoed, your heart racing as he leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, baby”
He leaned in closely and kissed you tenderly, he unbuttoned your work clothes, while you helped him slide off his grey tee shirt that was drenched in sweat, his earthy yet cinnamon cologne still on him.
His full lips enveloped your nipple as his other hand kneaded and squeezed the other one; you let out a soft whimper when his fingers grazed the stretch marks on your brown skin. The curve of your ass smacked by his hand. Was this man trying to get you pregnant again? He couldn't be devious, right?
“T-Terryyy..” you whimpered softly in his ear. Your nipples were still sensitive after breastfeeding Raven last night, he fingered your pussy slowly and pulled out. “Pleaseee..”
His hands spread your legs wide apart for him, those dreamy ocean eyes of his focused on your wet pussy like he wanted to sear the image in his brain just like those damn acronyms from his service of the Marine Corps, he wished to replace each letter of it with the sound of you, taste of you, your pretty face and your back arching. “My beautiful wife,” he said with a smile, he groaned lowly, His dick jumped and twitched at the thought, he needed you so badly.
You had a small request in your mind, you had to get it out immediately. “Terry, can you be a little rougher this time?” you asked with a lip pout.
He offered a reassuring nod, a playful smirk on his face as he positioned his dick at your entrance, gently pressing the tip in. "You're already so wet for me; I love you," he said in a deep voice, prompting you to moan uncontrollably, your gaze locked on his. "I-I love you too, shit!" you exclaimed.
He leaned in to kiss the tattoo on your shoulder, then pressed his lips against yours twice more. As he pushed your legs back, he dove his dick deeper into you. "Just like that; you take me so perfectly," he continued, his eyes drawn to the mess pooling beneath you, with breast milk trickling down his chiseled abdomen. Breaking the kiss, you let out another moan as he gradually filled you, thrusting deeper with each movement. He groaned in response, the soft squelching sound resonating throughout the bedroom.
“Shhh, you should be ashamed of yourself for the mess you made on Daddy’s dick, that pussy sucks me right back in,” Terry groaned out feeling your walls latching around and pulling him in once he began to move inside you, he felt your pussy pulsate onto him, that little heartbeat kept him fucking you deeply, “So fuckin’ tight, that’s my girl..” he praised deeply.
Right, your baby was still sleeping peacefully, you couldn't risk that yet you were on the verge of giving her another sibling right now, you kissed him sloppily again, while he kissed you back passionately.
“Apologize,” He demanded with that deep voice of his, his fingers pinched your sensitive nipples again and milk dripped from them. Your legs shaking at an overwhelming sensation.
Terry gives you long deep strokes while sucking on your nipple torturously, “I-I’m sorry Daddy, I-I can't help it…you’re j-just s-so big,” you babbled with a raspy moan, tears burned through your eyes, hearing him slurp and swallow your milk as his hips swiveling, wetting his dick up. Was this man trying to fuck and suck the life out of you? He was!
Thankfully, your baby was sound asleep in the room opposite yours, and you couldn't afford to disturb her after Terry had JUST gotten her to sleep. However, Terry had incredible stamina; thankfully, your evening workouts with him prepared you, or you would have been exhausted from this.
You managed to match him in the bedroom and were almost on the verge of giving her another sibling; your hand flew to your mouth and your eyes rolled back as he increased his speed. “I love it when this dick is inside me, fill me up so good babyy..” You moaned wildly, biting your lip, rolling your hips with him.
Terry’s hushed grunts and groans were deep and slightly raspy, biting down on his sexy lips, he watched your pussy make his dick disappear as he went in and out. “Mhmm, Such a needy little thing for this dick, aren't you?" he trailed off, smirking.
A sharp gasp for air escaped you, from the feeling of his thighs rubbing against yours, “Yesss,” the brief tap of his balls hitting your clit made you scream as if you were dying, pelvis meeting at your ass and breast milk poured out after jagged sloppy thrusts, “ it was charged with heat as Terry picked up his pace, his thrusts growing more fervent. “Oh..my..fuck!” you muffled your moan, eyes rolling back, nails digging into his back.
Terry’s hand rubbed your stomach in circles, thinking of filling you up with his warm cum, making you pregnant again but he couldn't do that. You were already stressed out with everything that was going on, but the way you called out to him and your pussy gripped him tight, made him want to give you a boy. Nah, it wouldn't be right. Bad Terry, be good.
Wait, the bed was creaking under both of you, your hand tapped his neck three times, that was the sign to stop with your consent and Terry stopped immediately, breaking his thoughts, His head lifted to look at you with genuine concern, “The bed is too loud, it might wake up Raven,” you whispered to him.
With that, his hands slid to your thighs, holding them firmly as Terry swiftly hoisted you up in a front-facing piggyback, your arms encircling his neck. feeling his tip kiss your cervix repeatedly. “Terry, fuck, the noises..” you mumbled out, referring to the wet noises of his dick being swallowed up by your pussy. He loved every bit of this, pleasure flowed through both of you.
Terry chuckled darkly, gazing into your pleasure-filled teary eyes, relishing in them falling down on your face, your back arched in the air as if on cue. “You know we have no control over this baby, you hear that shit?” Terry said in a deeper tone, your nipples rubbed onto his, and milk spilled down his chiseled chest and onto his dick. His tongue gliding on your nipple again while gazing at you lovingly.
You were quickly climbing that familiar peak, every thrust felt deeper making you go dumb and dizzy, laying your head onto his shoulder, “T-Terry, I'm close, i’m on the pill,” you managed to gasp out, your body trembling beneath him.
“Good, come with me, Y/N, let me feel everything,” he encouraged, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned down to capture your lips sloppy again. “Fuck me till we both can't move,” you requested, “Your wish is my command,” he said, The kisses were passionate, and nasty with spit chains connecting and reconnecting between his plump lips and yours, he felt so damn good, you wanted to feel him.
His hips stuttered and twitched, and Terry’s merciless thrusts turned sporadic into you, your screams became loud and he moaned deeply, “You sound sexy Terry..” you groaned out, loving his raspy moans, you felt your body coil tightly before the dam broke.
You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room as you came undone around him. Your walls squeezed him tightly, essence spilled onto his thick dick, and the sensation pushed him over the edge as well. Wet noises and sloppy kissing were halted and remained silent.
Terry spilled his warm jets of cum inside of you, filling you up while your essence poured out your pussy, mixing with his cum, your breast milk dripped onto the floor, creating pools in between you. Your bodies shaking weakly together and flinch against each other after every move, “W-we really came together baby..” you babbled lazily.
After a moment of blissful silence, you both melted against each other, hearts racing and panting. You could still hear the faint sounds of Raven’s peaceful breathing from across the hall, and he gently laid you on your back on the bed, he pulled out of you, seeing his cum spill out of your pussy.
Terry brushed a few loose strands of braids from your face, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes as he studied you.
“More than okay,” you replied, a smile breaking through the remnants of your exhaustion. “I needed that.”
“Now, let’s get cleaned up before the baby wakes up,” he said, his tone teasing as he helped you off the bed. Terry carried you into the bathroom, he cleaned up the mess in the bedroom and prepared a hot bath for both of you.
Terry got into the foamy warm spacious huge bath with you, sitting across from you while your back lay against the back pillow on the white marble tile, the warm water enveloped you both. Its soothing touch eases the ache in your body, thighs, pussy, everywhere.
You leaned back, letting out a contented sigh as you watched Terry relax across from you. His strong arms rested on the edge of the tub, the water and lights above glistening on his skin.
“You feeling better baby girl? Just us for a moment,” he said, a playful smile on his gorgeous face.
“Yeah, I am, I missed this, I needed this from Terry,”
Terry’s gaze softened, and he leaned closer, the water sloshing gently around you both, “You know I'll always be here for you, right? No matter how chaotic things get?”
You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude flow through you. “ I do, I just need to remember that sometimes. It's easy to get lost in everything,”
He reached out, his hand resting against your cheek. “Remember you can't be everything all at once, only yourself. You're doing amazing and Raven? She’s lucky to have you,”
“You know how to make me feel better Terry,” You replied with a warm smile, kissing his lips sweetly before pulling away.
“It’s what I’m here for,” he said with a reassuring tone, his lips pressed onto your forehead tenderly.
Both of you washed yourselves squeaky clean and dried off using the towels, getting dressed in Terry’s tee purple shirt, he slid on his grey sweatpants and got into bed, his wrapped around you protectively, both of you drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
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424 notes · View notes
hazzashouse · 2 months ago
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Forgotten - Harry Styles one-shot
A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! This one is a bit sad but I hope you’ll like it!
Summary: After Harry forgets an important anniversary, tensions boil over into a heated argument that leaves both of you hurting. Harry is forced to confront his mistakes and the cracks forming in your relationship. Determined to make things right, he sets out to prove that his love for you is stronger than his faults.
Triggers: arguments/raised voices, miscommunication and emotional tension, feelings of neglect/loneliness in a relationship, brief mention of crying and hurt feelings
Pairing: Harry Styles x female reader
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Harry stepped into the house, running a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind him. It had been a long day, back-to-back meetings and calls about the tour, and all he could think about was collapsing into bed.
But when he looked up, you were standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly, your expression a mix of anger and something sharper—disappointment.
His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Your gaze flicked toward the dining table, and his stomach dropped. The candles, the neatly set plates, the untouched food—it all clicked too late.
“It’s our anniversary,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with restrained anger.
“Shit.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. He ran a hand through his hair again, cursing himself. “I—fuck, I forgot. I didn’t mean to, I just—”
“Got busy?” you snapped, cutting him off. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it, Harry?”
“It’s not an excuse,” he shot back, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. “You know how crazy things have been. I’m trying to keep everything together—”
“Everything except us,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Do you even care anymore? Or am I just supposed to sit here, waiting for you to remember I exist?”
His jaw clenched. “That’s not fair. You know I love you. I’m doing all of this for us—for you.”
“For me?” You laughed, bitter and sharp. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t ask for your schedule to swallow you whole. I didn’t ask to be forgotten.”
“Forgotten?” he repeated, his frustration bubbling over. “I’m out there working my ass off, trying to balance everything, and you think I’ve just forgotten about you? That’s not how this works!”
“It’s exactly how it feels!”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to explain, to make you understand how much he hated being away, how much he hated this argument. But the words got stuck in his throat, tangled up in his exhaustion.
You shook your head, tears shining in your eyes. “I can’t do this right now.”
Before he could stop you, you grabbed a blanket from the closet and headed for the couch.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with desperation. “Don’t do this.”
But you didn’t look back.
———————
The house was silent, the weight of your argument pressing heavily on Harry’s chest. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word you’d said. Forgotten. The word echoed in his mind, a sharp reminder of how badly he’d messed up.
Around 2 a.m., he gave up on sleep, his body restless and his guilt gnawing at him. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs.
There you were, curled up on the couch, your face turned toward the backrest, your body stiff even in sleep. The blanket you’d brought was tangled around your legs, barely covering you.
Harry’s chest tightened at the sight. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and it killed him to think he was the reason you were here instead of beside him in bed.
Carefully, he grabbed another blanket from the chair and draped it over you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. He crouched beside the couch for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
———————
When Harry woke up the next morning, you were already gone. A note on the counter simply said, At work. See you later.
The pang of guilt in his chest only deepened. He couldn’t leave things like this—not after last night.
When you came home that evening, the house smelled incredible—like garlic, herbs, and something warm and inviting.
You stepped into the kitchen, dropping your bag by the door, and froze. The dining table had been reset, fresh candles flickering softly, and a vase of flowers sat in the center. Harry was there, standing by the stove, wearing an apron that made you bite back a reluctant smile.
“Hey,” he said, turning to face you, his expression equal parts nervous and hopeful.
“What’s all this?” you asked cautiously.
He stepped closer, wiping his hands on the apron before pulling it off. “This is me trying to make it up to you. For last night. For forgetting. For everything.”
You stared at him, your emotions tangled. “Harry, I—”
“Please,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching yours. “Let me say this.”
You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, waiting.
“I know I’ve been…distracted,” he admitted, his voice low. “And I know I’ve been terrible at showing it lately, but I love you. More than anything. I hate that I made you feel like you don’t matter, because you do. You’re my everything, and I never want you to doubt that.”
Your throat tightened, and you looked away, afraid he’d see the tears welling in your eyes.
“I’m not perfect,” he continued. “I’ll probably mess up again. But I want to do better. For you. For us. If you’ll let me.”
When you looked back at him, the vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache. Slowly, you stepped closer, your walls crumbling. “You really hurt me, Harry.”
“I know,” he said softly, his voice thick with guilt. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.”
You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He pulled you close, his chin resting on top of your head as you finally let the tears fall.
For the first time in weeks, you felt like you had him back.
The two of you ate dinner together, talking and laughing like you used to. It wasn’t perfect—there were still things to work through—but it was a start.
And for now, that was enough.
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theereina · 5 months ago
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If you're looking for Terry Richmond x Aaron Pierre fanfics/writers, look no further:
@avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @brattyfics @miyuhpapayuh @earthchica @keyaho @henneseyhoe @theereina @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @kumkaniudaku @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @theblacklewinsky @starcrossedxwriter @sweettea-and-honeybutter @mymindisneverhere @soft-persephone @sageispunk @slutsareteacherstoo @violetmuses @haechvn @4pfsukuna @urfavblackbimbo @uzumaki-rebellion @zillasvilla @fictioninmyblood @simplyzeeka @dxddykenn @urgirlygoddess @hotgrlcece @jimmybutlrr @babybratzmaraj @kimuzostar @writingsbytee @venusincleo @thoseprettywords @grlsbstshot
*I'll update this list when and if I can.😉
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mrstransformersfanfiction · 2 years ago
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Lol. I always love Hank Webber and a few informants on Hawaii Five-0
Hank: uh, what's the drain for?
(looks down)
Chin: use your imagination.
Hank: I rather not. (shakes head)
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Steve: Listen, keep your hands where I can see it.
(To Hank Webber)
__________________
When Hank steals Lou Grover wallet 😂
Hank: But I'm just telling you I'm useless without caffeine
Lou: How do you like it? Black? A couple of cubes of shut the hell up?
Hank: Heh. Yeah. Two. Two cubes and then some cream. That'd be awesome. And then of course, your wallet. I'm sorry. You're probably gonna want that. I took it.
Lou: Oh, hell no. You know what, you can get your own damn coffee.
Steve: What did I tell you?
😂😂😂😂🤣💜
-----------------
Hank Webber stole Lou Grover's wallet twice.
Hank: you're not mad at me stealing your wallet still?
Lou: what do you think?
Hank: because you're going to hate me now. I did it again.
Lou: funny. Maybe we'll sent you the hospital on the way out. (rolls eyes)
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venusandthestars · 4 months ago
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Cherries
The jungle is freezing, especially at night with this rain. You're lucky to be inside the hut, a warm fire on your back, your mate A'Resmoth, under you, the taste of cherries on your tongue.
He had told you he was going on a hunt, only to surprise you with one of your favorite treats: cherries. You had told him about it a few days in a passing thought. He decided right then and there his love was going to get her cherries.
Now here you two were enjoying your night. The rain sends in a cool breeze, now and again. The fire in the middle of the hut sends out a glow, two shadows on the wall.
Your nest, built from branches and leaves, is decorated with multiple furs, different creatures from different planets, all hunted and skinned by A'Resmoth. "You'll have the softest I can find." His mission to keep you happy, comfortable, and fed was his life.
If you're happy, he's happy.
Now look at you two, bellies full, naked, completely relaxed. He loves to take you like this. You, on top of him, his back against the nest, arms spread out at the top.
You've just finished a round of love making, his cum still inside of you as he hasn't pulled out. "Not yet," was all he said when tried to slip off of him. You don't mind when he gets like this. Needy, wanting all your attention. It gives him a break from being your valiant guardian. You start to caress his locs his eyes never leaving you.
"Do you like this?" A tease you are, knowing the answer already. A deep purr from his chest. You chuckle wanting to play with him a bit more. You ghost your fingers across his face to his mandibles.
"Fruit," He mumbles. You lean to the right, plucking a cherry out of the basket bringing it to your lips. The tip of your tongue comes out, licking around the drupe. A'Resmoth watches his pupils dilated at the erotic sight.
Once you're satisfied the fruit is covered with you, you place it into his waiting warm mouth. With his quick reflexes, his left hand grabs your right hand and nips the tips of your fingers. The sweet little moans you left out spurs him on. He tilts his head back dropping your hand, he closes his eyes.
"Please, my mate, use me." A deep voice begs.
How could you say no to that?
You lean back on your hands lift your hips and start to treat yourself. Up and down, you bounce. You moan out, sweet sounds to him, wanting to listen to you forever.
"My love, look at me, please look at me, watch me." A delicious voice begs.
How can he say no to that?
He brings his head down, eyes fixated on the way your pussy engulfs his dick, your first orgasms coating it, a creamy white mix. His grunts lines up with your moans, your souls in sync.
He picks up a cherry, slipping the plump part into your mouth. Once you bite it off the stem, he flicks it away and sticks a finger into your mouth.
"Suck." You do as he says. Sucking and moaning around the digit, you start to swirl your hips clockwise and counterclockwise on him. A'Resmoth grunts feeling his orgasm sneaking up on him. With one hand on your hip, and one hand braced on your back, he gives no warning when he starts to thrust into you.
Your quiet moans turn loud, his big fat dick making you feel so full, so good. You'd live on it if he'd let you.
You're so light to him, he's bouncing you on his lap trying to stall his orgasm wanting to feel you cum on him again. He sneaks the hand from your hip to your neck giving it a squeeze of course minding his strength.
Staring into his eyes you cry out "I wanna come, A'Resmoth, please."
Thats all it takes to set him off, his cum spilling into you.
"Let go my mate, I want to feel you." He grunts out.
The two of you, cumming together. Pure ecstasy.
It takes a few moments to come down from the high. You're out of breath, you smile at him while he looks at you fondly.
You pop another one in your mouth. "Thank you for the cherries my love."
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A/N- Pls tell me if the ending was bad it's my first time writing for this universe. I hope you've enjoyed it!
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carbondioxda · 1 month ago
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It’s unfair that the Task Force 141 should be called The Beauty Force 141. Like fuck you mean every single one of them is as handsome as realistically possible. Not just the game models, the actors too. How am I supposed to shoot enemies in the game when there’s a literal supermodel of them is gazing into my eyes and seducing me whatttefuck.
Military propaganda worked tbh.
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henneseyhoe · 9 months ago
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Just One More.
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Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader
WARNINGS: SMUT SCENES(nun too serious)!!! HEAVY breeding kink(i couldn’t help myself), Wife!reader, pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Lewis being a hornball, some fluff here and there,SHORT! UNEDITED FOR RN! I think that’s it!
SUMMARY: After having twin boys, Lewis begs his beloved wife for one more baby, hoping this time it’d be a girl.
|2|3|4|
✮✮✮✮
“You said one more, right? Just one more”
He smirks as he bounces you his arms, your body helplessly following with the flow as you couldn’t do anything with your legs folded how they were anyhow.
“One more” You whimper with a nod of your head, your brain not even coming close to calculating what you had gotten yourself into.
“One more, baby” He confirms with an innocent tone like he wasn’t currently folding his wife like a lawn chair, running the risk of waking your twins up even though they were down the hall.
Days passed and you couldn’t get his hands off of you, the man giving not one moment to allow you to collect yourself after a simple agreement that you’d stop taking your birth control. At the time you hadn’t even stopped yet, but he was still prevalent with his ‘you never know’, hoping somehow you’d still get pregnant.
You’d get home from work and before you were able to take your heels off he’d be warning you that the kids were asleep now so you’d have to keep it down and only asked about your day in between kisses and ripping off your shirt, the answers being halted as soon as you were bent over the arm of your couch and fucked from behind by your eager husband, the grip he had on your hips enough to bruise.
