#ovaries were a mistake

[ghostinthegallery]

I wish I knew what about my vibe exudes to doctors "yeah, give this ho the weakest pain meds we got" and how I could...not do that

[raeathnos]

.

[sugarplum217]

The Fire We Make (Part Two)

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!………

@captainwithoutmakingitlove

@naughtynolly-blog

@theglamclosetsl

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@fakxmbj

@solunaseira

@noir-lullaby

@kirayuki22

@blyffe

@planetblaque

@blackchickinthedesert

@megamindsecretlair

@teeresaresa

@kaylaahisthebestest-

@hotebonynearby

@lavaniiii

@cardi-bre91

[osokasstuff]

sex is a social construct.

there is no such thing as a single biological sex(tm), which includes all the sex traits (and social stuff associated with having these sex traits). there are a lot of sex traits that often happen to co-occur, but there are no inevitable necessity in it.

sex is a social construct. no single sex trait guarantees the presentation of another. XX chromosomes don't guarantee having a vagina, or not having a penis, or having ovaries, or not having testes, etc. sex traits are connected by long chains of factors, and change in every factor can impact anything. it's very, very complicated, and i'm done with the useless and harmful simplification of it.

hot take, but "sex" is bullshit. "sex" as a singular is fucking bullshit. people who try to appeal to "sex" as some kind of biological reality are misinformed as fuck. chromosomes are biological reality. organs and body parts are biological reality. hormones and hormonal receptors are biological reality. but sex? no. sex is completely made up.

i'm so done with chromosome investigation. like, you have a really long and complicated chain of consequences that leads to body look and functions, and you randomly pick the very first link of it and proclaim it as the most true proof of someone sex(tm)? "but chromosomes—" FUCK YOU chromosomes there are genes which encode having a tail in your chromosomes, should we treat you like a basically walking tail? and oh, you DON'T KNOW your chromosomes if you weren't cariotyped, so suck your shit in and sit still. no, your [insert genitals] doesn't prove you have [insert chromosomes] even if you were born with them. live in fear like we do.

single "sex" is so rude round-up that it should be considered a math nonsense. it's disappointing to see advocation for the usage of "sex" in the medical/scientific field because it literally creates false expectations and wrong conclusions.

examples:

(1) "males are more at risk of being color blind"

(2) "females are more at risk of developing osteoporosis"

these statements are medical concerns. they're seen as "scientifical truth." but what do they actually refer to? and how doctors (who were taught these ideas) will treat them?

(1) actually refers to genes. having two X chromosomes passed from two parents makes it less likely to be color blind because accotiated proteins are encoded in X chromosome. more variety (2X chromosomes from different parents) -> more opportunities to have working genes. does it have something with having a vagina or gender mark in legal papers? NO. but what will doctors do when they see a patient and assess the likelihood of them being color blind? cariotype them or look at their papers/appearance? it's not so important with color blindness because it gets evaluated by special images, but there are tons of other conditions associated with having or not having 2X chromosomes passed from different parents, and doctors may not assume/less likely assume them because of your fucking single "sex".

(2) actually refers to hormone levels. estrogen increases the risk of calcium loss from bones. does it have anything to do with genitalia or gender mark or appearance or whatever? NO. and the field for mistake is huge.

and there are more. every time when actual medical guides refer to "sex," they actually mean tons of different traits (and sometimes tons of prejudices, too). but people shove all of them under the single "sex" label, and it erases all real factors underlying these correlations. it misinformes people who need to be properly informed.

and advocating for this shitty awful idea as for a "biological reality" even from trans* people? it's so disheartening.

sex is no more biological than gender. sex is no more real than gender. sex is a social construct, and it's awful, oppressive, violent, and misinforming one.

i can see some positive things in gender. not gender roles, or pressure, or expectations, or oppressive systems, just gender. because it's identity & performance. it's a way for people to express and explain themselves. but sex? sex is awful, useless, and give us literally less than nothing.

abolish the sex.

[roseboysstuff]

Leon tried to impregnate his Lil bro but no awail

So he decided to punish his brother's stubborn pussy 😈

He spanked he's brothers cunt and then thoroughly bred him until he's full and round and then plugged Lil bro's cunny so no drop will waste

Sorry for mistakes if there is any I'm just so horny just thinking about it 🥵🥵🥵

Ooooo making sure his lil bro is good and knocked up without a doubt CW // incest, don't like don't read

Leon had been trying to knock you up for months. But nothing. His seed refuses to take. And he was getting frustrated. Your body was perfectly suited to take his cock and his seed, and he was going to see you round with his kid soon. So this time, as he pulled you into his room to stuff you with more of his cum, his face was rage filled and passionate. He pushed you down onto the bed, stripping your clothes off faster than ever before. Usually in your sessions with your big brother, he was slow and sensual, but the passion and ferocity in his eyes tonight was different. As soon as he saw your dripping pussy, he growled and slapped it. You gasped and twitched, and a small whimper left your lips, which only spurred him on to continue. He leaned down and spanked your pussy again, a loud plap sound echoing in the room. "Stubborn little boycunt, I'll make sure you accept my seed into that womb of yours for good tonight." And he made good on his promise, opening you up with his fingers until he was sure your pussy was as ready as it could be. His thrusts started off slow, and he made sure you were open and ready before beginning to thrust harder. "Take my cock, take it all. My good little brother, you're gonna look so good all round and pregnant." He kept one hand over your womb, massaging your stomach, hoping he could stimulate your womb and ovaries into accepting his seed. His other hand was firmly rubbing your clit, trying to make your climax all over his cock. He'd heard that an orgasm would increase the chance of his seed impregnating you, and after waiting for so long, he was not taking any chances this time. You would bear his children, and he was going to make sure of it. And as he climaxed inside you, you assumed he would stop, but he just kept thrusting, determined to stuff you full and breed you with as many loads as he could release. It was probably about 4 loads later that he finally stopped, letting your puffy cunt have a rest. But he didn't just pull out, he grabbed a plug from his bedside drawer, as soon as his cock was out, he shoved the plug inside. The feeling of his cum inside you, kept there by the plug made you whimper but he just slapped your clit. "Better hope you get knocked up this time, or I'll make sure all our love making is like tonight was."

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hnng your writing of Donna with pregnant reader or a kid makes my ovaries howl.

Could we maybe have some more with Donna being soft with pregnant reader, maybe even asking to get married? 👉👈

Domestic Donna gives me the lesbian feelings.

Regardless of the ask, really great writing and hope you keep hydrated

Yesss!!! Thank you for your words, and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Taking care of you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader

Word count: 4,027

Summary: Seven months of pregnancy are too many months, but she's always by your side...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Boredom was something you could allow yourself. The mansion, always dark, lonely, as if no one lived there, had become an incessant circuit of walks, sighs and moans.

You had been living there for a year, a year since your life changed forever.

A villager born there, a helper on your family's farm, you never had the impression that your life could somehow improve, or get out of the monotony. Masses to the Black Gods, blind faith in Mother Miranda and the Lords... It was a boring and sinister routine.

