talkswithdesi

[talkswithdesi]

Hold onnnn…cause it’s my birthday!!!🥳

[talkswithdesi]

Oh this is messy as fuckkkkkk😭

the space between us + oneshot

authors note: i need everyone to know and understand i condone none of this. the bar is literally on the ground. below it.

i don't really write a lot in first person pov on here with ya'll, just cause i'm a lil self-conscious about it, but this idea felt more fitting for first person versus third person.

warnings: angst. smut. forbidden relationship. vaginal penetration. dirty talk. unprotected sex. multiple positions. slight butt play. mature ass themes.

words: 3.8k

For as long as I’ve known Roman Reigns, three things have remained constant. Unchanging. Consistent. Permanent. 

He’s an awful person.

He’s a terrible person.

He’s the worst person.

Plain and simple. Easy to understand. Impossible to keep in mind, to remind myself of every time I find myself in his trap. 

Especially in his bed. 

His hand slams down on my ass, snapping me from undisputed truths and warnings that any sane person would heed to. That any smart person would heed to. Both adjectives I would always use to describe myself. Except for when I’m with him.

Nothing exists nor matters when it’s just the two of us. Sense, logic, and anything else that keep people from making bad decisions goes right out the window the minute I’m in the same space as Roman Reigns. That’s always been the case. 

“Fuck.” His voice, deep, strained, tinged with something unspoken is in my ear, those big hands of his on my hips, guiding and keeping me in place. Just where he wants me. How he always wants me. “So fucking tight…”

My eyes shut, the feel of his hands on me, his cool, minty breath on the side of my face, sensations that pale in comparison to the feel of his dick ramming inside of me, claiming every inch of me, marking me, etching his place inside of me. 

In more ways than one.

As hard as I try to suppress my moans, to withhold the intensity of the passion and pleasure, it’s a losing battle. Much like anytime I’m around him, my resolve is but a thing of imagination. I have none when it comes to him. I try to stomp my feet in the ground, try to pretend like I actually have a say in the situation, but I don’t. I never did.

Perhaps I never will.

“Roman….” His name tumbles out my mouth, quiet, low, hushed, moaned almost, and it’s enough to evoke that sound from him. That verbal thing similar to acknowledgment. He loves when I do that. Say his name. Especially when I moan it, and as ashamed as I am to admit it, it’s happened more times than I—or he—could ever count.

“That’s right,” he goads, another slap to my ass, his fingers digging into the meat of it. “My name.” My eyes clench tighter the same way my cunt flutters at the low growl behind his words. “Say it.” He’s met with silence, an unacceptable thing, prompting yet a particular deep thrust inside me. One that forces a hiss followed by his hips pressed against my ass, his dick throbbing inside, tip teasing my G-Spot. “Say it, Sola.”

The outcome is unavoidable, just like us, but that doesn’t mean I can’t delay it. 

“F–fuck you.” A strained act of defiance, his name almost spilling out of my mouth. Such weakness.

A dark chuckle. I already know what’s coming, and yet there’s this irritating sense of shock when he shoves me down on the bed, his chest no longer pressed into my back. The way his hand moves to my head, thick fingers tangled in my hair. 

The way he forces it out of me as he fucks into me, wildly, animalistic, uncontrolled, and unhinged. The way that unforgiving dick of his slams into my pussy, over and over again, driving tears to spill over. 

For his name to spill over. 

“Roman!” 

He says nothing, just continues to fuck me like it’s the last time. It should be. It really should, but even I, with all my refusal to acknowledge the inevitable, the uncomfortable truth, can’t deny that.

I’ve tried. 

God, I’ve tried so hard. For years. Years I’ve been under his unbreakable spell. For years, I’ve worked to rid myself of him. To remove myself from his life. To remove me from him. And for every attempt, I always end up right back where I am.

Under him.

With him.

His.

I suppose it’s true after all.

The devil doesn’t do well parting with his toys. 

“Fuck, please,” I moan, reaching behind to push him away. I hate when he fucks me like this. Like less man and more beast. Or, maybe it’s that uncomfortable truth trying to make itself known in an inconvenient or perhaps effective way. 

But, it’s not. It’s not, because as much as I hate it, I love it even more.

“Move your hand.” A growled demand, both of his hands having returned to my hips, forcing my cunt to take the massive, unrelenting assault of his cock. “I said, move your hand, Solana.”

Once again, my defiance does its best to put up a fight for a forever losing battle. Another massive hit, a casualty, when he moves said hand and pins it behind my back. 

He pins both hands behind my back.

“Shhiiiitttt,” I moan into the mattress, words muffled, my body jerking erratically back and forth, already tender breast jolting against the limited almost nonexistent space between my chest and the bed. “R–Roman—”

“You act like you have a fucking choice. Like you can deny me this. Deny me you.” I hate him. I fucking hate him. “Fuck me? That’s exactly what you do.” The snap of his hips is accompanied by the snapped delivery of his words. Pointed. Firm. Clear. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

My eyes still remain shut, like keeping them privy to only the darkness allows me the excuse of being blind to it. Being blind to it all. 

“It’s why you always end up right back here,” he continues spilling uncomfortable truths that I cannot and will not acknowledge. No matter what he says or does. I can’t. “Why he’ll never be me—”

“Stop,” I murmur, a weak protest lost into the mattress that holds every sinful, dirty secret of ours. Years worth of sins and pleasures too carnal and wrong to be uttered into the world. 

“Why you always come back to me—”

“Please.”

“You’re mine, Solana. You always have been and will be.” Another dirty reminder as his hand moves in between my ass, thumb toying with, teasing, and probing my hole, exploring yet another part of me that he’s already invaded. That he’s claimed. “He’s just the bitch I let play with you, because I’m a generous Tribal Chief.”

I hate him. I hate him so much, and yet I don’t.

Not even a little bit.

Not even close. 

I end up on top. His hands once again situated on the meat of my hips, holding and guiding me as I bounce on top of him. My head back, eyes fluttering, completely full and stuffed, I don’t have to be looking down at him to know his eyes are set on me. On my big breast that flop almost wildly against his my chest, the soreness something downplayed and overpowered by the pleasure that wrecks both of us.

“So good,” I moan, incapable of holding it in. It’s too difficult. Too painful. “You feel so good.” A language he cannot understand, something I know secretly irks him. He’s always so needy.

“Tell me what you said,” he demands. I groan as he starts to thrust up inside of me, slow, spaced out thrusts. Bastard.

“Roman….”

A sharp snap upward that makes me scream. “Tell me.”

My refusal remains stronger than what is typical, a sense of pride overcoming me at this unfamiliar ability to stay on the path of resistance. That is until he starts fucking up into me with a newfound intensity and borderline brutality. One that has me reaching for the headboard, hand squeezing the dark wood, those tears forming again.

Damn him.

—----

I want to leave afterwards. I need to leave afterwards. I should leave afterwards, but I don’t. I never do. I allow him to carry me into the bathroom and into his large walk-in shower where there’s more than enough room for proper distance to be kept.

It isn’t.

We fuck in the shower, the back of my head against the tiled wall as he fucks into me again like this isn’t the third round. Maybe fourth. I’m not sure. Time seems inconsequential whenever it’s the two of us. 

His touch is almost gentle as he washes me, a common, usual thing.

I return the favor.

No words are spoken. It’s far too intimate of an act for any sort of conversation, because then maybe we’d have to finally acknowledge it.

Or, maybe I would. 

He only says something to me as I move around his living room, retracing my steps, gathering my clothes that got discarded in various places, the location of each telling the erotic tell. 

Except, right as I clasp the hook of my bra, the familiar sound of a customized ringtone recently set fills the room. My eyes lock to his, and right away, I know he knows. 

I wish I didn’t hesitate to answer, but I do. The same way I wish I would just walk out into his backyard for privacy, but I don’t. I hit answer with him standing only feet away from me.

“Hi, babies.” 

“Hi, mommy.” It’s a synchronized greeting that automatically puts a smile on my face. I can only imagine the way they’re huddled close together, leaning over the phone that’s clearly on speaker. “We miss you.”

My stomach knots in ways uncomfortable and unsettling. “I miss you, too, babies.” Shifting my weight from one side to the other, I visually scan the living room for any sign of my pencil skirt. “Do you want me to come get you?”

“No,” Kaiden answers first, prompting me to chuckle quietly. “We come home mañana.”

“Yeah, mañana,” Kaydence chimes, her voice shifting in a way that makes me imagine her smiling happily. That familiar smile… 

I clear my throat. “Are you having fun with abuela?”

“Lotsa fun!”

“Good.” They always do. The twins love my mom probably more than I do, and there’s no one on earth that I adore more than that woman. Next to my kids, of course. “Hey, do you—”

“Where are you, mommy?”

It’s only then that my gaze somehow falls on him where he continues to say nothing, all the while never taking his gaze off me. Probably overhearing the little voices on the other end of the call, the combination of the increased volume of the phone and the silence of the room, the perfect environment for him to snoop.

If one can really call it that. 

“I’m uhh—I’m home.” And just like that, my smile is swiped. Dr. Solana Miller, MD. Pediatrician by day. Liar by night. The weight and mountain of untruths seems to grow exponentially with every day that passes, but there’s something about lying to my children that never fails to sink my stomach.

And my heart. 

“Is daddy home?”

My eyes remain locked with his as I answer. “No…not yet, babies.”

It’s only then he looks away, his jaw ticking in that way it does when he’s about to say something, and I’ve known Roman Reigns long enough to know that if there’s something he wants to say, he’s going to say it.

I have to wrap this call up.

“Hey, why don’t you use your tablets to call him?”

The happiest, excited sounds. “Okay!” My smile returns. Not much, but it’s still there, albeit barely visible. “We gotta go now, mommy.”

“Okay, babies.” I swallow, my chest swelling imagining their sweet, happy faces. “I love you.” 

More synchronized voices. “We love you too, mommy.” I start to ask to speak to my mom but quickly decide against it. She’ll ask where I am. Like she doesn’t already know. An intentional guilt tripping strategy. 

If only it worked.

I wish it did.

God, I wish it did.

A final goodbye before I end the call and resume my search for the rest of my clothes. The speed suddenly increased. 

I have to get out of he—

“You think he ever wonders why they don’t look like him?”

I’m completely still. Unmoving. Unflinching. Eyes burning on the dark leather of his sofa, the material of my dress suddenly slippery against my clammy palms. I ignore him, trembling hands moving quickly to slide the skirt up my legs and ass. 

“You think this one will look like me, too?”

Silence. A different type of silence. The type that’s palpable and suffocating. The type that can’t and won’t be ignored, gradually sucking the air out of the room until there’s nothing left, and you’re gasping for breath. For some sense of relief.

Only to find none,

“You think I don’t know?”

My swallow is followed with a quiet. “Roman—

“Think I ain’t notice your breasts are swollen—”

“Stop it—”

“That your skin is glowing—”

My eyes shut. “Please—”

“Will you give this one his last name, too?” The pin that pops the balloon. “To help you feel better about hiding the truth from him?”

It’s at that, I turn to look back at him, to see that intense smoldering expression focused solely on me. So many emotions, anger at the forefront, but it’s a cop-out. I know it is, because as much as he likes to pretend he knows me so well, I know him better. 

“Fuck you, Roman.” I’m not sure I’ve ever meant it as much as I do in this moment. But then, my gaze shifts, assertiveness melting into something docile and unconvincing. “Cody’s a–a good man—”

“But not good enough for you to take his last name?”

My eyes narrow. He’s such a dick sometimes, but it’s a welcomed deviation from that conversation. One I don’t intend to ever have with him. A topic I haven’t really allowed myself to think too much about. If at all. I can’t. “You know why—”

“You ever gonna tell him the truth?” That thick silence returns with a hefty vengeance.  “All of it?”

My eyes close again, my focus on anything and everything but him. “Roman—

“How every time that bleached bitch leaves town, you’re practically tripping and stumbling to make it over here and ride my dick?”

Disgust fills me, marring my face. “You son of a bit—”

But, he continues, and I see it. See that it’s less the man, Roman Reigns, that I’m dealing with right now. It’s the monster. “That you walked down that aisle in that pretty white dress, spent that week long honeymoon in Hawaii with him, making him believe you were his blushing, virginal bride all the while I took your virginity just a week before—”

My breath catches. “Be quiet.”

He scoffs. “Amazing how the twins were conceived on your honeymoon.” The most wicked of smiles. “Interesting timing, Dr. Miller.”

“You’re such a heartless bastard.” And, I’m the idiot who keeps coming back every time. 

So am I any better?

Rushed, angry grabbing at my shirt that I slide over my head, forcefully tucking it into my skirt, uncaring of the top buttons that remain undone. 

I just need to get out of here.

And, I don’t just mean his house.

But, the minute I turn on my heel, he’s right there, in front of me, blocking me. And when I try to move past him, he has his hands on my hips, holding me in place, keeping me right where he wants me. 

Like he always does.

My jaw clenches, my nose flaring, the anger flowing and growing. “Let me go, Roman.”

“How far along are you?” 

And there it is. That damn question I’ve been dreading, the forceful acknowledgement of something I wish was nothing more than a bad dream. If only the four tests I took didn’t indicate otherwise. 

“It doesn’t matt—” My distant response interrupted by his hand under my chin, forcing me to look at him, to confront both the source and relief of all of my problems. 

“How far along are you, Solana?”

It’s the way he looks at me, the curiosity latent underneath the question, the way one hand shifts to the indent of my waist. I can’t not answer him.

“Six weeks.” A quiet answer that’s met with no immediate response, prompting me to disclose for reasons unknown. “I don’t—I don’t know if I’m keeping it.”

I wish with everything in me that he offered no sort of reaction to said confession. Wish he could be like most men would be in this situation. Uncaring. Relieved, even, but this is Roman, and I know him.

I know as….awful as he can be, there’s a reason when I was rear ended, the kids seriously hurt in said accident, my husband was not the first person I called from the hospital at 3AM, hysterical and uncaring of my own minor injuries.  

It was Roman. The same man who stayed with me all night. Stayed with the twins.

A reason every birthday since they were born five years prior, they always get a plethora of gifts from a “secret relative” on my side of the family who prefers to remain nameless.

A reason he somehow managed his way into the hospital when Kaiden and Kaydence were born three weeks prematurely. Held them before Cody even did.

A reason he always asks how they're doing.

Always. 

It’s those reasons, and so many more, I already know what he’s going to say before he does.

“Is that what you want?”

There’s only one logical response. “Does it matter what I want?”

“That’s not what I asked you.” 

“Roman….” Saying his name is always such a toss up. The best thing to leave my lips or either the worst. I’m not sure where this utterance lies. “I can’t….I can’t keep doing this to him.” I see it. How his warm eyes flash with something angry. Something painful. I shake my head, licking my lips. “You hate him for what his father did,” A detestation that could and most likely last the test of time. “And, I hate myself for being no better.”

Because murder can come in various forms. A physical, actual act of violence inflicted on the body. But, sometimes, it’s just inflicted on the heart, and I have no doubt whatsoever that the depth of my betrayal and unfaithfulness, my lies, the extent I've gone to to continue to live out said lie would no doubt kill Cody. 

An emotional death followed by a possible physical one that could be the result of such scandal. Gotham would bleed red from the bloodshed that would transpire from the war, because Roman’s actions would no doubt be seen as a violation of the truce between the Bloodline and the Nightmare Factory. 

Someone would end up dead. 

Multiple people.

And I could never forgive herself if my children’s father ended up six feet under because of me.

Either of them. 

“You know he’ll find that suspicious,” he shares, and I wish it was something I could refute. Something I could deny, but I can’t because he’s right.

Not that I hadn’t considered that though. 

“He doesn’t have to know.” Just another thing added to the list of things my husband doesn’t know about me. A list that knows no end. “It’s my body. My choice.” Words I always have and always will live by. That I stand by firmly. At the end of the day, this is my decision to make. Cody doesn’t get a say, and neither does Roman.

He doesn’t say anything, just makes a sound, his hand shifting to the front of me, to my stomach. I try to back away, his touch suddenly burning and bothersome, but his other hand moves to the small of my back, applying enough pressure to push me closer into him.

My hand naturally falls against his solid chest. “Roman….”

“Stay the night.”

Fuck.

There’s so many things to hate about such a simple sentence, the main thing being that it leaves his mouth. That he actually asks me that. Something that’s been asked before, but I was hoping to avoid tonight. 

“I’ve been here long enough…” A few hours, at most. A few hours too many. “I need—”

“They’re with your mom. They’re fine.” He knows me. Knows me too well. Knows that that would be my reason for not staying. Not an excuse. A true reason. “And, he’s gone for the weekend.” His eyes dart to my lips, a hand to my face, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Not that that’s ever stopped you before.”

Shame. I should feel nothing but an ungodly, unhealthy amount of shame. Except, I don’t. I don’t because I’m suddenly hit with flashbacks from years prior. Primarily during my years of residency out in California. Countless flights on his private jet. Him coming to me. Me sneaking back into Gotham to see him. Spring Break spent with him in the Maldives. Cody thought I was with my family in Mexico. Whole time I was with the man he hates most being fucked all over that villa. 

That was when my mom first found out. A situation transpiring where she had to lie for me. 

The disappointment in her expression when I was forced to come clean after returning home to find her in my apartment is something I’ll never shake from my memory. Never.

I try to picture that, try to use it as a reminder, a warning sign. A thing of caution that nothing good waits for me where I am. Physically, and in life. Nothing will grow from this. It will only continue to destroy and poison until there’s nothing left. I’m playing a dangerous game that I was never meant to play nor win.

A dead end to nothing but destruction and heartbreak.

Or, worse.

But, then his head dips, his mouth ghosting over mine. My eyelids lower as he once again shifts his hands back to my waist, holding me close, against him, with him. Our bodies pressed into one another, my own hands moving up his chest, locking behind his neck.

“Just want you to stay….” He murmurs, palming my ass, kissing along my jaw. “Just tonight…”

It’s never just one night. Never has been. Probably never will be. It should have been. What started out as an unlikely, forbidden friendship from our collegiate days should have stayed that way. Perhaps should have never been a thing to begin with. But, it was. It is. 

Will always be.

Because the truth of the matter is that the children we have together, this unborn baby included, biologically his, but not his, will always tie us together.

I wish I could tell if it’s something I hate or love. 

Maybe neither. Maybe this strange space between. Similar to the space that will always exist between us. Rivalries. History. Perhaps even timing. All the things that will never let this be anything more than….whatever it is. 

It’s that unspoken thing, that thing neither of us, nor ever will probably acknowledge, that allows me to only give him one answer. 

“Yes.”

[talkswithdesi]

chapter f o u r

gif cred @81gb

As they were in the elevator to go to the hotel room that was on the 15th floor, the tension could be felt in each and every nerve of both of them.

Somehow the silence was louder than if somebody would have spoken.

Through the agonizingly slow elevator ride, it finally stopped at floor 15 and Jey let India walk out first, catching the swaying movements of her hips in that dress.

If he stared long and hard enough, he could see the black thong through the mesh dress. Jey’s teeth dug into his bottom lip, hypnotized by the movement. Down the long hallway, the overhead lights cast a soft glow on the pair.

India didn’t turn around, but she just knew that he was looking. She felt it.

She stopped at the hotel room door, inserting the key card into the slot, with the light turning from red to green, and Jey opened and held the door for her as they entered.

Jey shut the door behind him, the deafening sound of him turning the lock into place. Not that he expected anyone to interrupt them.

He leaned back against the now-locked door, watching India slip her heels off and place them by the couch in the living area. Even though the curtains were open and displaying the beautiful view of the ocean, all that Jey cared about in front of him was the beautiful woman in front of him.

Then he began walking towards her figure that was back-turned to him. He moved with slow and calculated steps, and when he finally reached her, he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, with his lips meeting the side of her neck to tenderly place a kiss there.

She didn’t move nor breathe, she just stood there as her eyes fluttered close and his hands firm on her waist.

As she was enjoying his pleasure-inducing kisses on her neck and right below her earlobe, she turned around to face him, placing her arms on his shoulders.

Jey licked his lips once more before leaning down slightly, their lips meeting and sparking this new found electricity between the two.

He caught her mouth in a kiss that was deep and surprisingly slow, not wanting to delve too deep too fast with her. India’s lips were soft and warm, perfectly molding with his like she was made for him.

She tasted like sugary lip gloss, prompting Jey to keep chasing her. He tilted his head slightly to the side, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed from her waist down south to grab a handful of her ass.

She gasped into his mouth, making Jey smile and she felt his grillz against her lips.

“You like that mama?” He breathed, softly massaging her plump cheek in his hand.

India’s mouth opened in pleasure and she nodded while looking up at him. She melted into his touch, gripping his shoulders and slightly pulling him closer.

Jey pulled his face away from hers to glance at the bedroom, then he turned his attention back to India.