It was clear that Lewis wanted nothing more than a daughter. Of course he loved his two hard headed boys, but a daughter? She was a dream he’s had for a while now. He felt he needed a girl to soften him up after raising two little boys for five years, and he was determined to get one out of you. Lewis was ready to be surrounded by princesses, glitter, pink and hair bows.
For the last few weeks he spent time getting you alone so he could fill you to the brim, taking you down anywhere that had a lock on the door or a surface to lay you on, sometimes not even that. The first time was in the laundry room when you were drying clothes, a month after you told him yes to a baby, a day after he was 100% sure you stopped taking your pills. Closing the door behind him and setting a basket in front of the door to avoid any unwanted little guests, your husband casually pulls up your sundress as you were loading the dryer and slides your panties to the side, the man on his knees with his tongue on your clit before you could even tell him you were busy.
The next time he took you down was in his personal gym, him just finishing a workout and you in the middle of your much needed yoga to stretch your sore muscles from the damage he had done the other night. Catching you in a downward doggy position, you felt his fingers shamelessly run between your lips that were covered by your favorite gym shorts, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit almost making your knees buckle. You slowly look up from your position, making eye contact with him in the mirror in front of you.
“May I help you, Mr. Hamilton?” You ask.
“You already know what I want, Mrs. Hamilton” He responds back in a sing-song tone and before you knew it you were getting creamed on a workout bench, Lewis using his fingers to stuff what had spilled when he pulled out back inside of your pussy. You sat there tired and absolutely bewildered with how feral your husband could get sometimes. Last time he was on ten like this you two scored twins, and you could only pray the twins that run in your family wouldn’t catch up to you again.
The next day you thought you were free of the teenage boy-ish sex drive your husband had. The twins were home and using the living room as their personal playroom though they had their own, and you took that as an excuse to distract them with toys as you read your favorite book in the kitchen where you could see them. Unluckily for you, the ADHD they inherited gave them the ability to not exactly not focus, but focus a little too much. Lewis had turned on their favorite show and made sure the volume was three notches higher than what it was supposed to be before sneaking into the kitchen with you.
You could feel he was up to something as you side eyed him from the sitting nook, but surprisingly he walked right by you, your eyes following him all the way to your home office. He knew you hated him in there.
You slam down you book after marking your page and follow after him, only to realize you had been duped when you heard the door close and lock behind you. You were starting to almost regret telling him your ovulation cycle.
✮✮✮✮
When you two got the news that it was twins, you were both in shock, Lewis a bit more over the moon than you of course because who wants to incubate twins for the second time around, but you both were happy nonetheless. The real kicker was finding out that one of them was a boy, and the other unknown.
“What do you mean you can’t see it? Is there something wrong?” You asked nervously and Lewis squeezes your hand, already knowing how your nerves were.
“Well, not really. The problem is that twin A is still blocking twin B. This is your last few weeks and it’s a bit camped in there now, so they’re kinda just laying in an uncomfortable position. Even if I were to do a vaginal ultrasound, it’d be pretty hard to tell” Your doctor chuckles, making you sigh in relief and look at Lewis, his face unreadable.
When you two left the building and went home, you could tell Lewis was a bit disappointed.
“You okay?” You ask, holding the hand he had placed on your thigh as he watched TV. He nods and gives you a small smile, his eyes not moving from the screen.
“You know I wanted a girl, but obviously god has other plans. It’s okay, really”
You hum. “…Look on the bright side, baby B might be a girl” You smile back, your husband laughing and shaking his head.
“Let’s be real! It’s gonna be two boys again”
“You don’t know that”
“I do. And it’s okay…We’ll always have another time to try for a girl” He smiles wider, looking to you.
You blink for a moment, realizing he was serious. “…Another time?! You are out of your mind!” You hit his arm and he groans, begging you in the mist of your refusals.
“Absolutely not, Lewis! You said just one more months ago and that one more turned into two!”
“So you wouldn’t want to try again if they’re both boys? Really?”
“Lewis, if this one is a boy, I might move out. That’s your answer!” Lewis bursts into laughter as your hand moves to your round belly, feeling a kick hit right below your belly button.
“And one of them is beating on me right now! I can’t live in a house with five boys, I can’t even believe I let three of them plus an alleged one stay inside me”
“Well…Four plus an alleged one. One of them was just on and off..In and out” You gasp at his dirty joke and shove him again, more laughs erupting from him.
✮✮✮✮
💌:i’ll probably make another part to this just cause Dad!Lewis is superior and maybe write an actual smut too idk yet
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sugarplum217 · 18 days ago
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The Fire We Make (Part Two)
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Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI
Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage, alcohol usage, mentions of female masturbation, mentions of sexual assault and drug use, oral sex (female recieving) please
Authors Note: Please excuse any errors or mistakes, I hope you enjoy and please be kind.
Summary: You were supposed to be focused, handling your Nana’s last wishes, getting this house in order, and most importantly, staying out of trouble. But how the hell were you supposed to do that when trouble was six-foot-something, built like a sin, and living under the same damn roof? Terry was already making it hard to keep your thoughts pure, but when a little liquor enters the mix? Whew. The lines start blurring, the tension gets thicker, and suddenly, the two of you are toeing a line that neither of you might be ready to cross. But with confessions spilling, dangerous heat rising, and that fine ass man looking at you like he’s ready to ruin your whole damn world… staying away? Yeah. That might not be an damn option anymore.
You always knew your Nana had a funny way of doing things, but damn, you didn’t expect her to leave you damn near lost in the sauce when it came to handling her last wishes. You swore this woman had an aversion to clear instructions. You should’ve known better. Nana never wrote shit down, not a recipe, not a schedule, not even a damn grocery list. Everything she did was off instinct. She’d always tell you, “Baby, just follow your heart. It’ll lead you where you need to go.” That was cute and all, but what the hell was your heart supposed to do when you were knee deep in paperwork, fighting through legal vocabulary, and trying to make sure her precious land didn’t end up in the wrong hands?
You’d spent the past few days drowning in documents, back-and-forth phone calls with a bunch of old Southern men who thought you were just some clueless city girl, and running errands that felt like they had no end in sight. On top of all that, you had to deal with a whole grown-ass man—a man that was so damn fine he had your hormones setting up camp in your ovaries and throwing a block party every time he walked in the room.
This random-ass nigga Terry, the so-called “helper” who was supposed to be here to assist you, was doing the complete opposite. This man was a walking sexual healing, word to Marvin Gaye. The shit was becoming ridiculous. Your pussy damn near fell through your panties every single time he walked by.
Broad ass shoulders, arms cut like he was hand-carved by the gods, abs that looked like they belonged on a sculpture in a museum. And that face? Whew. That was a whole different kind of fine. I mean, not the kind of fine you run across too many times in life. Terry had one of them strong, grown man faces, sharp jaw, full lips, and for godsake those unique colored eyes that held a storm behind them. He looked like he had a past, like he’d been through some dangerous shit, like he was the type to handle business when necessary. In other words, he looked like the kind of trouble you had no business entertaining. Especially not in the frame of mind you were in, for crying out loud you were still technically grieving. But the way your body reacted? The way your thighs clenched every time his deep ass voice hit your ears? The way your nipples betrayed you whenever he got too close? Yeah… this wasn’t just simple attraction. This was some next level, soul-stirring, I need to be baptized immediately type of undeniable lust.
The sun had been on demon time all damn day. You swore the devil himself had blown his hot-ass breath straight onto the state. It wasn’t just hot—it was disrespectfully hot. The type of heat that made the air stifling and thick as well as made your skin sticky. Had you questioning if you should just go lay down and let Jesus take the wheel. At the moment you were currently outside, sitting on the porch, trying not to pass out from heat stroke. Your leopard-print Fashion Nova romper wasn’t doing much to keep you cool—it was thin and barely there, clinging to your curves like it had an agenda of its own. You didn’t care, though. If these country men could walk around in nothing but basketball shorts and tank tops, you could wear your little booty-clapper romper in peace.
With a lemon-flavored popsicle in hand, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, music blasting through your AirPods. You weren’t even paying attention to the world around you. At least, not until you looked up and saw him. Terry was out in the yard, shirtless, sweat glistening on his golden-brown skin like he was made of pure temptation. He had the lawn mower in a firm grip, pushing it across the grass with ease, the muscles in his back flexing with every movement. His broad shoulders and cut biceps worked as he maneuvered the machine, sweat dripping down the hard planes of his chest, sliding over his abs, disappearing into the waistband of his basketball shorts.
“Lord, have mercy…” You whispered under your breath. Your stomach clenched, thighs instantly pressing together on instinct. You weren’t even paying much attention to how hot it was anymore. Not when Terry was giving you a show.
The way he moved—slow, controlled, powerful—had your mind going straight to the gutter. You bit your lip, watching him like you had no damn home training. Your mouth went dry, but you refused to blame the heat. This was all him. The way the sun kissed his rich caramel skin? The way his jaw clenched in concentration? The way his thick ass thighs flexed every time he took a step? Terry was a whole ass problem.
You took a slow pull from your popsicle, sucking the tip into your mouth as your eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of you while you leaned back on your elbows, stretching your legs out in front of you, letting the sun warm your skin as you continued to watch him work. You intensely watched as the lawn mower moved slow and steady under his firm grip, his strong hands flexing around the handle as he guided it across the thick grass with impeccable controlled precision. Every push made his biceps tighten, the muscles in his shoulders rolling under his skin like waves. His back flexed, broad and cut, tapering down to a slim waist and thick thighs that held all the power he was working with. He definitely made yard work look sinful. The deep hum of the lawn mower vibrated through the air, but it wasn’t enough to drown out your thoughts. You shifted again, your thighs pressing together, trying to ignore the growing wetness that had started to turn noticeably sticky against the seat of your romper.
Truth be told you knew it had been a minute since you got some. And it wasn’t just about sex—you needed something real. Not some half-ass, two-pump, let-me-get-mine type of situation. No, you needed a man who knew how to handle a woman like you. A man who knew how to grab you, flip you, make you forget your own damn name. Most men didn’t know what to do with a woman built like you—soft in all the right places, curves that needed to be held properly. The kind of body that required strength. The kind of body that needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take control, to pin you down, to make you feel every inch of him until you were running from it. And something in the back of your mind told you Terry was that kind of man. Now you knew damn well in the back of your mind , you weren’t supposed to be lusting after this man. You were supposed to be focused. But the way your body was reacting? The way your heartbeat was drumming between your legs? Baby… focus was nowhere to be found.
“Shit…” You muttered under your breath, shifting in your seat. You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing as your thighs lazily parted open, wanting to give him a view of exactly what he was working with. The thin leopard-print romper did nothing to hide the soft, fat flips beneath it, and you dared Terry to notice. Terry clearly must’ve felt you staring after a while because suddenly, he looked up, eyes locking straight right at you. Your lips wrapped around the popsicle before you could think better of it, your tongue flicking against the tip in a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes darkened while a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in, legs parted, skin glowing, sitting there like temptation itself while sucking on something cold to keep from melting in this heat. Or maybe to keep from melting under his heat. You could’ve looked away. Could’ve played it off. But instead, you held his gaze and dragged your tongue along the side of the popsicle, purring at the refreshing taste. Terry’s smirk deepened. He dragged a hand over his head, wiping away sweat, and took his sweet time looking you over—eyes traveling from your thighs to your lips, lingering for just a second too long. While he took his own glances.
Your eyes dragged lower, following the slow, tantalizing trail of sweat dripping down his abs, rolling over the deep-cut lines of his V. The way his muscles flexed with every movement, the way that sheen of sweat made his caramel skin glisten under the ruthless South Carolina sun—it was sinful. You could see it. The way those sharp dips led right beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts, teasing at what was beneath. That print, that damn thick dick print, sitting heavy between his thighs, made your mouth damn near water. Your fingers tightened around the melting popsicle, lips parting slightly as your breathing turned shallow. You didn’t even realize he had stopped pushing the mower by this point. Hell, you didn’t even notice how hard he was staring right back at you. Your mind was complete mush. His gaze wasn’t on your face, though. Wasn’t even on your parted lips or the way your chest rose and fell beneath your thin romper. No, Terry was looking right between your thighs. Your legs were still lazily parted, the soft, fat flesh of your pussy lips spilling over the seat of your romper in a way that had his stormy ocean like eyes darkening, narrowing slightly. And then , he noticed that little glint of the diamond metal sitting exactly where his tongue wanted to be. His jaw flexed and his grip on the mower tightened. His nostrils flared just slightly, envisioning what your pussy looks beneath that romper. The way he was looking at you? Like he was imagining spreading those thighs wider, getting a real close look at that piercing, letting his tongue play with it just to hear how sweet you’d sound moaning his name. Terry’s slow stare continued to drag up and down your body, lingering on that juicy space between your thick thighs. His tongue peeked out, swiping across his bottom lip as he eyed you like he was trying to decide if he was about to fuck around and make a bad decision.
The air between you two was thick and dripping with animalistic lust and deep sexual tension. By this point your entire body felt as though it was buzzing, waiting for him to say something, do something—Then your phone rang, loud as hell might I add. You damn near jumped out of your skin, startled, the sound snatching you straight out of your dirty-ass thoughts. In your rush to grab the phone, you choked on the popsicle juice sliding down your throat, coughing as your eyes watered. Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before turning back to his work. That only made it worse. Now you were sitting here, hot, pussy throbbing and wet, and embarrassed, struggling to breathe while he went right back to pushing that damn lawn mower like he hadn’t just had you about to risk your soul in broad daylight.
“Hello?” You answered, trying to steady your voice and not sound flustered.
“Miss Walker?” The voice on the other end came through.
You swallowed hard, still trying to steady your voice. “Uh, yeah. This is her.”
“This is Veronica Kincaid, the realtor you called about your grandmother’s land. I wanted to touch base since I’ll be coming by tomorrow evening to do an initial walk-through of the property.” The realtor stated.
You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. Of course the realtor would pick now, right now—to call you. And of course your voice still sounded all breathy and flustered like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. Which… technically, you had.
“Right, right. Veronica. Got it. Uh, so… what time were you thinking?”
You cleared your throat, shifting once again, getting up off the chair to head inside the house. The gentle flow of the air condition kissed your skin soon as you went inside the house and you were oh so grateful. You tucked your phone between your ear and shoulder as you migrated to the kitchen to grab a much needed ice cold glass of water.
“Well, I was hoping for around five, if that works for you? I know it’s short notice, but I had an opening, and I wanted to make sure we got ahead of any potential buyers who might be interested.” She explained.
“Yeah, yeah, five is cool. I’ll be here.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and opened it, immediately gulping it down.
“Great! And just to confirm, we’ll be looking at the full property today? The house and the surrounding land?” Veronica gently inquired. Your eyes flicked back to Terry outside through the kitchen window, who was still working, still glistening in that sun like the temptation he was. You exhaled slowly, pressing your thighs together again.
“Yeah,” you murmured, voice lower than it should’ve been. “The whole thing.”
“Alright, perfect! And if you have those documents ready, we can go over them when I arrive.” She requested, making you scrunch up your face confused. Documents? You thought to yourself. Your brain was fried. Not just from the heat but from that damn man outside looking like a walking sexual healing.
You barely managed, “Yeah, I’ll have everything ready,” before rushing her off the phone with a hasty, “I’ll see you tomorrow Veronica, alright bye.”
The second the call ended, you dropped your phone onto the counter and pressed your palms to your thighs, inhaling deeply. You clearly needed a moment, but apparently, God wasn’t done testing you today. Because not even a second later, Terry walked into the kitchen. You instantly stiffened up soon as he crossed the threshold, making your body react yet again. It wasn’t enough that he was fine as hell, now he had the nerve to smell good, too? Like fresh-cut grass, sun, and something deep and masculine that made your thighs press together on instinct. Terry didn’t say a word as he went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, twisting off the cap with one hand like it was nothing. You tried to focus on Veronica’s voice in your ear, but then he slowly tilted his head back with his eyes closed. His throat flexing as he gulped down the water, droplets escaping down his chin, rolling over the slight scruff lining his jaw before dripping onto his ridiculously cut chest.
“Oh, fuck.” You uttered barely audible, thanking the heavens he didn’t hear you. Your brain short-circuited and all you could see was the way his lips wrapped around that bottle, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and suddenly, you weren’t picturing water anymore. No, now you were picturing your own creamy essence dripping down that chin, sliding down his jaw, his lips shiny with your sweet juices. Terry glanced at you mid-sip, catching the way you were gawking at him, before lowering the bottle and licking his lips.
“You good?” His deep voice carried that smooth, teasing edge.
“Mmhmm.” You swallowed hard, nodding quickly, forcing a tight lipped smile. Terry lifted a brow like he wasn’t buying that shit at all but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned against the counter, smirking slightly.
“Hot as hell out there, huh?” He teased, taking another swig from his water.
You huffed, waving a hand. “Yeah, I can’t do this shit. It’s too hot.”
“Can’t hang, huh?” That low chuckle of his sent a shiver down your spine. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t even have the strength to argue. Your body was over it. As you grabbed your phone again, scrolling for the information Veronica needed, Terry took his time looking you over—really looking. Up close, he had an unobstructed view of what that leopard-print romper was doing to your figure. The way it clung to every curve, the way it barely covered your ass—or didn’t at all. That fabric had disappeared between your cheeks like it belonged there. Terry licked his lips, his mind going places it had no business going. All he could see was you bent over for him, those thick thighs trembling, that ass bouncing as he made you take every inch. A cornbread-fed body like yours? The type with thick thighs, soft rolls, and an ass that could smother a man to death? Yeah, that was his weakness. There were about a hundred ways he could make you run from him, and he knew that shit for a fact. His mind was deep in the gutter and he knew it as he watched you concentrate on your phone with your entire upper half of your body perched across the counter. Your ass poked out while you were arched just right for his liking. You didn’t even realize the way your ass swallowed the romper of we’re being honest or that he was looking at you like he was picturing it bouncing on his lap. As much as Terry didn’t want to, he knew he had to snap the hell out of it before he fucked around and found out.
“So… have you talked to the realtor yet?” He asked , clearing his throat, he shifted his stance and forced himself to focus. You glanced up, raising a brow like you knew he was just pulling himself out of a real deep thought.
“Yeah,” You said slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s coming by tomorrow evening.”
“That was quick.” He nodded, eyes still lingering on you, trying to gauge you.
“Trying to get shit handled as quick as possible so I can figure everything else out and not be here longer than I need to be.” You sighed, rubbing your temples. Terry let out a small chuckle, slightly shaking his head as his eyes lingered on you for a beat too long.
“Guess we’ll see what she has to say then.” He said stoically , expression unreadable.
“Guess we will,” You murmured. Avoiding his eyes as you fidgeted with your phone. The subtle ache from his lawn mowing performance is still evident.
“Aight, well I’m gon’ take a shower. If you need me just knock on my door.” Terry tapped his fingers against the counter before speaking again.
“I will.” You nodded, not bothering to meet his eyes. Terry gave a simple head nod, before turning the opposite direction, and heading out of the kitchen to get his shower. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding until you heard a door close from down the hall. You immediately snatched your phone and dialed Tasha. The entire time you had been staying here, you were putting her up on game.
“This heffa better pick up this fucking phone—.” You were cut off by her picking up on the first ring.
“Bitch… this better be good. I’m trying to do my nails.” She dragged out, knowingly.
“Tasha...” You groaned.
“Tell me why you sound like you just had a whole orgasm.” She twisted up her face as if you could see, laughing softly on the other end.
“Because, bitch, I might have.” You got up from in front of the counter, migrating into the living room and dropping onto the couch, covering your face.
“Oh no. What did Terry do now?” Tasha cackled loudly. You adjusted the phone on your ear, not bothering to use your AirPods .
“It’s not what he did, Tasha. It’s just… him existing.” You sighed loudly, fanning yourself dramatically.
“Damn. It’s that bad?” She snickered.
“No, girl. It’s worse.” You exhaled, flopping back against the cushions. “This nigga got the nerve to be outside, shirtless, cutting grass like he’s auditioning for a damn porno. And then he comes inside, drenched in sweat, drinking water like he knows what he’s doing.”