But if anything got you out of bed in the mornings it was that kind of discreet game you played in the church, when no one was looking.

The woman in mourning, the most dangerous and dark Lord of all, Donna Beneviento, seemed to follow that little game of glances. At first it was just your imagination, curiosity about that black veil, about that melancholic pose. It soon became a subtle exchange of greetings, a turn of her head towards you, and yours towards hers.

Coincidence, curiosity, or simply the anxiety to get out of the routine, you didn’t know what exactly had been the trigger for that daily exchange, for that habit of greeting each other with an increasingly effusive gesture.

You could say that love had knocked on your door, that it had opened a path in the dark and grey way that would be your life. Against all odds, that path appeared in front of you when that black figure walked towards you after one of the witch's sermons and, timidly, with the help of that sinister Angie doll, Lady Beneviento finally begged to meet you.

It wasn’t an easy relationship. There were many problems, traumas and insecurities tormenting the lady in black. You were always a girl with patience, who would fight for her beloved without fearing the consequences.

Little by little you learned to deal with her, to understand her, to comfort her when she needed it. Maybe she was never like everyone said. Maybe her only problem was being hopelessly alone.

That was a routine you liked to be in: silent afternoons, kisses, caresses, romantic dinners, a lot of reminders of how much she loved you and how afraid she was of losing you…

Yes, even when you had just moved to the old estate, you felt comfortable with the routine, with feeling there was actually someone who understood you and whom you understood.

But the illusion that your life was a path already marked, an illuminated or dark one, was simply a sensation heightened by boredom. No, your life was not going to continue the same, it never would.

After several weeks of feeling sick, you discovered that life still had a surprise in store for you. You were pregnant.

 It was something unexpected, a slip that was not really one, a carelessness that could not be called that way.

An emotional whirlwind shook your senses. Many unanswered questions lashed your mind mercilessly. In the end, after thinking about it calmly, you decided to see that news as the best in the world, as the beginning of a wonderful new routine.

The symptoms were almost unbearable, but luckily Donna was always with you, always looking after you, looking after her child. You would never have had the courage to endure those mood swings, those nausea, without her hand tightly squeezing yours.

And there you were, seven months later, carrying a swollen belly, with your body exhausted by every step you took, wishing that it would finally be over and you could be a family, the strangest family in the whole village, but also one of the most respected.

Everything was going perfectly well, but, for a week now, Lady Beneviento was especially... Her. You didn't know why, but she seemed nervous. It was probably because of that sudden responsibility of your pregnancy, her constant fear of not being what you expected of her to be.

“Hello? Are there any Donnas in there?” you asked amused, knocking on the doors of the old workshop, with a hand eternally resting on your belly.

“(Y/N),” the woman in black said, walking to open the door, with a sad smile. “What are you doing here, tesoro? You should rest.”

You waved it off and sighed childishly.

“I know, but if I have to spend one more minute alone up there, with Angie telling me all the time how fat I am...” you said with pleading eyes.

Donna smiled, caressing your cheek and then your belly, as usual, slowly approaching to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“Don't pay attention to her, mm? You look beautiful,” she whispered affectionately, with that smile that took you so long to discover.

“I have eyes in my face and there are mirrors in this house,” you joked a bit frustrated, joining your hands with hers, caressing that increasingly annoying lump. “It doesn't matter, can I keep you company for a while?”

“Sure, let me help you,” she said, excited as every time you left the light on the upper floor to dive into that dark basement, to be with her, to make her see that she would never be alone again.

Carefully, the lady accompanied you to a nearby chair, helping you sit down in a gentlemanly manner, taking a look at you in case you might be uncomfortable before returning to her dolls.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, without taking away that wonderful smile, the expectation of the changes of what was now your family.

“Well…” you sighed, resting an elbow on the table, playing with the dress of one of the hundreds of porcelain dolls that guarded the sinister workshop. “Let's see… I've thrown up breakfast again, my ankles are burning and I think they've quintupled in size, the baby seems to want to be a gymnast because it doesn't stop moving and it's the sixth time I've gone to the bathroom in two hours but… I guess I'm fine,” you said amused, counting each and every one of the discomforts that were already part of your daily life.

Donna looked at you studiously, with a half smile, sighing and nodding.

“Calm down, tesoro, there's less and less left,” she murmured, mixing paints in a jar, decorating an empty porcelain head.

You nodded, blinking mockingly.

“It’s easy for you to say, huh?” you whispered, nudging her slightly. She closed her eye and took a breath, thinking of what to say to the truth that frustrated her. “I'm joking, Donna. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

The lady looked at you lovingly again, but with a dark shadow on her face, as if something was worrying her. Well, of course she was worried, she couldn't help but feel somehow guilty about your discomfort.

“I, I'm worried, (Y/N)…” Donna said quietly, leaving her freshly painted head on the table and turning to caress your belly again, with a frown.

“What's worrying you?” you asked with the same soft tone, breathing calmly thanks to her tender caresses.

“What if it looks like me?” she asked, looking into your eyes, running her hand slowly over your belly. You smiled, lifting her face with your hand, looking into that eye emanating sadness.

“Then it will be the most beautiful baby in the world,” you whispered, capturing her lips again in a slow, sudden kiss.

“No, no…” she said immediately, moving away and running her hand through the hair that fell over the deformity of her right eye. “I don't mean that, I… I'm, I'm afraid that… Well, that it might inherit my… My problems, you know.”

You smiled understandingly, taking her hand in yours, letting the air out of your lungs little by little, relaxing Donna's incipient trembling, one that never brought anything good.

“Come on, Donna, don't think that way, I'm sure everything will be fine,” you said, getting a little closer to her, cupping her soft face in your hands, running your thumbs over her cheeks. She slowly shook her head. It wasn't that easy to take away her worries, you already knew that.

“You're just saying that to reassure me,” she sighed listlessly, taking your hand, showing the trembling of hers. You smiled, thus hiding your helplessness to calm her fears. “Everything, all of this is so... New to me...”

“Of course, you're right, what was I thinking?” you joked, moving away and crossing your arms, making her blink in confusion. “I should have known that it would be new for you, since for me, well, it's just another pregnancy, like the previous fourteen.”

Donna looked at you curiously, opening her mouth to say something, but being unable to do so. You bit your lip and stood up from the chair, sitting on her lap with an amused gasp, grabbing her cheeks with your hand and comically shaking her head.

“It was a joke,” you hissed in a mocking tone, stealing a kiss from her as you gripped her face, letting her hold you comfortably, breathing in relief. Having Donna learn to catch your jokes was an even more complicated goal than motherhood.

“Certo,” she said, shaking her head, embarrassed by her naivety, holding you tightly against her body.

You, amused, looked at your belly, settling yourself on the brunette's lap, who was still embarrassed by her attitude.

“What did your mommy say? I hope you understand her,” you whispered, pretending to talk to the baby, something that undoubtedly, just as you planned, made the woman in black smile, stealing an elegant kiss from you, sighing.