“Come on.” He let go of her ass and grabbed her hand in his, leading them both to the bedroom. Jey sat down on the bed, legs spread and shoulders relaxed while he took off his suit jacket to toss it over the nearby chair.

He did a slow four-finger motion for her to come closer to him, just as he’d done many times in the ring to taunt his opponent.

She complied to his request, now standing between his strong thighs, but that wasn’t close enough for Jey.

“Can I move this out the way, baby?” He asked, motioning to the bottom of her dress.

India nodded, giving him permission and she felt the brush of his fingers as he slid her dress up and over her hips, with her black lace panties now in an unobstructed view.

Then he put one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her thigh, pulling her forward to him and made her straddle his lap.

She breathed out softly and grabbed his shoulders once more, balancing herself. She felt the heat of his body through his black dress shirt. Jey looked down to where they were pressed against each other, his bulge becoming more and more prominent.

“Shit…” India moaned softly, just barely rubbing against him but in the most perfect way.

“That felt good? Keep goin’ mama.” He sexily bit his lip, watching India slowly grind onto him. He kicked his shoes off while she kept at the act, and his hands went to grip her ass tightly again.

“Fuck, India. Lemme taste you baby.” He stood up, holding her in his strong arms as he switched their positions with India now laying on the bed and Jey between her legs that were wrapped around his waist.

Their lips met again in a kiss, Jey’s lips traveling to the side of her jaw then to her still-clothed chest, placing kisses on top of the fabric.

As he did so, his hand slid down between her legs to stop at her pussy. He slowly massaged it through her panties, feeling how hot she was already.

India arched her back upwards, the euphoria she felt at the mercy of his fingers making her body react involuntarily, as another moan fell from her lips.

“Yea. Tell me how good that feel. I know it do.” His taunting, yet sexy voice just added more flames to the fire that she was already experiencing.

She could literally feel the juices slipping out of her at his actions and words.

“Sh-shit, Jey.”

“You gon’ let me eat you out?” He asked as he was already moving down her body, closer to where she really needed him. She moaned and wet her swollen lips as she gripped his hair.

“Mmm, yes please do it.” She heard Jey chuckle before he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties, his fingers rubbing against her hips, and pulling them down her legs to toss them somewhere in the room.

He placed her calves onto his shoulders as he leaned in, kissing the insides of her thighs up, up, closer to where he knew she wanted his lips.

Jey continued to place open-mouthed butterfly kisses right near her aching core, one on the crevice between her pelvis and thigh, the next on her outer lip, then finally the last one landed right on her wet folds.

The soft, velvety contact made India’s head spin, moaning out in pleasure and wanting more of that feeling. She gripped the bedsheets with tension while trying to ground herself to fully experience the pleasure that he was giving her.

Jey deeply groaned at the taste of her juices. His tongue was exploring each and every one of her folds, mixing his saliva with her.

“Oh fuck Jey.” India breathed out, never having someone go down on her and it feeling this good.

Jey removed his mouth from her core to reply back. “Pussy taste so good, baby.” He latched back onto her, his tongue flicking her sensitive clit up and down.

His warm lips then wrapped around her clit, alternating between sucking it into his mouth and using his tongue. He brought his fingers to spread her open even more, still stimulating her swollen nub, making India jump slightly.

“Oh shit, fuck! Oouu, that feels so good.”

“Mmhm. Keep talkin’ to me, mama.” Jey moved one hand to her now naked chest, signaling at some point that she pulled her dress up and over her head.

He grabbed and kneaded her breasts as he suckled and feasted on her vulnerable core. “Fuuu-oh my God Jey I’m gonna come.” She gripped his hair a bit tighter and her body tensed up at the knot that was forming in the pit of her stomach, wanting to burst so badly.

Jey sucked on her clit harder, making her orgasm go over the edge as her toes curled and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

He let her relax and come down from her high, placing gentle kisses up and down her stomach.

“How you liked that?” Jey crawled back up to hover over her lips, not giving her the chance to answer before caressing her lips with his own.

“That wa-was amazing. Damn, Jey…” India said in between gasps, still trying to catch her breath and making Jey smile down at her. He quickly replaced that smile with wetting his lips as he grabbed her waist to flip her over on her stomach.

India arched up so she was face down, ass up, prompting Jey to grab handfuls of her ass that was now on full display. He spanked one cheek and this made India jump, then giggle.

“Oh you like that shit huh? Daddy spankin’ you and shit…” He spanked her other cheek, watching the jiggle and recoil like he was being hypnotized.

The nickname made India’s stomach swirl with newfound excitement and emboldened by her desire, she fed into it.

“Yes Daddy I do like it.” She laid one side of her face onto the bed, catching a glimpse of him behind her still. He was in the midst of taking his pants and underwear off, kicking them out of the way in front of the bed.

Then she caught an eyeful of his swinging cock.

She turned her head back forward, not wanting Jey to see her expression on her face, but he saw it anyway.

He laughed, flashing his grill. “Don’t worry baby. It’s gon’ fit.”

He grabbed his dick, slowly rubbing it all across her wet pussy, coating himself in the natural lubricant, before slowly but surely leading the tip of it inside of India.

Just the tip made India freeze, feeling him stretch her walls out in the most delicious way that she never felt before. She unintentionally squeezed around it in the midst of her adjusting, making Jey groan out.

“Man, you so tight mama. Drivin’ me crazy and I ain’t even all the way in.” India reached around behind her with her right arm, pulling him closer to her and signaling that he was okay to keep going.

Jey kept slowly filling her up inch by inch, until he bottomed out, then he slowly pulled back out before thrusting back in, and they both moaned at the feeling. Every inch of both of their bodies was on fire with pleasure, like liquid heat running through their veins.

Jey was definitely a talker during sex.

As India was still on all fours, Jey’s pace had sped up and was now really digging her deep. He looked down at where they were connected, noticing the cream that was coating his tan dick.

“This pussy is mine, right?” He leaned forward to grab and pull her hair, making her back arch even more so he could get deeper.

“Shit! Yes Daddy, it’s so big.” The lewd sounds of skin smacking against each other, added to the wet sounds of their liquid desire mixing together was sure enough to get a noise complaint to any nearby neighbors.

“Unghh. Damn India, you gon’ let the whole hotel hear baby?” Jey said through heavy breaths, loving how she felt squeezing so tight around him.

He let her hair go, putting both hands back onto her waist, slowing down his thrusts on purpose so she could feel every single inch. It took her breath away and she once again reached behind her to grab his arm.

“You takin’ my dick so good baby. Lookin’ so sexy like this too.”

She brought the same hand down to rub her clit in circles, feeling another orgasm approaching and Jey noticed.

“Yea that’s right. Rub that shit for me. You gon’ come again, huh? Tell me.” He changed the angle of his hips and it hit just right against that spot that no one ever hit before.

“Oh my-fuck, Jey! Right there, right there, don’t stop please!”

He licked his lips, smirking, keeping the angle right where she wanted it. This paired with the stimulation of her clit brought her a mind-blowing, out of body, otherworldly, never-knew-was-capable-of-existing orgasm as she felt white heat throughout her body and her eyes may as well have gotten stuck in the back of her head.

Jey damn near came at how much tighter she squeezed and spasmed around him than she was doing previously, so he softly pulled out of her, watching her opening spasm open then closed as she shook with pleasure.

“Damn...” He just admired her as she rode her wave.

After it seemed like she came back down to earth, he kissed up her back before slipping it back inside of her again. He was continuously digging her out, the sheets beneath them catching every stream of wetness that dared to slowly fall on it.

Jey was trying to not come yet, too in love with the way she felt around him, but he couldn’t hold it off any longer. With each thrust, his body tensed, his core flexing and his hands grew tighter on her waist and hips.

“Fuck baby, you makin’ me come. Where you want it?”

India was feeling bold so she told him.

“I want you to come in my mouth, Daddy.”

Jey obliged and as soon as he knew he couldn’t hold it any longer, he pulled out while India turned to face him and not much sooner, she felt the warm streams of the result of his orgasm land on her lips and face.

His moans were so beautiful, a perfect mix of groans and she could’ve sworn she heard a low whimper in there somewhere.

He kept stroking himself until the blissful contractions in his dick began to simmer down. As he was still breathing heavy, he brought his finger to India’s cheek, gathering some of it up before bringing it to her lips.

It was a quiet exchange as she obeyed his silent command. He tasted good—a neutral taste but with slightly sweet accents. She could tell he ate right.

He leaned forward, placing a kiss on her forehead before heading into the bathroom. A few seconds later, he came out with a wet towel and he gently cleaned her face with it, makeup coming off and all, but India couldn’t care less.

“I got you, mama.” He lowly spoke to her.

“Thank you…” She was in awe of how caring he was

He then put the towel in the little towel pile that was on the floor by the shower, came back to the bedside to turn the light off, and then grabbed India to pull close to him as they cuddled in bed to hopefully fall asleep without someone getting too excited again for round two.

A/N: india don't get too comfortable...

taglist!: @christinabae @trippinsorrows @nayys-world @4milly @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @levissslutt @m00nlitnight @luuvprincess @sheaabuttaababyy @prettypink-princesss @fearlesschimera @romanreignsbae @amandairene88 @pittieprincess22 @moxley99 @princess-saki1 @sharmelasworld @marababyyyy @shanthefemalerapper @theusotwinzcom @bettybelle @trippiexlove

[talkswithdesi]

First Father’s Day Gift

Relationship: stepdad!Steve Rogers x black!stepdaughter

Warnings: age gap (reader is over 21), graphic language, stepdad/stepdaughter relations, smut, unprotected sex, cheating/sneaking around, 18+

A/N: many many many distractions later, it’s here, my very random stepdad!Steve fic that I got inspired to write yesterday for Father’s Day. I felt kinda weird dropping it on the actual day since it’s sooo…so I’m glad I’m dropping it today. And who would’ve thunk my little return would be an Evans/Steve Rogers fic…looks like seeing Materialists had me feeling some type of way… “you said no more Evans fics” yeah well I can’t control my evil creative brain y’all…

Father’s Day…you didn’t believe in celebrating the holiday after your mom got with Steve. Your dad long gone with his new wife and life, you had no real reason to care anymore. And now you’re stuck with this fuckin asshole who just won’t stop…tormenting you with his mouth, his hands, his fuckin everything. Why would you voluntarily do anything for either “father” figure in your life? So when your mom asks, “what’re you going to give Steve for Father’s Day,” for the twentieth time, you almost snap, “I don’t know, a blow job?!” Because you know that’s what he wants, what he expects. Because she knows you don’t give a shit and rather not pretend. But instead, you bite the same raw spot in your cheek that you’ve been gnawing at all week. You almost want to tell her to stop asking.

“I really don’t know mom…” you answer dryly, drop your shoulders and rolls your eyes. “You know how I feel.”

“I just wish you’d try,” she sighs, as if you’re hurting her feelings for not acknowledging Steve for being your stand in daddy. If only she knew what kind of daddy he was to you…

“Okay fine,” you groan in defeat, “I’ll get him a card or gift card or something,” because you’ve never even done that much for him. Just a measly happy father’s day greeting and your attendance at dinner. That’s all he deserved.

“That’d be very nice of you.”

You have no idea…you grimace as you leave the room, just to bump into Steve coming from upstairs. You avoid his heavy stare, his suffocating heat, continue your journey back to your room, but he takes you by the arm and pulls you back into his big body.

“Make sure you write something sweet…personable…” he whispers in your ear with a clever smirk, and a chill faintly falls down your spine. Try not to nuzzle into his stubble to feel the burn. “Something I’ll remember forever…”

“Ok Steve,” you gulp as you break his hold and stomp up the stairs, hands trembling at your sides. You can feel his smoldering eyes scaling up and down your back, imagining him standing there petting his bulge. Your heart races so fast you could pass out.

Steve’s been driving you up the walls with all his relentless teasing and edging, running you so hot sometimes you damn near black out from all the ache. He was fuckin with you for a reason, had to be. Like he’s laying the foundation to destroy you. You just don’t know when…and something in your gut told you it was going to be on Father’s Day as a sick little present to himself. Staring you down with his bright blue eyes piercing through your soul, lips deviously curled, ready to pounce on you. Steve’s been wilding out, and you’re exhausted. Hasn’t even fucked you yet and your body’s tired, sensitive, your pussy’s already salivating for his fat cock what the fuck. There’s no telling what lies ahead, and you don’t know if it scared or thrilled the fuck out of you.

You almost hate to love his late night torture sessions. The tension, the secrecy… Your heart skipped a beat every single time you happened to hear the doorknob turn, your body ever so slightly squirming under the covers as he tip toed over to your bed. Sometimes, you’d pretend to be asleep and wake up annoyed he was disturbing you with his perversions, but most times, you’d be up waiting for him to silently play with your pussy. It turned you on like no other…his dark figure hovering over you, whispering how good you feel and smell and taste.

“Lay on your back…spread your legs...”

Hypnotized by his voice, his brooding stature, you obeyed, licked your lips as he slipped one of his big hands over your heaving breast, down your stomach under the covers until he found your pussy already hot and wet, pulled his raging dick out of his boxers, aiming it for your opening mouth. Tongue laying out the red carpet, inviting him right on in without hesitation. Steve would just smile, trace your lips with his sticky tip, mesmerized by how willingly you’d give yourself to him whenever he wanted.

“That’s it…that’s my good girl.”

He’d let you roll your tongue all over his girth, make you suck just the head as he toyed with your clit, see how many thick fingers he could fit inside your creamy hole as he fucked your face. Steve was having too much fun spreading your pussy lips apart, popping his veiny dick on your swollen pink lips. Watch the tears fall from the corners of your big pleading eyes, relish in your muffled moans and whimpers…the way you fidget and convulse beneath him just dying to fuck you until you’re depleated.

“Yeah? You want my dick that bad huh? Yes you do baby—awww my good girl so cock hungry…tell daddy how bad you want it…”

You’re already a pathetic mess for your stepdad by the time Father’s Day rolls around.

In the morning, your mom and Steve have an intimate holiday breakfast you wish you knew about before you drowsily stumble into the kitchen to find them sharing food off each other’s plate. You grumble in angst as you turn heel out of there, bothered by the fact that he winks at you just as you two meet eyes. You can wait til they’re done to eat that’s fine. By midafternoon, your mom’s in your room telling you what to wear for dinner. Some little spaghetti strapped dress you know Steve’s going to end up going crazy over, so you try to distract her with other options but they just won’t do.

“It’s just so cute on you, and it’ll be perfect for the place we’re going to.”

That evening, when you come down the stairs in the dress, you could’ve sworn he was going to rip it off and take you right then and there in front of your mom. But luckily enough, he kept his shit together until you guys got to the restaurant. Plopped his thick ass in the seat next to yours once your mom was sat and immediately braced your thigh as the waiter asked for drink orders. You’re going to need copious amounts of wine to get through this dinner, and thankfully enough your mom orders a bottle for the table. She’ll have to order another before the night’s over.

Steve keeps a territorial hand stroking your thigh under the table as he casually converses with your mom like nothing’s happening. You choke down tart red wine and pieces of warm bread down your knotted throat as he trails his fingertips over your panties. Circling right where your swelling clit sits. As they talk and you drink, you focus on his seductive touch and lose yourself in how absolutely sinful it feels him teasing you like this. Your head spins, pussy gushes and wildly flutters, and a tiny wet spot collects right where his fingers dance. Steve clears his throat, stifles a wicked grin as he slows his motions. You nearly sink down in the chair, bob your head back and bite back a needy whimper but you remember where you are, who you’re with. Steve’s making you feel so fuckin good though. He watches your body shiver from the corner of his eye and raises a curious brow. A finger pulls your panties to the side as another twirls around your bare clit. You grip the edge of your seat, fight your eyes from rolling back.

“Babe, where’s your card?”

Her out of nowhere question snaps you back to reality. “Oh! Oh uh…uummm…guess I forgot it back at-at the house or whatever…” you anxiously stutter, try to compose yourself but god, your skin’s covered with goosebumps and he’s trying not to laugh, running his finger along your wet slit.

“She can give it to me later,” he smiles just as he sinks his finger as far as he can inside your pussy. “Can’t wait.”

By the time you guys make it home, you’re completely lightheaded from the wine and the edging. Your pussy aches for his fingers, your wetness sticks to your clamped thighs. Ready to call it a night, you slither away from your mom and Steve sharing a moment at the door. It doesn’t matter if he’s distracted or not he’s going to get his hands on you no matter what, but you just need a moment to get your shit together. Your knees buckles, the room spins and bounces. Your mom and Steve whisper and giggle behind you as you inch for your escape. Just get to your bed and lie down, just for a minute. Before he comes in and execute whatever masterplan he’s been sitting on.

Just as you take a weary step up on the first step, Steve grabs your elbow. “Don’t take this off yet,” he delicately orders as he brushes his lips against your ear. You freeze, catch your breath, hope your mom’s out of the room. “Want you patiently sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me, card in your lap. Understood?”

“Yes Steve.”

He hums a happy grin as he releases your flaccid arm, pats you on the ass. “Good girl.”

You fidgeted on the foot of your bed for over an hour waiting on Steve to essentially put your mom to bed so he could use you. You were dying to touch yourself for some relief but it’d be pointless. You were dying for his touch only. And it’d piss Steve off if he found you started without him. Feverish, throat tight and patience wearing thin, you stare down at the card sitting over your hot pussy and think back on the words you wrote earlier. You hope they’re good enough, that your mom never sees them. They’re too telling, maybe a little too sentimental, but you wanted to make him happy…make him want you even more. You’re addicted to that feeling and you don’t know why. You shouldn’t be doing this; you’re better than this fuck shit. But this fucked up ass game with Steve is so…intoxicating…

“Baby girl…”

Your heart leaps at the sound of him finally coming in to your dimly lit room. Heat consumes your anxious body and you lose control over your breath. How does he have this insane affect on you? The moment he’s near you lose all common sense, go practically feral. Tonight he’s shirtless, down to his boxer briefs and socks, somehow much bigger than he’s seemed. Maybe it was the alcohol, the want, that made him feel much more monstrous than ever.

“Happy Father’s Day Steve,” you greet shakily handing the envelope over.

He gleefully takes it and sits on the bed, impatiently jerks you into his sturdy lap. “Awww…did you write something special for me?”

“Yeah daddy…”

Steve rips the envelope open and snatches the card out, excited to read the words that you wrote. For some reason, you’re quite nervous to watch him quietly read the card, afraid what you’d said determines your night’s outcome. You made sure to hit those important key words and phrases: ‘good daddy,’ ‘best stepdad ever,’ ‘treat me like one of your own,’ and the strongest one: ‘I love you Steve.’ Your pussy uncontrollably throbs as you wait for him to finish and acknowledge your good behavior.

“Mmm…my sweet girl, I love this. Thank you for finally getting me something for Father’s Day.” He kisses your cheek, places the card on the bed. “Thank you for finally acknowledging me as your daddy…” Steve smirks as he decorates your jawline with more sweet kisses and snuggles in closer, slips his sweaty hand up between your legs to find your panties gone.

“Yes sir,” you close your eyes and sigh.

Gently stroking your pussy, breathing heavy behind your ear, he softly whispers, “you like me being your daddy right? Like when I’m good to you like this?”

You shudder, “mmmhmmm…” behind thinned lips, doing your best not to roll your hips into his firm hand.

“Fuck I can tell…pussy so wet for me…” A dark chuckle sounds in your hazy head and another chill quakes through you, your folds wildly flutter around his sticky fingers. Melting in his strong arms he’s absolutely smitten with the way you succumb to him. One devilish smirk, one faint touch…all it takes. Your wetness procures along your convulsing entrance and its slippery sound indicates you’re ready for him. “Such a good baby girl mmmm…ready to give daddy his real gift? I think you are.”

Steve’s golden blonde hair is so soft and comforting against your cheek. “What gift?” Your voice so meek and innocent you almost don’t recognize it.

“This pussy I’ve been craving, obsessing over...” He smooths a hand across your shoulder blade, pulls down the thin strap of your dress to reveal your breasts to squeeze and pinch and without any help, your legs part even wider. “Can’t wait much longer...”

You knew it, knew this is what he ultimately was working towards, and even in your erotic daze you knew fucking him was wrong. “But Steve…”

“Ssshhhh come on baby girl. Been waiting for this present for weeks. Give daddy what he wants, please. It’s my day…” He implores as he spreads your pussy open, expose your fat clit to the cool air. He playfully dips his finger up to the knuckle between your wet walls and he purrs, leans in to put a nipple in his mouth. You gasp and flinch, your spine curls into his puckered lips. His tongue flicks and tugs at your erect nipple, his finger stationary inside you. He won’t give you more until you comply. And you’re going to, because you want so much more. You want every last bit of him. He made you that way.