Tasha wheezed. “Did you damn near suck the air out of the room watching him?”
“…I might’ve choked on my popsicle.” You embarrassingly admitted. Dead silence. Then— She SCREAMED.
“BITCHHHHHH.” She hollered out, doubling over in laughter.
You groaned. “I fucking hate you.”
“Nah, I love this for you,” She snickered. “But, uh, be careful. That man sounds like he’s about to be all in your guts real soon.”
“Lord please… don’t say that Tasha.” You whined, feeling your heart rate speed up. Your legs crossed tight at the thought. Because the Lord knew you wanted it. And by the way Terry had been looking at you today? He might’ve wanted it just as bad.
“Girl, I’m just saying… it’s been a minute since you got that back cracked open like a lobster! When was the last time you had a man deep inside you making you forget all your worries, hmm?” Tasha asked, her voice playful but full of intent.
You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. “Damn, Tasha. You really gotta ask me that?”
“Yes, I do! ‘Cause the way you soundin’ all flustered and stressed out over this man, I know you need some relief. So spill it.” She pestered. You hesitated, lips pressing together. The truth was, it had been a minute. Too damn long. And the last time? Whew… the last time was with Rahmello, better known as Rome. That fine, toxic-ass sneaky link who had you sprung even though you swore up and down you weren’t. He wasn’t Terry fine, but he was still fine in his own right. Tall, built, skin the color of fresh coffee, and a smile that could charm the lace off a nun. The sex was fire. He was the only one who truly knew how to touch you, how to work your body like he had a damn manual. And Lord, did he love to hear you moan.
But Rome wasn’t on or about shit. He never wanted to leave your apartment after laying the pipe like his name was Mario. Not because of your body—oh no, he worshipped every damn inch of you—but because he was still technically with his baby mama and didn’t want that smoke. A coward. A man who thrived off the thrill but would never step up. So yeah… he was the last man you’d been with. And it had been two years.
“Girl, why is you so quiet? You reminiscing, huh? I knew it!” Tasha’s voice pulled you back to the present.
You scoffed. “First of all, shut up. Second of all… I ain’t reminiscing. I’m just—”
“Just realizing it’s been too damn long since you had some real dick,” She cut in, making you roll your eyes.
“Tasha, I am NOT about to be fuckin’ this man. I came down here to honor Nana’s wishes, not get caught up with some stranger!” You sighed dramatically.
“Oh, so now he’s just some stranger? You ain’t been drooling over him for the past three days? Girl, please.” She amusingly scoffed.
“That’s beside the point. The point is—I’m keeping it together.” You sucked your teeth.
“Nah, the point is, you're scared. You afraid that if you let that man touch you, it’s over for you.” Tasha snorted.
Silence.
Then, you exhaled through your nose. “YES, HOE! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M AFRAID OF!”
“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! Oh my God—bitch, you actin’ like this nigga ‘bout to have you outside his window with a boombox, playin’ love songs n’ shit!” Tasha hollered, practically puncturing your eardrum.
“Tasha, I just KNOW that nigga got some demon dick. He look like he will have me screamin’, I GOT THE BIKE, HOLIDAY!” You covered your face with one hand, laughing despite yourself.
“STOPPPP! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T BREATHE!” Tasha was screaming now, full-on hollering through the phone.
“I’m serious! This man just look like he’ll have me actin’ a damn fool. And I don’t have the time or the mental capacity for that kinda stress.”You laughed too, shaking your head as you fanned yourself.
Tasha finally calmed down enough to catch her breath. “Whew… girl. I get it, I really do. But, for real—for real… if you keep fightin’ it this hard, that just means you already in too deep.”
You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew she had a point. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet. After spending another few minutes on the phone with Tasha. You realized you needed to take care of the constant yearn that was deep inside your belly. The ache between your legs was damn near unbearable. No amount of squeezing your thighs together, shifting in your seat, or deep breathing was doing a damn thing to make it go away. And it was all of his sexy ass fault. Terry had no business looking that damn good, smelling that damn good, and moving the way he did. Your body had been on high alert from the moment you saw him out there mowing the lawn, and now, after that whole scene in the kitchen, your nerves were shot, and your body was begging for relief. You needed release, and fast. You leaned up slightly from the couch, as you listened carefully, making sure he was nowhere near. Then, you heard it—the sound of the shower running down the hall. Terry was in the guest bathroom, meaning you had just enough time to sneak upstairs and handle business before he finished. Wasting no time, you shot up from the couch and rushed up the stairs, heart pounding. The second you got into your bedroom, you fished through your suitcase, hands shaking with anticipation, until your fingers wrapped around the one thing that could bring you to the edge and push you over in minutes, your lovely rose better known as your lifesaver.
You practically ripped your romper off, the fabric slipping down your thick thighs with ease. And when you stepped out of it, you whimpered. The sight of your own slick, gooey essence stretching between your thighs had you trembling. Your swollen clit pulsed angrily, begging for attention, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for Terry to be the one to drop down to his knees and lick up every single drop. You bit your lip feeling a shudder run down your spine. Your legs felt weak as you climbed onto the bed, settling against your pillows. Wasting no time, you powered the rose on, immediately switching it to the third setting—the one that never failed to drag a scream right out of you. The second the soft suction latched onto your needy, swollen wet clit, your whole body jerked.
“Oh fuck! Mmmm shit.” A sharp cry tore from your lips as your thighs clenched. You threw your head back, feeling your juices gush out as it hit the toy, making a sound that had you so turned on. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that you felt yourself spiraling already as you slowly rubbed the toy up and down your clit, teasing it as its suction continued to pull and tug on it, making your cream slowly gather inside your hole, ready to drip out.
“Fuuuuck, y-yess.” Your hips bucked as you rocked into the toy, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hit you like a fucking freight train. You knew you were about to have the hardest nut of your life.
“My clit so fucking fat shit.” You moaned filthy, feeling hot and wet as your pussy began to have a mind of its own. You were in love with how sensitive your clit felt. The dream was dripping like lava as you felt the toy’s hard suction increasing as your clit fattened with need.
Your legs trembled as you held them back, the rose sucking and pulsing against your swollen clit, dragging out a sticky, wet ache that had been building for days. The first drag of suction made you shudder, a deep moan slipping from your lips as your juices dripped down your pussy slowly and onto the sheets. You rubbed the toy up and down while holding it down to add more pressure, teasing your clit, the pulsing vibration making your body jolt every time it latched onto your clit just right. The obscene squelch and suction noises filled the room, bouncing off the walls, mixing with your ragged breaths and soft whimpers. You swore you could feel the orgasm creeping up already, your belly tightening, thighs clenching, toes curling. You didn’t even care how loud you were; Terry was all the way in the guest bathroom, the sound of the shower running covering your sinful little secret. At least, that’s what you thought. What you didn’t know was that Terry wasn’t even in the damn shower yet. He had stepped out of the bathroom to grab some fresh clothes from the dryer, towel slung over his shoulder, basketball shorts hanging low on his waist, when he passed by your door. And that’s when he heard it. The wet, messy sounds. The desperate little moans.He stopped mid-step, his head tilting, listening closer. The low buzz of a toy, the way your breath hitched between every slick, suctioning pull of it. His lips parted slightly, and his hand flexed at his side, his whole body stiffening as his breathing slowed down, listening to you moan and cry. His tongue ran across his teeth as he bit down, his dick already hardening at the thought of what was happening just beyond that door. And Lord help him… he wanted to see.
“Mmmm suck that pussy! Yesss.” You cried out, eyes closed, picturing Terry’s mouth on you instead of the rose. You pressed the rose down harder, throwing your head back against the pillows as soft spurts of pussy juice squirted from you, making a nice puddle beneath your ass. Terry stood frozen outside your door, jaw tight, tongue pressed against his teeth as he listened to the wet, sloppy sounds coming from your room. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as his mind wandered and painted a crystal clear image of you and how you looked right about now pleasuring yourself.
“Damn,” He muttered under his breath, low and raspy. “I know that pussy look pretty when it cum.”
His head dropped forward slightly, hand flexing at his side as his mind painted the filthiest picture—your thick thighs trembling, that pretty little pussy clenching and dripping, all swollen and needy, just waiting for a real tongue to replace that damn toy. And then he heard it. His name slipping past your lips, soft and breathless, like a damn prayer as you were orgasming and creaming all over yourself , and letting out what you had been building up for the last few days.
“T-Terry— FUCK TERRY!” You cried loudly, cumming hard and intensely, as you rode the toy slowly. Immediately going sensitive you dropped the toy to the side and rubbed your aching clit rapidly with your middle finger, allowing yourself to squirt out as a second nut hit you, making your walls squirt harder. Terry’s eyes went dark, a deep hunger settling in his gut, spreading through his veins like wildfire. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his breathing ragged as the image of you writhing on that bed, your fingers tangled in the sheets, legs wide open for him, sent a pulse of raw, aching need straight to his dick. He swallowed hard, fists clenching tighter as he forced himself to step back, to walk away and restrain himself before he did something reckless. Because if he stepped into that room? There wouldn’t be any turning back. He was gonna beat the fuck out of that pussy until you saw stars.
You jerked from the aftershock of your mind blowing orgasm as you laid there, trying to catch your breath. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as your ears were practically ringing. You’ve had your fair share of amazing orgasms when it came down to self care but this one? This one was undoubtedly the hardest, most nastiest one you had ever given yourself. You knew what your good girl could do. She was a messy juice monster that could make a mess if touched correctly and only you knew how to touch her to make it this intense. But it wasn’t just your technique this time , or your rose toy. It was that tall rich caramel nigga with the gorgeous unique eyes that had you spent and dripping cum.
“S-Shit…” You softly whimpered, feeling tired as your eyes grew heavy. As much as you wanted to get up and clean yourself off as well as change the covers. The aftershock of your orgasm sent you into a soft deep, very much needed slumber. You weren’t fond of sleeping in sweet sticky essence but you were too spent and too weak to fight against it. Not even a minute later you were knocked out, snoring softly with your legs still wide open, with not one care in the world.
A little after 4pm you finally arose from your slumber. Your body felt brand new after an hour-long nap and a much-needed shower. The kind of shower where you let the hot water run over your skin, steam fogging up the mirror while you took your time rubbing yourself down with your favorite body scrub. You needed that. Deserved that. Now, feeling refreshed, you threw on something light—a tiny tube-top dress that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, the soft cotton clinging to your curves. You slid your feet into your fluffy fur slides, secured your hair up in a claw clip, and let a few soft curls frame your face. Cute, comfortable, and cool. Perfect for this ridiculous heat. With your Bluetooth speaker connected, you scrolled through your playlist, finally settling on SWV’s “Anything” Remix. As soon as the beat dropped, the energy in the kitchen shifted. The bass vibrated through the air, wrapping around you like an old friend. You started off slow, swaying your hips as you pulled out ingredients, letting the rhythm seep into your bones. The knife moved effortlessly through the ripe tomatoes, the sizzle of onions hitting the pan mixing with the music.
“Boy, my body’s just for you…” You sang as your shoulders bounced to the beat, and before you knew it, you were dancing. Really dancing. Hands up, hips rolling, that natural rhythm taking over as you stirred the pot on the stove. The little dress lifted with every step, teasing the curve of your ass as you lost yourself in the moment. What you didn’t know was that Terry had walked in a while ago, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, just… watching. Amused. Intrigued. You moved so effortlessly, like music was embedded in your bones. He licked his lips, eyes glued to the way your thighs jiggled with every step. That ass? A masterpiece. He could’ve watched you all damn day, but after a few more moments, he finally made his presence known.
“Ahem.” The deep rumble of his throat clearing cut through the air like a record scratch. You jumped, nearly dropping the spoon in your hand. Turning around, wide-eyed and caught, you saw him standing there, that signature smirk tugging at his lips.
“Jesus, you scared the hell outta me,” You huffed, pressing a hand to your chest, trying to slow your pounding heart.Terry just chuckled, eyes dark with something unreadable as he nodded toward you.
“Nah, baby girl, don’t stop on my account. Looked like you was really feelin’ it.” He teased.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, waving him off as you turned back to the stove. But your heart was still racing. And not just from the scare. Terry leaned against the counter, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off with ease. As he took a slow, deep gulp, you caught the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. The way his lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop. You swallowed hard, looking away before your mind took you places it had no business going again for the second time today. Terry smirked behind the bottle. Oh yeah, he had peeped all of that. And after overhearing what you were really up to in your room earlier, he was having a hard time pretending like he didn’t know exactly what had you so damn flustered. But he kept that dirty little secret to himself. For now.
The silence stretched for a bit, except for the music playing in the background. You exhaled, stirring the pot before muttering, “It’s too damn quiet out here.”
Terry hummed. “You ain’t used to it yet?”
“Not even close. I miss New York. All the noise, the people, the energy… I miss just walking outside and hearing taxi’s honking or ambulance's blaring. This country cricket life is not for me.” You scoffed. Truth of the matter was that you couldn’t stand the quiet due to being alone in your thoughts. The quieter things were, the more you relived trauma and pain you tried to forget about in this very house and town. Living in the city helped you stay occupied and distracted so you wouldn’t have to feel or think. Your therapist had told you long ago that , that was an unhealthy way to cope but it was either bury the shit or be on meds for the rest of your life because you couldn’t function.
Terry leaned against the counter, watching you. “If you were back home right now, what would you be doing?”
You thought for a second, then shrugged. “Hittin’ the town with my girls or curled up with a glass of wine, binge-watching something on Netflix or Hulu.”
“Sounds like a good night.” Terry nodded, smiling slightly.
“It is,” You said, then paused, your mind drifting to something else. A memory.
“You know… it wasn’t always bad down here. My daddy used to take me to this old skating rink when I was little. Sweet Rollers. Used to be the spot for all the neighborhood kids. I had the time of my life there, zoomin’ around, thinking I was so grown.” You smiled softly, stirring the pot absentmindedly. Terry’s lips tugged into a smirk, eyes flicking to your face as you got lost in the memory. He loved that little spark in your eye when you talked about something that made you happy.
“Sweet Rollers still around,” He said casually.
Your head snapped up. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah,” Terry chuckled. “Still open. Still got skate nights, too. If you hurry up and get dressed, we can make the evening session.”
“Yeah, right. My big ass ain’t skated in years. I’m not about to be out there bustin’ my ass in front of a bunch of teenagers. No thank you.” You snorted.
Terry leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “All you done did since you got here is work and complain. How ‘bout one night of just… fun?”
You gave him a side-eye. “I have fun.”
Terry smirked. “Name one fun thing you done since you stepped foot in this house.”
Silence
“…Exactly.”
You exhaled, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really tryna get me out the house that bad?”
“I’m tryna get you to loosen up,” Terry said, voice low and smooth. “Ain’t no harm in that, is it?”
You bit your lip, debating. And Lord help you… but the way he was looking at you? It was making it real hard to say no.
You hesitated for a second, chewing on your lip as you looked between Terry and the food sizzling on the stove. “We gotta eat first.”
“We can eat this delicious concoction when we get back. I’ll wrap it up so it stays warm. You go get dressed.” Terry shook his head with a smirk, stepping past you and reaching for the knob, twisting the fire off. You huffed, knowing he wasn’t about to let you argue. A night out didn’t sound half bad, and Lord knew you needed to unwind.
“Fine, fine…” You muttered, turning on your heel and rushing upstairs. Now, if you were going out, you were going to look good doing it. You picked out a pair of booty-hugging daisy duke shorts that gripped your thighs in all the right places, frayed at the edges just enough to tease. Then, you slipped into a cherry-red halter top bodysuit with a plunging neckline, leaving your entire back out, your spine tattoo on full display. You accessorized with your gold nameplate necklace, matching gold hoops, and stacked charm bracelets, letting the jewelry glint against your brown skin. Your hair was next—water and gel slicked it up into a high ponytail, soft curls cascading messily while your baby hairs framed your forehead just right. Shoes? Cute sandals. But you tossed a pair of socks into your purse for the rink. Makeup? Unnecessary. Your skin was already glowing. You fluffed your lash extensions, reapplied your buttery lip gloss, then reached for your Tom Ford Vanilla Sex—a Christmas gift from your mother. The rich, warm scent filled the air as you sprayed a generous amount over your collarbone, wrists, and thighs. Just as you grabbed your purse, you heard Terry’s deep voice call from downstairs.
“You ready yet?” His voice sounded smooth as velvet.
You smirked at your reflection before stepping out of your room and heading toward the stairs. The moment you hit the top step, his head turned. You saw the shift in his expression immediately. His eyes dragged down your short frame—lingering on the way your shorts sat snug on your thighs, then dropping lower to admire how your ass filled them out from the front. His tongue swiped over his lips before his gaze trailed up your exposed back, his jaw flexing slightly. By the time he reached your face, his pupils were just a little darker.
“Damn, ma…” His voice was deep, and heavier. “You tryna have every nigga in there break they neck?” He raised his eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes, descending the stairs. “Boy, shut up.”
Terry let out a low chuckle, stepping closer. “Nah, for real. You dangerous in that.” His head tilted, his voice dropping. “Lookin’ like you tryna get chose tonight.”
“Please. I just like to look good.” You scoffed, even though your pulse betrayed you.
He grabbed his keys, still watching you like he was committing every detail to memory. “Well, you succeeded.” Then, he smirked, nodding toward the door. “C’mon, before I change my mind and keep you here all night.”
Your breath caught for a split second, but you played it off, brushing past him as you stepped outside.You felt his presence heavy behind you, his eyes still lingering. Yeah… this night might be trouble. But you were already in too deep to back out now. Jesus be a complete fence around you and your hormones tonight. The ride to the skating rink was smooth, the warm evening breeze slipping through the cracked windows of Terry’s truck. The low hum of the engine filled the silence at first, but the tension in the air was anything but quiet. You shifted in your seat, smoothing your hands over your bare thighs, acutely aware of Terry’s presence beside you. He had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console, his long fingers occasionally drumming against the leather. He was relaxed, but you could tell by the way his jaw flexed that his mind wasn’t completely at ease.
“You always this quiet?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.
“I talk when I got something to say.” Terry smirked, eyes still on the road.
“Oh, so you one of them?” You scoffed, shaking your head.
“One of what?” He glanced over at you briefly, amusement flickering in his gaze.
“The mysterious, brooding type. The ‘I ain’t gotta say much’ type. That whole ‘quiet storm’ thing.” You waved your hand. “Lemme guess, you think it makes you more intriguing, huh?”
“Nahhh, I just don’t waste words.” Terry chuckled under his breath.
“Mmhmm.” You folded your arms, feigning disappointment. “And here I was thinkin’ we was gonna have deep conversation, maybe share some childhood secrets, bond a little.” You pouted.
That made him chuckle again, this time a little deeper. “What you wanna know?”
You turned your body toward him, lips curling into a smirk. “I dunno… something interesting. Like, what’s your guilty pleasure?”
Terry lifted an eyebrow. “Guilty pleasure?”
“Yeah, like some random shit you love but would never admit out loud.” You stared at him, admiring the way his pretty eyes looked under the settling evening skies.
He rolled his lips together, thinking for a second before saying, “Old ‘90s R&B.”
“Word?” You perked up.
He nodded. “Yeah… I be playin’ the hell outta some Jodeci or Mint Condition when I’m by myself.”
“Not Jodeci.” You gasped dramatically, hand to your chest.
“You asked.” Terry chuckled, shaking his head.
“So what you be doing? Sitting in your truck with the seat back, windows down, singing your heart out?”
“Somethin’ like that.” He smirked, glancing over at you.
You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s wild. I would’ve pegged you for more of a hardcore rap, never-show-emotion type dude.”
“Oh, I still be on that. But sometimes, you gotta let a little Feenin’ or Pretty Brown Eyes play when the mood hit.” He licked his bottom lip, giving you a side glance.
“Yeah… I can see that.” You stared at him for a beat, biting your lip.
Terry’s eyes flickered to your mouth before looking back at the road. “What about you?”
“What about me?” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“What’s your guilty pleasure?” He side glanced you, licking the corner of his mouth.