“Everything, everything will be okay… right?” she asked in a low tone, looking sweetly into your eyes.

“Everything will be okay, Donna, you'll see. We'll be the best family in the world,” you said softly, leaving the jokes aside. She looked at you uncertainly, but nodded, caressing your belly again.

“Family…” she sighed, losing her gaze again, turning her bright eye away from yours, shifting in her chair. “It, it reminds me that I have something to tell you, (Y/N).”

“I’m listening,” you said amused, getting off her lap and returning to your seat, feeling that terrible nuisance of nature again.

“I, well, maybe it seems silly to you but I've been thinking about you, about me, about the baby, for a while… I, I was wondering if…”

“Wait, wait a moment,” you said with an apologetic smile. She fell silent and looked at you curiously. “I have to go to the bathroom, again,” you excused yourself, almost running out the door of the workshop.

After that common, but at the same time strange conversation, the lady in black didn’t return to what she wanted to say. It was true that she took care of everything, but it was also true that the more the baby grew, the more incapable you became to maintain a long conversation, sleep through the night or just relax.

“Mmm,” you murmured when it was time to eat, enjoying the amazing cooking of the dangerous Donna Beneviento. If you were told that a Lord like her had a passion for culinary art, you would probably think it was a joke. “You know, I could spend years pregnant for you to cook for me.”

Donna looked at you amused, shaking her head.

“I already cooked for you before, (Y/N),” she said, taking a sip of her glass of wine, with an amused expression, without losing her smile.

“Did you?” you asked with a mocking tone, pretending to search those memories on you mind.

She nodded, laughing adorably. You could spend an eternity listening to that laughter.

“If Mother Miranda saw you…” you mocked, with a mocking smile, rolling your eyes, shaking your head, pretending indignation.

“She would ask what's for dessert,” Donna joked, surprisingly, thus earning to hear your amused laughter while you comically threw a napkin at her.

“She’ll have just birdseed,” you whispered, messing with the high priestess, the cause of many of Donna's problems.

To tell the truth, you didn't like Miranda very much, but that one of her daughters, the youngest, was starting a family didn't seem to bother her at all, which guaranteed you a quiet life, or so you liked to believe.

“Mother Miranda...” the lady whispered, changing her amused expression to a serious one, looking away from yours, focusing on her already empty plate. “(Y/N), I want, I want to ask you something...”

You, completely oblivious to those words, yawned exaggeratedly, stretching yourself on the table and rubbing your eyes.

“Are you okay?” the lady asked, worried, forgetting the phrase she was saying.

You nodded, suppressing another yawn.

“Yes, yes, just... I'm just sleepy,” you said in a tired voice.

Donna sighed in frustration at something and then nodded, with a smile a little weaker than usual.

“Okay, I'll... I'll pick this up and you, you should lie down, okay?” she said, getting up from the table and stacking the plates, pointing to the couch.

“Don't tell me twice,” you sighed, walking slowly towards the indicated couch and lying down carefully, enduring another dose of erratic movements from the baby in your belly.

You felt something covering you and you couldn't help but smile tenderly.

“Rest, amore mio,” Donna whispered covering you with a blanket and kissing your head.

You, with your eyes already closed, reached for her hand to caress it before she left, which caused another tender laugh from the doll maker.

Before you could realize that Donna had been wanting to tell you something all day, something important, sleep attacked you mercilessly.

“Hey!” An unpleasant squeal made you open your eyes in fear, sitting up immediately. Of course, Angie had to make her appearance.

“Oh, Angie, you’ve scared me,” you protested, automatically bringing your hands to your belly, protecting it from that sinister doll.

The puppet laughed amused, climbing onto the couch and uncovering you completely with a tug on the blanket.

“Coward, coward…” she sang mockingly, making you snort angrily.

“Do you know that if you scare me you can cause me a premature labor?” you asked ironically, causing the sinister laughter to stop immediately. “What do you say? Do you think you can handle that?”

“Uhg, go back to the aquarium, Willy,” Angie mocked unpleasantly, as always.

“This is the last time I buy a VHS from the Duke,” you threatened, crossing your arms.

Angie laughed again, fighting against your attempt to push her off the couch.

“Angie, lasciala stare,” Donna said, appearing miraculously, like she always does.

The doll fidgeted, fleeing from her owner's reprimands. You growled, looking pleadingly at the lady, who approached the corner with a tray, leaving it on the small coffee table.

“Your evil doll has insinuated I’m a whale,” you said in a childish way, like a little child who tells on something its brother did.

“Angie…” Donna sighed, looking angrily at the doll, who cowardly fled from the ventriloquist's anger. “Don't pay attention to her, you look beautiful, you know it.”

“Yes, yes…” you sighed, shaking your head rubbing your now throbbing temples. “What did you bring me?” you asked with a tender, almost seductive tone.

“Some tea with some cookies,” she explained, serving you that hot liquid in a cup. You blushed once again, overwhelmed by so much attention, but of course delighted by it.

“Are you really that dangerous? You look like a soft, cuddly teddy bear to me,” you joked, taking the hot cup and blowing to make the smoke disappear.

“I wish that were true,” the lady said, with a slightly sad tone, letting you know you had unintentionally brought back the ghosts of her past.

You gave her a quick kiss on the cheek while calming the movements in your belly with soft caresses she quickly joined in. If there was one thing Donna liked, that made her really smile, it was noticing how her baby was growing, how it was moving inside of you.

After that tender little moment, you stepped back, taking one of the cookies from the tray, ready to dip it into the tea.

“(Y/N), I…” Donna sighed, playing with something in her hand, something you couldn't see since you were focused on your snack. “I want, I want to ask you, I would like…”

“Oh, no…” you murmured sadly when that cookie broke into a thousand pieces.

It was silly, but anything that happened to you was likely to be the spark that triggered one of your horrible mood swings. As if it were a real drama, as if you were watching a movie without a happy ending, tears came to your eyes.

“Tesoro, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick?” the lady asked worriedly, hiding that mysterious object behind her.

“Donna, it's horrible,” you sobbed with your eyes set on the pieces of cookie that sank into the tea.

“Che cosa? (Y/N), what, what's wrong?” she asked again, nervously holding your hand and studying your sad gaze.

“My cookie just broke,” you sobbed, letting those senseless tears travel down your cheeks.

As expected, the lady in black blinked in confusion, looking at your cup of tea and then at you.

“The, the cookie,” she repeated with a frown, breathing more calmly.

Overwhelmed by a sudden sadness at that terrible misfortune, you threw yourself into her arms, letting the tears of your personal drama bathe the black fabric of her dress.

“Why is life so unfair?” you asked, giving too much importance to that incident, unable to control, once again, the hormonal changes that tormented your fragile spirit.

Donna hugged you, caressing your back erratically, surely stunned by such a disproportionate reaction.

“Um, (Y/N), cal, calmati, tesoro,” she murmured, comforting you as best she could in such a comically absurd situation “There, there are many more cookies.”

“None like that one!” you squealed, causing the lady to hug you even tighter as you sank into her chest.