“Mmmkaaay…”

Steve growls into your prickled damp flesh, easing you off his beefy thigh to stand on your wobbly legs before him. For a minute, he admires you there all droopy eyes and panting, silently begging him to put you out of your misery. Shooting you the hottest shit eating smile you’ve ever seen, he manipulates his raging hard dick out of his underwear and tugs at it dripping and veiny with a hardy fist. You’re mesmerized by the drops of clear precum that falls down his flushed rigid skin. So much so you almost fall to your weak knees for a taste but then Steve doles out his instructions.

“Grab a pillow.” He nods back behind him. He loves to tell you what to do, and you love to do what he says, instantly grabbing one of your pillows. “Bend over the edge of the bed and put it under your hips.”

You fall into position as Steve rises, towering behind your ass perked up in the air. He flicks the hem of your dress up over your naked ass, pumping his dick as he gawks at how beautiful you look. “Mmm…look at you…so perfect…” A little slap takes you by surprise. “Are you excited to give daddy his gift?”

Beyond… “Yes daddy,” you huff as you restlessly toot your ass up higher, fisting the covers beneath you. You almost hold your breath as you listen to Steve’s, anticipating his every move. When was he going to shove it inside you? How? Tenderly, like he wanted to take his time feeling your pussy open up? Vigorously, like your pussy’s all he ever desired? Either way, you were ready to finally have him in your guts. Of course, the teasing doesn’t stop now that he’s getting what he wants, no. No he’s got to take his time inching towards your parted legs, feel his cock grow harder amidst his wrapped fingers. The second you feel his sticky wet tip barely touch your hot folds you whine, and Steve moans, splitting you open with such a delicate gasp you drool a bit. His dick fills you with such ease you go limp, reaching you so deep you belt a lustful groan.

“You’re the best baby. The best baby girl…” He chants as he slowly pulls out and slowly fills you deeply again, his heart skipping several beats as your walls flutter and flood. “Fuck…this pussy’s so good. You feel too good baby oh my god…”

You squeal in ecstasy, full of Steve’s thick veiny cock and it’s like fuckin heaven. It shouldn’t be this good…it’s so wrong but fuckin hell it feels so damn right it’s almost insane. You’ve never been this wet before, for any boyfriend or fuck buddy. Was this twisted relationship really doing it for you? Are you that fucked up?

“Oh baby…relax…it’s okay…” His soothing hand comforts you, brings you out of your distracting thoughts. His slow steady strokes are enough to make you go dumb as fuck, his hand softly caresses your slithering spine. “How good does it feel to finally have daddy’s dick hmm?”

“So fuckin good fuck!” You muffle your shrills and shouts into your trembling hands, doing your best to be stay quiet but the stretch burns just right, and he’s hitting the right spot in the pit of your stomach. “God…deeper…”

“Can’t baby…” he softly laughs, bites his lip at all the cream dripping out of you and down to his tight balls, “your hungry lil pussy’s already swallowing all daddy’s dick. Need me to go harder?”

“Please,” you weakly cry into your cupped hands, wearily shake your head. What are you even saying? Apparently all the right things because right then Steve picks up momentum, popping his flexed hips off your ass, skin lightly tapping with each firm stroke. He doesn’t want to go too hard, cause too much of a commotion, but hearing you beg for him to dig you out is so fuckin sexy. So he has to. Fuck it. Your bed rocks under y’all’s weight, but thankfully the frame doesn’t hit your wall. The mattress doesn’t creak or moan. He sighs out in relief with a whimsy smirk, aggressively gripping your hips. Blinking away the stars that fill his watery eyes, he huffs muted grunts, digs his nails into your bones. You’re so tight he’s going to lose it all over your rippling walls. You’re so wet he can’t stop fucking into you. He never wants to stop fucking this perfect little pussy.

“Harder!”

Steve breathlessly chuckles as he hard blinks down at your ass bouncing off his muscles, soothing a hand down your curved back. “Fuck baby…if I go any harder, swear I’ll cum…”

“I don’t care,” you whimper miserably as you pout back at him, begging him with big woeful eyes to, “use my pussy daddy. Fuck me Steve.”

You’re a completely different person under your stepdad’s thumb, and you aren’t too ashamed. Steve has total control over your body, and it feels so fuckin good you don’t even give a fuck anymore. Go hard, beat your shit up, you were suddenly dying for him to. His shiny baby blue eyes roll up into his skull as he croaks a pathetic whimper. That desperate look in your eye…it’s going to make him act the fuck out. His teeth sink deeper into his bottom lip, yanks you just a smidge closer by the hip, fisting the back of your dress to really bounce you up and down his length. Your hands slap over your dropped jaw. You both go numb from your head down to the very tip of your curled toes.

“Oh my god baby girl…wanna stay in your pussy all night long fuck…”

Your tiny noises and gasps for air are the only response as Steve fucks you as hard as he can without bringing attention to your bedroom. Your pussy gushes around his pounding girth and the sound is music to his burning ears. He isn’t going to make it all night let alone another ten minutes. The way your walls clamp all around him make Steve dizzy with pleasure. Meeting the back of your pussy with a muted thump drives him wild. Your muffled mewling makes his dick tingle with excitement. You’re so close he can feel it in the way your walls tighten, how your breath quickens and your legs violently shake. A tired laugh breaks from his hyperventilating chest. You look so fuckin perfect taking his dick like a good girl he wishes he could record a video or take a picture.

“Fuck baby girl…I need you to cum for daddy so I can cum for you. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and cum all over daddy’s dick?”

Steve didn’t even have to ask; you’re on the verge of combustion. Another firm pump or two and you were gonna be a goner. Afraid to breathe or open your loud mouth, you frantically nod against the bounce of the mattress, ready to pleasantly fade away. Out of nowhere, Steve fists the back of your hair and forces you up, forces you to arch your back so he can hit your pussy at a different deeper angle that makes you want to scream. Slapping a clammy hand on his forearm, you hang on for dear life.

“You like that? Huh? That’s the spot?” You grunt, claw his sweaty skin as resounding yes. “Then cum…cum for me baby girl come on…taking my dick like the good girl you are…yeaaaah yes that’s right. You’re my good girl…”

And that you did…erupting as hard and as quiet as you possibly can but you have little control over what comes out of you at the moment. His endless praises in your ear send an array of chills and goosebumps over every inch of your brown skin. Releasing every single sexual frustration your evil stepdad has ever put on you, you collapse a spasming shell to the bed, creaming and squirting so much around Steve’s quivering dick he has to hurry and pull out to shoot his load all over your ass and messy pussy lips. He can’t believe how much comes oozing out of him, squeezing and jerking every last drop onto your slit. His cum drips off your pussy and onto the bed. He heaves one last big breath, hides his tired limp dicl back home in his boxer briefs and silently sits beside you on the bed.

“Atta girl…” Steve gratefully praises as he pets your empty head, lovingly smiling down at your lifeless body. “You feel better?”

“Yes daddy,” you sleepily crack, appreciating his affectionate touch. You can hardly keep your heavy eyelids open, absolutely worn out from the day. Your body aches but in the best way, can hardly move a muscle. Cant even get undressed and in bed you’re so done physically. Thankfully enough, he’s sweet enough to pull your disheveled dress off for you, get you under the covers properly so you can get a good night’s sleep. Just like a good dad should.

“Thank you baby girl. Thank you for taking care of your daddy.” He whispers against your cheek before he kisses you good night. “Sleep well…”

[talkswithdesi]

🫦

[talkswithdesi]

[talkswithdesi]

[talkswithdesi]

Paring⤷ Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader x Jey Uso Plot⤷ It’s raw, it’s honest, and it leaves you questioning everything you thought you wanted. Word Count⤷ 5k Tags⤷ 18+, Minors DNI, mentions of Cheating , cervix kissing, language, heavy smut, toxicity, ex's brother, betrayal, body fluids, p in v, fingering Luna's Note⤷Hey babies, just finished this from my drafts to keep y’all busy while I finish up chapter 2 of Bite! Hope you enjoy it <3.

What was worse than destroying designer shoes, you may ask? Cheating, of course. 

"Y/N! I KNOW that ain’t— I KNOW THAT AIN’T MY SHIT!" he roared from the bottom of his lungs, voice cracking like a whip. You stood there in the middle of the driveway, arms folded tight against your chest, towering over the pile of Nikes, Jordans, and every other overpriced pair of kicks he’d ever flexed in your face. Watching it all go up in flames felt like poetic justice.

The heat from the fire was nothing compared to how your heart felt last night—burning alive, charred to the bone, when you walked in on him in the back of that club, his dick down some random’s throat.

And now? He was gonna feel that same fire, too.

"FUCK YOU," you spat, every syllable dripping with venom, before you turned on your heel and stormed off into the house. The door slammed shut so hard it rattled the frame, and you didn’t hesitate to lock it behind you.

You stomped up the stairs two at a time, your heart pounding like a drumline. Once in your bedroom, you wasted no time—no second thoughts, no hesitation. You yanked open the closet and started pulling out every last one of his belongings: shirts, jeans, hoodies—hell, even those stupid socks he loved so much.

With the window wide open, you hurled them out one by one, watching them flutter down like filthy confetti.

"C'MON MA! I— I WAS DRUNK, I AIN’T KNOW—" he stammered, voice cracking under the weight of his own excuses.

But you’d had enough. Enough of the lies, the cheating, the whispers and rumors that never seemed to stop.

"IM TIRED OF YO SHIT, JEY! GO BE WITH THAT BITCH THAT WAS ALL OVER YO SMALL ASS DICK!" you screamed, voice cutting through the air as you threw the last of his clothes out the window like a final, punctuated period to the mess he’d made.

His jaw was clenched tight, fists balled up at his sides as he stared at the pile of his shit scattered across the concrete like a goddamn yard sale. "Y/N, baby, it wasn’t like that—"

But you cut him off with a bitter laugh that echoed through the quiet of the night.

"LIKE WHAT HUH? LIKE YOU AIN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU WAS DOIN’ WHEN SHE PUT HER MOUTH ON YOU!?"

He shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting from your face to the pile of clothes, looking like he wanted to scoop it all up and pretend none of it happened.

But you were done pretending.

You leaned out the window a little further, hands gripping the frame, your voice steady and ice cold.

"I hope she was worth it, Jey. I hope she made you feel as good as you made me feel like shit."

And with that, you slammed the window shut and drew the curtains, cutting him off just like he’d cut you off—only difference was, you weren’t coming back to fix it.

Not this time.

An hour later, you were still pacing around your house, your mind running wild as you gathered up the rest of his shit. You moved from room to room like you were on autopilot, your fingers curling around anything that smelled like him, felt like him—jackets hanging by the door, sneakers by the bed, cologne bottles in the bathroom. One by one, you tossed it all into a pile in the middle of the living room, the mountain of his things growing higher and higher, a testament to every moment he’d taken from you.

Three years.

Three years of the same bullshit—hearing the whispers, the rumors about the groupies he’d take to cheap hotel rooms after matches, the way he’d always have some excuse ready, like you were supposed to believe he just “crashed at a friend’s place” for nine hours straight.

You’d tried to bury it deep, pretend it was just talk, but your gut always knew.

And that wasn’t even the half of it.

He had a way of making you feel like you weren’t enough. Like the soft curve of your hips and the natural shape of your thighs needed to be “fixed,” like you had to do more squats to keep up with the girls he watched on Instagram.

You remembered the way he used to scroll through those girls’ pages in front of you, letting his eyes linger on their perfect asses, their tiny waists—never even bothering to hide it. When you’d catch him, he’d just wave it off, say, “I know them,” like that was supposed to make it okay. Like that was supposed to make your heart stop aching.

And God, you’d tried.

You’d stand in front of the mirror, turning side to side, checking yourself like you were some project that needed to be rebuilt. You’d eat more than you wanted to, stuffing yourself full just to see if your jeans would fit a little tighter. But no matter what you did, it was never enough.

You’d lost yourself somewhere along the way. Lost yourself in the lies, the excuses, the endless cycle of making up and breaking up. You’d lost yourself in a man your mother had always warned you about—“Men like that will break you, baby. They’ll make you think you’re nothing without them,” she used to say, her voice heavy with the weight of her own heartbreaks.

But you hadn’t listened.

You’d let your heart lead the way instead of your head. And now?

Now, all you could do was stand there in the middle of your living room, staring at the pile of his shit and wondering why it took you so long to see that you deserved better.

You should have listened to your brain instead of that big, beautiful heart of yours.

And you swore to yourself, right then and there, you wouldn’t make that mistake again.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your head. You looked up from the pile of Jey’s shit in the living room, jaw tight and chest heavy. You stalked over to the door and yanked it open, bracing for whatever the hell was next.

It was Jimmy.

Jey’s twin, standing there like he was the calm after the storm, wearing that same tired look you’d seen too many times before.

You rolled your eyes and let out a low groan, dragging your palm down your face. “What now, huh? You comin’ to cuss me out too, Jimmy? ‘Cause I’m real tired of everybody actin’ like this is my fault.”

Jimmy just stared at you for a moment, his big brown eyes soft and steady, a flash of gold in his mouth as he spoke. “Nah,” he said finally, voice low and even. “Just here to get the rest of Jey’s shit. He told me what happened, so I figured I’d come instead. Didn’t want him showin’ up and makin’ it worse.”

You held his gaze for a second longer, your eyes trailing from the neat cornrows on his head to the clean white Air Forces on his feet. He looked put together in a way Jey never did anymore—steady, calm, like he was actually listening instead of just waiting for his turn to talk.

You didn’t bother saying anything back. You just turned around and walked straight into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind you.

Jimmy took that as an invitation, stepping inside with careful steps, glancing around at the mess of clothes and memories piled up in the living room.

He shrugged off his black hoodie, revealing a white tank top underneath, and tossed it onto the back of the couch before getting to work.

For the next thirty minutes, he moved quietly through the living room, stacking up Jey’s shit like it was just another job he had to finish. Shirts, shoes, random little things Jey had left lying around—Jimmy scooped them all up without saying a word.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, pouring yourself shot after shot of Jack Daniels. You didn’t want Hennessy tonight—no, that was for when you were feeling soft and sad. Tonight was about fire, about burning away every last piece of him that still clung to you.

You slammed each shot back like it was a promise to yourself—no more excuses, no more second chances.

Jimmy’s quiet footsteps moved behind you as he worked, and you just kept going, letting the burn of the whiskey in your throat remind you that you were still here, still standing.

It wasn’t the night you wanted.

But it was the night you needed.

When Jimmy came back into your house, he reached for his black hoodie resting on your couch, his broad shoulders stretching under the thin white tank.

“Want a drink?” you asked him softly, your voice a little hoarse from yelling earlier.

He nodded, a small, understanding look in his eyes, and made his way into the kitchen as you pulled out another shot glass. You filled it with that same Jack Daniels you’d been nursing, and he threw it back like it was water, the sharp burn not even making him flinch.

Despite him being Jey’s twin, he carried himself in a way that was all his own. Where Jey was loud and always looking for a fight, Jimmy had this calm about him—solid, like nothing could shake him.

You’d never heard rumors about him creeping around with other women, never seen him in the club doing too much. You’d never even seen him give another woman the time of day unless it was just a polite smile and a nod.

Now that you thought about it, your chest tightened a little, and the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Thank you.”

He paused mid-motion, the empty shot glass still in his hand. “For what?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at you.

You refused to meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter. “For not picking sides. For not cussin’ me the fuck out,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jimmy didn’t say anything for a second. He just set the shot glass back down and held it there, his fingers drumming against the countertop. You poured him another shot without asking, and he took it, tossing it back like it was nothing.

“Whatever you and my brother got goin’ on,” he said slowly, his deep voice filling the space between you, “ain’t got nothin’ to do wit’ me.”

You didn’t know how to respond.

You just stood there, silent, staring at the streaks of whiskey that glistened on the counter. The weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long settled heavy in your chest.

You turned away, wiping at the countertop, trying to keep your hands busy so you didn’t have to face him.

Jimmy must have seen it—the way you shut down, the way your shoulders tensed up—because he moved closer, closing that small distance between you. He reached out and gently grabbed your arm, his hand warm and steady.

“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your skin. “I ain’t mean it like that. It’s just… ion care if y’all ain’t together no more. I ain’t finna pick sides and treat you wrong. That’s what pussys do. You don’t deserve that shit.”

You finally looked up at him, your lips parting like you wanted to say something, but the words got stuck somewhere deep in your chest. All you could do was nod, the relief in your eyes saying what your mouth couldn’t.

And in that moment, with Jimmy standing there and the kitchen light catching the glint of gold in his mouth, you realized you didn’t have to carry this alone anymore.

“I know you wanna cry, mama, and it’s ight to cry,” he began, his voice low and gentle as he pulled you in closer, your cheek resting against his broad chest.

The warmth of him, the way his arms wrapped around your shoulders like a shield, made your eyes sting even though you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let them fall.

“You ain’t deserve none of this shit,” he continued, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. “I tried tellin’ him over and over, but his ass don’t listen.”

The words washed over you like a balm, soft and sincere, and for a moment you just let yourself lean into him—let yourself feel the comfort of being held by someone who didn’t look at you like a problem to be fixed.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his white tank, the scent of his cologne—fresh and clean, nothing like the stale cologne that clung to Jey’s shirts—filling your senses.

You wanted to tell him how tired you were, how hollow it felt to keep loving someone who never gave a fuck if you drowned.

But the words stayed stuck in your throat, so you just let him hold you, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear.

“I’m sorry, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of your head, his hand smoothing over your back. “You didn’t deserve none of this.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it.

And with that, your tears began to fall.

So much had built up inside of you for so long—anger, heartbreak, exhaustion—like a storm that had nowhere to go. It finally broke. It finally cracked open in the arms of your ex’s brother.

But you didn’t think of it like that.

You didn’t think of it as a betrayal or something wrong. No, this felt like something you’d been needing for a long, long time.

It had been months—months since Jey held you the way Jimmy was holding you now.

Jey never held you like this when things got hard. He never let you just fall apart without judgment.

But Jimmy… Jimmy just let you cry.

He didn’t tell you to calm down, didn’t tell you to be strong, didn’t tell you to stop. He just kept his arms around you, steady and warm, his fingers brushing up and down your back in slow, soothing circles.

You buried your face in his chest, the soft cotton of his tank top dampening with your tears, and he didn’t flinch or pull away.

Jimmy’s phone buzzed again and again in his back pocket, but he ignored it.

You could see the screen light up behind you, catch a glimpse of the name that kept popping up: “wya Uce?”

Jey’s messages—over and over, trying to find his brother, trying to find you.

But Jimmy didn’t even glance at it.

Instead, he held you tighter, his jaw clenched like he was fighting off his own feelings, his own anger at seeing you like this.

You didn’t say a word, and neither did he.

The only sounds in the kitchen were your quiet, shaky breaths and the soft thud of your heart against his chest, like somehow both of you were holding each other up.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter who he was—it didn’t matter that he was Jey’s twin or that your world was on fire.

It just mattered that he was there, and he wasn’t letting go. 

He slowly tilted your chin up with two fingers, his thumb brushing along your jawline as he searched your eyes.

“You so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, like it was scraping at his throat to come out. “Jey ain’t deserve you.”

The words sank into your chest deeper than any apology Jey ever tried to spit out. Your heart thumped so hard you could feel it in your fingertips, your breath catching as his dark eyes stayed locked on yours.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jimmy moved closer, his hand still cradling your chin, the warmth of his skin grounding you as your mind started to spin.

“Shoulda been me who got yo number at that party three years ago,” he continued, his tone heavier, regret lacing every syllable. “Not him.”

The confession hit you like a wave, flooding your chest with something warm and something wild, something you didn’t want to name.

Your mind was shaky, confusion tangling up with the heat blooming in your belly.

Maybe it was the alcohol, swirling through your veins and making your head feel light.

Maybe it was the heartbreak, the way you were tired of feeling alone in a relationship that never cared for you the way you needed.

Or maybe it was that damn depo shot that had your emotions on a rollercoaster, making you want things that felt reckless and new.

Before you could even piece together what was happening—

“mmph,” you let out a soft hum of surprise as his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was sudden but slow, like he’d been holding back for years.

His hand slid around to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your pulse as he deepened the kiss, his lips warm and sure against yours.

You could taste the whiskey on his breath, feel the roughness of his stubble on your skin as he pulled you in closer, like he was trying to tell you something he couldn’t say out loud.

And in that moment, with your mind spinning and your heart pounding, all you could do was kiss him back.

Jimmy was always there when Jey wasn’t.

Always the one who picked up the pieces when Jey’s sorry ass was nowhere to be found.

He’d help you with your grocery shopping on those long-ass days when you were too tired to lift a finger, his laughter making it feel easier somehow.

He was the one who’d drop you off at the airport when you were visiting your family, making sure your bags were packed right, and then waiting to pick you up with a smile when you got back—even if it was three in the damn morning.

When that time of the month rolled around and Jey would cringe like it was a disease, Jimmy would show up with your favorite chocolates and a heating pad, knowing exactly what you needed before you even had to ask.