You grinned, knowing your answer might make him judge you. “Don’t laugh… but I love watching trashy reality TV.”
“Nah.” Terry snorted.
“Yes!” You laughed. “Like, the messier the better. I love the drama, the fighting, the over-the-top acting—”
“That’s wild.” He chuckled.
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m judgin’.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”
Terry smirked, shaking his head before muttering, “Yeah… I can see that.”
The way he threw your words back at you made you laugh, shaking your head as you settled into a more comfortable silence. The ride continued, the city lights flashing past the windows, and for a moment, you found yourself just enjoying the easy rhythm between you two. No pressure, no awkwardness. Just… something smooth. Something that felt good. Something that made you wonder what the hell you were getting yourself into. As soon as Terry pulled into the parking lot of Sweet Rollers, the deep bass of old-school R&B / Hip Hop tracks vibrated through the truck, mixing with the sounds of laughter and chatter from the rowdy crowd gathered outside. Groups of people lingered near their cars, some sipping on drinks, others showing off their best dance moves before heading inside. It was packed, just like you remembered, and an excited thrill rushed through you at the sight of your old stomping grounds.
“Oooh, this is what I’m talking about!” You excitedly grinned, practically bouncing in your seat.
Terry, however, wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic. His sharp ocean-like gaze swept over the crowd, his jaw tightening slightly. “Too many fucking people.”
“It’s a skating rink, Terry. It’s supposed to be packed.” You rolled your eyes.
“I know.” He exhaled through his nose, gripping the wheel. Unbeknownst to you, Terry wasn’t fond of overly packed places. He hated crowds in general but where he came from he knew that too many niggas in one spot and a bunch of alcohol was a recipe for some shit to pop off. Being an ex Marine Terry was always on guard and ready to handle business if need be and even tonight wasn’t no exception to his unspoken rule.
“What, you scared?” You smirked.
He cut his eyes at you. “Ain’t never been scared a day in my life.”
“Then come on, tough guy.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door handle. “Let’s have some fun.”
Terry sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before finally nodding. “Yeah, aight.”
As soon as you both stepped out, you could feel the eyes on you—or more specifically, on him. Women stopped mid-conversation, their eyes raking over Terry like he was the best thing they’d seen all night. And honestly? You didn’t blame them. Terry was the type of man that commanded attention without even trying. Standing tall in his fitted black tee, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, and fresh sneakers, he had that effortless, I know I look good but I ain’t gotta say it kind of presence. The streetlights bounced off his sexy caramel skin, illuminating his small curls on top of his head, and highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the cool, detached expression that made him even more irresistible.
One woman in particular—a tall, red bone beauty with a micro mini dress that left nothing to the imagination—bit her lip as she eyed him. “Damn,” she muttered to her friend. “That man is fine.”
Before you could process the way irritation flared in your chest, Terry’s large, warm hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The simple touch sent heat rushing up your spine, but more than that, it was a silent message. Ain’t no need for you to feel any type of way, I’m with you. And if the daggers those women were shooting your way were any indication? They got the message loud and clear. Inside, the rink was even livelier. The neon lights flashed against the glossy floor, reflecting off the disco ball spinning in the center. The scent of buttered popcorn, funnel cakes, and sweet candy lingered in the air, mixing with the faint must of sweat and skate wheels burning against the slick surface.
“Oh my God,” You breathed, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s exactly how I remember.”
Terry glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “That right?”
“Yep. This place was my childhood.”You nodded, grinning. He hummed, tucking that piece of information away before leading you toward the rental counter. The girl behind the counter, a petite thing with slicked baby hairs and acrylics long enough to type paragraphs with, barely spared you a glance. Her gaze immediately locked onto Terry, and her whole energy shifted.
“Hey, handsome,” She purred, leaning forward on the counter just enough to push her cleavage together. “What size you need?”
“Thirteen.” Terry, completely unfazed, pulled his wallet out.
“Mm, big feet…” She smiled, twirling a curl around her finger. Your eyebrow shot up at the boldness of this air head before you. You blinked a few times at her. Did she just—?
Terry didn’t react, just glanced at you. “What size, ma?”
“Seven,” You muttered, crossing your arms.
The girl finally looked at you, then reached under the counter, sliding both pairs of skates toward Terry with an extra sweet smile. “That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.
Before you could pull out your own money, Terry was already handing over a crisp bill.
“You ain’t have to do that,” You frowned.
“I was raised to be a southern gentleman. You ain’t payin’ for nothing in my presence.” Terry tucked his wallet away, grabbing the skates.
You huffed. “Terry—”
“I know you can handle your own, mama,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flutter. “But let me handle it tonight.”
And just like that, your knees buckled a little. Terry smirked as if he knew exactly what he was doing, then handed you your skates.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the benches. “Let’s get you laced up.”
You swallowed, fighting the warmth creeping up your cheeks as you followed behind him. Lord have mercy… What did you just get yourself into? You both made your way over to one of the long benches lined against the wall, the music thumping as people whizzed by on their skates, laughter and conversation blending into the lively atmosphere. You plopped down with a sigh, resting your skates beside you, but before you could even think about lacing them up, Terry was already kneeling in front of you, rolling his shoulders back like this was just another day. Your breath hitched. The sight of him on his knees—those thick, muscled arms flexing as he took your ankle into his hands—did something to you. The heat that spread across your skin was immediate, undeniable. His fingers, large and slightly calloused, wrapped around your calf with ease, his touch firm but careful as he guided your foot into the skate. Your body and not to mention your pussy betrayed you instantly. A sharp tingle danced up your spine, settling deep in your clit as you watched him work. His brows furrowed slightly, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones as he concentrated, making sure the skate fit snugly before pulling at the laces. The way his hands moved—strong, sure, completely in control—had no business being so damn… sexy.
“You good?” His deep voice broke through your haze, snapping you back to reality.
“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly on the bench. He glanced up then, his light ocean gray eyes locking onto yours, and damn. That slow, lazy smirk of his was back like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.
“Yeah?” He drawled, tugging the laces tighter before looping them into a knot. “You sure, mama?”
“I’m sure, Terry.” You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your thighs pressed together involuntarily. He hummed, low and deep, and that sound alone nearly had you sliding off the damn bench. Instead of giving you a break, he moved on to your other foot, gripping your ankle and repeating the same slow, methodical process. By the time he finished, your body was on fire, your skin practically scorched under the weight of his hands.
“There,” he muttered, patting your knee as he rose to his full height. “You straight.”
But you? You were far from straight. Because when you looked up at him—his full lips twitching in amusement, his towering frame standing over you, his scent of clean soap and warm musk surrounding you and you knew one thing for sure. This night was about to be dangerous. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the wooden floors as the DJ spun a classic 90s R&B jam, filling the rink with a sultry, feel-good vibe. The actual song that happened to be playing was Return Of The Mack. The neon lights flickered against the smooth surface, casting a glow over the skaters gliding effortlessly across the floor. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional sound of wheels scraping against the wood echoed around them as people skated in pairs, some moving in sync, others wobbling through the crowd. You took a deep breath, adjusting your balance as you stepped onto the rink, gripping the railing tightly. It had been years since you’d done this, and your legs felt unsure beneath you.
“Yo, you comin’ or you just gon’ hold up the wall all night?” Terry called out, already rolling ahead like he owned the place, flashing that cocky smirk that made your heart skip a beat.
You sucked your teeth, a playful roll of your eyes as you replied, “I gotta get my footing first. I ain’t tryna bust my ass in front of all these people.”
“Ain’t nobody worried ‘bout you fallin’, mama. You got me.” He laughed, skating backward like it was nothing. With a deep breath, you pushed off, wobbling a little as your skates started to glide. Just like you feared, your legs betrayed you, and before you knew it, you were tilting forward, ready to take a nosedive. A quick gasp escaped your lips, but Terry was there, like a superhero swooping in. Strong arms wrapped around your waist possessively, pulling you up against him with a grip that felt both solid and warm. When you looked up, his face was so close, that smirk teasing you like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Damn, ma,” He murmured, his voice low and smooth like silk, sending a shiver through you. “You just wanted me to hold you, huh?”
“Shut up.” You laughed, trying to shake off the heat creeping up your cheeks.
“Relax baby girl, you thinkin’ too much. Just let your feet glide and don’t fight it. Just move with me.” He chuckled, steadying you with those strong hands before easing you back to your feet. And just like that, you started to find your groove. With Terry guiding you, his hands firm yet gentle, the wobble in your stance faded. He kept one hand on your hip, ensuring you didn’t lose your balance, while the other hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining like they were meant to be. Before long, you were rolling across the rink, laughter spilling out of you every time he threw in a little spin or playfully tugged you in a new direction.
“I see you getting the hang of it now,” He teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Mmhmm,”You shot back, grinning wide. “I told you I just needed a minute.”
“Oh, so you an expert now?” He cut an eye at you, smirking and tugging you again, making you squeal.
“I ain’t say all that,”You laughed, shaking your head, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment. With the beat rolling through you, you started to work it, feeling yourself get lost in the rhythm. Skating in sync with Terry, you spun and swayed, your laughter mingling with the music as he cheered you on, his voice rising above the sound.
“Ayeeee, aight I see you little mama.” He joked. You winked, swaying your hips in-sync as you glided effortlessly, getting lost in the music. The music suddenly shifted, a deep, sensual groove flowing through the speakers, the kind of track that made everything feel electric, as if the whole world was slowing down just for you two. You could feel Terry’s grip on you tighten, the way his energy shifted, and before you could even think about pulling away, he was pulling you closer.
“C’mon,” He murmured, breath warm against your ear. “Let’s see if you really got it.”
Your stomach flipped as he pulled you against him, your back pressing against his solid chest. His arms encircled your waist, guiding you as he began to sway, rolling his hips in time with yours, making the whole world fade away. You let out a slow breath, your body molding into his without even trying. The feel of him behind you—the steady strength of his hold, the way his fingers pressed into your bodacious curves, had your pulse racing like you were on a rollercoaster. Terry’s large stature moved like he was born to skate, fluid and confident, leading you in a rhythm that felt natural. As the music danced around you two, you surrendered to the beat, letting it pull you deeper into the moment.
“I ain’t just good at housework, baby girl,” He teased, his voice low and playful, making your heart flutter. “I got skills.”
You bit your lip, trying to keep the smile off your face, but it was too late. “Oh yeah?” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder, your eyes sparkling with challenge.
“Yeah. You see it,” He grinned, and damn, you did see it. You felt like you were floating, gliding through the crowd, every move you made infused with that infectious energy, the kind that made you feel alive. The way Terry watched you, like you were the center of the universe, only pushed you to show off even more. You bent over slowly, dipping your hips lower as he spun you both around, slow skating backwards. You had seen couples do this a thousand times on Tik Tok and part of you always wanted to do a slow set and here you were with Terry, slow grinding it to Slow Bass Line by Lloyd. The two of you must have skated for at least a good thirty minutes before you got a little winded. After a while of skating, you were starting to feel the burn in your thighs, and your throat was dry from all the laughing and talking. You leaned back slightly against Terry’s chest as you slowed to a stop.
“I’ma go grab a slushie from the concession stand,” You told him, brushing a stray curl from your face.
“Aight, I’ll be right here.” Terry nodded, his eyes still watching the skaters zipping past. With that, you carefully rolled off the rink, maneuvering your way through the crowd. The concession stand was packed, as expected, with groups of teens, couples, and families all waiting for their orders. You took your place in line, debating between cherry or blue raspberry when—
“Well, damn.” The deep, familiar drawl sent a chill straight down your spine, making you freeze in place. That voice—it had been years, but you’d know it anywhere. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes widening as they landed on a face from your past.
“Jalen?” Your mouth slightly dropped. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips. He looked good, you couldn’t even lie. Still fine, still tall with that same cocky glint in his eye. His gold chain glistened against his brown skin, and his white tee stretched across his chest in a way that told you he had been in the gym.
“Man, I knew that was you,”He said, eyeing you up and down like he was taking in every single change time had made to you. “Look at you, girl. All grown up and still fine as hell.”
You forced a polite smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and unease settle in your chest. “Yeah, it’s been a minute,” you said, keeping your tone light. “What you been up to?”
Before Jalen could answer, another voice cut in—one that made your stomach drop.
“Oh, hell nah. I’d recognize them big ass hammocks anywhere. Heyyy big mama!” The obnoxious voice teased. Your forced smile fell instantly. Not this bitch. You turned your head slightly and, sure enough, there she was. Shawna. Loud, ignorant, hating-ass Shawna. She looked exactly the same, except for the extra layers of cheap lace-front glue caking up along her hairline. Same exaggerated lashes, same gaudy press-on nails, and the same damn attitude she always had when it came to you. You took a slow breath, already knowing she was about to try you.
“Damn, girl, what brings you back down here? Ain’t seen you since you hauled your lil’ thick ass back up north.” She put a hand on her hip, cocking her head with a smirk.
“Yeah, life happens. Not that it’s any of your business.”You folded your arms, giving her a blank stare.
“Still thick as hell, I see. Some things never change.” She smirked deviously, shifting her weight to one hip, a slick smile on her glossy lips. Your jaw clenches, but you refuse to let her see you sweat. You’ve dealt with Shawna since childhood. She’s been your bully, your hater, your competition—always loud, always fast, and always looking for a way to put you down. And back then? She won. Over and over. From the cruel jokes about your weight to the way she snatched Jalen right from under you like it was her birthright. And now, here she is. Still the same, still petty, still trying to play in your face.
“I see some things never change either,” you fire back smoothly. “You still worried about me more than you worried about yourself.”
Shawna cocks an eyebrow, sucking her teeth. “Girl, please. I just call it how I see it. But damn, you done got cute or whatever.” She tilts her head dramatically. “Somebody put you on or you finally figured it out?”
“Excuse me—“ You try to correct her, but her loud ass mouth cuts in, cracking a joke at your demise.
“Boy, you used to love her fat chunky ass back in the day.” Shawna let out an obnoxious laugh, nudging Jalen. You clenched your jaw even tighter, about to deliver a sharp and downright disrespectful clapback that may or may not resulted in hands being thrown, when suddenly—A strong, warm arm draped around your waist, pulling you firmly against a familiar solid chest from the back. Terry, once again swooping it like a knight in shining armor. His presence alone was enough to shut down whatever slick shit was about to leave Shawna’s mouth.
“You good?” He murmured low enough for only you to hear, his voice steady, but there was something else underneath it—possessiveness.Your body instantly relaxed against him, feeling both safe and seen.
“Yeah, I’m good.”You nodded, your eyes flicking up to meet his. Shawna, however, was not. Her entire demeanor shifted the second her eyes landed on Terry. She damn near devoured him with her gaze, acting like her own man wasn’t standing just a few feet away.
“Whew, and who the fuck is this?” She exhaled dramatically, fanning herself with her hand. Jalen finally notices Terry too. His expression shifts, eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Terry.
“This your man or somethin’?” Jalen asks, crossing his arms. Terry doesn’t even blink. Instead, he shifts his stance slightly, his grip on your waist firm but easy, as if silently letting you decide how to handle it. But then, he speaks.
“Who’s asking?” He answered, voice sounding rougher and more authoritative than usual. The way he says it? Deep, smooth, unbothered. Like he already knows the answer doesn't matter. Like Jalen doesn't matter. And something about that makes your knees weak.
Jalen scoffs, shaking his head. “I was just curious. We got history, that’s all.”
Terry nods slowly, eyes still locked on him. “Yeah? That supposed to mean something to me?”
Jalen chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. “Damn, bro, it ain’t even like that. We was just catching up.”
“That right?” Terry didn’t move. His dark eyes remained locked on Jalen’s, completely unbothered.
“Yeah,” Jalen nodded, though he seemed a little less sure of himself now. “Ain’t no pressure.”
Terry let a slow smirk curl at the corner of his lips. “Good.”
Shawna, still practically drooling, licked her lips. “Mm-mm-mm. I don’t know where you found this fine nigga, but girl… you won with this one.”
“I didn’t know we was in competition.”You shot her a dry look. She huffed a little, but before she could get another word in, Terry leaned down slightly, speaking just low enough for only you to hear.
“You still want that slushie, mama?” He asked, rubbing sooting circles on your lower back. Your lips parted slightly at the way he said mama like it was his name for you.
You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Go ‘head and order. I got you.” He nodded his head towards the counter.
After you and Terry basically dismiss Shawna and Jalen. You grab your slushie, feeling a rush of excitement to partake in your childhood delicacy as you step away from the counter. The rink is still buzzing with sweaty energy, and the slow jams are starting to play. Terry follows you to the bench, his eyes scanning the crowd, but you can feel him close by, steadying your nerves. You sit down and take a sip, enjoying the cool, sugary sweetness, but there’s still a lot on your mind. Terry sits beside you, and you can feel the tension between you both, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s waiting for you to open up, and that’s something you don’t do easily.
“So who were they?” He glances at you, his expression curious. You hesitate for a moment, taking another sip of your slushie before setting it down on the bench. A sigh escapes your lips before you begin to explain.
“Jalen… he was the first guy I ever really loved,” you say, the words almost slipping out before you can stop them. “We were high school sweethearts. Thought we were gonna be together forever, you know? He was… the one who made me believe in all that fairy tale stuff.” You shrugged.
Terry listens intently, not interrupting. You can tell he’s taking it all in, but there’s something about the way he watches you—like he wants to understand.
“Sounds like he had you wrapped around his finger,” He says, his voice almost amused but with a touch of something darker behind it.
“Yeah, he did. But then Shawna came into the picture… She was always there, talking trash about me. My weight, my thighs, my body—she always had something to say. I’d try to ignore it, but… it wasn’t easy. And Jalen? He never defended me. He just let her talk.” You smile weakly, fighting back your emotions. Terry’s jaw tightens a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He just listens as you keep going.
“One day, Jalen broke up with me out of nowhere. No explanation. He just… dumped me. And Shawna? She wasted no time stepping in. It was like she’d been waiting for the moment to steal him away from me. She was the one who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. And it stung. Still stings.” You sigh, taking another sip from the straw. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but you try to keep it in check. This was the past, right? You weren’t supposed to let it get to you anymore. But it does.
Terry’s hand moves to rest on your knee, and you glance at him, surprised by the gesture. He gives you a look, his voice soft but intense. “That’s some messed up shit. No one should make you feel that way. Especially not him. And especially not her.”
You nod, your throat tightening a little as you try to swallow the lump forming there. “Yeah, well, that’s how it went down. Shawna made sure to rub it in my face every chance she got.”
Terry leans closer, his hand still resting on your knee. His gaze softens, and for a moment, you can almost forget about Shawna and Jalen, about everything that happened before. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.
“You’re better than them mamas, believe that.” He says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. “Way better. And they don’t get to take that from you.”
His words sunk in, and you let out a small breath, feeling the weight of the past lift just a little bit. You smile, looking down at your slushie before you heard the music shift, the tempo slowing. The music in the rink slowed, a soft, familiar melody filling the air. The first chords of “Weak” by SWV began to echo, and the slow grind of couples on the rink picked up. The rhythm made you feel light again, the nostalgia pulling at her heartstrings.
“I used to love this song,” You say, nodding to the slow jam. “It reminds me of when my dad used to bring me to this rink when I was a kid. We’d skate all night, just goofing around with the kids from the neighborhood. It was one of the best times of my life.” You got teary for a split second.
“You were a pro back then, huh?” Terry raises an eyebrow.
“Not exactly. But I sure had fun. My dad let me stay out late, skating with my friends. It was like… freedom. You know?” You laugh, shaking your head.
“Sounds like you got some memories here. You still got that spark, though. I can see it in your eyes.” Terry watches you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You meet his gaze, feeling your heart race. You hadn’t expected this kind of attention, especially not from him. But here you are, sitting next to a man who seems to see you in a way no one else has.
“Well,” you say, your voice teasing, “I’m not sure I’ve still got the moves. My skating game is a little rusty.”