“(Y/N), come on, relax… Don’t, don’t cry, it’s not good for the baby,” she said in a soft voice, without letting you go of her confusing embrace, admirably enduring your mood swings, everything your body was going through with that little baby inside.

“You’re right,” you said, pulling away abruptly and wiping away your tears, suddenly finding that crying absurd and ridiculous. “There are more cookies in the ocean, aren’t there?” you joked as an apology.

She laughed and shook her head, not wasting the opportunity to please you with a kiss on the lips, a tender and playful kiss.

You finally relaxed, embarrassed by your erratic attitude. When you moved, you saw something behind the lady, a small box, surely what Donna was holding minutes before.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the object in question.

Donna looked at it as if she had been scared, taking it and standing up abruptly.

“Niente,” she whispered nervously, hiding the package behind her back.

You looked at her suspiciously, trying to peek out to see it, something impossible, since she was moving at the same time.

“Nothing? You liar,” you said, squinting, making an effort to get up and reach out a hand to the woman in black. With the baby increasingly heavy in your belly, it was normal for Donna to have an advantage in running away from you. “Hey, come back here, you know I can't run.”

“It's not important, (Y/N), it's nonsense,” she said, walking away from you, with a fake smile.

You, with dark eyes, knowing that the lady was hiding something from you was quite obvious, walked slowly towards her.

“A worse nonsense than crying over a cookie? Come on, come here, honey, tell me what you're hiding,” you said amused, chasing the lady around the room, at your own pace, of course.

“No, it's nothing, stop, stop moving like that, it could be... Dangerous...” she stammered, clumsily cornered against a wall.

“It's not right for you to run away from the mother of your child, Donna,” you hissed, managing to reach out your arm to snatch the object from her, which she prevented with a comical pirouette.

“I'm not running away from you, I'm just...” she sighed nervously, shifting away from you again, which gave her at least a ten-minute head start so you could turn around.

“Got it!” Angie shouted, jumping towards the lady and taking the small box from her, causing a frustrated snort from the woman, who kicked the floor in a childish manner.

“Cazzo, Angie!” Donna shouted furiously, unable to stop the doll on her way to you, handing you the box with a satisfied laugh.

You raised your eyebrows, taking the box with a smile, surprised by the doll's attitude.

“Wow, thanks Angie,” you said amused, high-fiving the puppet.

“I also hate when my cookies break,” Angie whispered, running away from her owner's fury again, disappearing from the scene among evil laughs.

“(Y/N), wait…” the lady sighed, not being able to reach you before you opened the box and froze.

Inside that box, there was something shiny, very shiny, a wonderful ring, covered in diamonds, that lit up your face with its golden aura, leaving you confused, amazed and speechless.

“A ring?” you asked with a smile you couldn't help, with your heart beating fast and the baby moving in your belly.

“I…” she said, with her hand on her forehead, letting her body relax with a sad, defeated sigh.

“Wow, it's amazing, Donna,” you whispered, taking the jewel in your hand and admiring it with curiosity.

The lady growled and snatched the box and the ring from you, unable to look at your face.

“That damn doll…” she hissed furiously.

“Hey, tell me, tell me what it means,” you said in a soft tone, controlling the impending nervous breakdown of the lady in black.

“What do you think it means?” she said, shaking her head and putting the jewel back in the case.

You shrugged confused, with a million thoughts calling for your attention.

“Oh, I guess there is no choice...” she whispered, before gently taking your hands and kneeling on the wooden floor with her eye closed.

Again, you froze, letting her hand lightly pull yours as she soaked it with a nervous sweat.

“(Y/N) maybe, maybe I'm not the best person in the world, maybe... Maybe the things we've lived are just an illusion and maybe, maybe it's nonsense. Maybe I don't deserve more than what I have, I don't deserve your love and your smile brightening the darkness of my life but...” she said with a broken voice, with her body trembling as she knelt down.

“Donna...” you sighed with an expectant smile as she opened the small case again.

“But if there's any compassion left for me, I'd like to ask the Black Gods for you to never leave my side, for you to you continue to brighten my life every day and for me to be able spend an eternity by your side, like, like a family...” she continued, not daring to look at your face, taking a breath to ask the last question, the most important of all “(Y/N), amore mio, light of my days, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

You bit your lip again, now looking into her bright eye, listening to her nervous breathing. You shook your head with a wide smile, the most sincere smile of your life.

“Donna, I…”

She nodded impatiently.

“Of course, I would love to be your wife. I love you so much…” you said excitedly with a tear, which this time made sense, sliding down your cheek.

If your smile was sincere, bright, hers had no words. With a joyful gasp, she leaned towards your bulging belly, kissing it tenderly before getting up and capturing your lips in a romantic, passionate way.

“Gods, (Y/N)… Ti amo…” she whispered, resting her forehead against yours, mixing her tears of joy with yours.

After a moment of serenity, of tender looks, the lady in black took the ring out of the case, elegantly sliding it onto your finger, breathing heavily, but happily. Only happiness could be seen on her face.

[andromedasummer]

ik I'll just google them but WHITE KIWI EXISTS?? there is a white version of that funny birb???

theyre not a SPECIES per say. so, there are five whole officially recognised kind of kiwi!!!

North Island Brown Kiwi:

Tokoeka (Southern Brown Kiwi)

Rowi (Ōkarito Brown Kiwi, the rarest!)

Little Spotted Kiwi

And the Great Spotted Kiwi (Roroa!)

(info on them here)

and then, there's Manukura

First of three white kiwi born in the same wildlife park. She's a North Island Brown Kiwi and her parents both had recessive albinism genes. The conservation and breeding staff had no indication that anything with their genes was different and fully expected a typical north brown kiwi from her egg until she hatched in 2011 and gave everyone a MASSIVE shock. They ended up having two more white kiwi after her (including Mapuna, her little brother!)

"Manukura was born in the Pukaha / Mount Bruce National Wildlife Centre. The bird was born in May 2011 with a rare genetic condition that made it all white, instead of brown

She was named by Rangitāne leader, Mike Kawana; her name is the Māori word for 'chiefly status'." (Wikipedia)

People thought she was a boy at first! Then when she was 1 they realized their mistake. She was beating up male kiwi.

Manakura died in 2020 after having surgery. she stopped eating for a month because she was unable to pass an unfertilized egg and they tried to remove it and then had to remove parts of her ovaries. She's very sorely missed, there were storybooks about her. I believe the other white kiwi live on, which is wonderful.

There are some white Kiwi in the wild! But most Kiwi that dont live in protected parks (where they're bred to increase population) are killed by stoats or rats. It's like a solid 90% of them that pass unfortunately. It's part of the reason Predator Free 2050 is in motion (removal of all introduced vermin harming our native birds and trees. This includes possums, ferrets, stoats and rats which are responsible for 25% of extinct flora and fauna species here in NZ since arriving on boats when colonization began)

Here is another white kiwi dancing in front of one of the many predator monitoring cameras within the sanctuary it lives in.