It was like he paid attention to all the shit Jey ignored—like he actually saw you.

And every time he did, it made your heart ache a little bit more because you knew he was the kind of man Jey could never be.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, trailing soft, wet kisses that sent chills down your spine.

A soft whimper slipped out before you could stop it, your breath catching.

“Jimmy,” you moaned, your voice shaking with need.

“Mhm, say my name again, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin with every word.

“J-Jimmy,” you repeated, your fingers moving up to his head, finding those neat cornrows that always looked so damn good on him.

You traced the braided patterns with slow, teasing fingers, feeling how his breathing changed under your touch.

He didn’t wait, didn’t give you time to think.

His lips found yours again, slower this time, like he was taking his time to memorize every part of your mouth.

Then his strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you like it was nothing, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

He walked you over to the couch, his lips never leaving yours, his hands tight on your ass like he was claiming you right then and there.

When he sat down, you landed in his lap, and you didn’t stop—no, you couldn’t.

His hair was right there, and you just had to feel it.

It was so soft, smelled so damn good—like that fancy shampoo he probably didn’t even realize he used.

You started undoing his cornrows, one by one, your fingers working quickly but gently, feeling his breath hitch every time you got closer to his scalp.

When you were done, his hair fell around his face in messy waves, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers through it, tugging lightly just to see him shiver.

His big hands moved down to grab the softest parts of your ass, squeezing like he couldn’t get enough, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, biting his bottom lip at the sight of you getting so damn needy, grinding on him without even thinking.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes locked on yours as his lips curved into a slow, dangerous grin.

“Nah, you takin’ control,” he murmured, his voice all heat and gravel. “You know what it feels like to be in control, mama?” he asked, his hands still guiding you but letting you take the lead, his words making your whole body ache for him.

You shook your head slowly, your hair falling forward a bit as your lips parted. Jey never let you take control—never gave you the chance to figure out what it felt like to be first. Never let you finish first, never even asked if you were okay.

Jimmy tilted his head at you, a small pout on those full lips, his eyes softening as he watched you struggle to find the words.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper but still firm.

His thumb brushed your hip, slow circles that made you shiver.

“You want me to touch you, pretty girl?” he asked again, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your lips.

You couldn’t speak at first, so you nodded slowly, your eyes flickering up to meet his as if you were asking for permission.

“Use your words, mama,” he said, his voice low and patient, but there was a hunger in his eyes that made your pulse quicken.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath leaving you as you finally whispered, “Touch me, Jimmy.”

That was all he needed.

His hands slid up your sides, rough and sure as he pulled you closer, pressing your chest to his.

“Yeah?” he said softly, one of his hands slipping up to cup the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheek.

You nodded again, your breathing uneven, your heart thudding so hard you thought it might jump out of your chest.

“Good girl,” he breathed, and then his lips were back on yours, slow but deep, like he was determined to show you exactly what you’d been missing.

His hand slid under your shorts, the ones that were neither too tight nor too loose, and his fingers found their way to that spot that had been aching for attention. No panties made it easy for him to find his target, and when he did, he didn’t rush. He moved his fingers in slow, deliberate circles, teasing you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and then rolled back, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as your back arched. Your mouth opened, but no words came out—just shaky breaths and tiny moans.

Jimmy leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and thick with desire.

“You like that?” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You tried to nod, but your whole body felt like it was buzzing, every nerve tuned in to the way he was touching you.

“You gonna let your ex’s brother finger fuck you, mama?” he whispered again, his lips curling up in a half-smirk.

You let out a small whimper, your hips pushing down into his hand on instinct.

“Yeah…yeah,” you managed to say, your voice breathy.

He let out a low chuckle, his fingers speeding up just a little, just enough to make you shiver all over.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice rougher now, “tell me you want it.”

Your eyes opened halfway, meeting his gaze, and you could see the hunger in his eyes.

“I want it,” you whispered, your lips trembling as you said it.

“I want you to make me feel good.”

He groaned softly at that, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye as he moved his fingers a little faster.

“Good girl,” he said with a soft bite of his lip, “you keep talkin’ to me like that and I’ma make sure you forget about him for good.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your hips grinding down harder, and all you could do was hold onto his shoulders as he kept going—slow and steady, but enough to make you lose your mind.

And then he added a finger, sliding right into you with ease, your pussy already so ready for him.

“F-fuck, Jimm—” you gasped, your hips jerking as you felt the stretch.

He let out a low, husky laugh, his thumb brushing your clit in slow, teasing circles.

“Fuck, you wet as fuck, mama,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathy as he watched your face twist with pleasure.

You could only nod, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your head fell back.

“You like that, huh?” he asked, his tone soft but dirty, “you gonna let me keep going? Let me finger fuck you ‘til you can’t even think?”

“Y-yeah,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved up in a crooked grin, “that’s what I wanna hear.”

He moved faster, his fingers slipping in and out of your raw noisy pussy with a steady rhythm, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet room.

You tried to bite back a moan, but he moved his thumb just right and you couldn’t help it—your hips bucking against his hand.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low as he tilted his head to watch your face, “you so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby.”

Then he added another finger, stretching you wider and making you cry out.

“Shit—J-Jimmy!” you gasped, your breath coming in fast, shallow pants.

“Uh-huh, that’s it,” he said, his lips brushing your jaw as he spoke, “take these fingers, baby. Take ‘em just like that.”

Your shorts were soaked, sticking to your skin as he held you with his veiny arms and fucked you with his fingers faster and harder.

“You feel how wet you are?” he asked, his tone a little mocking but still gentle, “this all for me, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice cracking as you clung to him, “all for you, Jimmy.”

He let out a low groan, “shit…you drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

His fingers curved up inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over, and you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips.

“Jimmy, I’m—” you gasped, your hips jerking as the pressure built, your walls tightening around his fingers.

“Go on,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “cum on my fingers, pretty girl.”

And you did.

You came hard and fast, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as your legs shook and your whole body went tight. Your hot juices were flying everywhere beneath you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he murmured, his fingers slowing down just a little to help you ride it out, “just like that, mama…fuck.”

When you finally caught your breath, your chest heaving, you looked at him through heavy lids. His fingers slipped out slowly, his hand glistening with your release, and he brought them up to his lips, sucking your taste off with a dark, hungry look in his eyes.

“You taste so good,” he said softly, “could do this all fuckin’ night.”

Your heart thudded hard in your chest, your head spinning as you realized you wanted him to.

Jimmy leaned back on the couch, his eyes dark as he watched you catch your breath. 

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your thighs. He guided you to straddle him again, pulling you close until your chest pressed against his.

You could feel him hard beneath you, his swollen dick pressing against your soaked shorts, and it made your breath catch. “Jimmy…” you whispered, your voice shaky. He just smirked, his hands sliding under your shorts to cup your ass, squeezing gently. “You know what I want, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “I want you to ride this dick. Take me how you want.”

Your cheeks flushed hot, but your body was already moving, hips shifting so you could grind against the thick outline of him. He let out a low groan, his hands tightening on you. “Fuck…that’s it. You wanna take me out, or you want me to do it?” he asked, his breath ragged. “Y-you…” you stammered, biting your lip. He smiled, that cocky grin that made you melt. “Nah, baby. You’re in control tonight. You wanna ride this dick? Show me how bad you want it.”

You reached between you and tugged his sweatpants down just enough to free him, his thick swollen dick springing free and resting against his stomach. Your breath hitched at the sight—hard, glistening and pink at the tip. “shit…” you said softly, your hand wrapping around him. He hissed out a breath. “Fuck, baby. That’s it.”

With shaking fingers, you pushed your shorts to the side and guided him to your entrance, your slippery pussy already dripping down onto him.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his eyes locked on yours. 

Slowly, you sank down on him, inch by inch, your walls stretching around him. “Fuck, fuck—” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. He let out a deep, low groan, his hands gripping your hips as he watched you take him all in. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “Take every inch, pretty girl.”

When you were finally seated all the way, you paused, your head thrown back, your mouth open in a silent moan. “Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” Jimmy breathed, his hips shifting just a little to push deeper, making you gasp. “Move for me,” he said, his eyes half-lidded, “show me how you wanna fuck me.”

You started to move, rolling your hips slowly at first, testing the feel of him filling you. He let out a ragged breath, his hands on your ass guiding you. “Yeah, that’s it,” he growled, his eyes locked on the way your body moved against his. “Look at you…so fuckin’ beautiful.”

You moved faster, your hips rising and falling, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the air. He leaned back on the couch, letting you take control, his hands roaming up your sides and squeezing your waist. “Fuck, mama…you feel so good ridin’ me like this,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. You could only moan in response, your head spinning with pleasure as you moved faster, grinding down onto his fat dick, pounding your cervix with every thrust. “You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, his thumb brushing your clit just enough to make you shiver. “Gonna make a mess all over me?” “Y-yes…Jimmy, fuck—” you gasped.

His lips curved into a dark smile as he watched you lose yourself, his hands pulling you down harder onto him. “That’s it, mama. Show me how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and hungry.

You were so close, your whole body tensing as your pleasure built to a fever pitch. “Jimmy—!” you moaned, your hips jerking as you came, your walls tightening around him and pulling a deep groan from his chest. “Fuck…that’s my girl,” he growled, his hands holding you tight as he thrust up into you, making you ride out every last wave of your orgasm.

When you finally slumped forward, breathless and trembling, he kissed your neck softly. “You did so fuckin’ good, mama,” he murmured, his lips warm against your skin. “So good for me.”

🏷️ @shantinextdoor @sheaabuttaababyy @empressdede @punksyeet @usoinked @pr0wlerpunk @skyesthebomb @morgshope @marley1773 @fearlesschimera @mama-rein @harmshake @uceybluecy @luuvprincess @trentybenty @lov3rla03

[talkswithdesi]

MEGAN THEE STALLION — Chicas Divertidas (2025)

[talkswithdesi]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭

Warnings: MDNI! 18+, Roommates, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Terry has a Dom Side. P in V, Oral (Fem Received).

Imagine waking up, walking on eggshells all because you and your roommate don't get along.

Sierra pulled herself out of bed, grabbed her house robe and walked downstairs carefully not to wake the big ass bully sleeping three doors down.

As she made her way down to the kitchen, she decided to only cook breakfast for herself since they got into a heated argument last night, she wanted Terry to suffer.

Deciding on a hearty breakfast, she made an omelette, turkey bacon, eggs with an assortment of fresh fruits, and some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Guessing the smell woke Big Grumpy up.

Terry walks in the kitchen not addressing you.

“Well good morning to you too.”

He glances at you briefly, his hazel green eyes cold and distant as he grabs a beer from the fridge.“Aight. Morning I guess.”

He pops open the can and takes a swig, his muscular tattooed arm flexing with the motion. Terry leans against the counter, eyeing you up and down appraisingly.

“Yo, you got plans today or what? Tryna keep it on the low, ya feel me?”

His voice is gruff and dismissive, clearly hoping you'll make yourself scarce so he can do whatever he pleases without interruption.

“Nah.”

He shrugs noncommittally, taking another long pull from his beer. “Cool, cool. Just don't be all up in my grill, aight?”

Terry sets the can down and starts rummaging through a drawer, pulling out a lighter and some rolling papers. He begins skillfully rolling a joint with practiced ease.

“I'm expectin' company later if you catch my drift.”

He smirks knowingly, his pink plump lips curling into a suggestive grin as he licks the edge of the paper to seal it. “So maybe bounce for a few hours, yeah? Give a bro some privacy to get his freak on.”

His tone is blunt and entitled, clearly used to you accommodating his extracurricular activities.

Terry's casual attitude and suggestive comments make it clear that he's expecting some intimate company and wants you to give him space for it. He's not shy about his intentions, using phrases like "get his freak on" and a knowing smirk to convey his plans. His request for you to "bounce for a few hours" is straightforward and assumes that you'll be accommodating his needs.

“Uhh… this is my apartment too! So no, I'm not about to ‘bounce’!”

Terry raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you're being obtuse. “Oh, word? This is your crib now too huh?” He snorts derisively, taking a hit off the joint before exhaling a stream of smoke. “Well ain't that somethin'. You best be mindin' your manners then, 'cause I run this half, understood?”

He steps closer, invading your personal space as he looms over you, his towering frame and intense gaze making you feel small. Terry flicks ash from the tip of the joint onto the floor before grinding it out under his heel. “Just remember, I'm the one payin' the bills around here. So if you wanna keep livin' here, you better learn to play nice. Capisce?” The unspoken threat hangs heavy in the air, leaving little room for argument.

“As if I don’t help you pay them too Terry.” Sierra said slamming her fork down.

Terry scoffs, rolling his eyes at your retort. “Oh please, like your measly rent check covers half the expenses.” He smirks condescendingly, leaning back against the counter once more. “I'm talkin' 'bout the real costs - utilities, property taxes, maintenance... You think you're shouldering equal weight in this arrangement? Please.” Terry crosses his bulging arms over his chest, his biceps straining against the fabric of his tank top. “But hey, since you brought it up, why don't you cough up some extra cash, aight? Maybe that'll shut you up and remind you who's really callin' the shots here.” His tone is mocking, a clear challenge aimed directly at you.

You take a deep breath, unfazed by Terry's posturing. "Oh, I see how it is," you respond, matching his condescending tone. "You think throwing your weight around is going to solve anything? Newsflash, Terry: I know exactly what the 'real costs' are. I'm not some naive little kid you can boss around."

You step closer, holding his gaze steadily. "And if you think I'm not pulling my weight, then maybe it's time you actually sit down and do the math. Maybe then you'll realize that your 'extra cash' demand is just a power trip. I pay my share, and then some. So, how about this: you back off, act like an adult, and we'll have a civil conversation about this. Otherwise, you can keep your macho act and your ridiculous demands to yourself."

Terry lets out a low, amused chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly nods. Alright then, Sierra. If you're dead set on stickin' around, I reckon I can accommodate that. He leans back, folding his arms across his broad chest once more.

“Just remember, when I bring my friends over, they're lookin' for a good time, and that includes with you if you're willin' to participate.” His tone is matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion. “So either you're down to join the fun, or you need to find somewhere else to be while I've got company. Your choice.”

Terry's gaze is challenging, daring you to defy him further. The air between you crackles with tension, each of you waiting to see how the other will react to this ultimatum.

You hold Terry's gaze, refusing to back down from his challenge. "You know what, Terry? I'm not some toy for you and your friends to play with. I have my own life, and I won't be bossed around like some kind of plaything."

You pause, letting your words sink in. "But I'm not going to run and hide either. I'll be here, and if your friends can respect that, then we won't have a problem. If they can't, well, that's on them. I'm not going to change who I am or what I do to accommodate their 'good time."

Terry raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Suit yourself, Si. But don't say I didn't warn you. My friends can get pretty rowdy, and they're not exactly known for their subtlety. If you're gonna hide in your room, make sure it's soundproof. Wouldn't want you getting disturbed by all the... fun." He winks, emphasizing the last word with a leer that makes his intentions clear.

He pushes off from the counter, taking a step closer to you. "But hey, if that's what you want, who am I to stop you? Just don't come crying to me if you change your mind and want to join in. Once the party starts, the rules are a little... different."

“I’ll rather stay in my room to be dealing with yall lame asses.”

Terry shrugs, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes before he quickly masks it with a nonchalant smirk. “Suit yourself, then.” He turns away, heading back toward the front door. “Just don't go gettin' all huffy puffy if you hear some moans echoin' through these walls, aight? It's just business as usual.”

With that, Terry exits the apartment, closing the door firmly behind him. The sound of his footsteps fades down the hallway as he disappears into his own unit, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of his parting words.

Several hours later, the sound of raucous laughter and muffled voices filters through the thin walls of the apartment. Terry's deep baritone mingles with feminine giggles and the clinking of glasses. Suddenly, there's a sharp rap at your bedroom door, followed by Terry's voice, slightly slurred but still commanding.

“Yo, Sierra! Open up, would ya? Got someone here who's dyin' to meet you.” There's a pause, then he adds with a chuckle, “And trust me, you don't wanna miss this. C'mon out and play nice, yeah?”

You open the door. “Yes Terry?”

Terry stands in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame with a lopsided grin plastered on his face. His usually neat braids are slightly disheveled, and his shirt is untucked, giving a tantalizing glimpse of his toned abs. Behind him, you can see a group of scantily dressed women standing behind him and whoever his friend was , their eyes roving hungrily over Terry's form.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her presence.” He slurs his words slightly, clearly a few drinks deep already. “Sierra, meet my main man, Jermaine. Jermaine, this is my sexy lil' roomie I was tellin' y'all about.” He gestures vaguely to a heavyset man with a gold chain who waves lazily in your direction.

Sierra looked at Jermaine and back at Terry with pure disgust. “Not interested.”

Jermaine, with a smirk, eyes you up and down, taking in your appearance with a slow, deliberate gaze.

“Ain't you a sight for sore eyes?” He chuckles, his voice a deep rumble. “Terry here has been talkin' 'bout you non-stop. Said you got a mouth on you and a body to match.” He flirts, his gold chain glinting in the light. “Come on in, don't be shy. We ain't got no strangers here, only friends we ain't fucked yet.” He lets out a hearty laugh, and the women around him giggle, their eyes still fixed on Terry

“Oh y’all got me bent. I’m not fucking your big ass! “You yelled as you pushed passed the both of them, going downstairs.

Terry pushes off from the doorway, stumbling slightly as he makes his way to the couch, flopping down next to Jermaine.

“Yeah, yeah, ignore his crude ass.” He waves a hand dismissively at Jermaine. “He thinks he's all that and a bag of chips” He turns to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wanna drink, baby? I got tequila, vodka, whiskey—you name it.”

“No Terry, I don’t want a drink.”

“Ight Si, I’m goin’ to go get the rest of us some drinks.”

Jermaine watches Terry leave, then turns his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in your reaction.

“So, you and Terry got a thing goin' on, or what?” He asks, his voice a low growl. “He's a good dude, but he's got a wild side.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gold chain swinging freely. “You gotta keep up with him, or he'll run right over you”. He pauses, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I get the feelin' you ain't the type to back down from a challenge. Am I right?”

“To be honest, we can’t stand each other.”

Terry stumbles back into view, draping himself over the back of the couch where the women are seated. He grins at you and Jermaine, his eyes glazed over with alcohol and lust. “Aww, don't be like that, Jermaine. Sierra and I got our own special arrangement, ain't that right, baby?” He winks at you salaciously before turning his attention to the woman beside him, nuzzling into her neck and making her squeal with delight.

“A definitive statement of a hoe!” You said grabbing some snacks from the kitchen.

“Man whatever, Si! You just don’t like me cause you want me.”

“Nah nigga! YOU mad cause you can’t fuck me!”

“Oh I can, but you won't let me. That’s the difference. I’ll have your ass screaming, seeing the fucking stars. Try me, babygirl.” Terry whispered into her ear as he pushed her back into the counter.

Sierra’s legs clenched together at his words, letting them sink in slowly. She knew he wasn’t playing with her by the way his voice got lower and deeper than usual and his eyes dropped. As much as she hated to say it out loud, she’d let this man ravage her, fix her attitude & more.

She couldn’t even count the number of times she spent in her room; masturbating to the sound of his voice when he was on the phone, the vivid picture of him naked in the shower; water running down his perfect body. The grunts and moans he made when he was stroking himself, letting her purposely hear him. She’d even have wet dreams about him between her legs, tongue buried deep in her cunt.

As the party continues in full swing, Terry periodically glances over at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of challenge and desire. It's clear he's enjoying putting on a show, trying to provoke a reaction out of you. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, perfume, and the underlying current of sexual tension.

You got up and walked to the bathroom. After handling your business, you walk back out only to meet Terry in the hallway. You can see it in his eyes that the liquor has taken an effect on him. Terry grows increasingly bold in his flirtations and provocative behavior. He saunters over to you, a fresh bottle of liquor in hand, and slings an arm around your shoulders “You know, Si”, he purrs, his words slightly slurred, “I been thinkin'. Maybe we oughta renegotiate our little living arrangement.”

He takes a long swig from the bottle, his free hand trailing down your arm. His eyes glint with mischief and barely concealed hunger as he awaits your response, the party raging on around you both.

“Boy, move. You are not my type.” You try to push Terry’s built body out your way, clearly he’s not moving and you’re not pushing him enough.

“So Jermaine is? I saw the way you looked at him when I introduced y’all. You don’t want him, you want me. Stop denying yourself that.” Terry said getting closer to you, pushing his body against yours, making you hot and flustered as he did

“You know I can’t stand you.”

“And what’s wrong with us having a little fun that we both want. You can hate me all you want Sierra, but your body can’t.”

“Well you hate me! You walk around here everyday not speaking to me or can’t even being bothered to be in the same space as me.”