“We’ll see about that.” Terry grins, a playful glint in his eyes. He carefully stood to his feet, balancing on his skates.
The song swells, and the crowd on the rink starts to slow down, couples swaying together in time with the music. You glance at Terry, then back at the rink, suddenly feeling more confident. Maybe it’s the music, or maybe it’s just being here with him. Either way, tonight, you’re going to let go of all of your inner insecurities and just live in the moment. He stands in front of you , offering you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. The night’s just beginning, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you might just have the strength to leave all the old hurt behind.
“You ready to show them what you got?” Terry’s eyes linger on you, his large fingers interlocking with yours.
“Let’s see if I can still keep up.” You smile, pushing off the bench.And as he pulls you onto the rink, guiding you effortlessly into the slow rhythm of the music, you realize something… This night ain’t about the past or your grudge your held against this place. It’s about right now. And right now, Terry Richmond got all your attention.
The clock struck a little after 9pm and you and Terry both decided to call it a night and turn in your skates. You followed Terry’s lead as the two of you stepped out of the skating rink, the cool night air kissing your skin after the heat of the packed building. The bass from inside still rumbled in the background as more folks poured in for the after-hours session. You felt a lingering excitement from the night, your legs still tingling from the rush of skating and swaying with Terry on the floor. He walked beside you, his pace slow and relaxed, but you could tell by the way his eyes swept the parking lot that his mind was elsewhere. Terry wasn’t the type to get too comfortable in one spot for too long—especially not when crowds gathered, alcohol flowed, and tempers could spark over the smallest shit.
“You good?” You asked, glancing up at him.
“Yeah, I’m straight. But you look like you still got some energy left.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket, twirling them between his fingers before shooting you a smirk.
“I ain’t gon’ lie, I did miss this. I had fun tonight.” You smiled, stretching your arms.
He nodded, then slowed his steps, tilting his head at you. “You tryna call it a night, or you got one more adventure in you?”
“Depends. What you got in mind?” You raised a brow.
His smirk deepened, his eyes flashing with mischief, “Let me stop by the liquor store real quick. Grab us something to sip on with our food waiting back at the house.”
“O-Okay.” You nodded,
Your stomach tensed slightly. Drinking around Terry made you nervous, but not because you didn’t trust him—it was because you didn’t trust yourself. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, that made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. The ride to the liquor store was quick. The neon lights of the small shop glowed against the dark sky, buzzing faintly. Before stepping out, Terry handed you a couple of bills.
“Go next door, grab two Big Gulp cups, and fill ‘em with some slushies,” He instructed. “We mixin’ when I get back.”
“Yes, sir.” You took the money and rolled your eyes playfully. He chuckled, stepping out, and you walked into the 7-Eleven, heading straight for the slushie machine. The bright colors spun in the clear tanks, and you carefully mixed cherry with blue raspberry for one, pineapple with mango for the other. As you reached for the lids and straws, a voice cut through the air—deep, raspy, too damn familiar, making your entire body run cold and lock up.
“Sunshine?” The familiar voice spoke. Your breath caught in your throat, fingers stiffening around the cup. The air in the store suddenly felt too thick, your vision narrowing as an old, buried fear slithered up your spine. You knew that voice anywhere. Slowly, hesitantly, you turned, and there he was, Rodney. Time hadn’t been kind to him. His skin, once rich and buttery smooth, looked sunken and dry, dark circles carved beneath his hazel eyes. His frame was smaller, his once-athletic build now gaunt. He used to be fine—every girl wanted him, the older ones keeping a watchful eye, the younger ones waiting for their turn to catch his attention. He had that ’90s R&B pretty-boy look, the type of dude who stayed fresh, always smelling like cologne and bad decisions. Now, he looked like he had seen the bottom of every bottle, taken every wrong turn, and lost every battle along the way. But none of that mattered because all you could see was him. The boy who took something from you. The boy who played on your innocence, your trust. The one who made you run from this city and never look back. Your stomach twisted violently.
“It is you,” Rodney breathed, a weak smile tugging at his chapped lips. “Damn… how you been, baby girl?”
You nearly dropped the slushie as your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the hum of the store. Your hands shook as you took a step back, the nausea rising fast. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. Rodney stepped forward slightly, his hand lifting, as if he wanted to touch you, but your body reacted before your mind did. You jerked back so fast your shoulder hit the slushie machine, your breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. Rodney quickly dropped his hand, his expression flickering with something unreadable.
“S-Sunshine, I—” He attempted to say, with tears forming in his eyes. You didn’t wait to hear whatever lie he was about to tell. Grabbing the slushies, you tossed the money onto the counter and bolted. The second you hit the night air, the nausea took full control. Your stomach lurched violently, and you barely made it to the side of Terry’s truck before you doubled over, vomiting onto the pavement. Terry was there in an instant.
“Shit—” His voice was sharp with concern, one hand hovering over your back, not touching but close enough to let you know he was right there. “Breathe, ma. Breathe through it.”
You wiped your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m fine,” you choked out. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
However, Terry didn’t buy it. He knew your were lying through your teeth and if it was one thing he hated, it was liars.
His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes scanning your face, reading every emotion you were trying to bury. “Nah,” He murmured. “That wasn’t just some bad food. What happened?”
“Terry, it’s—” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat.
“Who?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Somebody in there? Did a nigga do some shit to you in there?” He pressed harder. You exhaled shakily, gripping the truck door for support. His eyes darkened further.
“Tell me who, Y/N” He said, voice even, but you could hear the tension beneath it. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push it down, to shove the past back into the box where it belonged. But your body wasn’t listening. Because for the first time in years, you weren’t the strong, guarded woman you had built yourself to be. For the first time in years, you were that scared 14-year-old girl again.
“C-Can we please just go home? Please?.” Your voice rasped out, clearing your throat again before spitting in remaining bile out of your mouth. Terry didn’t say anything, he just nodded, eyes on you like a hawk with a tight jaw as he opened the passenger side door for you to get in. As you’re getting in, you felt small under his gaze, almost as if he were scolding you for not being upfront about why you were fine one minute and next thing he knows you’re basically vomiting all over the pavement.
The drive home was drenched in silence. The only sound in the truck was the low hum of the radio, some old R&B record playing softly in the background. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, your mind far away from the present. You couldn’t believe after all this time you had seen Rodney. His face, his voice, the weight of his presence had pulled you right back to the past, back to that helplessness, back to that night. You gripped your thighs tightly, your nails digging into your skin as you forced yourself to focus on your breathing. Terry didn’t say a word the whole ride, but you felt his eyes flicker toward you every so often, his grip on the wheel tightening. He wasn’t the type to press for answers—not yet, anyway. He knew whatever was haunting you wasn’t something you could just spill out in the middle of a drive. So he let the silence ride. By the time you pulled up to the house, your stomach was still twisted in knots, but the second you stepped inside, you moved on autopilot going back to that all too familiar numb place. You went straight for the food. Earlier that day, before y’all left, you had cooked—a nice quick meal, something good to come back to. You turned on the stove, reheating the dishes quietly, barely paying attention to anything else. Terry, however, was watching you. His eyes followed every move you made, how your hands trembled slightly as you stirred the food, how your shoulders tensed, how you were too quiet. He didn’t like that shit. Without a word, he grabbed the bottle of Hennessy White he had picked up from the liquor store and poured a generous amount into both Big Gulp cups, mixing it with the slushies you had made earlier. When the food was ready, you placed the plates down on the table and turned to walk away, but before you could, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist.
“Sit down.” His deep voice finally spoke, making you tense. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t rough. Just firm enough to make you pause. You swallowed, eyes locked onto the floor. Your body felt stiff, your chest tight, but you sat down next to him, grabbing your fork. Terry didn’t let go of your wrist immediately. His thumb brushed against your pulse, slow, measured.
“Tell me what happened,” He murmured. You inhaled sharply. You had fought tears all night, forced yourself to push it down, to not go back there. But with Terry sitting this close, his voice low, steady, and patient, the walls you had built started to crack. You took a slow bite of your food, chewing without tasting, your throat dry despite how much saliva gathered in your mouth. Reaching for your cup, you took a sip of the spiked slushie, the cold hitting your tongue first, then the warmth of the Hennessy settling in your chest. You swallowed, staring at the table.
Then, softly, you said, “It’s more than one reason I stopped coming down here during the summers as a kid.”
Terry didn’t move. He just listened. Your grip tightened around the cup as the words started spilling out, slow at first, then faster, like a wound being ripped open. You began to tell him about Rodney. About how, when you were just 14, he had been someone you looked up to, someone who made you feel seen in ways no one else did. You told him how he gained your trust, how he made you feel special, like you mattered—only to betray you in the worst way possible. How one summer night, when no one was around, he took something from you. How you froze. How you felt your body leave you, how the ceiling blurred, how you counted the cracks just to keep yourself from breaking. How, after it was over, you never told a soul. How you buried it, packed it away like luggage you’d never unpack. How you left town and never looked back. And how seeing him tonight, in that damn store, had ripped open everything you spent years trying to forget. By the time you finished, your hands were trembling around the cup. Your food sat untouched. Your throat burned. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but Terry still hadn’t moved. But when you finally looked at him, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark—not just with anger, but something deeper, something dangerous. You had seen Terry irritated before. You had seen him frustrated. But this? This was different. This was fury. This was war. His grip on the cup was so tight, you thought he might break it. But when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm.
“Say the word.” He said slowly.
“What?” You blinked, your breath catching.
His eyes met yours, steady, unwavering. “Say the word,” he repeated. “And I’ll handle it.”
The air in the room instantly shifted. Terry’s words weren’t just words—they were a promise. A quiet, dangerous assurance that if you gave him the green light, Rodney wouldn’t be breathing the same air for much longer. You swallowed, your throat dry, your chest tightening at the sheer weight of his presence.
“Terry…” You started, but your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say. He was still watching you, eyes dark, jaw tight. His fingers flexed on the table like he was holding himself back.
“Say the word,” He repeated slowly, measured. His voice was like gravel, rough with barely contained rage. “You ain’t gotta carry this no more. I’ll take care of it.”
Your stomach twisted. This was the part of Terry that made people afraid—the quiet storm before the destruction, the way he didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make threats. He just acted. But you didn’t want him to act. Not like that, and definitely not for you. Your Nana would be so ashamed if she had worked hard to keep him out of trouble and you got him into more shit. You exhaled shakily, setting your cup down before your fingers betrayed you and showed just how badly you were trembling.
“It was a long time ago,” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Terry leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his broad chest rising and falling steadily. His silence was suffocating. Then, finally he spoke up.
“That don’t mean shit and don’t mean it don’t still matter.” He gritted. Your breath hitched. You wanted to hold it together, to keep that wall up just a little longer, but something about the way he said it, the way he was so certain, shattered something in you. You turned your head away, blinking rapidly, but Terry wasn’t having it. Before you could even think, his fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face back toward him. It was so gentle, so unexpected, that your breath stalled.
“I see you tryna hold it in,” he murmured. His thumb grazed your jaw, his touch featherlight but firm. “You ain’t gotta do that with me.”
And just like that, the dam broke. A tear slipped free, then another, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Not loud, not messy, but the kind of silent, shuddering tears that came from years of swallowing your pain. Terry didn’t speak. He didn’t try to shush you, didn’t hit you with some meaningless “It’s okay.” He just… let you cry. And somehow, that meant more than any words could. After a moment, he exhaled through his nose, rubbing a slow, careful circle against your jaw with his thumb.
“Come here,” He said, his voice softer now, deeper. You hesitated, but something about the way he said it—like he knew you needed it, like he wouldn’t push if you weren’t ready—made you cave. You shifted in your chair, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him. Terry caught you instantly. One strong arm came around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap, the other resting against the small of your back. His warmth surrounded you, his scent—woodsy, clean, something unmistakably him—enveloped you. Your face pressed into his neck, his skin warm against your damp cheek. You felt his breath in your hair, slow and steady.
“I got you,” He murmured. And for the first time in a long time… you believed him. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. At some point, your tears dried up, exhaustion creeping in, your body growing heavy against his. But Terry didn’t move, didn’t rush you. His hand stayed on your back, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns through your shirt.
“You ever tell anybody?”He finally asked. You shook your head against his shoulder.
“Didn’t think so.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. A long beat of silence stretched between you before he gently spoke.
“You shoulda never had to carry that alone, ma.” He inhaled deeply.
Your throat tightened again, but this time, you swallowed it down. “I didn’t know how to tell nobody,” you admitted. “And when I finally thought about it… it was too late.”
Terry was quiet for a moment. Then—“Ain’t never too late.”
“Terry—” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him.
“I mean it.” His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Ain’t never too late to get what’s owed.”
A cold chill ran through you. You knew what he was saying. He wasn’t talking about healing. He wasn’t talking about moving on. He was talking about payback. You studied him, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell you he wasn’t serious. But he was. He was dead serious.
“You can’t—” Your heart pounded.
“I can.” He countered sharply.
“Terry—” You tried to speak.
His fingers flexed against your hip. “Ain’t no nigga walkin’ free after doin’ that to you. Not while I’m breathin’.”
Your stomach flipped. “I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”
“That’s the last thing you need to worry about.” His lips pressed into a thin line. Your chest ached. This wasn’t what you wanted. You had spent years trying to put this behind you, trying to move forward. But now? Now he was bringing it all back to the surface. And worse? A small, dangerous part of you wanted to let him handle it. Terry tilted his head slightly, studying you. Then, almost like he could read your mind.
“You don’t gotta decide now.” He murmured, staring at you. You swallowed hard.
“But whenever you ready… you just say the word.” He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing your temple. And with that, the choice was yours. The two of you sat and ate your food in comfortable silence as you just tried to forget about how your past decided to pop up and be a son of a bitch. Eventually after you finished your dinner, you two ended up in the living room, the evening taking on a mind of its own.
The soft hum of ’90s R&B filled the space, smooth and sensual, engulfing the living room around the both of you. Jodeci’s “Freek’n You” played low from the speakers, the bass deep, the lyrics suggestive. You curled up beside Terry on the couch, your body warm from the Henny and slushie cocktail, the ice long since melted. The burn of the liquor coated your throat, loosening you up, making you bold. Your eyes flickered to the mantle above the fireplace, a shrine of memories—your nana’s old porcelain figurines, a few framed pictures, a vase filled with artificial roses that had collected dust over time. You exhaled, rubbing a hand down your thigh.
“I’m really gonna miss this place,” You whispered, almost to yourself.
“So don’t sell it,” He said, simple like it was an easy fix.” Terry, leaned back into the couch, his long legs spread wide, cup resting against his knee, studying you.
You snorted, shaking your head. “I am not a country girl,” You said, flashing him a playful smirk. “And besides, I don’t got a husband or kids to pass this land down to. What would I even do with all this space?”
Terry hummed, taking a slow sip from his cup. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes. Something contemplative. You let the silence stretch, the weight of everything lingering between you. The conversation had been too heavy, and you were tipsy enough to crave something lighter. An idea hit you.
Smirking, you sat up, turning toward him. “Let’s play a game,” You said, voice dripping with mischief.
“What kinda game?” Terry raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Rapid-fire 21 questions. But…” You paused, licking your lips, letting the moment breathe, “let’s make it grown.”
“Oh, you tryna be messy now?” His smirk deepened.
You laughed, shrugging. “You scared?”
“Me? Nahhh.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. You go first.”
You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… Favorite position?”
Terry took a slow sip before answering. “Depends on the woman. Some deserve missionary so I can look ‘em in they eyes while I fuck em’… others?” He exhaled, his voice dropping an octave. “Bent over, face down in the pillow, ass up high.”
Your stomach flipped, but you kept your composure, sipping your drink to hide your reaction.
“Your turn,” you said, clearing your throat.
Terry leaned in slightly, eyes low. “You ever faked it?”
You blinked before bursting into laughter. “Hell yeah.”
His brows lifted. “Damn. That’s crazy.”
“Not my fault some niggas don’t know what they doing,” You teased.
Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s tragic.” He lifted his cup. “Rest in peace to them weak-ass performances.”
You clinked your cup against his, giggling as you both drank.
“My turn,” You said, leaning in a little closer. “Ever had sex in public?”
“Too many times to count.” Terry’s smirk widened.
“Damn. Where?” Your eyes widened.
“Cars. Stairwells. Dressing rooms. A rooftop one time…” He trailed off, eyes glinting with amusement. “You sound intrigued, ma.”
“I ain’t say all that.” You rolled your eyes, fighting back your smile.
Terry just watched you, like he could see through the front you were putting up.
“Alright, my turn,” he said, setting his empty cup down on the table. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, voice dropping into something smooth and dangerous.
“So…” He paused just long enough for the tension to coil tight between you. “That rose… it feel better than a nigga’s mouth?”
Your stomach dropped. The question hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you choked on your slushie. Coughing, you slapped a hand over your chest, eyes wide as you stared at him.
“W-What?” You coughed. Terry licked his lips, unbothered, amused even. His eyes dragged over your face, then down to your parted lips, lingering there before flicking back up.
“You heard me, ma.” His voice was deep, smooth, coated in something dangerous. “Answer the question.”
Your heart pounded, heat rushing to your face, your thighs pressing together out of pure instinct. This nigga was playing dirty. And the worst part? You liked it. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry despite the icy slushie burning your tongue. Your knees pressed together instinctively, but you forced yourself to keep eye contact, refusing to let Terry see how deep his words cut through you. His gaze was heavy, molten, dark with mischief, and he knew what he was doing. He had that lazy smirk on his lips, like he was just getting started, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.
“That’s a bold-ass question.” You cleared your throat, forcing a small smirk of your own.
“And yet, you still ain’t answer it.” Terry leaned in slightly, his broad frame dominating the space between you.
“Why? You trying to compare stats?” You shifted on the couch, swirling your drink in your cup, feigning nonchalance.
Terry let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and rich. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder. “Nah. I already know my stats, ma. I just wanna know if you playin’ yourself out of a real experience.”
Your stomach dipped. This man… this nigga right here…
You exhaled through your nose, refusing to be the first to break. “The rose is efficient,” you finally answered, tilting your chin up in defiance. “It does what needs to be done.”
Terry hummed, eyes still locked on yours. “Efficient, huh? That’s cute. But a machine ain’t never gonna know what your body need the way a real nigga will.”
You should’ve seen that coming. You tried to keep your cool, but the way he said it? The way his deep, raspy voice wrapped around those words like silk? It sent a ripple of heat down your spine. You huffed, shaking your head, but your body betrayed you. Your skin was warming up, and the Henny had you feeling too damn good—a little too relaxed, a little too reckless.
So you smirked, tilting your head. “Oh? And what exactly does a ‘real nigga’ do that’s so different?”
Terry’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for a half second before that smirk of his returned—cocky, knowing.
“Everything baby.” The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so damn confident, it had no business making you clench around nothing. You bit your lip, trying not to react, but Terry caught it. His gaze flicked down to your mouth, watching the way your teeth tugged at the soft flesh, and suddenly, the air between you shifted. He leaned in even more, his knee grazing yours, voice dropping to something silky, almost hypnotic.
“You really think that little toy can do what I can?” His fingers traced the rim of his empty cup, slow and deliberate. “That rose ain’t got no tongue. It don’t know when to slow down, when to speed up… don’t know how to tease you just right ‘til you beg for it.”
A slow, heated pulse throbbed between your thighs. You opened your mouth to clap back, but nothing came out. Your body had already betrayed you—your breathing had deepened, your skin felt too tight, too hot, and Terry was watching every little shift in your expression like he was reading you.
“See, that’s the thing, ma. A real nigga don’t just make you cum. He makes you feel that shit while he’s sucking on your clit .”He licked his lips. Your thighs clenched. Hard. This was dangerous. And what made it worse? Terry knew exactly what he was doing. You bit down on your straw, trying to distract yourself, but it only made things worse. Terry’s eyes flicked to your lips again, watching the way they wrapped around the plastic, how you pulled back slow, tongue flicking out just slightly to catch a stray drop of slushie. He smirked.
“So,” he drawled, swirling the ice in his cup. “How you like to be ate?”