And if you're asking "Wow, Liv, you know a lot about native birds in NZ" the answer to why that is, is my dad worked for DOC until my mid twenties and as a small autistic child it made conservation efforts the center of my world. So naturally that meant details about Kiwi, Kakapo, Kaka, Huia, Moa etc were locked away in the "INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT PRIMARY INFORMATION" part of my brain along with how to tell a male and female mallard apart, what to do in an earthquake and how to notice and prevent hypothermia and survive until finding help in deep bushland

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 5 thoughts

boy. where this episode started out and where this episode ended were two VASTLY different spaces. come along while i undergo this journey.

the first thing we see is a dog! a doggy! it's a border collie, and it looks like it could be the same one we see in s1 episode 8- maybe dog actors are in short supply! but border collies are famously very smart and to me the cutest of all dogs, so i was pleased to see a friendly face <3

and then things escalated. aliens arrived to fetch the dog's owner.

thankfully they left the dog alone- perhaps they saw the threatening "ALIENS, STAY AWAY FROM THAT DOG" i had written in my notes- but whatever they are inflicting upon this gentleman seems. unpleasant.

(the aliens are obviously terrifying but they're always shown vaguely wiggling in some cold white light and it does make me laugh. ohhhh here they come. the wigglers)

so in the morning our gentleman- duane- was taken to a correctional facility and he hasn't been taking his meds... and then he hurts his doctor! they always find the kindest looking people to play doctors on this show and then make them suffer

THE NEXT THING WE SEE IS: a pool? the pool scene i wrote about seeing a while ago in my last post! the one where mulder emerges mostly naked from his exercise to face this new guy who looks like he covers his beer stench with a designer cologne!

i rewound to see whose pool it was mulder was swimming in but gained no clues. would be sick if the FBI had an in house pool.

breaking news: this SOAKING WET MAN is called to a HOSTAGE SITUATION!

(i do find it endearing that he swims recreationally <3)

next thing i wrote was "alex is pissing me off" and i don't even remember what he did but i stand by it

so mulder is at the scene, duane has four hostages, and claims to be abducted by aliens. now to mulder it makes perfect sense to ask about his abduction experience, and he's trying to do his homework and follow the rules for hostage negotiation, but duane knows all the tricks because he's former FBI which they DID NOT TELL MULDER!

he walks up to the head of the hostage situation and very angrily asks if she knows about how aliens will take your brains out and fuck with your ovaries and she tries not to laugh at him. mulder tell me what they do to ovaries i'll listen. i'll take notes.

and then alex is trying to be all sickly sweet puppy dog boy and asks if he can do anything to help. so the head of the hostage situation tells him to get her a coffee. HA! POINT AT HIM AND LAUGH.

cutscene to SCULLY CAM!!!! <3 she's gonna sleuth for his medical records

ohhh the power went out and duane started blasting. he shot someone so they're gonna send mulder and another guy in (an excuse for mulder to wear a paramedic uniform.......)

mulder's like nooo i won't tell him i believe in aliens (<- said by a man who is lying)

and off to the races, can you imagine it, he does JUST that, says he believes duane and trades himself for the guy who was shot... he says it happened to his sister OHHHHHHH sister mention

he's got the guy monologuing about his tortures from the aliens and honestly, these aliens are bitches. there is NO reason to do all of this. drilling holes in his teeth??? that's fucked

alex is on the phone with scully who is freaking tf out because duane is lying about who he says he is... when he tells her he traded himself for the injured hostage she says "WHAT!" so loudly and is filled with intense urgency

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! his sister was 8 when they took her

(for some reason i thought she was 10 when it happened, but the larger age gap between them explains a lot in terms of his instinctive level of Protectiveness towards all creatures big and small)

this next part had me GAGGED: SCULLY FLEW IN FROM WASHINGTON!!!! she is AT THE SCENE and she is YELLING at someone who isn't listening to her

alex made a VERY FATAL mistake in telling her to "calm down" while mulder is a HOSTAGE and she RIGHTFULLY told him off (and frankly she could have kept going and i wouldn't have complained) but she's a woman who gets things done so she finds someone who will actually listen to her

she says he has a very unique case of being shot in a specific part of the brain which happened to another guy before and then that guy became a pathological liar so she is basically saying "duane is the nastiest skank bitch i have ever met do NOT trust him"

so back to the scene. duane is saying the government is there while the aliens do all this. which i have no idea how to interpret so i'm just storing it here for later use.

SCULLY CAN HEAR HIM! she's on his secret wire mic and talking to him. duane can hear her a little bit but is going on about "the mountains"... it was at this point, with scully talking in mulder's ear, that everything was so tense i had a brief moment where i remembered that this is actually a tv show i'm watching in my free time and not an actual life or death thing

mulder convinces duane to let the women go and the younger one says she believes him which had to be impactful i'd think

but the snipers are closing in!!! mulder sees the line of fire on him and calls him over to get him out of the way so he won't get shot....

he asks duane if she was lying to distract him and now he's VERY VERY VERY ANGRY and he tries to calm him back down and say hey... you forgot to lock the door.... please go lock the door...

and he goes over to the door and bam. duane's shot.

we see scully and mulder watch as he's loaded into the ambulance and mulder looks deeply conflicted and once again has his sad wet eyes on because he still believes duane was telling the truth. scully tells mulder he did the right thing in getting him to go to the door, because we all know by now that mulder has a complicated set of feelings towards any loss of life.

"whatever you're feeling, you did the right thing" <- augh. scully loves him so much. oh to love anyone how truly and deeply scully loves this man

(shhhh i'm not getting into what kind of love it is. i don't know and whatever your answer for its flavor is, you cannot deny that she loves him. that she tries to find the exact words he wants to hear to soothe that internal Guilt he wears like a heavy jacket.)

later he smiles when the lead hostage negotiator calls him to thank him because he broke all of her rules and thought he was going to get yelled at LMAOOO that lil smile was very sweet

and he goes to see duane but the REAL reason she called him in was to tell him about the metal they extracted from duane's body... the doctors claim that the stuff in his teeth could not have been made from any current technology... alien life confirmed??