Terry blinks rapidly, momentarily caught off guard by your question. He pulls back slightly, studying your face intently as if trying to discern your true intentions. “Hate you? Nah, shorty. That ain't even close to what I feel.” He shakes his head, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Truth is, you confuse me somethin' fierce. One minute I wanna wring your neck for all the lip you give me, and the next…” He trails off, his gaze drifting over your curves appreciatively before snapping back to your eyes. “Well, let's just say you got a certain... appeal, yeah?”

You chuckle, taking another sip from the bottle before handing it back to him.

"Appeal, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, Terry. And you know what? The feeling is mutual. You confuse me too, with your crazy antics and that damn charm of yours. But that's what makes life interesting, right? The unpredictability?"

You lean in a little closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"So, do we have a deal, rommie? Or are you chicken?" You wink, challenging him one last time, a playful smirk on your lips.

Terry's eyes darken with desire at your challenge, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. “Chicken? Nah, baby. You know I ain't scared of nothin', least of all a fine piece of ass like you.” He downs the rest of the bottle in one long gulp before tossing it carelessly aside, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Alright, Sierra. You want unpredictable? I'll give you the unpredictable. In one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, backing you up against the wall. His large hands come up to bracket your face as he leans in, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours. “Let's make this interestin', yeah? How 'bout we raise the stakes a bit? Winner takes all - control, submission, the whole nine yards. You game, or you gonna tap out now?”

Your heart races as you feel his breath on your lips, but you don't back down. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt, and push back slightly, a defiant spark in your eyes.

"Control, huh? You think you can handle that, Terry? You think you can handle me?" You let out a soft laugh, your voice a low purr. "Alright, big talker. You're on. But remember, you asked for this. No backing out now."

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper,"And Terry? No holding back. I want to see what you've got. Let's make this night one to remember."

Terry's pupils dilate with lust at your bold challenge, a low growl rumbling in his chest as your hands press against him. In a flash, he spins you around and pins you to the wall, one powerful thigh wedged between your legs as he grinds against you. “Oh, I can handle you alright, baby. Question is, can you handle me?” He nips at your earlobe before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, his stubble deliciously rough against your skin.

His hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing and kneading as he maps out every dip and swell of your body. “Mmm, you feel that, Si? That's what you do to me.” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust of his hips, letting you feel the hard evidence of his arousal.

You gasp at the sensation of his body against yours, but you don't miss a beat. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his head back so you can look into his eyes.

"That's all you got, Terry? You think that's gonna break me?" You smirk, your voice breathless but determined. You wanna play rough? Let's play rough."

You grind back against him, matching his intensity, your other hand gripping his shoulder for leverage. You lean in, your teeth grazing his earlobe as you whisper, "But remember, you started this. And I always finish what I start."

Terry's eyes flash with a dangerous mix of lust and admiration at your fiery response. A feral grin splits his face as he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one large hand while the other grips your hip bruisingly tight. Fuck, Sierra. You're playing with fire, baby.” He growls, his voice low and rough with desire.

He crashes his lips against yours in a brutal kiss, all teeth and tongue as he claims your mouth thoroughly. When he finally pulls back, you're both panting harshly. “You want rough? I'll give you rough.” In a blur of motion, he hoists you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you towards his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. “Last chance to back out, shorty.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tight as he carries you, your legs locked around his waist. You smile against his lips, your voice a low, sultry challenge.

"Who says I want to back out? You think I'm scared of a little rough play, Terry? Bring it on. I can take whatever you dish out and give it right back. You ain't seen nothin' yet. Send your bitches and your friends home.”

Terry shouts from upstairs. “Aight, y’all ain’t gotta go home but y’all gotta get the fuck outta hea.” He makes you giggle in his neck at his remark.

He kicks the bedroom door shut behind him, stalking towards the bed with you still wrapped around him. His eyes burn with primal hunger as he lays you down, covering your body with his much larger frame. “Oh, I know you can take it, Sierra. Question is, can you handle everything that comes after?” He rumbles, his voice dripping with dark promise.

His hands make quick work of your clothes, practically tearing them off in his haste to get to your bare skin. He sits back on his haunches, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him like a feast. “Fuck, look at you.” You arch your back, presenting yourself to him, a smirk playing on your lips.

"You think you're the first to try? Bring it on, Terry. Show me what you got. But remember, two can play at this game." You reach out, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, before moving down to his belt, slowly unbuckling it.

"You talk a big game, but actions speak louder than words. Let's see if you can back it up."

Terry releases your wrists only to grab your thighs, pushing them further apart as he settles between them. He leans down, his lips hovering just above your breasts, his hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin. “Gonna markup this pretty skin, Sierra. Let everyone know who you belong to now. He murmurs, before drawing one dusky peak into his mouth, suckling hard as his hand kneads the other roughly.

His free hand trails lower, teasing along your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to your aching center without quite touching where you need him most. He alternates between loving attention on your breasts and peppering biting kisses along your collarbone, leaving a trail of reddened skin in his wake.

You moan, your head falling back as you give in to the sensations he's stirring within you. Your nails dig into his back, urging him on.

"More, Terry. Don't hold back. Show me who's boss." You gasp as his teeth graze your nipple, the sharp pain mixing with the pleasure, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

You buck your hips, trying to grind against him, but he holds you in place, his strong body pinning you down.

"Please, Terry. I need you. Now."

Terry groans at your desperate pleas, the sound vibrating against your skin. He releases your nipple with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your breast. “That's it, baby. Beg for it. Let me hear how bad you want it.” He commands, his voice rough with lust.

He sits back, making quick work of his remaining clothes, revealing his impressive physique in all its glory. His cock springs free, hard and throbbing, the swollen head already glistening with precum. He strokes himself slowly, teasingly, as he drinks in the debauched sight of you sprawled out beneath him.

“Gonna fill this tight little pretty pussy up so good, baby. You ain’t gonna want anyone else. He promises darkly, positioning himself at your entrance.

You reach down, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking him in time with his own movements.

"I want it, Terry. I want you to ruin me. To fuck me so good I'll never want anyone else. Now stop teasing and give it to me." You guide him to your entrance, your eyes locked on his, daring him to hold back any longer.

"Show me what you're made of, Big Daddy. Make me yours."

With a feral growl, Terry surges forward, sheathing himself inside you to the hilt in one powerful thrust. He hilts himself fully, stretching you wide around his thick girth. “Fuck, Sierra! So goddamn tight.” He grits out through clenched teeth, giving you a moment to adjust before he starts to move.

He sets a pace, stroking into you with deep, purposeful strokes that hit all the right spots. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of exertion. “Take it, baby. This what you wanted huh? That’s the reason why you had all that fuckin’ attitude with me for? Don’t worry, I’ma fuck right out yo bratty lil ass.”

One hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he drives into you relentlessly.

You cry out, your back arching off the bed as he hits that sweet spot deep inside. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, urging him on.

"Yes, Terry! Just like that. Harder, faster. I can take it. I want it all." Your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging in as you meet his thrusts, our bodies slapping together in a frenzy of desire.

"Fuck, you feel so good. So deep. Don't stop, Terry. Don't you dare stop." Your words are a jumbled mess, your body on fire with pleasure as you chase your release, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Ouuuu, I can’t stand yo ass but you fuck me so gooooood!” Sierra yelps, gripping Terry’s black sheets.

Terry throws his head back with a throaty laugh, undeterred by your declaration. If anything, it seems to spur him on, his thrusts becoming even more forceful and erratic. “Aw, but your body loves me though, baby. Look how wet you are, how perfectly you're takin' my dick.” He smirks, reaching down to where you're joined, collecting some of your slick arousal and bringing it to his lips, sucking it off his fingers with a groan.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as he continues to pound into you. “You can lie to yourself all you want, mama. But we both know the truth. You crave this, crave me. I'm the only one who can satisfy you like this.”

The more you tried to deny yourself of it, you couldn’t. You most definitely did crave him. More than you admit it. The way his toned body pressed into yours, the feeling of his dick massaging your walls; making you stuffed and full, the way he had your head feeling all fuzzy and dumbfucked. But you LOVED every part of it.

You kiss him back with equal fervor, your tongue battling with his as you moan into his mouth.

"You're right, damn you. I do crave this. I crave you. Now shut up and fuck me like you mean it." Your hands roam his body, feeling the sweat-slicked muscles rippling beneath his skin as he moves above you.

You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as you climb higher and higher. You break the kiss, your head thrashing from side to side as you chant, "Yes, yes, yes! Right there, Terry. Right fucking there!"

Terry's thrusts become shorter, more erratic as he nears his peak. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, marking you as his. “Fuck. Gonna cum so deep in this pussy. Fill you up till it's leakin' outta you.” He pants against your throat, his hips stuttering as he chases his release.

You feel your own orgasm crashing over you, your inner muscles clenching and releasing around him as you cry out his name.

"Terry! Yes! I'm cumming! Fill me up, baby. Make me yours." Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you hold on tight, riding out the waves of pleasure that threaten to drown you.

Your body milks him, drawing out his own release as he roars against your neck, his hot breath and the pounding of his heart the only sounds in the room as you both come down from your high.

Terry pulls out of her, only to flip Sierra on all fours, arching her back even more. He wrapped his hand on the back of her neck and the other, directly in the middle of her back. “Mmm, look at this perfect ass. Could bounce a quarter off this shit.” He groans appreciatively, giving your rear a hard smack before gripping the cheeks and spreading them wide.

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit from front to back, circling your puckered hole teasingly. “I’m about to eat this pussy like it's my last meal. Have you squirmin' and beggin' for more.” Without warning, he seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, two fingers plunging knuckle-deep into your soaked channel.

“Keep that ass up, if I see it fall, I’m drilling your ass more.” A rough, hard smack clashed with her ass. This caused Sierra to yelp out in pain.

“Daddy-.”

You moan loudly, your body pushing back against his face as he devours you. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white as you try to maintain some semblance of control.

Your words are a jumbled mess, your body on fire with pleasure as he fingers you expertly, curling his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside.

You can feel another orgasm building, your body tensing as you push back against him, urging him deeper. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your moans filling the room as you chant.

Terry smirks against your flesh, giving your clit one last firm suck before withdrawing his fingers. He rises up behind you, gripping your hips bruisingly tight as he notches the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Greedy little thing, aren't you? Can't get enough of my dick.” He teases, circling your hole with the swollen head, coating himself in your slick arousal.

With a grunt, he sinks back into you to the hilt, bottoming out in one smooth stroke. He sets a punishing pace, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room as he beats your shit up. “Pussy gripping me so fucking tight. Creaming my shit up so mothafuckin good.” He praises, one hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back as he rails you from behind.

You cry out, your back arching as he pulls your hair, the slight pain only heightening your pleasure. Your hands reach back, grabbing his thighs, trying to push him back a little.

Your body is a mess of sensations, the feel of his cock filling you, the slap of his skin against yours, the pull of your hair. It's all too much and not enough all at once.

His free hand grabs both of yours. “Take this dick. You got a big mouth on you so be a big girl and stop running.”

At this point, you’re completely too fucked out to put a single word together. He had you right where he wanted you and there was nothing you could do to get out of it.

“Where’s my mouthy bitch from earlier, hmm? Dick got you in a trance? Yeah, I know, baby. Daddy fucking knows.” Terry put one leg up on the bed and started going in. You could feel his tip poking at your cervix and your g-spot. It was too much pleasure for you and your body opened up like Niagara Falls on a rainy day.

“There that shit go! Wet me the fuck up, princess. Good ass pussy. You've been keeping this pretty pussy from me and I don’t like that. No, Daddy doesn’t like that at all.”

Terry leans down, nipping at your ear as he talked you through it. He definitely meant when he said about you seeing stars, your ass was seeing the whole damn galaxy. Drool was coming out the side of your mouth falling onto your chest and the bed. You were completely and utterly having an outer body experience.

“You still got them Plan B’s in your drawer?”

You shook your head “yes”

“Good, you gone need it. I’m bouta’ nut all in this wet shit.”

As your climax hits, Terry follows soon after, burying himself balls-deep one last time as he emptied himself inside you with a guttural groan. “Damn! Take it all, baby. Milk every last drop.” He rasps, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm.

Finally spent, he collapses atop you, both of you struggling to catch your breath. After a moment, he carefully withdraws, rolling to the side and pulling you flush against his chest. “Damn, girl. You really tried to kill me with that pussy, huh?” He jokes weakly, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your temple.

Coming down from your euphoric high, you cling on to him. Terry holds you close in his arms. After a couple of minutes, he gets up and walks out the room. You lay there catching your breath and looking up at the ceiling. The sound of water running snaps you back into reality.

Terry comes back into the room, grabbing you and lifts you effortlessly in his arms. He carries you to the bathroom, slowly sitting you down in the tub before getting in with you. You both sit there soaking in the hot water, your back in his chest, and his strong arms soothing your body. You relax your head on him as he works his magic onto you.

“My pretty girl. I’m sorry for treating you like shit. Truth is I was protecting my feelings from you. I was scared you weren’t gonna’ want me Si. I actually do love you.” He says kissing your temple.

To hear those words was like heaven to you. All those times where you both fought, argued, gave each other the silent treatment; it didn’t matter anymore. You know after tonight that the relationship between you was bound to change. You were his and he was yours. You fell asleep as he started washing your body.

Hours later, you were awakened by something feeling slimy and wet between your legs. You rubbed your eyes, wiping away the sleep from them. You looked down and saw a head moving and you knew exactly who it was. Terry had his entire mouth over your pussy.

“Terry?” You said sitting up a little.

“Hush, lay back down. Let Daddy eat. I got hungry and wanted something sweet.”

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[talkswithdesi]

NAOMI MADE WWE HISTORY AS THE FIRST BLACK WOMAN TO WIN MITB Y’ALL BETTER FUCKING RECOGNIZE!!!!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[talkswithdesi]

"Handled"

Hi guys!!! I wrote this around 2:30am. I'm ovulating. Do with that information what you will.... LMFAO. I will gratefully welcome any criticism and comments. Help a girl out :)

Pairing: Terry Richmond(Rebel Ridge) x Black Female Reader

Summary: After weeks of emotional distance and clashing schedules, tension finally boils over. Terry doesn’t just hear it—he feels it, and he’s done letting the space between you two grow. What starts as a heated argument turns into a sensual, emotional reset.

Warnings: 18+ Sexual Content, Minors DNI, SMUT, Cursing, Dirty Talk..

Word Count: 2,930

***********************************************************

It was 2:37 PM on a Saturday, and the only thing louder than the clanking dishes in the sink was your irritation. You slammed a cabinet door shut, hard enough to make Terry pause the game in the other room.

“Everything okay?” he called out casually.

You didn’t answer. The fork organizer was in the wrong drawer—again. And someone, most-likely Terry, used the last of the oat milk and left the carton in the fridge like a damn trophy. You stood still, hands clenched on the counter, teeth gritted.

It wasn’t about the oat milk. It wasn’t even about the fork drawer or the Tupperware. You were tired. Tired of the missed texts. The rushed kisses and conversations. The fact that you’d been living in the same house, but hadn’t felt Terry’s hands on you in what felt like weeks.

You felt ignored. And you hated how much you missed him.

He walked in looking entirely too fine for someone who hadn't given you proper attention in weeks.

“What’s up with the cabinets?” he asked, eyeing you cautiously.

“Oh, now you’re concerned?” you said, voice sharp.

“You got a problem with me?” he asked, jaw tense.

You finally turned to him. “Oh, you noticed something’s off? That’s cute.”

His brows rose, just a little.

“Terry, I’m not in the mood for your calm voice and your little lectures about how I should just breathe and stretch it out. I’ve been holding it down while we pass each other like damn coworkers. You haven't touched me in weeks! You said, slightly raising your voice. “And if you think a slammed cabinet is dramatic, congrats—you finally looked up from your schedule long enough to see I’m annoyed.”

“You’re mad because I haven’t touched you?”

You flinched. “Don’t say it like that.”

He stepped closer. “I’m not saying it like anything. I just didn’t realize we were fighting over the lack of dick.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a—”

“You need to say what you mean,” he cut in, voice low now. “Because I’m sitting here trying to figure out why my girl is acting like I forgot our anniversary or something—”

“You might as well have,” you snapped. “You think I wanna be acting like this? Like I’m losing it over plastic containers? No. I’m just tired and I miss us. I miss you.

“You ain't the only one feelin’ starved, baby,” he added, voice dipping to something thick and heavy. “But don’t mistake my silence for not wanting you. I been tryin’ to give you space so I didn’t push you when you already tense.”

“You should’ve pushed,” you shot back. The silence cracked between you. His jaw clenched. Yours was already tight.

Then his eyes darkened.

“You know,” he said slowly, “you throwing a fit like this… that’s real cute.”

You glared. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Nahhh,” he said, voice dropping an octave. “I’m just realizing what this is.”

You turned away, arms folding tighter—but Terry followed. “So what you wanna do? Slam more shit or let me remind you who you talkin to?”

Your breath caught, heart hammering.

“Come here.” He bit his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving yours—like he already knew you’d listen.

You didn’t resist this time. You let him pull you in, let him kiss you like a man who knew exactly how far apart you’d drifted and was ready to pull every piece back together. His hands slid down to your ass, gently gripping it like he was grounding you—reminding you exactly where you belonged.

“You been walking around here with all this attitude and no panties under them shorts?” He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, heat radiating off him. “You want attention? You about to get all of it.”

His voice turned sharp. “Go to the bedroom.”

Your breath caught. The room shifted.

You turned slowly, heart thudding hard, and walked. Terry didn’t rush. He closed cabinets. Turned off lights. Let you wait—a punishment in itself.

By the time he entered the room, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, arms still crossed, stubborn streak not quite worn off yet.

He didn’t say a word. Just pulled his shirt off with one hand, revealing his tattoos you loved to kiss. His eyes locked with yours.

“Take your clothes off,” he said calmly, tilting his head slightly.

You hesitated.

His brow lifted, eyes locked on yours—waiting for you to do what you’d been told.

You stood. Peeled your tank top off. Your shorts next, slow enough to keep your dignity.

Terry took one step, then another, until your bare chest was brushing against him and your breathing stuttered. His fingers grazed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You wanna act out like you’re not spoiled every day of your life?” he whispered. “You forget who you belong to?”

Your voice wobbled. “You.”

“Act like it..”

Then he kissed you. Not sweet. Not slow. It was greedy. His tongue parted your lips, claiming, demanding. You moaned into it, finally feeling him again. His hands slid down your back, gripping your ass tight, lifting you like nothing, tossing you back onto the bed with ease. You watched him as he removed his clothes. Painfully slow.

“Lay down.”

You obeyed.

Terry pulled your legs apart. Bent down and kissed the inside of your thigh so softly it made you whimper.

“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes locked on your center. “So mad, but so wet.”

You gasped as his tongue made first contact. His mouth was hot and unrelenting, tongue circling your clit, then flattening against it with that practiced, wicked rhythm only he knew.

“T-Terry—” you moaned, thighs twitching.

Your hips lifted but his forearm pinned you. “Been starving you, huh? Should’ve said something instead of slamming my cabinets like you pay the mortgage.”

You moaned louder. “Please…”

“I’m not done.” His tongue flicked faster. You squirmed, legs locked around his head, and still he didn’t stop until your whole body trembled beneath him.

You came with a scream, back arching, legs shaking.

But Terry didn’t let up.

“Oh my God—Terry, wait, I can’t—”

He looked up, mouth and chin wet. “Yes you can. You been needing this, right?”

He climbed up your body, hands pinning yours above your head, letting you feel just how hard he was against your thigh. Kissing you hard, so that you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“Turn over.”

You rolled, shaking, pressing your cheek into the pillow. Terry dragged his hand down your back, smoothing over the curve of your ass.

“Back arched. Legs open.”

You obeyed without a word.

Then he slid inside.

You gasped—nothing about it was gentle. He filled you in one stroke, thick, deep, perfect.

“Oh fuck, I—”

Terry groaned against your ear. “That’s it. You feel that baby?”

He started moving, slow and deep, and then you felt his lips at the top of your spine.

The kiss was soft, contrasting the way he was fucking you—like he was marking you with pleasure.

He dragged his mouth down your back, licking a line from your shoulders to the dip of your lower spine, warm tongue leaving a trail of heat across your skin.

You shivered. “Terry—baby…”

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust deeper. “Been too long since I had you like this,” he growled.

Lost in the stretch, the rhythm of his hips slamming into you. He gripped your hips, driving into you harder. “This what you wanted? My attention?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Terry—please—”

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you up against his chest. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” you babbled. “Always—”

He pushed your face back down into the pillow, one hand gripping your ass as he pounded into you, your cries muffled, your body trembling again.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, breathless, dizzy.

“Do it. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

You shattered again, eyes rolling back, body melting into the mattress. But Terry didn’t stop—not yet.

He flipped you over one more time, kissing you hard, lifting your leg over his shoulder as he drove into you again, rougher, deeper, the headboard knocking the wall in rhythm.

You clawed at his back, sobbing his name.