Your chest seized. You choked again but this time, not on the drink, not on food—on air. Your eyes went wide as you coughed, covering your mouth, your whole body heating up like you’d been thrown into a damn furnace.
Terry just chuckled, unfazed, leaning back against the couch. “Damn, ma. That a hard question or somethin’?”
“You can’t just ask somebody that outta nowhere, Terry!” You wheezed, fanning your face.
“Why not?” He shrugged. “You grown, ain’t you?”
You sputtered, taking another sip of your drink, anything to cool yourself down, but the way he was watching you? Like he had all the patience in the world, like he was waiting for you to stop fighting yourself? That made the heat worse.
“A’ight,” He mused, his voice dropping lower, deeper. “Lemme make it easy for you. You like it soft and slow? Or deep and messy?”
Your whole body betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together before you could stop them, and Terry caught it. He didn’t say nothing—didn’t have to. The small smirk on his lips said it all.
“I—” You swallowed.
“See,” Terry cut in smoothly, shifting closer, his knee knocking against yours. “Me? I don’t play when I eat pussy, baby. I clean my plate—efficiently.”
Your breath hitched.
“I like to take my time with it. Make sure I learn every little thing that makes you shake, makes you moan, makes you beg me to stay down there a little longer.” Terry tilted his head slightly, his eyes hooded, that slow, lazy smirk still on his lips. Your fingers curled around your cup, gripping it tight.
“But I ain’t selfish,” He continued, voice like molten honey, thick and dripping with promise. “I’ll tease that pussy if that’s what you like. Kiss on her real slow. Run my tongue real soft against that lil’ spot with your piercing that makes your toes curl. But if you need it nasty?” He licked his lips, letting the sentence hang before finishing, “I’ll drown in it.”
Your stomach clenched. Your thighs trembled. The Henny was hitting too damn good now, because your head felt light, your body warm, and every single thing he was saying was burrowing deep inside you, making you ache.
You stared at him, the temptation thick between you, and whispered, “That… that sounds amazing.”
Terry’s smirk deepened, his fingers brushing lightly over your knee.
“Then let me eat you out,” He murmured. “Let me show you that rose ain’t got shit on me, baby girl.”
Between the slushy, the slow jams playing and the diabolical heat and Nana’s broken AC system. Your brain was fried as you stared in the ocean eyes of a man that was crafted by God himself, practically egging you on to let him taste what you had between your thick thighs. The thought alone of his juicy lips wrapped tightly around your sensitive bud , milking you through your orgasm already had you practically drooling in your panties. You could feel your pussy becoming slippery against your thong as it stuck to you, making you hold back a whimper. As your clit swoll with need, that damn piercing began to betray you and make you nearly cum on yourself as the seat of your panties rubbed it , creating a slow friction.
“Terry, maybe we had too much to drink—. “ You tried to say but before you could even finish your sentence, Terry was in your personal space, making your heart speed up. Terry bit his bottom lip, his eyes locked onto yours, as he slowly wrapped his hand around your throat. Your breath hitched, feeling your heart pounding in your chest, as you felt his touch ignite a fire within you. Your faces were mere centimeters apart, the tension between you two palpable. Your breathing grew heavier, your anticipation building, as Terry’s full lips finally connected with yours in a slow and nasty tongue kiss. It was as if time stood still, your lips moving in perfect harmony. Your eyes instantly fluttered shut and your hand instinctively found its way to his cheek, deepening the kiss with hunger. You couldn't resist the magnetic pull between you two any longer. You scooted closer to him, with your other hand finding its way around his neck. The music in the background seemed to fade out as the two of you lost yourselves in each other's mouths. The heat between your bodies intensified, mirroring the growing desire that pooled between your thighs.
Terry growled as his grip on your throat tightened slightly, causing you to gasp and let out a small moan. It was all the encouragement Terry needed to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sliding sensually into your mouth, swirling and teasing. You moaned, sucking his tongue, allowing your spit and his spit to intertwine. The more his tongue flicked and sucked against yours, the wetter your pussy felt. It was so slick and slippery, you could smell it through your shorts. The living room seemed to transform into a steamy haven as Terry’s strong hands began to explore your body, igniting every nerve ending along the way. Unable to contain his desire for you any longer, Terry let the kiss become more aggressive, his passion shining through every movement. You responded with small whimpers, your lips tingling from the intensity of the connection. Terry’s hold on your neck released, his lips moving down to explore the sensitive soft skin of your neck. You moaned and shuddered, feeling Terry’s tongue swirling against your neck, expertly finding the spot that drove you wild. Terry’s lips sensually kissed and sucked, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your grip on Terry’s small curls in his head tightened as your cute moans escaped your lips, only fueling Terry’s nasty desire. Terry’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer, as your bodies pressed against each other.
“T-Terry, p-please.” You whimpered out breathlessly, rubbing his head. By this point you were a shaky mess and needed some relief quickly. Terry chuckled deeply in your neck, biting it slowly as he trailed his tongue upward, circling it around your earlobe before sucking it into his mouth.
“Please what baby? Hmm? Please what?.” His voice darkened, making your body quiver. As much as you tried to fight it and fight doing something you may ultimately regret. The liquor and your hormones was working against you and you said fuck it. Might as well, might as fucking well.
“Taste my pussy.” You whispered, whining for him. That was all Terry needed to hear before he pushed you back on the couch, allowing your back to rest against the pillows as he continued to leave wet open mouth kisses against your neck. Caution was to the wind at this point and damn the consequences of your actions. You needed to feel something, ANYTHING.
The heat between you two intensified, while your hands roamed freely over Terry’s toned arms, your nails grazing the surface, eliciting a groan and a moan from Terry’s throat. You watched as Terry leaned back, staring down at you as he lifted his shirt up from the back, and in an instant he had it off. You bit your bottom lip at the sight of his rich and healthy body. It was crafted to perfection and made you wanna lick every dip and curve of his cut abs. Terry’s eyes dropped lower as he watched your hand reach down and pop the button of your shorts open, letting him know you were on demon time. Terry smirked, pushing your hands out of his way before he took control, yanking the shorts off of you himself, making you gasp at his roughness. Your hips instinctively raise up to assist him in getting them off of you. Soon as your shorts came off your intoxicating arousal smell hit his nose, making his mouth instantly water.
“Fuck, your pussy so fat.” He remarked, as his ocean gray eyes stared down at the way your pussy sat against the snapped closure of your bodysuit. Your clit jumped as more of your juices seeped through your thong, creating a very noticeable wet spot on the outside of the red fabric. Terry’s eyes stay locked on yours, dark and heavy with intent, as his hands ease up under the curve of your ass, gripping you firm but slow like he’s mapping out every inch. But he doesn’t rush—nah, he takes his time, savoring every reaction, every hitched breath, every little tremble that runs through you. His lips graze over your jaw first, then lower, tracing a slow, burning path down the side of your neck. The heat of his breath makes your skin prickle, your pulse jump. He lingers at that sensitive spot near your collarbone, sucking just enough to make you squirm, his grip tightening on your hips.
“Terry…” His name slips from your lips, part plea, part warning, your fingers gripping at the solid muscles of his shoulders. He hums against your skin, deep and rich, the vibration sinking right through you.
“Relax, baby,” He murmurs, trailing his tongue down the valley between your breasts, the thin fabric of your bodysuit doing nothing to stop the warmth of his mouth. “Let me do this right.”
Your breath hitches when his hands slide down your thighs, then lower, fingers teasing at the clasp of your bodysuit between your thighs. He pauses, his grip firm but patient, his dark eyes flicking up to yours, reading you.
“You want me to stop?” His voice is thick, low, serious. Giving you an out.
You shake your head, pulse hammering in your throat. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”
That slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he flicks the snaps open one by one, the small pops echoing in the thick silence between you. The fabric of your bodysuit peels away, his fingers grazing over the newly exposed skin of your stomach, making you shudder. Terry shifts lower, dragging his hands up the backs of your thighs, his touch warm, possessive. He takes his time, savoring the way your breathing changes, the way your body reacts to him, completely at his mercy. Your breathing labors as you feel Terry’s lips trail down, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses against your belly. His warm breath fans over your skin, and the heat of his tongue sends a delicious shiver through your body.
“You smell so fuckin’ good, ma,” He rasps against your skin, his voice thick with hunger. His nose grazes the crease of your inner thigh as he inhales deeply, like he’s savoring your wet scent, like he’s already addicted. Your own arousal was beginning to invade your nose turning you on to the highest max. Your thighs instinctively try to press together, but he’s quicker, stronger. His hands slide up, firm and possessive, gripping the backs of your knees before pushing your legs back—high and open—until they’re nearly touching your stomach. With one free hand, Terry pushes your thong out of the way, snapping it at the seams, making you gasp. Your swollen pussy lips spread open instantly for him as he pushes your legs back further. He leaned in slowly and guided one of your legs over his shoulder, running his hands over your supple thighs, parting your slippery wet fat lips to kiss and lick at you swollen clit slowly. You jerked at the sudden warm sensation of his tongue. Terry’s tongue flicked back and forth rapidly against your diamond piercing that sat against your clit, making your walls gush in an instant.
“O-Ohhh fuckkkk! Shit shit!.” You hissed, toes curling in the air. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling your breaths becoming shallow as his tongue worked slow and steady patterns between your pussy folds. His right hand slid up your thigh as he dipped his tongue down further to taste what seemed to have dripped out, grunting as the sweet sensation danced on his taste buds. Your back arched into the couch as your fingers dug into the cushion beneath you, feeling his tongue swirl up and down your pussy sloppily. Your ears were graced with soft lapping sounds as his tongue danced in circles around your throbbing clit. You could feel your creamy juices seeping like liquid gold as his tongue worked in a figure eight motion. Terry slowly started to suck gently on your clit, but then he became relentless, sucking your sensitive and swollen clit into his mouth with determination and precision.
Terry groaned loudly against your skin, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body. “Mm,” he hums, his tongue flicking out to taste your clit again. “Just like I knew you would… sweet as fuck.”
“T-Terry…” Your voice is barely there, breathless, overwhelmed.
He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening with your creamy juices, his expression wicked. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick like molasses. “Feels good, don’t it?”
You nod, swallowing hard, your thighs trembling around his head. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as you stare at the gorgeous work of art between your thighs. Clit glistening with his spit and your juices as he kisses on it, while his eyes remained locked on yours. You purred, feeling his hand gripping your ass and running his other hand up to knead at your breasts, groaning into your slick lips like he’s the one getting pleasure from it.
He smirks. “Then let me finish my plate.”
And just like that, he dives back in, his pace slower this time, more intentional. His tongue moves in slow, sensual strokes, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches, your fingers gripping the couch for dear life.
You try to hold back, try to contain the whimpers slipping past your lips, but Terry isn’t having that. “Nah,” he murmurs against your pussy, sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Lemme hear it, ma.”
“Oh daddy… d-don’t stop.” You shamelessly whine. His grip tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you, his tongue working you into a slow, desperate unraveling. He sucks, licks, flicks at your clit until your thighs are shaking, your breaths are coming in short, uneven gasps, and your entire body is tensed like a bowstring ready to snap. You inhale sharply, nearly convulsing, throwing your head back as your hand found its way into his curls. Your feet digging into the back of his shoulders every time he sucked a little more forcefully on your clit. You cried, trying to push his head back, but he held you down. Continuing to shake his head side to side as spit was dripping from his mouth onto your pussy, sucking at your clit with determination. You held his head and watched it go up and down and side to side, creating the perfect cadence to aid in your oncoming orgasm.
“T-Terry— FUCK! Wait— I-I ooooh I’m gonna cum!!” You squeal, feeling your pussy gushing incessantly. You pushed at his forehead again, but he wouldn’t relinquish as his lips stayed locked around your clit, sucking it harder, allowing his tongue to sit flat against it and flick back and forth.
“Oooh yesss daddy yesssss.” You whimpered louder.
He pulls back just slightly, his lips glistening as he licks them slowly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t run from it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice sinful. “Take all this shit.” And then he’s back on you, hungrier, deeper, more consuming. Holding you open, eating like it’s his last meal.
“Terry— fuck! oh my god don’t stop.. don’t stop please.” You begged holding his head in place. He used the pad of his thumbs to spread your full lips apart as his tongue circled your entrance before dipping the tip in real slow. You squealed as you felt his tongue thrusting upward against your g-spot, thumping it rapidly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt yourself dampening his goatee hair.
“So fucking fat and sweet.” He groaned, wrapping his tongue around your clit, sucking all over it nastily as he pushed his face deeper. Your hips bucked upward, feeling your stomach tighten up in a knot. You knew you were about to cum and from the way he continued to assault your clit, it was gonna be intense and messy.
“T-Terry..” You managed to get out, eyes crossing as he relentlessly held your clit captive in his mouth. Terry’s eyes flickered up as he watched you, his gray eyes locked onto your face as he works you over with hard, deliberate strokes of his tongue and the sensation of his lips . He can feel every little tremor in your thighs, every sharp hitch of your breath. But he ain’t letting up. Not yet.
“Relax for me, ma,” He murmurs against you, his deep voice vibrating straight through your core. “Let me take you there.”
Your hands are gripping his curls so tight it should hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it—loves the way you’re coming undone just from his mouth, the way you’re trying to hold on when he knows you ain’t got a chance.
“T-Terry…” Your voice is shaky, needy, your thighs trembling in his grasp. You listened to the nasty wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like it was a succulent piece of fruit. You squirmed beneath him, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming, but he didn’t let you play yourself out of what he knew you needed most, and that was a good nut.
“Shh, I got you.” He flattens his tongue against you, slow and deep, before switching up, flicking in a way against your clit in a turbo motion, that has your whole body jerking. He grins against you. “Damn, you sensitive as hell, baby. You been neglecting yourself or that little toy just ain’t cuttin’ it no more?”
You let out a whimper, head tipping back against the couch, body arching off the cushions. He chuckles, low and sinful, before sucking deep, rolling his tongue just right.
“Oh—fuck!” You yelp loudly, holding his head down, trying to scoot back again.
He tightens his grip when you try to close your legs, spreading you wider, keeping your pussy open for him. “Nah, don’t run now,” he rasps, lips glistening as he glances up at you. “You gon’ take all this shit. Let me hear you, baby. Let me feel you.”
He drags two fingers through your slick pussy, teasing your awaiting creamy hole before pushing them in, the cream instantly pushes against his fingers as he thrusts them slow but deep. The stretch makes you gasp, back bucking like a horse off the couch.
“That’s it,” He praises, curling his fingers just right towards your g-spot. “You feel that? Feel how my fingers fit right inside this fat pretty pussy? That little rose can’t do this, can it?”
Your breath stutters, eyes rolling back as he strokes his fingers deep, touching your cervix as he rubs your g-spot, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers, drawing you closer to your orgasm.
“I—I’m… Terry, I can’t—” You whined desperately.
“Yes, the fuck you can,” He growls, increasing his pace, pushing you right to the edge. “C’mon, baby, gimme that shit. Let me feel you cum for me.”
“I-I’m b-bout to cu—“ Your words were instantly cut short as the ache in your stomach intensified and your release shattered through you.
Terry feels it before he sees it, the way your body locks up, the way your creamy slick walls grip his thick fingers like a vice, the way your thighs tremble uncontrollably in his hands. He knows it’s coming, and he ain’t about to let up now. If anything, he doubles down, curling his fingers just right, his tongue flicking against that sensitive clit like he’s got something to prove.
“That’s it, baby,” He rasps between licks and strokes of his fingers, his deep voice vibrating through you. “Let that shit go for me. Don’t fight it. Cum in daddy’s mouth baby.”
Your breath stutters, a choked sob ripping from your lips as the pressure inside you snaps, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering release. Your entire body jerks violently, back arching off the couch as a gush of liquid rushes out of you, soaking his hand, his wrist, his damn beard. You squirted hard as your orgasm overtook you and left you practically paralyzed.
“That’s it, baby girl,” Terry groans, voice thick with hunger as he licks and sucks clit through it, taking every drop, every last shudder. “Damn, you taste so fuckin’ good.”
“Oh—shit! Terry! YES YESSSSS! Dadddddyyyyy.” You screamed out, thrashing all over the couch as his fingers stroked you through your orgasm, milking it from you. Terry lets out a groan, deep and satisfied, as he watches you lose yourself completely, his lips glistening, his fingers still working you through every wave, every shudder. He doesn’t stop until you physically push at his head, your legs twitching in overstimulation, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Finally, he pulls back, his face soaked, his smirk downright sinful as he wipes his mouth. His eyes are locked on you and your spent, trembling body, the way you’re struggling to come back down, your chest heaving, your skin glowing.
“Fuck,” He murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “Look at this messy ass couch. Look at you, baby.” He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Told you that little toy wasn’t fuckin’ with me.”
You couldn’t even form words yet, still floating in the aftershocks, but he leans up, pressing a slow, deep kiss against your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan, tongue kissing him back, getting drunk off your own sweetness and scent on his lips.
“You good baby?” He asks against your mouth, his hand stroking your thigh, grounding you. You nod weakly, eyes still dazed, lips slightly parted as you try to catch your breath.
“Y-Yes…” You gently rasp out, too spent to form a coherent sentence.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He smirks. As you lay there, still trembling from the intensity, your body aching in all the right ways, your mind is a swirl of confusion. The walls you’ve built so carefully around your heart are crumbling, and for the first time in years, you feel something close to vulnerability. Terry, with all his heat, intensity, and promises of more, has unlocked something inside you. But a part of you still wonders—should this just be a one-time thing, or are you ready to risk it all? You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the thick sexual tension that lingers in the air. But when you feel Terry’s presence next to you, his hand gently caressing your skin, the question lingers in your mind— do you really want to open yourself up to love again? Or is this simply just getting a nut in while you sort out your Nana’s last wishes?
Now ain’t this bout a bitch!………
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missadangel · 5 months ago
Text
The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)
All Chapters List
III. The Intention
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"Veritas Odit Moras"
Truth Hates Delay.
"Septimia Aurelia, do you know how much I have searched for you, my lady?"
You regarded him with surprise and were rendered speechless.
The man carefully looked around and then grabbed your wrist to move you to a more secluded spot against the wall. "You've got a lot of attention, dressing like this, it's pretty clear who you are. When did you get here? You've read the letter? Have you told anyone about it? I hope you haven’t."
Your heart was racing, your ears were ringing, and the man's voice sounded distant.
"May I ask who you are, sir?"
How is it possible that you knew nothing while he knew so much more than you?
“I’m Macrinus, my lady. You might not remember me; you were too young. I’m the one who took you to Vicius.”
Vicius was your uncle's real name, the one your father had mentioned in the letter.
“I went to Egypt to find you as your father ordered. However, Vicius was reluctant; I’m not blaming him, but—” he glanced over your shoulder as if he was looking for something behind you."How did you return to Rome? Where is he now?"
You tried to understand what he said, but it was very difficult, too much for one day.
"He has passed away, and I was brought here as a captive," you said in a low voice, your eyes bright with tears as you recalled him once more—especially in this way—stung you anew.
He touched your shoulder. "It seems that your return was unfortunate. You must have opened the letter. You didn’t lose it, did you?"
You dabbed at your eyes with the tips of your fingers, wiping away the tears. "It doesn't matter now, sir. I was brought here as a slave."
“What slave? You are the daughter of a divine emperor. Who purchased you? Who is your master?”
You remained expressionless and refused to give him the General's name. You knew it might put him in a difficult position and you had no intention of trusting him."Sir, I am a slave, and I must live as one."
"You can't be serious, please. This is your birthright, and you must demand what you deserve."
"How?"
"I will present it to the Senate, and it is likely to receive their support. However, I must first weaken Geta," he stated firmly and decisively.
“But-."
"I have to go now before they get suspicious. I will help you. I’ve promised your father."
“Sir I-"
"I have a lot to tell you. Trust me and wait," he said, striding across the temple..