((i thought the episode would end here on a little cliffhanger that never gets resolved but boy. i was off))

no, instead of an episode's conclusion, we see mulder bring the metal pieces to scully, who once again has the most beautiful freckles in the world, and she says she'll take it down to be analyzed.

mulder leaves the room without saying a word which i thought to be cold in the moment and now that i'm typing this knowing what happens next i might actually cry.

she goes to the store and she's buying some stuff... we see kodak film in the background... sigh instant cameras i love you and your work... but she buys $11 of groceries and then sneaks the metal chip across the barcode reader and it makes the whole thing break down!!!!

the poor cashier is freaking out because the machine is going wild and she looks at scully like "did you touch it?" and she says no and awkwardly leaves LMAOOOOOOO i was howling because girl idk wtf i would have done in that situtation either

duane wakes up to more aliens and rips all his medical stuff off and runs like he didn't get shot very recently and he's on the prowl for something

scully's back at her place, calling mulder, telling him about how the barcode scanned, and she's really worked up about the whole thing, when she hears a rustle, but it's just a thunderstorm...

but she goes to the window and DUANE IS THERE!!! a look of horror passes over her face, and we hear her through mulder's answering machine, screaming for help while he takes her

(everything happened SO quickly, it transpired in my notes like this: WHAT!!! he's outside her window WHAT THE FUCK TO BE CONTINUED??)

yes. we get a "TO BE CONTINUED" on the outtro scene.

i sat there, baffled for a few moments, trying to process what i just saw.

but then i thought i noticed something else: her place looked different than it did in s1. at least, i thought it did- we didn't see it much, but perhaps she got fed up with folks showing up like eugene tooms did in s1 and bought a nicer space. i thought the old space was cute though, and maybe it really is the same space but from a different angle, but then i thought about how it looked like mulder's space also changed from s1, so maybe they both moved, or maybe i'm just not good at noticing things, but oh yeah, scully's in virigina now since she's at the academy, so she probably DID move, although i thought the drive from DC to virigina was doable, but maybe not?

none of this changes the fact that scully has been TAKEN.

(i won't lie, i knew this was going to happen at some point, because i read the s2 episode descriptions and saw something about her being "returned", which implies being taken in the first place. but still. it was very abrupt. they had thoroughly lulled me into expecting a vague sort of non-answer of an ending and then switched out the formula at just the right time so i never grew suspicious)

to be continued!!! this is soooo evil, especially because i don't have time to watch the next episode tomorrow. so i'm gonna walk around all day tomorrow at important work events thinking about what horrors scully must be enduring and get NO conclusion as to what they might be. duane i have fists and you are not real and i am small but i am unafraid to bludgeon you. stay away from her if you even LOOK at her ohhhh you're gonna learn a lot more than what it feels like when aliens take out ur brain just keep that in mind!

(and man. i'm sitting here typing. thinking about how mulder never said a real goodbye to her the last time they spoke. and i wonder if that's gonna haunt him. and i wonder if when he gets her back, he always always always makes sure to take the time for a goodbye. just on the off chance it might really be the last one. fuck.)

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲

paring: florence pugh x gn!reader

tag(s): fluff, flo being a simp over r, my woman here has no game

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited, not proofread, language

word count: 0.8k

note: I was actually writing a request but I soft of diverted from the main plot and came up with this little fic. It's not that good but I feel like it's cute, so here you go. A short fic so you guys don't forget about me (I'm so dramatic). I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy! <3

note 2: Would anyone be interesting in a masterlist??

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

Florence had one rule when working that she always made sure to follow: never ever date a coworker. 

No matter how pretty they were, how smart they were or how interesting they seemed to be, she never ever dared to break her most sacred rule. Starting a relationship with a coworker was problematic. It would always get messy and there would be tension around the set, and things would get weird and complicated. And she couldn’t risk having to work in that kind of atmosphere. Not when she would commit one hundred percent to every single one of her projects, not when she had to give the very best of her, not when she had to be flawless. But all of that came crashing down once she met you. 

There was something about you that caught Florence’s eyes the second she laid her eyes on your frame. She didn’t know if it was your pretty face, or the way your eyes would light up when talking about the movie you two were working on, or the sound of your laugh. But there was something so familiar yet unknown about you, and she needed more of that comforting feeling. 

At first she tried to convince herself that all she wanted was to be friends with you, because she wasn’t about to break her golden rule. But the more alone time she would spend with you, the harder it was to keep telling herself that same lie. She just couldn't’ stay friends with you, she didn’t want to. The more she got to know you the harder they were to keep those feelings at bay. The harder it became for her to not blush when you complimented her looks for the movie, or that warm feeling she would get in her stomach everytime your hand would brush hers, or that peacefulness she would feel by just hearing your laugh. 

But the problem was that she didn’t know who you felt. You were touchy with her, but you were touchy with everyone. You laughed at her jokes, but you would find even the dumbest dad joke hilarious. So she had to take matters into her own hands. She had to grow some ovaries and just ask you out. Even if that meant she was going to break her golden rule, even if she wasn’t sure you would feel the same. Besides, shooting was almost over, so if things didn’t work out her way she just had to wait one more week and she would never see your stupid pretty face again. Although that wasn’t at all what she actually wanted. 

She decided to wait for the lunch break. The only break that would have since you were the First Assistant Director, an extremely tiring job if someone would ask her. But she knew that it was what you loved doing. Not an assistant but it would eventually lead to being a director and that was all you aspired to be in life. 

Lucky for her anytime the bell announcing the lunch break would ring. Florence counted from one to three in her head and then the loud piercing sound filled her ears. She quickly made her way to where you were standing. 

“Hey there!” she internally cursed herself once she heard the high pitched in her words.

“Flo, hey. Is everything okay? Do you need something?” she smiled at your words, always being the caretaker on set. Well, after all that was you job. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. I just need to ask you something. But it’s more of a personal question, not work related. But it’s not personal for you, I mean, it is since you are involved. But it’s more of a personal question for me because I’m the one asking you. Does that make sense? I’m not making any sense, am I? It’s just—.”

“Hey,” you cut her off, placing your hand on her shoulders trying to calm her down. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” she quickly mumbled so low that you couldn’t hear the words she said. “What I’m trying to say is that,” she took a deep breath. She was being stupid, this was not how she planned this whole thing to go. “I really like you Y/n. And I would love to take you out sometime.” 

There she said it. it was said. Out in the world and she couldn’t take it back. She didn’t want to though. No matter your answer, it felt good to confess her feelings. 

Your hands moved down from her shrouds to find her hands, giving them a squeeze and your thumbs triling circles in them. 

“I would love to go out with you. I was actually going to ask you earlier, but I chickened out,” you shyly admitted.

“You were?”

“How could I not? You are something really special Florence Pugh. It would be a mistake to just let you walk away.”

A smile found its way to Florence's lips. Maybe breaking her golden rule wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it was exactly what she had to do.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[mithliya]

its wild too bc barely anything was said about her but she would sit there laughing and justifying it when ppl were upset over:

her openly saying she wants to murder a woman & then rape her corpse

her saying she wants to literally torture women and abuse them

her wishing that i get raped again

her telling a lesbian refugee that shes not a real lesbian bc they disagreed on whether im a Real Lesbian or not

her calling women whores & sluts, alongside other vile things like "cocksluts" "semen sluts" "cockwhores" & more

her hoping a child ex-prostitute gets STDs & calling her a "cockwhore" & saying she was "riding dick for a living" & saying she cant be a real lesbian bc of being basically raped in prostitution

her putting my real name in her garbage "callout post" and when i told her to pls at least censor it, she said it was my fault for having put my name in a post over 10 years ago

her happily saying i wanted to be sexually abused based on me pretending to be happy w it on a monitored blog a decade ago & also calling me a "whore" based on stuff i said at 15

basically just a bunch of rape apologism which she directed at me & another lesbian

basically encouraging harassment against multiple lesbians bc she thought 1 thing they did meant they cant be lesbians.. from disagree with her to enjoying media she doesnt enjoy etc

thats just the stuff off the top of my head but this woman was perhaps the biggest misogynist ive ever seen on radblr and its just hilarious that when others treat her not even close to as badly as how she treated others, she runs away. lol. so much for ur 'i dont care i dont have empathy' persona. u just enjoyed being the high school bully u never could be and don't even have the ovaries to own up to ur mistakes and apologise, pathetic

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

The hysterectomy consultation went well, but my insurance requires a genetic history test thing be done before agreeing to the surgery. Blood was drawn and shipped off to the company that does this, and this one applies HIPPA laws applied to it. If the test comes back positive for specific cancerns being genetic, then my insurance will cover the surgery. They'll save lots of money preventing the problem rather than spending a fortune to treating it.