He groaned. “Fuck—you feel too good..”

His pace faltered, hips stuttering. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep and came, moaning into your neck as your fingers traced his back.

And then… stillness.

You laid there, panting, limbs jelly, brain foggy and full of him.

Terry kissed your temple. “Better?”

You gave a sleepy little smile. “I don’t even remember what I was mad about.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “Next time just say, ‘I need some dick,’ and save us both the trouble.”

You swatted at his chest. “You’re so stupid.”

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your cheek. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” You let your eyes close as he left the room. A few minutes later, you heard water running. You cracked one eye open and smiled.

When he returned, he stood at the door taking a second to admire all your beauty. “Come on.”

“Terry, I can’t move my legs.”

He grinned. “That’s not my problem. Come on, lazy.”

You managed to get to your feet, groaning dramatically, and followed him into the bathroom. The lights were dim, just the glow from a small candle flickering by the tub.

“You lit a candle?” you asked, amused.

“I had one job: fix your attitude,” he said, helping you step in. “Mission accomplished.”

The water was warm, just the right temperature, laced with lavender bubbles. You sank into the bath with a soft sigh, letting it hold your weight. Terry grabbed a soft cloth and knelt beside the tub.

“Lean forward.” he said softly.

You did, and he gently ran the cloth across your back, the motion slow and soothing. He worked in silence for a moment, just washing you with care.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted softly. "Let me do this for you.”

His fingers threaded through your curls as he poured water over your shoulders, letting it cascade down your skin.

“I see you, alright?” he said quietly. “All the ways you hold shit together. The stuff you don’t say out loud. I see all of it.”

You turned to face him, eyes glistening.

“And I’m here,” he added. “Even when life gets loud and days get long. I’m still here. You still mine.” You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his. “I know.”

He leaned in and kissed your knuckles. “Good,” he said with a small nod. “Now relax. Let me love on you.”

And as he picked up the cloth again, gently rinsing the last of the day’s weight from your skin, you let yourself sink fully into the warmth—of the water, of his hands, of his love.

**********************************************************

I love me some Terry omg.....

I do want to tag some of my favorite blogs. I know I be "serial-liking" on you guys page, forgive me LOL. You guys are the reason that I was inspired to write and get out of my comfort zone. Everybody make sure you go check out their pages if you haven't already!! I promise it's worth it. Thank youuuuu!

L-U-X <3

@keyaho @onherereading @megamindsecretlair @kumkaniudaku @redacted-anon @spookysanta @uzumaki-rebellion @nubiawrites @writingsbytee @zillasvilla @that-one-anxious-mango @theogbadbitch @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereinawrites @enticingmelanin @ruewritesoccasionally @novahreign @sillyteecup @yassbishimvintage

[talkswithdesi]

johnson family bbq. | jey. u

parings : jey uso x black! oc (serena)

warnings: smut (it’s who i am), oral receiving (fem receiving), cursing, bathroom sex, ex boyfriend trope, annoying family members,

🖊️: everyone thinks serena’s ex is the one that got away. she deals with hearing it once everyday. wait until, her brother brings him to the family barbecue.

word count: 9.2k

“if it ain’t my beautiful granddaughter, where jey at?”

serena sighed yet again. she was tired of the shits. every time her family had one of these bbq’s, someone couldn’t hold back on bringing up her ex. maybe it’s that old folks thing about the new young people—they never really break up, honestly.

but that wasn’t the case. when she told jey, she was done with his bullshit in 2022, she meant it. she blocked him on everything, even xbox live, and changed her number. he wanted to run the streets across the earth slanging dick to any nxt newbie who smiled his way, go ahead. she wouldn’t dare be apart of it.

but, hold on.

serena and jey, were never ‘official’ official. but you where…official. y’know?

they both posted each other, were always boo’d up at the club, slept over at each others places, he even flew her to his matches or wherever he was in the world…he’ll, they even met each others families.

which is proving to have done more harm than good.

“granny, y’know me and jey aren’t together no more.” serena sighed before kissing her granny on the cheek

“yea yea, but you kids always breakup, than makeup, breakup, than makeup again. next thing, ya pregnant—“

serena’s mother let out a gasp, “alright mama, serena ain’t pregnant…right?”

“ma!”

“i’m just askin, girl damn. she ain’t lyin’ at least. but mama, serena and jey aren’t together. let’s let her be today, alright mama?"

granny frowned, waving her hand dismissively. "nah, i ain't buyin' it. that boy looked at you like you hung the damn moon, serena. i've been around long enough to know when somethin's real."

serena shifted uncomfortably on the plastic lawn chair, ice cubes clinking in her empty cup.

"i remember when he first came 'round here," granny continued, her eyes going distant with memory. "so respectful. callin' me 'ma'am' and bringin' those fancy chocolates i like. not like them other boys you used to drag through here."

"granny, please—"

"listen to me, child. when yo granddaddy first caught my eye, it was the same way. that fire. that boy jey was your one. i felt it in these old bones. the way he'd look for you first thing when he walked in a room."

serena stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the concrete patio. "i need another drink."

she stalked toward the back house, ignoring the concerned looks from her cousins. the quiet of the kitchen was a relief after the noise of the backyard. she yanked open the refrigerator, grabbing a high noon and cracking it open with more force than necessary.

the door creaked open behind her. her mother's perfume—always the same since serena was a child—filled the small space.

"you okay?" her mother's voice came from behind her.

serena turned, leaning against the counter. "i'm fine. just tired of everyone bringing up ancient history."

her mother crossed her arms. "a year ain't ancient, baby girl."

"feels like it." serena took a long sip, the cold bubbles burning her throat.

"you know granny means well. she just thought—"

"ma, seriously?" serena finally turned, eyes flashing. "you too now?"

her mother raised her hands defensively. "i'm not saying get back with him. i'm just askin if you heard from him. he called the house last week."

the can froze halfway to serena's lips. "he what?"

"listen. for someone who claims to have not been official, you were real hurt, serena. i could barely get you out your house inna mornin' to meet me for breakfast."

"ma, why did he call here? why are you ignoring my question?"

"baby, i saw how much you loved that boy," her mother said softly, coming closer. "the way your whole face lit up when he'd call. how you'd be runnin' around gettin' all dolled up when he was comin' to town."

serena rolled her eyes, but her mother pressed on.

"you've always been like this, since you was little. reactive. feelin' everything so big. when you hurt, you hurt deep. and that's okay, but—"

serena palmed her face, "ma, you still ain't answered my question about why he called here."

her mother sighed, leaning against the counter. "i understand y'all weren't official or whatever, but was that ever really discussed between y'all? 'cause from where everybody else was standin', it sure looked official."

"that's not—"

"i'm not takin' his side, serena. i promise you that. i'm on your side. always have been. that's why seein' you so torn up over him had me worried. you was cryin' for weeks, wouldn't eat right, wouldn't go out."

serena looked down at her can, picking at the label with her thumbnail. the truth stung more than she wanted to admit.

"all i'm sayin' is—"

"ma, please just tell me why he called the house." serena's voice cracked slightly.

her mother busied herself straightening the napkins on the counter before letting out a sigh.

before serena's mom could open her mouth, a familiar voice boomed from the front of the house.

"aye wassup uso!"

serena's heart dropped to her stomach. she knew that voice. her body tensed up as her eyes shot to her mother's face, which had guilt written all over it.

"ma?" serena whispered, her voice barely audible.

the sound of footsteps and male laughter grew louder. serena's mom suddenly became very interested in rearranging the potato salad on the counter.

"i was gonna tell you, but—"

serena's older brother drew's voice carried down the hallway. "yeah man, everybody's out back. ma and granny been cookin' all day."

serena gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white. "you didn't."

her mother finally looked up, her expression apologetic but firm. "drew called yesterday sayin' he was bringin' a friend. i didn't know it was jey until this mornin', and by then—"

"by then what?" serena hissed, panic rising in her chest. "you couldn't pick up a phone? send a text? 'hey baby girl, by the way, your ex that broke your heart is comin' to the family barbecue'?"

serena felt like she'd been slapped. before she could respond, drew appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. and right behind him, looking exactly the same as he had a year ago, was jey.

"look who i found wanderin' around downtown," drew announced, oblivious to the tension in the room. "said he was in town for a show tomorrow."

jey stood there in his fitted black tee and jeans, tattoos peeking from his sleeves, that same half-smile on his face that used to make serena's knees weak. his eyes found hers immediately, just like granny said they always did.

"hey," he said softly, only to her.

serena's throat closed up. she gripped her drink tighter, searching desperately for words, any words.

drew looked between them, finally sensing something was off. "uh, y'all good?"

"drew, come help me with somethin' outside," their mother said quickly, grabbing drew's arm and practically dragging him toward the back door.

"but i just got—"

"now, boy."

the back door slammed shut, leaving serena alone with jey in the suddenly too-small kitchen. the silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap.

the ticking of the old kitchen clock filled the silence. serena felt like she was underwater, everything moving in slow motion. jey took a step toward her, that familiar look in his eyes—the one that used to make her forgive him anything.

"rena, i—"

the nickname hit her like a physical blow. she felt the aluminum can give way beneath her fingers, crumpling with a satisfying crunch. without a word, she pitched it into the trash can beside the fridge, the metallic clang punctuating her silence.

jey reached out as she moved toward the door. "can we just talk for a—"

she didn't slow down, just raised her palm to his face as she brushed past him, close enough to catch that same cologne he always wore. his words died in his throat. the heat of his body nearly made her falter, but she kept moving, pushing through the screen door and back into the noise and sunshine of the backyard.

serena scanned the crowd, ignoring the curious glances from relatives who'd clearly seen jey arrive. she spotted sierra by the grill, laughing with their cousin marcus. sierra, who'd held her while she cried over jey more times than she could count.

"hey cuz," sierra said as serena approached, her smile fading when she caught sight of serena's face. "what's wrong with—oh shit." her eyes widened, looking past serena toward the house. "is that who i think it is?"

"sierra, i swear to god i'm about to lose my fuckin' mind," serena whispered, grabbing her cousin's arm. "did you know he was coming?"

sierra shook her head vigorously. "hell no! i would've warned you."

marcus raised an eyebrow. "who we talkin' about?"

"nobody," serena snapped, then sighed. "sorry, marcus. just… can you give us a minute?"

he nodded, backing away with his plate of food. "y'all women and your drama. i'll be by the speakers if anybody needs me."

as soon as he was out of earshot, sierra grabbed serena's shoulders. "what happened? what did he say to you?"

"nothin' yet. i didn't give him the chance." serena's hands were shaking. "sierra, i can't do this. not today. not here with everybody watchin'."

sierra glanced toward the house where jey had emerged onto the back porch engaging in a conversation with her brother and few of her cousins, "you want me to create a diversion so you can escape? i could fake an asthma attack."

despite everything, serena let out a small laugh. "you don't have fuckin' asthma. i do."

"details, details." sierra waved dismissively. "seriously though, you want me to take you home?"

serena sighed, glancing around at her aunties and uncles who were already watching her with curious eyes, "nah, i can't just bounce. you know how they get. by tomorrow mornin' the whole family group chat would be blowin' up about how i ran off 'cause jey showed up."

sierra raised an eyebrow. "so what? let 'em talk."

"easy for you to say. you ain't the one they be analyzin' like a damn science experiment." serena rolled her shoulders back, straightening her spine. "i gotta just deal with this shit. act like it don't bother me."

"you sure? 'cause your face tellin' a different story right now."

serena took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something she hoped looked like indifference. "i'm good. i'm grown. it's been a year."

a deep, familiar laugh cut through the backyard chatter, making serena's stomach flip despite herself. she turned to see jey standing with her granny, who was patting his cheek like he was still her favorite. she was smiling up at him, nodding along to whatever he was saying, completely captivated.

"unbelievable," serena muttered. "look at granny actin' like he's the second coming."

sierra snorted. "you know how she is about him. always thought he hung the moon."

serena watched as jey leaned down to listen to something her grandmother whispered. whatever it was made him look up, his eyes scanning the yard until they locked with serena's. his smile shifted, something softer and more private passing over his face.

without thinking, serena raised her hand, middle finger extended high and proud in his direction.

"childish ass bitch," sierra muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched up. "real mature, 'rena."

"what? he deserved it." serena dropped her hand, heat rising to her cheeks as she realized several relatives had witnessed her little display.

sierra shook her head. "you really tryna convince everybody you over him with that move? 'cause all i'm seein' is a girl who still got feelings strong enough to be mad."

"shut up," serena grumbled, grabbing a fresh drink from the cooler. "i ain't got no feelings except annoyance."

"mhmm. that's why you flippin' him off in front of granny and the whole family." sierra's eyes tracked something over serena's shoulder. "heads up, he's coming this way."

serena's spine stiffened. "he better not."

"too late." sierra stepped back slightly. "i'ma give y'all some space—"

"don't you dare leave me," serena hissed, grabbing her cousin's wrist.

"fine, but i ain't being your buffer all day." sierra crossed her arms as jey approached, his steps slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a spooked animal.

"hey, sierra," jey said, his voice gentle as he came to stand before them.

sierra gave him a once-over, her lips pressed into a thin line. she didn't respond, just took a long, pointed sip of her drink while staring straight through him like he was made of glass.

the silence hung heavy between them until serena couldn't take it anymore. "why the hell are you here? one of those nxt bitches didn't let you fuck or something?" the words came out sharper than she intended, dripping with venom.

jey's expression fell, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he schooled them back into neutrality. "it ain't like that, rena."

"don't call me that," serena snapped. "and you didn't answer my question."

he shifted his weight, glancing around at the relatives who were pretending not to eavesdrop. "can we talk somewhere private?"

"hell no," serena laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "anything you gotta say, you can say right here."

sierra's eyes bounced between them like she was watching a tennis match. "i'ma go check on granny," she muttered, finally extracting herself despite serena's death glare.

jey waited until sierra was out of earshot before speaking again. "i'm in town for a show tomorrow night at the arena. drew hit me up when he heard i was comin'."

"and you just thought you'd crash my family bbq? for what?" serena crossed her arms tight over her chest, creating a barrier between them.

"i didn't know you'd be here," he said, then winced at her incredulous expression. "alright, that's a lie. i knew. i wanted to see you."

"well, now you've seen me. mission accomplished." serena moved to step around him, but he shifted slightly, not quite blocking her path but making it clear he wasn't done.

"rena—serena," he corrected himself when her eyes flashed. "i just… can we just talk? five minutes."

serena felt eyes on her from all directions—her nosy-ass cousins, her aunties, her grandmother who was watching with naked hope on her face. she couldn't make a scene, not here.

"no," she said through gritted teeth. "you saw me. you ruined my fuckin day. get out. now."

jey ran his hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "look ian mean to ambush you. drew invited me, and i didnt have a choice. i thought maybe—"

"stop talking to me," serena hissed, cutting him off. "just stop."

she turned away from him, her eyes landing on the back porch where her mother stood, watching the whole scene unfold. her mama's expression was a mixture of guilt and concern, her hands nervously twisting the dish towel she held.

without another word to jey, serena stormed past her relatives, ignoring their whispers and stares. she pushed through the screen door, brushing past her mother without acknowledging her.

"baby girl—" her mother started.

serena kept walking, taking the familiar path through the house to the stairs. each step creaked under her weight as she climbed, muscle memory guiding her to her childhood bedroom. she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the old house.

her room was exactly as she'd left it years ago when she moved out. trophies from high school track meets lined the dresser. polaroids and concert tickets were still stuck in the frame of her mirror. the faded pink comforter on her bed was pulled tight—her mother must have made it up, knowing she might need a retreat.

serena sank onto the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. the nerve of him. the absolute audacity to show up here, in her safe space, with that puppy dog look in his eyes like he hadn't been the one to—

a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"go away," she called, not bothering to lift her head.

the door creaked open anyway. "it's just me," sierra's voice came soft from the doorway. "brought you a drink. figured you might need somethin' stronger than that high noon."

serena looked up to see her cousin holding two red cups. "is that uncle roy's special punch?"

sierra grinned, closing the door behind her. "you know it. man pours half a bottle of hennessy in there and calls it 'just a splash.'"

serena accepted the cup, taking a long sip and wincing at the burn. "thanks."

sierra settled beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. "so… that was intense."

serena snorted. "that's one word for it."

"everybody downstairs actin' like they ain't just witnessed a whole telenovela episode." sierra nudged her shoulder. "auntie mabel already on the phone with her prayer circle."

despite everything, serena felt a laugh bubble up. "lord, they gonna be burnin' sage and prayin' over my love life by sundown."

they sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. the muffled sounds of the party continued below—music, laughter, the occasional shout.

"he looks good," sierra said after a while, her voice careful. "got his hair all different."

serena sighed, staring into her cup. "i noticed. that mullet always made me wanna just sit on his stupid face."

"you know what i think?"

"i know you gonna tell me regardless."

sierra took another sip, studying serena's profile. "i think you still care about him."

"course i care," serena mumbled, the alcohol loosening her tongue. "don't mean i want him back."

sierra twirled the ice in her cup. "so… you gonna avoid him all day?"

serena leaned back against the bed, her eyes fixed on the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to her ceiling from when she was fourteen. "that was the plan."

"you know he ain't leavin' without talkin' to you. stubborn ass."

serena closed her eyes, feeling the alcohol warm her chest. "i hate that he still looks so damn good," she admitted quietly. "like, why couldn't he have gotten fat or lost all his hair or something?"

sierra laughed. "girl, i know. it's been what, nearly a year? and he still walkin' around looking like that. it's disrespectful."

they fell silent again, the bass from the music downstairs vibrating through the floorboards. serena traced the rim of her cup with her finger, the words she'd been holding back for so long suddenly pressing against her throat.

"sometimes i miss him," she whispered, so softly sierra had to lean in to hear. "like, stupid things. the way he'd call me pretty or call to stay on facetime. how he'd send me flowers wherever he was across the world, or pulling me to sit in his lap if it was hella chairs near us."

sierra nodded, not interrupting.

"i was in love with him, si. like, really in love." serena's voice cracked slightly. "even though we both kept sayin' we didn't want commitment, that we were just havin' fun… we belonged to each other. y'know?"

"i know, girl," sierra said gently. "everybody knew. that's why the family still asks about him."

serena wiped at a tear that had escaped. "it's so stupid. he fucked up, not me. i shouldn't be the one sittin' here cryin'."

"love ain't about who's right and who's wrong," sierra said, putting an arm around her cousin. "it's messy. and yeah, he fucked up. but that don't mean you can't still hurt."

serena took another long sip of her drink. "the worst part is, even after everything, there's still this part of me that wants to hear what he has to say."

"so maybe you should."

"and then what?" serena asked, throwing her hands up. "forgive him? go back to whatever the hell we were doing before? he cheated on me, si."

sierra raised an eyebrow. "did he though? y'all wasn't official, right? that's what you kept tellin' everybody."

"we weren't, but…" serena trailed off, frustration evident in her voice. "we were something. and he knew it. he knew what we had."

"so what are you really mad about? that he slept with someone else, or that y'all never put a real label on what you had?"

serena opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. she couldn’t think straight. hell, she was mad about something.

someone else had her man...in ways she was promised only she’d see.

serena swirled the drink in her cup, watching the ice cubes clink against the plastic. maybe sierra was right. maybe she wasn't even sure what she was mad about anymore. the hurt had calcified into something hard and protective around her heart, and she'd been carrying it for so long she wasn't sure how to put it down.

"i don't know, si," she finally said, her voice small. "i thought i was over it. over him. and then he walks in looking like… that, and my stomach does that stupid flippy thing and i'm right back where i started."

sierra squeezed her shoulder. "listen, rena. i ain't sayin' forgive him or take him back or nothin' like that. i'm just sayin' hear the man out. closure, y'know?"

serena thought about it for a moment, her mind racing through all the possibilities. what if he just wanted to apologize? what if he wanted her back? what if he was just being polite because drew invited him?

sierra leaned in closer, her voice low and serious. "any nigga worth showing up to a family barbecue is worth hearing out. especially one who's still got you this twisted after all this time."

serena snorted, rolling her eyes. "oh please. they all love his 'main event' ass. they wouldn't let his ass get a paper cut." she gestured vaguely toward the window where the sounds of the party continued. "granny's probably down there feedin' him her special sweet potato pie right now. the one she only makes at thanksgiving."

"so what?" sierra challenged. "you gonna hide up here all day? let everybody think he sent you runnin'?"

serena's jaw tightened. "i ain't runnin'."

"sure looks like it from where i'm sittin'."

serena knocked back the rest of her drink, the alcohol burning a path down her throat. "fine. i'll talk to him. five minutes, that's it. but not here, not with everybody and their mama watchin' and listenin'."

sierra grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. "that's my girl."