This man claimed to be a friend of your father's, but you were uncertain whether to trust him. The situation was a significant source of distress for you, both mentally and physically. You felt a sense of nausea, pressing your hand and then your arm against the wall in an attempt to regain your composure. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to your arm, attempting to gain control of your thoughts. At that moment, you heard a voice you recognized calling out to you.
"My Lady!" Octavius hurried over to your side, looking concerned.
When you opened your eyes, you saw his sandals first because you were glancing down to ground, you then lifted your head up.
“Are you well? Did someone hurt you?” He looked around angrily, ready to draw his sword. You put out your hand and stopped him.
“Calm down, sir. I'm fine."
Octavian pulled his hand away, taken aback by your touch. “I've been looking for you everywhere. The general sent me to find you, he was worried.”
You brushed a few strands of hair from your face with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry, I got a little nervous in the crowd and pulled away."
"Yes, it was unexpected for everyone. The emperors were in a hurry to get to the games, so they cut the ceremony short. I couldn't get you to the carriage in time. Forgive me."
"You still treat me like a lady, sir," you teased him.
He smiled. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it up. Shall we? The games are about to begin."
He gestured to the waiting carriage in the distance.
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You were mesmerised by the splendour of this building, sitting in the part of the Colosseum intended for slaves and others. From your vantage point, you surveyed the area where the emperors and the General were seated, though they were not clearly visible from your distance. However, when they stood and advanced to deliver their opening speeches, you could see them more distinctly in their white shawls.
Caracalla and Geta raised their hands and greeted the crowd, while they chanted their names repeatedly loudly.
"People of Rome! Today, we gather to honor the glorious, greatest General Marcus Acacius.”
Applause and voices rose as Geta extended his hand to the General, you were filled with excitement. He took his hand, came forward and raised his hand. He looked up at the top bleachers and searched the crowd, his eyes determined to find you, but it was hard from such a distance.
Caracalla grasped the General's other hand. He was between them, the crowd now chanting all three of their names.
"Are you ready to see these magnificent, mind-blowing games to celebrate his extraordinary achievements?”
When the crowd responded enthusiastically in the affirmative, Geta and Caracalla shouted excitedly at the same time.
“Then let the games begiiiiiiiiiiiin!”
The thick iron gates of the arena rumbled open and two chariots thundered in, their arrival accompanied by the roar of trumpets and the beating of drums. They circled round the arena and stopped in front of the general and the emperors. While the emperors applauded them enthusiastically, the soldiers in charge ordered them to step aside and the chariots moved forward, their warriors saluting the crowd.
“Now, Gladiatoooooors!” Geta shouted and pointed to the other door. The crowd continued to cheer louder when they saw the iron-armored warriors coming out one by one. Every step was a sharp noise, echoing through the arena. The gladiators, seven in number, turned to the emperors and saluted them.
“Ave Imperatores, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, those who are about to die salute you!
Caracalla looked at the General, smiling widely.
“Today, the speech is yours, General Acacius!” he shouted and clasped his hand, and sat on his throne.
"Spur them on, you're the expert, I want to see some blood,” Geta said to the general with a wink and sat on his throne, legs crossed, clapping. From a distance, you couldn't hear them or see his face clearly, but you were certain the General was not pleased. As the General raised his arms in the air, the crowd fell silent, and the shouting died down, allowing you to rest your ears a little.
“As a soldier, I can tell you this: When you engage in combat, it is important to maintain a positive mindset and avoid thoughts of defeat. You must only think about winning! However, winning is not easy, not just about killing your enemy or defeating him. Absolutely not. Winning is about being remembered with honor, like a hero, even if you die in the end! A true soldier most likely, is not afraid of death. Neither is a true gladiator! He embraces it, caresses it, and even defies it! Today, we want to see a real gladiator who can kill death itself! Prove you can achieve it and make your emperors proud! Fight with honor and win the crowd!”
The general's speech was a roaring success, prompting a rapturous response from the assembled crowd. The drums beat again, and the gladiators raised their swords in salute to the general and gathered together in a defensive position.
He was the real deal: a genuine commander and warrior. He made your heart beat fast and you admired him.
As the battle between gladiators and other warriors commenced, you began to feel a certain degree of apprehension. You had seen blood and wounded people before, of course, but this was not the point. The point was that these warriors, whose bodies were being ruthlessly cut and torn apart, were being watched with enthusiasm and laughter by the crowd. You were grateful for the top stand, thankful that you were watching from there. You knew you wouldn't have been able to bear to see such an atrocity up close.
The warriors in the chariot had lost all their horses, also torn apart mercilessly, they jumped down and attacked the gladiators with their spears, killing, and butchering a few in the process. Only two gladiators and three warriors remained. They all had cuts on exposed parts of their bodies and blood oozing from their injured areas, but they were completely focused on survival and didn't have time to care. The dusty floor of the Colosseum was stained red, and the smell of blood wafted around in clouds of dust, like the smell of red-hot iron. The gladiators roared their triumph as they slew the last of the warriors, and their voices echoed throughout the Colosseum. The sounds of drumbeats, applause, whistles, cheers, curses, and laughter filled the air.
The emperors rose to their feet and expressed their approval and support for the gladiators through applause and cheers. Once their orations had concluded, the gladiators proceeded through the reopened iron gates, whereupon the drumming ceased. The sole remaining auditory stimulus was the noise of the crowd. The general and emperors were no longer visible, so you decided to leave, as the noise was already causing a headache.
Your legs were aching as you descended the steps, but it was just as hard to get down as it was to get up. After all, you had watched from the top and it was quite high. You had never been up to such a high building before and you were certain that you would never go up again.
When you reached the ground floor, you looked around, but there was no one you recognized. Senators and other dignitaries were leaving the Coliseum one by one, talking among themselves about the evening banquet. You weren't sure that the General would take you there. He was nowhere to be seen, but you kept looking for him. When you took a few steps in the opposite direction to where the people were coming from, you were frightened that you might meet your brothers. When you saw a white shawl his wearing, you approached the General, who was talking to one of the senators. He turned his head and saw you. But you noticed the emperors were walking towards you from another direction. You reeled back in shock and turned on your heel. You were never prepared to see them so close. You strode through the exit and headed for the stairs. Since already climbed and descended quite a few stairs today your feet were no longer firmly planted on the ground. As you quickly went down, you suddenly lost your balance and found yourself on the ground. You shivered when you felt the cold stones against your skin and scowled at the women nearby who were laughing at you as you tried to figure out what had happened. You sat down on the marble stairs, heard his voice and footsteps hurrying down behind you, and soon felt the breeze from his shawl caress your back."Aya!" The General reached out, grasped your hand gently, and lifted you up.
"Are you alright?" He checked your feet and then your face, clearly concerned.
“Ah, as always, our General is a gentleman, isn't he, brother?”
Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you heard Caracalla's voice so close. They must have seen the General holding your hand so you immediately withdrew them from the General's and stepped back, bowing your head. However, they were already descending the stairs slowly, their gaze fixed on you.
“Indeed, aren’t you going to introduce us to this beautiful lady, General Acacius?” Geta asked curiously. From where he stood, he looked taller than the general.
“Is she your secret lover or something?” Caracalla chuckled, tilting his head to see your face clearly.
“My emperors, the carriage has arrived,” you could have sworn you'd heard that voice before. When you looked at her, the Empress Julia Domna stared at you raising her eyebrows and came a little closer. You averted your eyes, the feeling that you had seen this woman before took over your whole body and made you even more nervous than your brothers did.
“We just met the General's lover, Mother,” Caracalla laughed.
“Lover?” She sized you up and gave you a stunned look.
“My slave highness,” the General corrected him. You immediately bowed your head and greeted them formally.
“A slave? How fortunate you are, I have never seen such a beautiful slave,” Geta said, his eyes wide, and you felt him tense as the General's body moved slightly in front of yours. You felt grateful as you hid yourself behind his shawl.
“She reminded me of the Germans, remember?" he chuckled and covered his mouth.
Geta accompanied his laughter and punched him jokingly in the shoulder. Then he looked at you again. “Restrain yourself, brother, this is something completely different, you know what I mean?"
Caracalla huffed, “Tempting!"
You had no idea what they were talking about, and despite your best efforts to keep your eyes off Julia, she was always looking at you.
“Bring her to the banquet,” Caracalla said excitedly, clasping his hands together.
“But Highness, you know, women are not allowed there,” Julia said loudly.
“The Empress is right, only senators and patricians, just like any other banquets,” the General said with a sharp tone.
“How boring, I'd like her to serve me, pour me some wine, so I'd see a pretty face instead of those ugly blokes' faces all night.” Caracalla pursed his lips.
Geta sighed at his reaction and put his palm in his foreground. “You’re still a child brother, if you want a girl to get laid, I'll get you one after the banquet,” he turned his head to general. “Spending the night with another Roman's slave would be a bit of theft,” he said with a grin that showed all of his teeth at the General.
The General clenched his jaw and looked at him menacingly. You felt shivers run down your spine. Domna looked at them with concern and tried to ease the atmosphere by clapping her hands. “That's enough gentlemen, I'm famished, watching the games made me real hungry,” she took Geta's arm “Shall we?” She must have been pretty familiar with this kind of situation.
Geta turned to General one last time, ”We wanted to send you a new slave as a gift, tonight,” his eyes searching you up and down.
"That is very kind of you, but I must refuse,” the General said in a firm tone.
He inhaled deeply, "It's not hard to guess why," he smiled crookedly.
“Then I want it for myself, as you promised,” Caracalla whined, taking Geta's other arm.
“Share with me?”
“You just said it's a theft.”
“Cruel.”
They kept up their debate while they walked towards the waiting carriage. It seemed like the tension was slowly easing.
Once they were in their carriage and out of sight, the general turned to you with a look of frustrated annoyance on his face. Meeting your brothers for the first time was awkward, but it was clear that they had always been like that, and everyone, including their mother, accepted it as normal.
“Are they always like this?”
“Worse.”
“They're like spoiled little children,” you snapped.
He let out a little laugh, putting a hand to his mouth, which surprised you. You thought he'd scold you for criticizing the emperors in his presence. But he didn’t, also, his smile was so beautiful that you couldn't help but smile back.
“Have you seen the games? What do you think?” The General asked you curiously.
“Well a bit, bloody.”
He smirked. “But you're used to seeing blood,” he looked around as if he was waiting for something.
“Yes, but I don't like it when people cut each other mercilessly,” you said in a stubborn tone.
“It's called survival.”
“The game of survival,” you murmured. “I don't know, it doesn't feel right,” you said honestly.
“I'm a warrior too you know, I've fought there countless times,” he said with a proud smile on his face.
You looked at him in surprise, of course, you had expected it, but you shuddered when you imagined him there, fighting for his survival. Soon a carriage pulled up beside you both, he touched your shoulder.
"You'd better go to the villa now. They're expecting me at the banquet," he said.
“I want to say thank you, for bringing me here today,” you said softly as he helped you into the carriage.
“The pleasure is mine," he said gently, his eyes meeting yours made you smile undoubtedly.
He then gestured to the coachman and the horses began to move, pulling the carriage forward.
As the carriage carried you away from the General, you continued to observe him from beneath the curtain until his silhouette in white receded from your view.
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The next morning, you opened your eyes and smiled when you heard the rooster crowing cheerfully. You sat up with a yawn, you saw that Norell was already up her mattress was empty, clearly started the day before you. You looked out the window while your mind returned to the events of the previous day. You thought about the ceremony, the games, the gladiators, the blood, your first sight of your arrogant and strange brothers, and that brown-skinned man, Macrinus. And of course, the General. When he stood with that golden crown on his head… You smiled to yourself, remembering him, and suddenly your cheeks flushed. You were surprised every time because you had never experienced such feelings in your body before. It was all so new to you.
On the other hand, you couldn't stop thinking about what Macrinus had said. You were sure he was planning something. It was hard to know if it would be right to tell the General everything, how he would react, who he would side with. Then you remembered the letter, and your body stiffened almost like a statue of Venus. It had completely slipped your mind that you had left it in his room. He didn't have a chance to touch his stuff yesterday because he arrived late at the villa, but he would definitely touch it eventually. You quickly tidied yourself and your hair and walked out of your room. As you stood there by the stairs leading up to the General's room, wondering what to do, Norell came up to you, carrying a tray with food on it.
“Are you taking this to the General?”
“Yes, he must be awake by now.”
“I'll take it to him,” you said and took the tray from her.
“Are you sure? The Master has warned us not to let you do too much work.”
“I'll talk to him, don't worry, I need to check his wound anyway,” you said smiling at her.
“Well, I was afraid of dropping the tray,” she gasped.
“What's wrong?” you put the tray on a nearby chair and went over to her, she was pressing her hand to her stomach.
“Well, it’s my moon,” she smiled at you, her freckled cheeks flushed.
“Oh, do you want me to give you an herbal mixture for the pain?”
“Would that help?”
“It works for me.”
You strode into the room and picked up your leather bag, looking through the few remaining bottles of medicine. You were running low on supplies. When you returned to her side, Norell was sitting in a chair, pressing her hands to her stomach.
You poured some of the medicine from the bottle into a bowl on the tray and crushed it, then poured a little wine into a cup, also from the tray, and diluted the mixture.
"That was the master's cup," Norell declared.
"I'll get a new one from the kitchen, drink this, and I'll be right back."
You had to cross to the other courtyard to get to the kitchen, where you had last entered the balneum. You felt your cheeks flush as you remembered the last time you were there with the General there. You returned to the main courtyard with a new cup, put it on the tray, and looked at Norell, who was grimacing as she drank the herbal concoction you had given her.
"This tastes awful," she complained.
"That's why you should drink it all, dear,” you smiled at her.
Then you picked up the tray and ascended the stairs, one by one. You stopped in front of the General's room, propped the tray up with one hand, and knocked on the door with the other. You opened the door and entered. He was sitting at his desk, looking at papers. He seemed busy. You saw the calamus pen and papers in his hand and knew you had to make a plan to get the letter before he found it.
When he looked up and saw you, he raised his eyebrows. "Have you decided to be my slave now?"
"Well, Norell is not feeling well. I'm helping her, at least for today." You put the tray down on the table and turned towards him, your gaze fixed on the wooden chest next to him.
"What's wrong? Is she alright?"
"It's a woman's issue that happens every month," you explained.
"Oh, I see," he murmured and returned to his papers.
“May I take a look at your wound? As your medicus, of course.”
"So you will appear to be both my slave and medicus today.” He put the pen on the desk, took the paper in his hand, folded it, stuffed it into the envelope, and sealed with pressing his own seal on the wax.
"I guess I am, for today," your eyes were still on the chest, wondering how to get the letter without him noticing.
His lips curled into a smile. "I feel blessed.”
Acacius stood, wearing a dark purple tunic with gold embroidery on the sleeves and collar. He walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it, looking at you. You moved closer to him and had to bend down to check on his wound. Looking at him out of the corner of your eye, you put your bag on the bed, a bit away from him who had rolled up his tunic.
As you stood in front of him and leaned over him, he was surprised to feel the light breeze of your hair hit his face. He leaned back a little, but it gave him a better view of your breasts, he swallowed hard making him stunned. Then he turned his head away, even though it was so difficult for him, but he waited patiently. You were no different from him as you checked his wound, oblivious to everything, touching his skin made you tense every time. 
The General's wound was almost healed but you noticed a rash around the cut.
“Do you have any itching or pain, sir?”
“Itching, yes, a little, pain, no.”
There’s pain, thought Acacius, but it's not where my wound is, deep in my chest.
He turned his head towards you again and looked into your beautiful eyes shining like a gem under your long eyelashes, he embraced his pain meanwhile. But it wasn't just it. The general was experiencing a whole range of sensations he hadn't felt in a long time, and it was unlike anything he'd ever fully experienced with a woman. You unintentionally revived memories of his naive and callow youth, but he appeared to find it amusing.
“I need to make an ointment for that-“
But just as you straightened up to reach for your bag, you felt pressure and pain in your neck. Looking down, you realize that the chains of the necklace you were wearing were caught in the trimmings on the collar of the general's tunic, stuck in its threads.
He was taken aback, but perhaps not as much as you were. The expression on your face, as you tried to pull your neck backward in utter shock, made him giggle. Unfortunately, you found it difficult to remain calm and the first thing that came to your mind was to unlock the necklace. So when you reached your hands back behind your neck, you lost your balance and fell on top of him. The General was a trained soldier, with well-developed arm and back muscles and a body that could easily carry such a light load in that position. All in all, he was a man so when you fell and your breasts hit his muscular chest, feeling them beneath the thin fabric, made him fall backward onto the bed.
You gasped as you found yourself in this awkward situation without even realizing how it had happened. With a quick move, you put one hand on the bed to sit up and realized that the other was on the general's chest, you withdrew it and looked at his face to check his reaction. The general looked back at you, his dark brown eyes locked on yours, but you were blinking your eyes in surprise. You frantically tried to stand up, but your necklace, as if mocking you, wouldn't let you. He grabbed your shoulders and stopped you as you struggled over his body. You were making it difficult for him to remain calm with your movements, and he was starting to lose his patience.
“Easy, would you?” He growled. His hands reached behind your neck and he murmured as he unlocked the necklace. "Stay still. I can't restrain myself if you keep moving like this.”
Your face flushed like a crimson hue as you realized what he was talking about, gasped as you felt between your legs, beneath the fabric, a part of his body pressing against your womanhood.
“You really don't know how to behave around a man, you are so careless,” he chastised you.
Once your neck was free from the damn necklace, you stood up quickly, feeling a slight soreness in your neck.
“I've spent more time around men than you think, sir,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.
As he removed your necklace from the collar of his tunic, a few threads of the fabric snapped with it. “But you were dressing like them, they didn't know you were a woman,” he corrected you. ‘You have to be careful from now on, especially when you're dressed like this.’
"Forgive me, sir," you said, feeling a little embarrassed to look him in the face.
"Your face is as red as wine," he chuckled, sitting up in bed.
You bit your lower lip and pursed your lips, then went over to your bag and picked it up to make the ointment. The medicine bottles rattled as they came out of the bag, and the general looked at them curiously. "You've been carrying these in your bag all this time?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," you replied, uncapping the green bottle, shaking it, and pouring a few drops into the empty bowl on the tray. As you stirred and softened the ointment with your index finger you murmured, “I made all this myself, but it’s almost ran out.’
“Impressive.”
Once the ointment was ready to be applied, you took the bowl in your other hand and approached the general.
“Sir, I need to apply this ointment to the wound.”
“Careful and don't throw yourself on me this time,” he giggled as he grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up once more.
You swallowed and cleared your throat, trying to stay calm, dipped the tip of your finger into the bowl, took some and applied it to the wound.
"You're making the same mistake again," he teased.
You frowned, not quite understanding what he was saying. You were sure you applied the ointment well, but looks like this was not the issue. When you looked at him, you caught him staring at your breasts. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, his eyes meeting yours. His brown eyes were warm and intense, making your heart melt.
"Never bend over another man like that," he whispers.
As his warm breath brushed against your cheek, your heartbeat quickened. "I-I won't," you stammered.
He released your wrist, and you stepped back and put the bowl on the desk. “It needs to be applied at night too, I think you can handle it,” you said with your back turned. You glanced at the wooden chest out of the corner of your eye. It seemed like you wouldn't have a chance to get the letter, at least not while he was still in his room.
“Yes, I'm grateful,” said the general, standing up and coming over to you taking the bowl and sniffing it.
"The aroma is pleasing; what is this?"
You smiled at him. “Asphodeloideae (aloe vera), sir, it does indeed have a pleasing aroma. It has been demonstrated to accelerate the healing of burns and itching wounds. But I'm afraid it's about to run out, so just use it until it's finished.”
Acacius perched himself on the edge of this desk, looking at you. “Carrying all these bottles in your bag might be a little difficult. Besides, you say you're out of supplies, I will be traveling to the city and subsequently to the barracks tomorrow, would you like to come with me?”
“To the barracks?”
“Absolutely not,” his voice was loud and sharp. “I meant to say, I shall convey you to the city in my carriage, and return for you when I have finished my business.”