I also have a boob crush exam (mammogram) scheduled. They're supposed to be done annually, but I've been delaying. Why? Last time, they had to use TWICE the standard pressure in order to get a clear image. I left with very bruised boobies. They were black for a couple weeks, then a month of purple and green. During the summer. Folks thought my husband was beating me. Every doctor appointment, I was told about domestic abuse groups. Thanks, but it was the mammogram.

If the cancers are simply coincidence, there will be no surgery. I will ask if they could just remove the fallopian tubes seeing as that's where ovarian cancer tends to start. The cancer if often found in its later stages, aka it's often terminal and too late to treat. I wouldn't mind having my right ovary removed either. That one likes to produce cysts as large as my ovaries, and it fucking HURTS.

Bodies were a mistake.

[thebawdybaldurian]

Professor Gale Breeds His Wife

I don’t know why I, a child-free, uterus-free gal am on a breeding kick, but I guess my one ovary is doing something to me. 👀

Content and Warnings: female tiefling x male human. Breeding kink, pregnancy kink, oral and PIV sex, Mage Hand to assist impregnation.

No edits so excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes

Syma knocked politely on the door, curious as to why it was shut. Professor Dekarios was known as an ‘open-door’ instructor, always available for questions or just a chat about magic. “Come in,” she heard an exasperated sigh from the other side of the door. Her tail swished excitedly as she turned the handle. His furrowed brow softened a little at the sight of his wife. His desk was covered in a slew of papers that needed to be graded, as well as quarterly reviews of all the students’ progress. His sleeves were rolled up and there was a half-eaten sandwich shoved to the side.

“Syma, my dear, this is an unexpected surprise,” he walked around his desk to greet her with a kiss.

“You look busy…” she ran her finger across his brow. “And stressed.”

“Oh you know this time of year,” he sighed. “Student reviews, along with the papers from my Evocation course, budget sheets for the month…not to mention everything at home.”

“It will happen in time, my love, I promise,” she ran her hand across her belly, her skin completely naked underneath the wrap dress she wore. “In fact,” she untied the side and pulled the dress open. “That’s why I’m here.”

Gale let out a loud gulp, looking her over. She was completely nude aside from some thigh-high stockings. She’d been wearing them more often to keep her blood circulating better and increase their chances of pregnancy. “My basal temperature is ideal right now,” she purred, letting her hand cup his balls. She kissed him again, his fingers gently sliding between her lips to test himself.

“You are indeed,” he moaned, his lips still pressed close to hers.

She shut the door with her tail and locked it before slipping her dress off completely. Gale slid all the papers to one side, clearing a space on the desk of them. Syma fell to her knees, reaching up to undo his pants and put her mouth around his cock straight away. She pulled them completely off after removing his shoes, but didn’t bother to remove to remove his socks or garters. She gave one of them a playful snap before setting her tongue to getting him hard as soon as possible. It didn’t taste long for her to taste his pre-cum. She seemed content to suck him for a bit, but he gently pulled her face away with her horns, looking desperately at her. “There’s sperm even it that,” he groaned, picking up her hips. “Let’s not waste a drop.”

It took only moments for him to slip inside her, his glasses slipping down a bit as he eagerly thrust into her. He hugged her close, wanting this to feel as intimate as possible despite their analytical nitpicking trying to conceive. “Mmmm yeah, Gale, just like that,” she moaned into his shoulder. “Get that cock deep inside.”

He shifted a little, hooking the back of her knee with the top of his thigh and firmly planting his foot on the desk so he could penetrate her deeper. She moaned even louder, his hard thrusts vibrating against her clit and driving her closer to climax. “Oh…hhhhnnn…Gale,” she cried into his neck, her legs kicking wildly as she came.

“Mmmmmphhh, my love, I’m so close,” he groaned.

He shifted again, climbing completely onto the desk so he could lay her down and tilt her hips up at the ideal angle to hold his seed. He pounded her for a few more thrusts before spilling inside her, moaning loudly. They slowed their breaths together, smiling warmly at each other. She held her knees up, supine, in the ideal position for impregnation. “Now don’t move a muscle,” he whispered softly, conjuring a Mage Hand. He slipped his cock carefully out of her, using the Mage Hand to plug her back up and keep his cum inside her.

“How long do you want to stay…uhhhh, stay like this?” She gasped as the Mage Hand began to stimulate her clit.

“Each contraction of your climaxes will help…so until I’m finished with these papers,” he grinned widely.

[georgiapeach30513]

“Pies,” pineapples. Close enough. “NaNa, my ove oo,” he lays his head on Andy’s chest, snuggling in a bit tighter. He always tells fibs about being sleepy. Sleepy Suede, is more cuddly loving Suede. STOP I LOVE THIS PRECIOUS CUTIE 🥹🥹

This is the sight you’ve always wanted to see; a sticky-faced little boy snuggled up against his dad’s chest, while both of them are passed out. The comfort that Suede feels with Andy matches the way he feels about you. You have no fears when he’s with Andy. You know that Andy has his allergies memorized, but also checks the list that’s on the fridge constantly. This made me tear up SCOTT DOESN’T DESERVE SHIT HE COULD NEVER

He makes your ovaries ache. Realest thing I’ve read all day

Your mom obsessively talked about him. Even told you on your wedding day you should try and find Andy again because you were making a mistake. Mama is an OG 🫡

and you refuse to call him fiance until he gives you a ring. Queen behavior 😌

my advice to you is to make sure you don’t knock Taylor up, because you can’t handle anything with a penis being put above you. Is that all?” AGHHHH YES GIRL CLOCK HIS ASS 💀

Andy won’t hesitate to pick up those pieces, and be willing to adopt both children, and legally become their father. Waiting for this day REAL BAD 🙏🏽

Sorry if this is a lot, I just loved this chapter so much!! Just wanna say I always look forward to your updates and your easily one of my favorite writers on here 🩷🩷

I don't know why tumblr wasn't giving me an option to respond to this earlier!

Suede is loving his bonus dad so much! Dare I say he will be the next one to use the daddy title??

You know that Doe is constantly falling more and more in love with Andy because of the way he loves her kids! And seeing these moments...yeah, Doe is ready to jump him all the time.

It's very satisfying to see Doe finally start talking to Scott the way he deserves. But he deserves so much more than that! He deserves to get the shit beat out of him!