"don't look so smug," serena warned, standing up and smoothing her dress. "i'm just tired of hidin' out in my childhood bedroom like i'm sixteen again."

she caught her reflection in the mirror, noting the slight flush in her cheeks from the alcohol. her hair was still perfect, thank god, and her makeup had held up despite the heat. at least she looked good while her life was falling apart. again.

sierra hopped up from the bed, adjusting her dress. "well, if you gonna face him, might as well do it with a full stomach. i think i smell granny's mac and cheese from here."

serena took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "alright. let's do this."

as if on cue, her mother's voice carried up the stairs. "serena! sierra! y'all come on down, food's ready!"

sierra raised an eyebrow. "saved by the bell."

they made their way downstairs, serena's heart hammering against her ribs with each step. as they reached the bottom, a small group of serena's uncles and their friends were pushing through the front door, laughing loudly.

"y'all got any more of that hennessy punch?" uncle roy called out, leading the pack toward the kitchen. "we drank the cooler dry!"

serena's mother appeared from the dining room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. her eyes immediately found serena's, relief washing over her face.

"there you are, baby girl," she said softly.

before serena could remember she was supposed to be mad, she found herself crossing the room and wrapping her arms around her mother. the familiar scent of cocoa butter and the same perfume her mother had worn since serena was little enveloped her.

her mother hugged her tight, one hand coming up to stroke her hair like she used to do when serena was small. "i love you always," she whispered into serena's ear. "you're the prize, remember that. don't you ever forget it."

serena squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears. "i know, ma," she murmured.

when they pulled apart, her mother cupped her face. "you good?"

serena nodded, managing a small smile. "i'm good."

"alright then," her mother said, patting her cheek. "everybody's waitin' on us. your daddy's been eyein' that brisket for an hour."

they made their way through the house and out to the backyard where tables had been set up and loaded with food. the smell of barbecue and her granny's famous sides filled the air. serena kept her eyes carefully trained on the spread, avoiding scanning the crowd for jey.

she grabbed a plate and got in line behind sierra, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on her. she could hear jey's distinctive laugh somewhere to her left, mingling with her brother's and cousins'.

"serena, baby," her granny called from her seat of honor at the head of the longest table.

serena sighed, already knowing what was coming "yes, granny?"

"make jey's plate," her grandmother said, not even trying to be subtle. "that boy's been workin' hard, travelin' all over. probably ain't had a home cooked meal in a minute."

serena felt heat rise to her cheeks as all eyes turned to her. she couldn't believe granny was really doing this right now.

"his hands ain't broke, granny," serena said, her voice coming out sharper than she intended.

granny's eyes widened, her expression hardening. "serena marie! where are your manners, girl? that boy is a guest in this house."

"it's fine, ms. elaine," jey said, suddenly appearing beside serena in the food line. he smiled down at granny with that charming grin that used to make serena weak. "i got it. actually, let me make your plate too, rena."

he reached for serena's empty plate, his fingers brushing against hers. the brief contact sent an unwelcome jolt through her body.

"it's serena and i don't need you to make my plate," serena said, trying to pull it back. "i can do it myself."

but jey had already taken both plates, stepping ahead of her in line. "i know whatchu like. still no baked beans, extra mac and cheese, right?"

serena stood there fuming as jey moved down the line, carefully filling both plates. the audacity of this man. she caught sierra's eye across the yard, her cousin giving her a what-the-hell-just-happened look.

jey was piling her plate with all her favorites—her daddy's smoked brisket, granny's mac and cheese, potato salad with extra paprika the way she liked it. he even remembered to keep the greens separate so it wouldn't touch the other food.

"here you go," he said, turning back to hand her the loaded plate. their fingers brushed again as she took it, and she hated how her body betrayed her with a shiver.

"thanks," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

jey nodded toward an empty spot at one of the tables. "mind if i sit witchu?"

before serena could respond with the firm "get the fuck out my face," that was on the tip of her tongue, granny called out from her table.

"jey, baby, come sit by me! i wanna hear all about your travelin'."

serena had never been so grateful for her grandmother's interference. jey hesitated, looking between serena and granny.

"raincheck?" he laughed softly.

serena just shrugged, already turning away. "whatever."

she watched as jey made his way to granny's table, settling in beside the older woman who immediately began fussing over him like he was still family. the betrayal stung, even if it was expected.

sierra slid onto the bench beside serena at the far table she'd chosen. "so that happened."

"don't start," serena warned, stabbing at her mac and cheese.

"i'm just sayin', he remembered exactly how you like your food."

"so what? i ain't forget how he likes his food either. don't mean nothin'." serena shoved a forkful of brisket into her mouth, chewing aggressively.

sierra raised an eyebrow. "alright, what's his favorite then?"

serena paused mid-chew, her fork hovering over her plate. she glanced over at jey's table where he was laughing at something granny said, that same easy smile lighting up his face. "ribs. extra sauce. potato salad but not with eggs. corn bread, mash potatoes on the side with extra gravy and sweet tea so sweet it could put you in a diabetic coma."

"damn, girl. you really just proved my point."

"shut up and eat your food."

serena tried to focus on her plate, but her eyes kept drifting to jey's table. he was being his usual charming self, listening intently to granny's stories and asking all the right questions. her younger cousin jasmine had somehow wormed her way into the conversation and was batting her eyelashes like jey was gonna give her his autograph.

"that lil girl need to sit down somewhere," serena muttered under her breath.

"who, jasmine?" sierra followed her gaze. "oh lord, she really is layin' it on thick. somebody need to tell her she look desperate."

"not my problem," serena said, though her grip on her fork tightened when jasmine giggled at something jey said.

"mhmm. that's why you stabbin' your mac and cheese like it owe you money."

serena forced herself to look away, focusing on her cousin randal who was telling some story about his new job. she nodded at all the right moments, laughed when she was supposed to, but her attention kept wandering.

after what felt like forever, people started clearing their plates and settling into the lazy afternoon rhythm of a family barbecue. the older folks claimed the chairs in the shade, the kids ran around the yard with water balloons, and the adults her age congregated around the speakers where someone had put on a throwback playlist.

serena was helping clear tables when jey appeared beside her, collecting empty cups.

"you don't have to do that," she said without looking at him.

"i know. i want to help."

they worked in silence for a few minutes, the tension between them thick enough to cut. serena was hyperaware of his every movement, the way he would get to close to her, and reach for the same stack of paper plates and cup she would to attempt to brush against her.

"yo granny's somethin' else," he said as they both reached for the same stack of plates. "she made me promise to take some leftovers back to my hotel."

"that's granny for you. she'd feed the whole world if she could." serena exasperated

jey nodded, his expression thoughtful. "she asked about you, you know. when you went upstairs earlier."

serena stayed quiet. part of her remember what sierra said earlier…to hear him out. another part of her wanted him get the fuck away from her before she tried to see how hard a plastic knife could stick him. 

"what did you tell her?" serena asked despite herself, still not meeting his eyes.

"told her you were probably tired. long day." jey's hands stilled on the plates he was stacking. "she said you been workin' too much lately. not takin' care of yourself."

serena's jaw tightened. "granny talks too much."

"she cares about you. they all do." jey glanced around the yard where her family was scattered in their usual post-meal contentment. "missed this, you know. all of them."

"well they clearly missed you too," serena said, the bitterness creeping back into her voice. "jasmine damn near climbed in your lap during dinner."

jey's mouth quirked up at the corner. "you jealous of a nineteen-year-old?"

"boy, please." serena rolled her eyes, but heat crept up her neck. "i just think it's funny how you show up here after all this time and everybody acts like you never left."

"not everybody," jey said quietly, his eyes finding hers. "you act like you wish i never existed."

serena finally looked at him fully, taking in the familiar planes of his face, the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he was being serious. "some days i do."

the honesty in her voice seemed to catch them both off guard. jey's expression softened, something vulnerable flickering across his features.

"rena—"

"don't." she held up a hand, stepping back. "just… don't."

jey didn't move, his eyes still fixed on her face. "can we talk? please? just ten minutes."

serena looked around. the kitchen had emptied out completely, everyone heading to the yard to start doing the cha cha slide.

jey took a step closer. "ten minutes, that's all i'm asking. and then if you want me gone, i'm gone."

a loud splash followed by raucous cheers and laughter erupted from the yard. serena glanced toward the sound, then back at jey. the kitchen was quiet now, just the two of them standing amid half-cleared plates and the lingering smell of barbecue.

"fine," she finally said, crossing her arms. "ten minutes. and after that, you leave. i mean it, jey."

relief washed over his face. "thank you."

serena leaned against the counter, creating distance between them. "your time's already ticking."

jey ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking nervous in a way she'd rarely seen before. "i don't even know where to start."

"maybe with why you're really here," serena suggested, her voice cooler than she felt. "because i ain't buying that drew just happened to invite you and you just happened to accept."

"i asked him to," jey admitted. "when i found out i was coming to town for the show, i reached out. i've been trying to find a way to talk to you for months."

serena raised an eyebrow. "thats bullshit."

"you changed your number."

"there's a reason for that."

jey nodded, accepting the hit. "i deserved that. i deserved all of it—the blocking, the number change, everything."

silence stretched between them. from outside, the sounds of the party continued, but they felt distant, like they were in their own bubble of time.

"clock's ticking," she reminded him, tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist.

he nodded, running a hand over his hair. "i fucked up. i know tha—"

"we weren't together," she shot back automatically. "remember? you made that very clear every time i brought up where we stood."

jey's shoulders slumped. "i know. and that was me being stupid and scared. i didn't want to put a label on us because i was afraid of fucking it up. and look what happened—i fucked it up anyway."

serena laughed, the sound hollow. "you expect me to believe that? after what i saw?"

jey took a deep breath, leaning against the opposite counter. "what you saw… god, rena, i wish i could take it all back."

"but you can't," she said flatly. "so what now?"

ey stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "what you saw was me being the biggest fool on the planet. i ain't got no excuse that's good enough, but i need you to know something."

he took a deep breath, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "i love you, serena. i always have. never stopped, not for a single day."

serena's breath caught in her throat. "don't."

"it's the truth," he continued, his eyes glistening. "i've loved you since that first night in new orleans when you cussed me out for spillin' your drink and then made me buy you two more."

he ran a hand over his face, struggling to find the words. "the whole time we were together—or whatever we was—i kept thinkin' i wasn't enough for you. not good enough, not stable enough."

serena stared at him, speechless.

"i grew up watchin' my pops lose every damn thing trying to make it in this business," jey said, his voice rough with emotion. "he was gone all the time, chasing that next booking, that next big break. my mama raised us practically alone while he was out there living his dream. and when he finally came home for good, broken down and bitter, she didn't even know him anymore."

jey's eyes were intense, almost pleading. "i swore i'd never do that to someone i loved. never make them sit at home waiting, wondering if i was coming back, if it was all worth it. but then there i was, doing exactly that to you. on the road 300 days a year, asking you to understand, to wait."

"i never complained about that," serena said quietly.

"you shouldn't have had to. i was becoming my father, and i hated myself for it." jey's voice cracked slightly. "so i kept telling myself—and you—that we weren't serious, that we were just having fun. because if we weren't really together, then i wasn't really failing you."

serena felt tears pricking at her eyes. "so you slept with her instead? to prove your point?"

"i was trying to sabotage the best thing in my life because i convinced myself i'd ruin it eventually anyway." jey stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "i wanted to be the man you deserved, but i didn't know how. not without giving up everything i'd worked for, and i was too selfish to do that."

serena's heart hammered in her chest. "you could have talked to me. told me how you felt."

outside, the music shifted to something slow and soulful. the late afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the floor between them.

he looked down at his hands, flexing them slightly. "i was scared that if i fully claimed you, made you mine officially, i'd do to you what he did to my mama. i'd drag you into that life of always wanting more, never being enough."

"that wasn't your choice to make," serena said quietly.

"i know that now," jey admitted. "but back then, i thought i was protecting you. so i kept us in that gray area, tellin' myself we was just having fun, that you were free to walk away anytime."

serena crossed her arms, shaking her head as she processed his words. "you're not the only one who was scared, jey." her voice came out smaller than she intended. "i wasn't any better than you. not really."

jey's brow furrowed. "what do you mean?"

"i mean i played along with the whole 'we're just having fun' thing because i was terrified too." she laughed bitterly, blinking back tears. "every time you'd say we weren't serious, i'd just nod and agree, pretending that's what i wanted too."

"but it wasn't?"

"of course it wasn't!" serena threw her hands up. "i was head over heels in love with you, but too damn proud to admit it. i wanted you—all of you—100%. i wanted to be your girlfriend, your woman, not just some girl you were 'having fun' with in every city."

jey took a step closer, hope flickering across his face. "why didn't you ever say anything?"

"for the same stupid reasons you didn't. i was scared. scared you'd choose the road, the career, anything but me." she wiped at a tear that had escaped. "so i played it cool, acted like i was fine with whatever we were, even though it was killing me."

"rena…"

"and then when i saw you with her, it was like… confirmation of everything i feared. that i wasn't enough, that i was just one of many." her voice broke slightly. "so i ran."

they stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air between them. serena finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

"so what? what's the point of telling me all this now?" she asked, her voice rising with emotion. "we were both cowards, we both messed up, and now what? you think you can just walk back into my life after all this time and—"

her words died in her throat as jey closed the distance between them in two quick strides. his hand caught her by the belt loop of her jeans, tugging her against him. before she could process what was happening, his mouth was on hers, hungry and desperate.

for one stunned moment, serena froze. then something inside her broke loose—all the anger, all the longing, all the love she'd been trying to bury for two years. her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as she melted into the kiss.

jey's hands slid to her waist, lifting her slightly so she was perched on the edge of the counter. she could feel his heart hammering against her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own. his fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

with a sudden surge of need, serena pushed against his chest. his eyes widened, thinking she was rejecting him, but she slid off the counter in one fluid motion. her fingers curled into his shirt as she backed him toward the pantry door, her eyes never leaving his.

"what are you—" he whispered, but she silenced him with another kiss, reaching behind him to turn the knob.

they stumbled into the dark pantry, the door clicking shut behind them. the small space was filled with the scent of spices and flour, barely enough room for both of them. serena pressed him against the shelves, canned goods rattling as their bodies collided.

"we shouldn't—your family—" jey managed between kisses, his hands already sliding under her shirt.

"shut up," she breathed against his mouth, her fingers working at his belt buckle.

the metal clinked in the darkness as she yanked it open, her hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. he gasped against her mouth when she found him, already hard and straining against the fabric.

jey's head fell back against the shelf as she stroked him, his breath coming in short pants. "fuck, rena—"

his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her in for another desperate kiss before his lips traveled down her neck. the scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin sent shivers down her spine, her body arching into his touch.

"listen to me," she whispered fiercely, her hand stilling as she gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at her. even in the dim light filtering through the cracks of the door, she could see the heat in his eyes. "i ever find out you're giving dick to another bitch, i'll kill you. i swear to god, jey."

"i'm yours. only yours. i promise, ma."

his hand slid up her thigh, disappearing beneath her dress. "prove it," she challenged, her breath hitching as his fingers found the edge of her panties.

"right here?" he asked, his eyes darting to the door. the sounds of the party outside seemed impossibly distant.

"right here," she confirmed, already working his jeans down his hips. "right now."

he spun them around so her back was against the shelves, lifting her effortlessly. her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her dress up, his mouth reclaiming hers in a kiss that left no doubt about who she belonged to.

"someone gone hear us," he murmured against her lips, even as his fingers hooked into her panties.

serena bit his lower lip, her eyes locked with his. "then you better make sure i stay quiet."

the shelves creaked ominously as jey pressed closer, his hands everywhere at once. serena clung to him, as he slid her panties to the side and slid inside her in one complete thrust. her mouth opened on a silent scream.

serena threw her head back, biting her lip to keep from crying out as jey's thick dick stretched her pussy, splitting her wide open. the feeling was overwhelming—like coming home and discovering something brand new all at once. she clutched his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his skin through his shirt.

"fuck," he growled against her neck, immediately starting to fuck her with deep, relentless strokes. "so goddamn tight, baby."

he shifted his stance, wrapping one muscular arm under her ass to support her weight while his other hand reached up to grab one of the shelves above her head. the new leverage let him drill into her cunt with punishing force, each thrust pushing her higher against the wall of canned goods.

"i missed yo ass so much. i missed this pussy," he whispered harshly, his breath hot against her ear. "thought about it every fuckin' night."

serena's eyes rolled back, pleasure building at the base of her spine. "shut up and fuck me," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies coming together.

jey obeyed, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. the shelf above them creaked dangerously with each thrust, threatening to give way under his grip. serena bit down on his shoulder to muffle her moans, the taste of cotton and his cologne filling her senses.

"nobody fucks me like you," she admitted in a breathless whisper, her pride momentarily forgotten in the haze of pleasure. "nobody."

his pace faltered for just a second before he redoubled his efforts, one hand sliding between them to find her clit. "and nobody ever will," he promised, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb. "you belong to me. yea?"

the dual sensation of his dick stretching her walls and his fingers working her clit had serena climbing rapidly toward release. she could feel herself getting wetter with each thrust, her slick arousal making obscene sounds as he pounded into her.

"i'm close," she warned, her voice tight with desperation. "don't stop, please don't stop—"

jey's fingers pressed harder against her clit, making tight circles as his hips pistoned relentlessly. "tell me, baby. tell me what i need to hear."

serena's body tensed, her cunt clenching around his thickness as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. she choked back a sob as her release neared, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

"did you miss me?" jey whispered against her ear, his voice rough with need. "did you miss this dick?"

serena couldn't hold back anymore, all her pride dissolving in the heat between them. "yea," she cried out, the admission torn from her throat in a choked, broken sound.

"yea?" he pressed, slowing his strokes to deep, deliberate thrusts that hit something perfect inside her.

"mhmm," she managed, the sound low and desperate.

"mhm," he mimicked, matching her mewl as a smirk played across his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

something about his cockiness ignited a fire in her. serena slid her hand into his mullet, fingers tangling in the longer strands at the back of his neck. she tugged hard, using his hair as leverage to pull him closer. the sudden pain made him slam into her with unexpected force, hitting so deep she accidentally let out a scream.

panic flashed across jey's face. he immediately released the shelf, his hand flying to cover her mouth. his palm pressed firmly against her lips, muffling any further sounds as he continued to fuck into her soaking wet cunt.

"shh, baby," he whispered urgently, his eyes darting toward the door. "you tryna get us caught? everybody and they mama gone be in here if you keep screamin' like that."

serena's eyes rolled back as she moaned against his palm, the added danger of possibly being discovered only heightening her pleasure. her tongue darted out, tasting the salt of his skin. serena's eyes rolled back, her muffled moans vibrating against his palm

jey's hand remained over her mouth as his thrusts became more erratic. serena's nails dug into his shoulders, her eyes rolling back as she finally tipped over the edge. her orgasm crashed through her in violent waves, her pussy clenching and pulsing around his dick.

"that's it," he encouraged, his voice strained as he fought his own release. "cum all over this dick, ma. show me how much you missed it."

serena's nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks through his shirt as her body convulsed with aftershocks. her pussy contracting violently around jey's thickness.

she felt herself gushing, hot slick flooding between them as her release drenched his dick. her release coated him, slick and hot, making each thrust wetter than the last. her thighs trembled uncontrollably, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"fuck, baby," jey groaned, feeling her cum drench him. "i can feel you—"

his words cut off as his own orgasm hit without warning. with a final powerful thrust, jey buried himself to the hilt inside her spasming cunt, a guttural grunt tearing from his throat as he came.

she locked her ankles behind his back, pulling him deeper, refusing to let him pull out. the message is clear.

"you sure?" he asks, his control slipping. when she nods frantically against his palm, he loses what little restraint he had left.

his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, holding her firmly in place as he emptied himself deep within her, his cum pulsing hot against her walls.

serena felt each throb of his cock as he filled her, their releases mixing together in a mess of heat and desire. their bodies remained locked together, both of them panting against each other's skin as they rode out the aftershocks.

"goddamn," jey finally whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "i forgot how good we are together."

serena let out a breathless laugh, her body still tingling from her intense orgasm. "shut up. we ain't good together. we're fuckin' incredible together."

his smile was bright even in the dim light. "can't argue with that."

the sound of someone calling serena's name from the kitchen suddenly brought them crashing back to reality.

"shit," serena hissed, unwinding her legs from his waist and hastily adjusting her dress. "that's my mama."

jey quickly tucked himself back into his pants, fastening his belt while serena smoothed her hair and wiped at the corners of her mouth.

"serena? you in here?" her mother's voice was getting closer.

"just a sec, ma!" serena called out, her voice surprisingly steady. she turned to jey, her expression suddenly serious despite their disheveled state. "this doesn't fix everything."

jey nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "we need to talk for real. not just...this."

serena nodded, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "i know."

"later tonight?"

before she could answer, the pantry door swung open, flooding the small space with light.

serena froze, her hand still smoothing her rumpled dress as the pantry door swung wide open. the harsh kitchen light flooded in, illuminating their guilty faces and jey's frantic attempts to stuff himself back into his boxers.

her mother stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other still gripping the doorknob. her expression shifted from confusion to realization to exasperation in the span of three seconds.