Pleased by his offer, “Sir, that would be great, thank you.”
He smiled softly at you and walked over to the table to eat the food you had brought for him. As you grabbed your bag and headed for the door to leave the room, he stopped you by extending his hand.
“Won't you join me?”
You turned your head to him. He pointed to the chair opposite him with his hand. “Have a seat, I need to make sure my medicus has eaten something.”
You smiled, did as he said, putting your bag down. Acacius picked up the wine cup, you reached for the decanter before him.
“Allow me, please.”
He smiled gratefully as you poured the wine from the decanter into his cup.
“You are getting better and better at being a slave, you are willing to fulfill all my needs. Except one.”
You almost spilled all the wine when you met his piercing eyes. You slowly placed the decanter on the tray. While you were calculating what to say, he put his hand on yours which holds the handle of the decanter.
"Don't you have any feelings for me?” He was looking at you from under his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for your answer.
His gaze shifted from your lips to your eyes, you lingered looking into his eyes, even if you said what you felt now, it was very difficult to predict what would happen next. You wondered if he would love you for who you really were.
“It's all so new to me also very hard to say anything for sure. But…"
“But?”
You were trying to think rationally under the influence of his gaze, but you were failing.
“I feel happy when I'm with you, and… I miss you when you're not around,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks burning.
“At least there's a silver lining.” Acacius smiled widely, lifted your hand, and placed a kiss on it.
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It was an ordinary day in the streets of Rome, blessed by clear sky and sunshine. The sounds of birdsong were interspersed with those of the rooster. Some people wandered the streets on foot, chatting to each other, while others mounted horses and rode along the stone paths at a pace that caused the hooves of the horses to clatter against the buildings with a distinct echoing sound. The sound of a nearby blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the voices of merchants trying to attract customers to their businesses and draw attention to the goods they were offering for sale. Women often inspected the exhibits before making a purchase and then had their slaves carry them home. Since the clothing and accessories worn by each group reflected their status, it was relatively easy to distinguish between social classes.
You and Norell were walking around the streets in your slave clothes and cloaks to buy something just like other Romans. You still couldn't get used to these clothes. When men and women stared at you, wished you were invisible, as you used to be.
You entered the market street and noticed the large crowd gathered in front of the stalls. There were pots, vegetables, fruits, fabrics, fish, butchers, and plants. The plants, herbs, and flowers on the stalls were very varied and fresh. Once you had purchased what you needed and placed it in your bags, you walked down the street once more, recounting to Norell the events of the previous day and your observations at the Colosseum, as she had requested.
"You know he's in love with you, right?" Norell looked at you suggestively through her yellowish eyelashes.
"Are you talking about the General?
“Is there someone else?" she teased, then inhaled deeply. "I wouldn't be surprised, you're quite attractive."
“Oh, Norell, please," you whined.
“I know you love him too, why are you avoiding my question?"
You smiled shyly, “I’m not sure what I feel. How can you be so sure of his feelings anyway?”
You both waited for a carriage to pass in front of you before crossing the street.
“Because I've known him since I was young and I've never seen the General like this before. Even Tullia is worried, she's angry with you, you know.”
You looked at her with your hazel eyes wide open. “Why? But I didn't do anything wrong, I did everything the General asked.”
Once the carriage had passed, you crossed the street and continued walking along the avenue where the west front of the Colosseum was visible. Norell took your arm.
“I don't know how it was where you come from, but here slaves have to fulfill their master’s every need. So Tullia thinks you’re not obeying him.” You were offended by being treated as a slave, but you couldn't blame her for being unaware of the truth about you. You turned your head to her and kept your voice low. “He said he would not touch me against my will.”
“Oh, that's why he's so upset then.”
You stopped and looked at her. “Upset?”
Her brown eyes looked sad. “Every night before I go to bed, I see him looking deep in thought at his balcony. And during the day, he's there, watching whatever you're doing. It's not like him.”
Was he? Somewhere deep in your chest, you felt a sharp, intense pain.
“Other slaves, the beautiful ones, are raped, killed or sold. Even among the nobles, there are those who are forced into marriage and have to sleep with a man they don't love. I know you've never been touched by a man before and neither have I. But if I found someone who could love me the way he loves you, I would give myself to him.” She blinks at you.
You were absolutely certain of her sincerity, but your situation was quite different from that of other slaves, even from all other Roman women.
“I suppose I should confess my feelings to myself first,” you murmured.
“My Lady!”
You and Norell turned to see who was speaking. You were surprised to see Macrinus standing next to you in his cloak.
"I was hoping to meet you," he said, looking around, then came closer. "But, you are very careless," he said in a low voice. "You attract too much attention."
You couldn't understand what he was saying. "Sir, why do you seem to be hiding?”
"I'm lurking because I've been following you for some time, and luckily I found you without anyone noticing."
"Why did you follow me?"
"We need to talk, but not here. We are too exposed.”
“What's going on, Aya? Who is this man?” You forgot for a moment that Norell was looking at you both in confusion.
Macrinus looked at her and then at you then he turned his head to the street.
“Norell, I'll tell you everything later,” you said, touching her shoulder then turned to Macrinus. “Sir, I don't think it’s the right time-”
He grabbed your arm gently. “You don't realize how much danger you are in, Julia suspects something and it's only a matter of time before she finds you.”
“How do you mean?”
"I'll tell you everything, but right now we need to move." He gestured to you as he walked to the other side of the street, you nodded and pulled Norell's arm, you felt uncomfortable going without her.
"Are you going to tell me what is happening? Who is this man?"
"Trust me and wait, I'll tell you everything at once, I promise."
She wasn't convinced, but she nodded and remained silent.
You and Norell followed Macrinus for a few more streets, maintaining a safe distance from the people around you. It didn't take long for you to notice that the streets were getting quieter. There were fewer people around, and the streets were narrower and more secluded. After passing through a narrow, dead-end street, Macrinus stopped, threw back his hood, and turned to you. When you realized Norell was squeezing your arm, you looked at her. Seeing her looking at a structure at the end of the street, petrified. You turned your head to that direction to find out what was worrying her. It was a large but untidy two-story house. The curtains were blowing out of the windows in the wind, they were all red.
“Gods, it’s…whore house," Norell muttered.
You turned to Macrinus in disbelief. At that moment, two men approached you from down the street, surveyed you both, and continued on their way, laughing.
“I'm sorry, my lady, but this is the safest place to talk.”
"To talk? What are you planning? How could you think I would be in such a place?"
Your voice echoed through the cobbled streets as Macrinus approached you, his expression grave.
"I can't speak to you safely anywhere else, your appearance would draw attention if we were in a tavern or other. But this place is too remote for anyone to think of it, you know what I mean, and nothing will happen to you, the one who runs this place knows me and I trust her."
When Norell grabbed your arm, you moved a little away from Macrinus, closer to the wall.
“Look Aya, I don't know what's going on, but this is not good, if the General finds out about this-.”
"I know. He knows my real family, and I trust him.” You lied. “Don't worry, you go to the place where we'll meet with the carriage and wait for me. I don't want you to go there with me."
"I don't think you should go in there either."
You gave Macrinus a quick look, then turned to Norell. "I know, it won't take long, I promise."
Norell looked at you and Macrinus with concern.
"If you won't be there in time, I'll tell the General everything," she said, sounding more like she wanted Macrinus to hear him. You looked at him in panic, but he didn't look surprised. You knew that moment you had to talk to him, no matter what. You were almost certain that he was planning to threaten the General through you.
Once Norell turned the corner into another alley, you turned to Macrinus. He smiled at you, turned, and walked towards the house. He no longer seemed nervous, as if he comes here, and walks through here often. You, however, were tense, feeling abandoned by Norell's leaving and like you'd put yourself in great danger.
Macrinus lifted the iron knocker of the big wooden door and rapped twice. At that moment, you tensed even more as you heard voices coming from inside, your face flushing red with embarrassment. A short, poorly dressed man opened the door and looked at Macrinus, then at you. When his eyes met yours, you looked away.
"Tell Juturna I'm here."
The man gave you one last look and went inside. Macrinus gestured for you to come in as he moved quickly down the corridor. You swallowed and deliberately ignored the voices as you walked in.
“Did it really have to be here?”
“I'm sorry, I understand why you're uncomfortable, but it really is safer than you think.”
Macrinus smirks, but you grow more and more nervous, everyone here men, and women is almost naked even in the mural pictures dyed on the walls. The voices were getting louder and louder when a middle-aged woman came running towards you. She wore too much make-up and smiled broadly at Macrinus.
"Sire, how good to see you again."
"Private room now."
She tilted her head to look at you with wide eyes, you turned your head and wrapped your cloak tightly around your arms, covering your body. She pressed her hand to her chest, "Gods, it's been years since such a beauty drops in here.”
"Don't overstep your bounds, she's a lady!" Macrinus scolded him.
"Apologies, sire. Have your way to up the stairs and the boys will show you to your room," she said with a grin.
Following Macrinus into the hallway, seeing some young girls, half-naked, talking amongst themselves. As you passed them, they looked at you strangely. You felt sorry for them, but also a bit disgusted.
A young boy gestured to the room, and Macrinus invited you in after he had entered. You were almost startled when the door closed behind you. Looked around quickly to observe, red curtains, orange bedspread and pillows, overturned wine cups and fruits in a bowl on the table, and various colored fabrics on the chairs. And the smell... You couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in this room. It made you feel sick.
Macrinus saw your unease and pulled out the chair for you to sit down.
"Have a seat, my lady."
You gave him a look that said you weren't going to be pushed around and sat down on the chair, crossing your arms to avoid touching anything else. "Tell me what I need to know. I don't have much time."
Macrinus took another wine cup from the other table in the corner of the room, poured wine into, and handed it to you. You made a gesture with the back of your hand and shook your head no.
"Are you afraid of the General?" he asked as he sat down in the chair opposite you. "I know you're staying at his villa. How long has he known?”
"He doesn’t! I can assure you that the General has nothing to do with it.”
Macrinus crossed his legs and took a sip of his wine.
"Of course he does. He'll take you to Geta himself as soon as he finds out."
You thought about him. Would he really do that? You couldn't find the answer, and you hated it.
"The general is a man of honor. He will understand when I tell him."
"Are you saying you can lure him to our side?"
"Our side?" You leaned over the chair towards him, "What is your purpose?"
"It's simple. I'm going to present you to the Senate and get them to recognize you unanimously. You will be formally designated as the heiress to the imperial throne. I really wonder about the emperors’ face when they find out."
Macrinus laughed and took a quick sip of wine.
"How do I know you're not lying to me and you're actually on the emperors’ side at this moment?"
Macrinus narrowed his eyes and looked at you. "I am close to Caracalla. He trusts me." He extended his hand toward you, placing one of the red grapes from the table in it. "I have him right in the palm of my hand, right here, and when the time comes…" He closed his palm and squeezed the grape, the pinkish juice of the grape slowly flowed between his fingers and dripped on the floor. You looked at him in disgust as he ate smashed grapes and licked his own palm.
“And what do you want from me? What will you gain if the Senate recognizes me?”
“I promised your father I would restore peace to Rome, and after he sent you away, he asked me to find Vicius and make sure you were safe. So as I stated before, I went to Egypt to find you, Vicius managed to hide you, he didn't believe me, he was very good at covering his tracks. No wonder he kept you hidden all this time. On the way back, news reached me of your father's death in York, and by the time I got back to the capital, Caracalla and Geta had declared their empire.”
That was four years ago, and it was no coincidence that on that very day, your uncle took you from home to the Valetudinarium in Alexandria. But you still weren't sure whether he had done it to protect you from Macrinus or from your emperor brothers or Julia.
“You said Julia suspected something.”
Macrinus was a man of very calm demeanor; it was hard to tell from his expression what he was thinking. “If Julia finds out you're alive, she'll take your life without a second thought.”
You swallowed hard, you already disliked her when you met her on the day of the ceremony.
“But I'm a woman, I can't be a threat to the throne,” you said looking at him, Macrinus put his cup on the table and leaned forward.
“But if one day you give birth to a son, my lady, you will be the greatest threat of all. She is a woman who keeps the General and her sons in balance, do not underestimate her. She wants Acacius in the Senate, to gain power over me.” He reached for a bunch of grapes and plucked one. “But I have secured my position, and with you we can save Rome from them for good.” He popped a grape into his mouth and smiled at you as he chewed.
“What about the General, what will happen to him?”
He stopped chewing. “He has to choose. But before, he could be charged with treason for hiding you in his villa.”
“No, I told you, there’s nothing like that, he doesn't know about the letter. He doesn't know who I really am,” you yelled at him.
“Do you really think emperors would care about that?”
You knew the answer, your heart began beating in your throat. It wasn't fair that the General should face such an offense because of you.
"If you go to the Senate, there'll be a trial and a judgment, and we'll win. No doubt about it. I'll send the word tonight. The court will convene the day after tomorrow. I can hide you until then," he said, standing up and holding out his hand to you.
You regarded him with a determined expression. "I am grateful for your kindness, but I believe I will be safer with the General, I would like to leave now before he finds me here. Moreover, I am not yet ready to trust you fully."
Macrinus laughed. "My lady, I believe that attitude will serve you well in front of the Senate. It might be beneficial to adopt a similar stance.”
As you left the room, you felt a strong inclination to descend the stairs as quickly as possible, in order to avoid the rather pungent odours and sounds. As you passed the rooms one by one, you heard what seemed to be a cry. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a face you had seen before. You stopped, and when you wanted to look again to make sure, you turned your head, and lifted the torn red curtain blocking the entrance of the room to see her face. It was her, Decima, the girl you met on the ship and with whom you had the good fortune to become friends. You shared your secrets with her, and you had always assumed that she had been sold to a wealthy man. You hoped that she had been happy until now. You were so wrong. You felt your body trembling as your eyes began to well up with tears.
"Are you all right, my lady?" Macrinus asked, concern evident in his voice which came to you in a blur.
"Decima!" You ran into the room beside her, grabbing her shoulders. She was startled, then looked at you with a surprised look on her face and started to cry. You hugged her and pressed her head to your chest.
"Have you been here all this time?”
She was visibly distraught, and your heart ached for her. "I thought you had forgotten me," she sobbed.
"Never. I thought that nobleman had bought you. What happened?"
"No, he didn't," she mumbled, shaking her head.
Without a second thought you grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.
Macrinus stepped in front of you. “My lady, you can't do this, she belongs here now.”
"No way! I'm taking her with me!" You barked and pushed him aside, pulled Decima by the arm ran to the stairs, and kept walking while ignoring the murmuring, and shouting coming behind you.
“Hey! How you? She's my slave, I paid eight thousand sesterces for her!” Juturna, who owned the place got up from her seat and came over to you, she was angry. Two guards at the door came in, blocking your way with a threatening and mocking demeanor.
Macrinus came running behind. “My lady, please, let her go. Those are the rules here. I’m begging you.”
It never felt right, you didn't want to leave Decima there to her fate. Then, someone came running up to Macrinus and whispered something in his ear. He tensed, cursed angrily, and turned his head to you. “Acacius is here. I need to go. Please don't do anything dull,” he warned you. Then he made his way back down the corridor and stepped through the door that led to the rear entrance.
You swallowed hard when you heard the General’s name, you had to think fast, decide fast. Then you opted to follow your heart, rather than your mind. As you grabbed Decima's hand and headed for the door, it opened with a thud and the General stormed in. You both regarded each other with surprise, but his expression soon became one of anger.
“General Acacius, sir!” Juturna approached him.
He didn't hear her, didn't look around, he was as angry as you'd ever seen him, with a piercing gaze that took hold of yours. As he reached out and grabbed your arm, you pulled back with all your strength. But the second time he grabbed again and pulled roughly, you couldn't find the strength to pull back. But you didn't intend to let go of Decima's hand either.
“Sir, please tell her something, she's trying to take my slave.” The woman bowed her head in front of the general and squinted at you.
“She is my friend, please help me, sir,” you said pleadingly.
"I'm a Roman citizen, and this one belongs to me. You clearly don't know the laws. Give her to me now," she said, grabbing Decima's other arm and pulling her along.
“No!”
“Let her go, Aya!” the General roared, but you didn't listen to him. Before you could even think about reaching for Decima, he grabbed your arm again and pulled you to outside, but you struggled with all your strength. The General let out a low growl, and before you knew it, the ground gave way beneath your feet. He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder. Your face hit the leather armor on his muscular back with a thump, leaving you gasping in surprise. You struggled to get free, but he held on tight, carrying you out.
“No! Let me down! Please!” No matter what you said, it didn't stop him, you tried to lift your head to look at Decima, but when you saw that the door was closed, you got angry.
You started punching his back, but it was like hitting a stone wall. He tightened his muscular arm around the back of your thighs, right near your butt. As he carried you, your loud voice echoed through the whole street. People in the street looked at you curiously as they saw the general had come with you over his shoulder to the carriage. You gave up struggling, and he set you down.
Your hair was a mess, but all you had on your mind was getting back to Decima. He saw you looking back, grabbed your arm, and put you and then himself into the carriage. He ordered the coachman to drive and then he started his horses. He sat you down next to him and never let go of your arm. When the carriage moved, he loosened his grip and turned his head towards you. But you were looking the other way. Norell sitting across from you, her lips tightly closed, so ashamed to look the general in the face, blaming herself. No one spoke the whole way, only the sound of the wheels rolling on the stony ground echoed inside the carriage.
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Upon arrival at the villa, Norell regarded the General and you with a timid expression before exiting the carriage. You didn't move, your anger still raw. In the end, your stubbornness made him give up and he got out. "Come out now," he ordered.
He was waiting for you with his hand extended. You inhaled and stood up, but instead of taking his hand, you grabbed the side of the car as you stepped out. You walk briskly into the Villa's garden and leave him behind. As you came into the garden, you saw Tullia and Norell whispering to each other. You glanced at them, and they looked over at the general, who was walking quickly behind you. They seemed tense. As you were heading to your room, a strong hand grabbed your wrist. He pulled you to the stairs this time you didn’t resist. He led you to his room and closed the door.
He turned to you, first his brown eyes met yours and then he calculated what to say or tried to remain calm.
“You will never go there again, do you hear me?”
You glanced over at the balcony, and he stepped a little closer. “How could you go there? How could you put yourself in danger like that? What were you thinking?”
“She's my friend,” you murmured, looking at the setting sun on the horizon through the window.
“Even so, there's nothing you can do for her, the rules apply to everyone.”
“That could have been me,” you turned your head to him. “I could have been one of those poor girls if you-” you swallowed, your voice was trembling.
Acacius' expression softened as he moved closer to you. "I'm truly sorry about your friend, but you need to let it go. I need you to promise me you won't go there again." His brown eyes were bathed in the orangish sunlight streaming through the window. They were looking at you with intensity, delving deeply into your soul. You wondered how you could still be so stubborn, defying him like that. You closed your eyes and crossed your arms, realizing your disobedience, he grabbed your shoulders. "I may be a gentle master to you, but don't even think to test my patience.”
At that moment, the anger that was welling up inside you was trying to get out.
“I am not your slave! I never have been! I'm-”
You almost would tell him everything, but not feeling ready yet, not like this. He was far from being surprised, it’s like he knew you were going to say that.
“As for that, I couldn't find any proof that you were a Roman citizen,” Acacius pulled his hands back, “I recently sent a letter to the governor in Egypt regarding your uncle's funeral. I have received a reply from him today. It seems that he does not have any relatives, only his wife and himself. Interestingly, there is no record of the name Aya.”
It was rather unexpected. You were unprepared for how quickly he discovered the truth. As he approached, you instinctively braced yourself and took a step back. You winced when your back hit the stone wall. Acacius placed his palms on the wall, either side of your head. His brown eyes darkened as he leaned in, almost close enough to kiss you. You placed your hands against the wall behind you, feeling the coolness of the stone in your palms and on your skin, in an attempt to gather your strength. His eyes locked onto yours as if he were questioning you.
“Who are you?”
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