Thank you so much!! I love that people are loving this little story!

[fellina018]

Aliens x Kageyama 2

From Ep. 1

This creature has no ovaries.

So they have to start the process of metamorphosing into their mate first.

This process of metamorphosis can be quite painful for their mate. To prevent the other from struggling and causing unnecessary harm, dozens of appendages emerge to hold onto their mate tightly, not allowing him to move.

They will not allow any mistakes in this process because if they make a mistake, the mate they are searching for with all their might may die first.

Their mate screamed.

The beautiful blue eyes filled with a curtain of water.

Seeing that the other party bit his lip in pain until it bled, they inserted an appendage into the other party's mouth to prevent the other party from having the chance to bite his lip again.

The soft cries still came out from his lips.

The other party looked so pitiful.

However, this process still had to continue.

It might take about a week for the ovaries in the other party's abdomen to fully develop.

.

.

How much time had passed?

Tobio was dazed, his head felt empty and he couldn't think of anything.

His lower back and abdomen felt full, tight, and very painful.

Especially his abdomen, something weird was injected, causing his entire abdomen to feel hot as if it was being burned.

It hurt, it hurt so much that many times he couldn't stand it and lost consciousness before he could find that no matter how many times he woke up, the pain in his abdomen was still there and hadn't gone away.

He screamed until his voice was hoarse, his throat was sore, but it was useless.

He felt like he was going crazy, this feeling of being in a loop of pain was more than his body and brain could endure.

Something that felt disgusting to the touch, it felt both soft and hard, and it was also full of mucus, it hugged and held him tightly making him couldn't move or struggle. Some of it thrusting in and out of his back passage, his hole, which made him terrified beyond he could imagine, and some of it inserting through his lips made him want to vomit with disgust.

He wanted to cry and Tobio cried so hopelessly that darkness took over his consciousness again.

======

Sorry baby, I love you so much that I want to bully you and make you cry. My poor baby blueberry. ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·

[lastlycoris]

on a scale of one to ten how dumb was it

A 9.

If it had been an actual doctor lecturing, it would've been the stupidest thing I've ever heard on the basis they should've known better.

As it was, it was a former Physician's Assistant (PA), who still should've know better.

I'll likely be banned from the noontime resident grand rounds for my outburst, which is sad because they have the best lunches.

Readmore for the topic of abortion, specifically ectopic pregnancy.

The topic for grand rounds was Holistic Approaches to Medicine and the Importance of Spiritual Well-Being, which the speaker who was a former PA decided to go into a pro-life rant mid-lecture.

At this point, if you're a medical student or a resident, you've probably made your decision on abortion. So, fine.

But what came out of his mouth afterwards was so stupid and dangerous, regardless of whatever side of the debate you take, that I thought I hallucinated his comments. And only by looking at the host of the grand rounds - an attending-level doctor like myself - staring in horror at the speaker made me realize that what he said was real.

Essentially the speaker was stating as fact that ectopic pregnancies, a pregnancy outside the uterus, are no longer a valid excuse to get an abortion, because women have survived and delivered such pregnancies to full-term.

----

Okay first off, some basics. Let's talk about where the fetus ends up in a normal pregnancy. It should be within the uterus, specifically the uterine cavity.

Anywhere else is known as an ectopic pregnancy. Too low, and you have a cervical ectopic which will usually spontaneously abort in the first trimester. But for this post, we'll talk about the ectopic pregnancies that implant in the fallopian tube/around that region (most common type of ectopic) or the abdomen (the most likely chance of fetus surviving full-term).

Tubal ectopic pregnancy occurs approximately 95% of all ectopic pregnancies. The egg implants inside the tiny Fallopian tube that connects your ovary to the uterus, and the embryo grows. And because it grows, it can rupture the tube that is in - and can potentially cause the mother to bleed to death.

Abdominal ectopic pregnancy occurs approximately 1% of ectopic pregnancies. The abdomen's problem in that the fetus attaches somewhere that it's not meant to - like an organ or your abdominal lining. The reason why such an ectopic pregnancies can very rarely carry to full-term is because of the available space - there's nothing confining it. However, make no mistake that it's still an ectopic. These ectopics can still result in catastrophic hemorrhage such as through perforating an organ with its implantation and kill the mother.

Now there are very rare cases of ectopic pregnancies coming to full term, mostly abdominal ectopics for the reason stated above. Most fetuses will die because of insufficient blood supply or implantation. Others who make it often have major birth defects because of the above and the usually low amniotic fluid levels (the fluid the baby floats in). The mothers that carry out an ectopic pregnancy to term and survive with a healthy baby are lucky - like winning the lottery sort of lucky. Simple as that.

The usual outcomes of an untreated ectopic pregnancy is either spontaneous abortion or it grows and ruptures wherever it's located, risking the life of the mother. Ectopic pregnancies are the leading cause of the mother dying in the 1st trimester of pregnancy and account for 5-10% of all pregnancy related deaths. It is a big deal.

--

The notion that the speaker was using these incredibly rare cases of survival and using them to justify not having abortions for ectopic pregnancies is appalling - and presenting it as fact in a teaching institution even more so.

I stated in exact words that "that is the most absurd thing I've ever heard."

And when he tried to smugly double down by quoting papers about these rare case reports like they were the norm - and continued to argue that we should do watchful waiting and only intervene if there's problems, I figuratively slammed the door shut in his face.

Even putting aside the fact that ectopic pregnancies have almost virtually no chance to make it to viability, when these things rupture, you might not even get a chance to go to the hospital and just bleed to death. Pain is often one of the first signs that an ectopic pregnancy is there in the first place - that's the moment to intervene. When you have worsening pain past that, that could already mean it ruptured.

He then tried to argue that everyone deserves a chance. I asked him if everyone includes the mother, which made him bristle.

At that point, the veneer of friendliness fell away, and he demanded I leave the auditorium for interfering with his lecture. I told him in no uncertain terms that I was staying, and if he's going to try and pass off the rare as common, I am going to call him out every single time.

He ended up being the one walking out, calling me shameful and disrespectful and with no respect for life.

I let him have his parting comments.

The residents and I spent the next 3 minutes in silence before the other attending doctor dismissed them all - and just looked at me as if wanting to say something before shaking his head.

[oldfangirl81]

Apparently it has been 11 years since my failed hysterectomy.

A local obgyn should never have agreed to do the surgery. She should have taken one look at my case and passed it on to someone with more skills. She assured me that it would be just fine.

I woke up being told that I still had my uterus because it was fused to my spine. I was devastated. She told me that my ovaries were removed. I swear that's what I was told. My parents were there and confirmed it.

I still got my period like clockwork. I was just told my body was weird basically and that it can happen.

I finally had a successful hysterectomy in Dec '16. The surgeon who was very surprised to remove two ovaries. I'm either Deadpool/Wolverine but only ovaries or the first doc made a mistake.

No, I have no desire to see a lawyer about anything. I just have fun watching faces when I call it a failed hysterectomy.