"a damn shame," her mother said, shaking her head slowly. "just a shame. not official my ass." she gestured between them with a dismissive wave. "get yall asses together and get out my damn pantry with that freaky shit."

jey cleared his throat, finally managing to secure his belt. "ms. johnson, i apologize for—"

"boy, save it," she interrupted, though there was a hint of amusement beneath her expression.

before her mother could finish her thought, her eyes landed on something behind them. her face morphed from mild amusement to absolute horror.

"lord jesus—" she gasped, reaching past them to grab a shelf. "y'all knocked over my—"

her mom slams the pantry door back and says, "i just bought them damn peaches, my fucking god. nut assses. its a damn lock on that pantry too."

serena and jey stood frozen for a moment before laughter bubbled up between them, the absurdity of the situation hitting them all at once. they collapsed against each other in the dark pantry, shoulders shaking with silent giggles like teenagers caught making out.

"she really more worried about them peaches than us fuckin' in her pantry," serena whispered, wiping tears from her eyes.

jey's body shook with suppressed laughter. "yo mama ain't changed a bit."

after their laughter subsided, serena straightened her dress one more time. "c'mon, we better get out before she comes back with reinforcements."

they slipped out of the pantry, checking that the coast was clear before hurrying through the kitchen. they managed to make it upstairs without being spotted, ducking into serena's bedroom and shutting the door behind them.

"shit, i look a mess," serena muttered, catching sight of herself in the mirror. her lipstick was smudged, hair disheveled, and there was a distinct flush across her chest that screamed "just got fucked."

jey came up behind her, his reflection appearing over her shoulder. "damn, you look beautiful," he said softly, his hands settling on her hips.

serena met his eyes in the mirror. "don't start again. we ain't got time for round two."

"not what i meant," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "but i wouldn't say no."

serena rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. she turned to face him, suddenly serious. "we still need to talk. for real this time."

jey nodded, his expression matching her gravity. "i know. and we will. tonight?"

serena hesitated, then nodded. "yeah. tonight."

she moved to her dresser, pulling out a hairbrush and some makeup wipes. "but first we gotta fix ourselves before the whole family figures out what we been doin'."

jey leaned against the wall, watching as she touched up her makeup. "you think your mama's gonna tell everybody?"

serena snorted. "please. that woman loves drama more than her soaps. by the time we get back downstairs, even the neighbors gonna know we was in that pantry."

jey laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "guess we better come up with a good story then."

serena paused, meeting his eyes in the mirror again. "or we could just tell the truth."

"you wanna tell em, i just fucked you in yo mama pantry?"

"no, goofy!" she laughed as she tossed a shirt at him, "tell em we together...we back."

jey's face broke into the biggest smile she'd ever seen. he lifted her off her feet, spinning her around the small room before setting her down and kissing her deeply.

"alright, alright," serena laughed against his mouth. "we gotta get back down there before somebody comes lookin'."

they finished fixing themselves up, serena adding fresh lipgloss while jey tried to tame his hair. as they headed for the door, serena grabbed his hand.

"you ready for this? 'cause once we go down there together, the whole family gonna know. and you know granny, gonna start planning our wedding and shit."

"too late for that," jey laughed, pulling her toward the door. "she been planning that shit since the first time i showed up here."

🏷️: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @luuvprincess @bloodlineslut @levisslut @punksyeet @fafomama @trippinsorrows @psilovey0u @mselenalovebug @sisifromthed @amandairene88 @msbluehaz3 @fearlesschimera @duhitzkay380 @transparentphantomface @isabella-2025 @fairysoulja @wrestlingprincess80 @bebesobrielo

-

heyyyyy <3. was so excited to get this one out !

special dt to @prettyfilmz for the little liner i used of “yea.” “yea?” 🩷

[talkswithdesi]

THEE IT COUPLE

[talkswithdesi]

TEYANA TAYLOR & AARON PIERRE at Aaron's Surprise 31st BDay Party

[talkswithdesi]

michael b. jordan

innaatttt !!!

[talkswithdesi]

Confinement | Terry Richmond

^^prompt pairing: dark!terry richmond x black reader

warnings: extreme dark themes and smut (18+), psychological manipulation, power imbalance, emotional coercion, orgasm denial, use of restraints, obsessive dynamics, blurred professional boundaries, surveillance implications, d/s dynamics, captivity, moral ambiguity and references to murder

summary: she locked him up, or so she thought. terry wanted to be caught. and he liked the way she looked at him through the bars.

vibe: hannibal meets loki-in-the-glass-box meets joe goldberg. he’s behind glass, but he’s always in control. psychological cat-and-mouse, only she's the mouse who thinks she’s the cat.

word count: 3.3K

a/n: no taglist on this one because i'm not sure that this is everyone's cup of tea.. but i hope this is what you were looking for anon 🫶🏾

The room was sterile. No sharp edges. No handles. No metal exposed beyond what was absolutely necessary. Every fixture had been scrutinised, every panel engineered to strip a person of leverage, of power, of hope.

The lighting buzzed overhead - cold, clinical, inescapable. White fluorescence that flattened every angle, turned skin sallow, eyes glassy. It should’ve been the kind of space designed to crush someone like him.

But he looked comfortable.

Terry Richmond sat perfectly still in the centre of the observation room - legs spread lazily, hands cuffed to the bolted chair behind him, head tilted slightly like he’d been expecting company. Not a twitch. Not a slouch. His back remained impossibly straight, like he wasn’t just tolerating the restraints but performing for them.

He wasn’t bruised. Wasn’t panicked. Not a single scratch on him. The orderlies said he didn’t resist when they brought him in. Didn’t speak. Barely blinked.

And when she stepped into the room, clipboard tucked against her chest, trying to keep her pulse from betraying her —

He smiled.

A slow, wolfish curve of his mouth that didn’t belong to a man who had been captured. It belonged to someone who had allowed it.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice like warm molasses. “Miss me?”

She didn’t answer. Not right away. She couldn’t.

Her shoes echoed across the smooth floor, the only sound between them besides the buzz of fluorescent lights and the low crackle of the mic feed. The glass wall between them stretched floor to ceiling - reinforced, shatterproof, unyielding - yet the weight of his gaze pressed through like heat.

She moved to the other side of the glass, stopped exactly seven feet away - the legal minimum. Any closer required full restraints, full observation, full clearance.

He watched her the entire way. Like a hawk. Like a predator who didn’t need his claws to be dangerous.

His wrists were bound. His ankles, too. All precautions she had signed off on herself. Triple-checked. Terry Richmond had been a ghost - a methodical killer who left bodies posed like artwork, the calling cards always just cryptic enough to suggest obsession, never enough to suggest target.

Until she read the patterns between the lines. Until the messages started to feel personal.

The composition of each scene. The significance of the locations. A flower from her hometown. A book she'd once written a thesis on. The way every victim resembled someone she used to know.

Until it became obvious: He wanted her to find him.

And now here he was.

Caged. Supposedly.

And yet every time she looked at him, it was her who felt stripped bare.

“You don’t get to speak unless I ask you something,” she finally said, clipboard held a little tighter than necessary. “Understood?”

He leaned forward. The restraints strained just slightly, enough to remind her he was, technically, under control. But the way he moved, the glint in his eye, told a different story.

He licked his bottom lip, slow. Deliberate. “You came all this way just to play dress-up, baby girl?”

“Terry.”

“You wore the lipstick I like.”

Her jaw clenched. She hadn’t. Not intentionally.

But he was right.

He always was.

Terry never raised his voice. Never struggled. Never made a show of resistance.

He simply spoke in calm, syrupy tones - each word a drop of heat sliding under her skin, burrowing deep, finding places she didn’t know were soft. Didn’t want to know.

She interrogated him daily. Always the same seat. The same distance. The same rehearsed control.

A clipboard in her lap. A stopwatch ticking beside her. Procedure as armour.

He gave nothing. Not unless she gave something first.

At first, it was harmless. Minor concessions. A pause when she should have pressed. Letting him talk longer than protocol allowed. Laughing once when he said something unexpectedly dry.

Leaving her jacket behind on purpose. Maybe just to see if he’d notice.

And he did.

He began to notice things. Little things.

How she wore her hair differently on anxious days, clipped back when she needed discipline, down when she felt tired and exposed. How her breath hitched - barely audible, but unmistakable, when she read certain words aloud from his case file. The ones tied to ritual. To obsession. To violence wrapped in longing.

He catalogued her the way he had his victims. But she wasn’t prey. Not yet.

She was an equation. A puzzle.

And Terry Richmond loved puzzles.

He began to tilt the interviews - pushing gently, methodically. A look held too long. A question phrased like curiosity but delivered like temptation. Until it wasn’t about his crimes anymore. Until it wasn’t about the victims.

It was about her.

And then came the questions. Questions he had no business asking. Questions that didn’t belong in an interview room. Questions that felt more like… confessions.

“You ever make yourself come while thinking about me in here?” he asked one afternoon, voice thick with amusement, eyes glinting just behind the glass.

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

The pen in her hand stilled mid-note. Her pulse thudded loud in her ears, drowning out the hum of the recording equipment.

He smiled. Slow. Patient. Like he already knew.

“What were you wearing when you read my file?” he drawled, watching her like a man watching a fire catch. “Did you touch yourself, or did you just imagine what I’d do to you if I wasn’t behind this glass?”

Her fingers curled just slightly tighter around her pen. But she didn’t leave. Didn’t report the breach.

And from his chair shackled, restrained, supposedly caged - Terry simply watched. And waited.

Because she hadn’t told him to stop.

And he knew she wouldn’t.

It started small. Harmless, even.

She lingered a little longer after each session. Asked one more question than necessary. Let her eyes trace the line of his jaw when she thought he wasn’t looking.

She told herself it was tactical. That she was watching him closely. That his micro-expressions mattered. But then she started wearing lipstick. A softer red, just enough to feel… intentional. Then darker. Deeper. The kind that left faint smudges on paper coffee cups. And maybe, just maybe, on the rim of a pen she passed between her fingers while questioning him.

She wore lower necklines. Not scandalous. Just slightly less severe. Just enough to feel it when his gaze dipped, slowly, deliberately.

And Terry noticed. Every. Single. Time.

His gaze didn’t linger. It devoured. Not with hunger. With knowing.

Like he’d seen this before. Like he’d planned this.

The glass between them stopped feeling like a barrier. It became a mirror.

And all she saw in it was her own want - staring back, reflected in the eyes of the man she was supposed to control.

He never begged. Never pressed.

He invited. Lured. Opened the door and waited to see if she’d step through it.

And somehow, it was her who started bending the rules. Little ones at first. Just to test. Just to push.

She let him speak off-record. Just once. Then again.

She came outside of protocol hours. Told herself it was for “observation.” For “data.” Told herself no one needed to know.

She sat closer. Then closer still. Crossed one leg over the other. Noticed the way his eyes flicked down, then back up - never hurried, always composed.

Until the glass no longer felt safe. Until the idea of his voice in her ear felt more intimate than touch.

His words changed, too. He started weaving double meanings into every sentence. His voice coiled around her like smoke - thick, warm, inescapable.

“I can’t touch you from here, baby,” he murmured one evening, low and velvet-slick, a knife hidden beneath every syllable. “But I can make you fall apart anyway.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Because he was right. She already had.

The spiral had begun. And she was no longer sure whose hands had started turning it. Worse - she wanted to keep falling. Especially if it was his voice waiting at the bottom.

It didn’t happen all at once. The unravelling was slow. Surgical.

Precise, like the man himself.

He only spoke when she gave him something first. Never demanded. Never pushed. Just waited. Patient, quiet, coiled like smoke behind glass.

“Tell me a secret,” he said once, voice low, lazy. “One you’ve never told anyone. Then I’ll tell you where I left her body.”

And she did. She didn’t even hesitate.

The words tumbled out in a hush, too fast, too unguarded. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to impress or confess to. She just wanted him to keep looking at her like that. Like he knew her.

She didn’t remember when the lines blurred. But they had. Somewhere between her long nights and longer stares, between the click of her heels and the soft, slow drawl of his voice calling her back again. And again.

She stopped calling him Mr. Richmond. Formalities cracked under the heat of his gaze.

He called her darlin’. Sweetheart. My good girl.

Every time he said it, something in her stomach fluttered. Tight. Wrong. Addictive. It wasn’t affection. Not really. It was control. Drenched in honey, cloaked in charm, but still control.

He never touched her. But he didn’t need to.

His words filled in the spaces where his hands couldn’t go.

One night, when the lights were dim and the reinforced glass gleamed with twin reflections - her lips parted, his head tilted in that always-ready calm; he leaned forward. Calm as anything. Calculated, as always.

“Put your hand under the table.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t ask why.

“Now sit on it.”

And she obeyed. Like she always did.

The chair creaked beneath her. Her thighs tensed. Heat bloomed in her chest and pooled low in her belly. She kept her eyes forward, but he saw everything.

“Tell me what it feels like,” he said, voice dipped in hunger, low and thick like honey warmed on the stove, “when you imagine it’s mine.”

She trembled. Bit her lip. Said nothing.

Didn’t need to.

The silence between them vibrated, thick with want, shame, power.

He made her fall apart like that. Knees clamped together. Breath shaky. Shame burning under her skin like a fever she didn’t want to break.

And through it all, he watched.

Cool. Composed. Unmoving.

A man shackled and caged. And yet somehow still the one in control.

He never touched her. Not once.

But it was already too late.

She’d let him in. Not with a key. But a confession.

And he knew it. He’d always known.

They called it a controlled interaction. A trial run. Monitored. Supervised. Contained.

Every word was meant to suggest safety - layers of oversight, forms signed in triplicate, a room designed to neutralise danger.

No glass this time. Just four walls. One table. Two chairs. And him.

Unshackled, save for the thick cuffs looped to the base of the bolted-down table. A gesture of caution. A gesture of control.

He looked… serene. Almost reverent. As though this moment had been prophesied, and he had simply waited for the world to catch up.

She told herself it was protocol. That he’d earned this after weeks of compliance. That proximity didn’t mean permission.

But when she crossed the threshold, when her shoes sank into the silence and her body moved on automatic, she felt it the shift.

She sat. He watched. And in that single, unwavering moment, when his eyes found hers, dark, steady, devouring - she forgot why she ever thought distance had mattered at all.

His gaze was a gravity well. And she, foolish and human, kept stepping closer.

The silence stretched between them, thick and pulsing, like breath held too long. It wasn’t awkward. It was intentional.

Then slowly and deliberately, he leaned forward.

Not enough to breach the unspoken line between them. Just enough to make sure she could feel it. The heat of him. The nearness. The way his breath stirred the tiny hairs at her neck, sent a full-body ache humming through her chest like a memory.

He didn’t touch her. Didn’t kiss. Just breathed her in like she was his first taste of freedom.

And she let him.

“You don’t want me free,” he murmured, voice a growl beneath velvet. “That’d be too easy.”

His tone was all sin and certainty - not smug but assured. A man who’d read the last page of a book long before she even opened the cover.

She stayed still. Barely.

A single twitch of her hand. A tightening in her throat. Her eyes dropped, then lifted and dragged back to him like tide to the moon.

“You like knowing I could take you…” he continued, voice low, hypnotic.

His gaze flicked downward - not to her lips, but to her throat. To the place where her pulse betrayed her. Where it jumped, visibly.

“…but you let me wait.”

The words sank between them like ink into paper - irreversible, permanent.

And God help her, he was right.

Not because she feared him. But because somewhere deep inside, shameful and throbbing, she wanted him to be the one to cross the line.

And worse still… she wanted to let him.

She unlocked one wrist.

It was supposed to be procedural. A test of trust. Supervised. Temporary.

Every measure in place had been agreed upon - clearance signed, surveillance confirmed, every heartbeat accounted for. It should’ve felt clinical. Bounded. Safe.

But the second the cuff clicked open - a sharp, final sound that seemed to echo too loud in the still room, his hand shot up to catch hers.

Not violently. But firm. Possessive.

It was the kind of grip that wasn’t born from panic or impulse, but planning. He held her as if he knew she would allow it.

And she had.

He kissed her knuckles like a gentleman - lips soft, reverent, almost mocking. But the way he gripped them… that was no courtesy. That was a warning dressed in silk.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he guided her down onto his lap.

No command. No plea. Just intention.

And she let him.

The cameras caught it. They must have. But in that moment, she didn’t care. Couldn’t.

One hand still chained to the table. One hand free to ruin her.

And yet somehow, it was her who moved like she had the power.

She straddled him slow, deliberate, thighs tightening around his hips as if anchoring herself to a storm she had no chance of surviving. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders, not for balance, but to remind herself that she was choosing this.

Choosing him.

She rocked against him with the illusion of control - rhythm steady, spine straight - like she was orchestrating the encounter. But every time he growled, low and feral, every time he bit into her skin like a claim, breath hot against her neck like fire at the fuse... she remembered:

She never had been in control.

Not really.

His mouth found her jaw first, then her collarbone, then the hollow beneath her ear. Each kiss a brand. Each bruise a declaration.

He didn’t speak at first. He devoured.

Then, lips brushing her pulse point, he rasped: “You want to cum?”

The voice was syrupy. Sacrilegious. A sin served in velvet.

“Use me for it.”

She shivered.

Her hands curled into his shirt, gripping tight, grounding herself as much as claiming him.

“You don’t even have to let me finish,” he murmured against her throat. His free hand gripped her hip, hard enough to ache. “Just leave me like this. Begging. Desperate. Caged.”

And she almost did.

Because the way he moaned for her, quiet but guttural, like it scraped up from somewhere primal. The way his teeth clenched, eyes wide and ravenous like he was both starving and thankful to be starved - it was punishment enough.

Torture wrapped in reverence.

Biting. Bruising. Bruised knees. Bruised egos. Bruised morality.

Her movements grew more ragged. His voice dropped into something darker.

Praise spilled from his lips between snarls and whimpers.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.” A tremble in his jaw. A twitch in his bound wrist. “Use your favourite monster. Make me your fucking ruin.”

And she did. Again. And again.

Until there was no question of who had surrendered first. And no doubt that he would never stop waiting for her to do it again.

The sex had been her undoing. The final piece he needed.

He hadn’t just wanted her body; he wanted her addiction. Her loyalty. Her testimony. Her surrender.

And she gave it to him - day by day, breath by breath - each sigh slipping past her lips like a secret she thought he didn’t already know.

But Terry Richmond had known everything. Planned everything.

Every visit. Every glance. Every angle of his voice. Every subtle arch of his brow. The exact tilt of his head when she’d walk in with a file tucked against her chest like a shield. Even the camera blind spots, the ones she’d insisted were coincidence. They weren’t.

He knew the boundaries she would cross before she did. Knew exactly how much rope to give her before she’d tie it into her own noose and call it devotion.

Every protocol she broke, she’d justified. Just this once. Just this risk. Just this man.

She thought she’d kept him caged. That he was hers because he stayed.

But he’d made the cage comfortable on purpose. A place she could return to. A place where he waited – steady and knowing while she convinced herself she still had control.

She hadn’t just let him in. She’d brought him in. Offered him a place beneath her skin, behind her rules, inside the one part of her that had always been off-limits: her certainty.

Let herself feel safe. Special. Wanted.

And that— That was his favourite part.

Some said the glass had always been two-way. That he recorded her confessions. Her trembling. Her moans. Played them back while she slept, whispering memories back into her own body like lullabies dressed in shame.

Others said it was worse, That she’d let him out. Just once. Just for a moment.

A moment of real touch. Of breath. Of whispered ruin traced down the curve of her throat with lips she should’ve never let near her.

And now?

Now the cell was empty.

She sat alone in the chair where he’d once waited, still warm from the last time she’d crossed every line that mattered. The same position. The same table. The same silence. But now, it rang hollow.

The cuffs she’d undone herself had left a faint ache around her wrists. Not from force but from memory. From the weight of choosing him. Again and again.

The glass in front of her was smudged with fingerprints, her fingerprints like a ghost pressed into the room. A history written in oil and breath.

And there it was. A folded piece of paper left behind. Crisp. Precise. Neat handwriting. No signature.

Just one sentence:

“Don’t let me out… unless you’re ready to be mine.”

And she had.

God help her, she had been ready. Too ready.

Had opened the door not with ignorance but with something worse. Hope.

And now?

Now he was gone.

No alarms. No breach. No noise at all. Just absence, echoing like a verdict.

But he’d left a part of himself behind. Inside her. In her breath. Her memory. Her rules rewritten in his voice.

She thought she could close the door again. Thought she could sit still, go silent, play penance in his place.

But Terry Richmond didn’t need walls to haunt a woman. He didn’t need chains to keep her his.

She’d given him the key. She’d let him in. And now, even in his absence…

He was everywhere.

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