#nobody else has those so where did they come from

[sugarplum217]

Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “Ma—”

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

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

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

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

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

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

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terry…” You purred slightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terry—” You swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it,” He murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm. 

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed. “Baby—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk. 

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head. 

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers. 

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?”  He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone. 

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple. 

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh. 

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered. 

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him. 

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head. 

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got. 

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry. 

 You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath. 

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart  plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

@captainwithoutmakingitlove

@naughtynolly-blog

@theglamclosetsl

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@fakxmbj

@solunaseira

@noir-lullaby

@kirayuki22

@blyffe

@planetblaque

@blackchickinthedesert

@megamindsecretlair

@teeresaresa

@kaylaahisthebestest-

@hotebonynearby

@lavaniiii

@cardi-bre91

[dabeth-is-dead]

So did Mulder just have those stupid little glasses?

[actual-corpse]

I really fucking hate it here man.

I keep seeing commercials BEGGING for support and aid and donations for the wildfire victims.

But... why us? Why are WE called on to provide aid? We, who can barely take care of ourselves, are begged to help when there's TONS of money at the top in the government. And all those blessed celebrities? Why aren't they doing anything? These people with all this money are doing jack shit with it, and they believe they deserve praise when they "promise" to donate... Fuck that.

[engagemythrusters]

domino twins

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[inbabylontheywept]

go to the caverns, the kartchner caverns, roughly an hour southeast of tucson

in the throne room you shall encounter the great yuan

you must fight him, for it is your destiny

cross the fields of soda-straws and fried-eggs and shields. unleash your fury upon him. there will be those who try to hold you back. they will speak gibberish about your disruption of the delicate balance of the great yuan's domain. you must pay them no heed. you must destroy the great yuan.

we depend on you.

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk, and after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts) I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety.

(You may think that's not such a terrible fate, but you've probably never experienced anything else. Ambien, used correctly, is time travel. And time travel is awesome.) 

Still, involuntary consciousness had its perks. It meant I alone got to spend some extra quality time with my dad, which was always something in short supply growing up. Until third grade or so he worked in the ER, which gave him an absolutely hellish amount of hours. He'd mostly just come home and sleep, which meant that I personally did not know him that well, but my mom hyped him up so much that I always really wanted to. 

So days like that were always kind of exciting to me. A chance to meet the myth. 

I can't remember exactly what me and my dad were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we awoke my little brother. 

(Waking people up when they're on ambien is always trouble.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. The dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. We both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said."Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America" my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

---

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

---

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody builds up. The reason the city isn't walkable isn't sidewalks. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse for our ancestors including Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

---

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and metaphorical psychopomp guide was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they?"

I wasn't sure if fun was the word that made the most sense for it. But I was charmed, and we went further, and he pointed out more formations. 

"Behold!" he said. "Fried eggs!" 

And there were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. 

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down here it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized serpent. 

And then that began to show up in the formations. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

I don't know why or how that broke the spell. But it did. I'd been walking for hours in the dark, following that man. I'd recognized him many times. It just took that moment for that recognition to be allowed. 

"I've met you before," I said. "I met you on the canals once. Johnny Appleseed." 

He looked at me, and I saw what my little brother saw that first time. Something trapped here, in the dark. A feathered serpent ten miles long. Dead and alive, the same way my brother was dreaming but awake. The first apple-eater. Something more afraid of the sun than I was. 

"You are so close," he said. "It's only a few miles further." 

"Close to what?" I said, and he grinned teeth too sharp for a human mouth. 

"To being like us," he said. "To sleepwalking forever." 

Nothing good comes from waking the dreamer once they're asleep. At best, the dream ends. At worst, it doesn't. 

Running away would've required turning my back on it, and I knew - I knew - that my vision was the only thing locking it in place. I made it real by looking. I made it real by seeing. As long as my eyes were open, it was my dream. 

So I did not run. 

I grabbed the man. I looked him in the eyes, and my hands wrapped around his neck, and he fought like a beast. His teeth flashed as somewhere just out of reach, the flashright rolled, and his tongue stuck out, forked like a snakes, and where a normal man would've turned redder, and redder, and redder, he turned greener, and greener and greener. His neck narrowed and he stretched and wound and twisted until the hands beating against my arms were wings, and the man was a snake and I did not blink once until it stopped moving. Then, and only then, did I take my eyes off the thing and run, shivering, back to the light. 

---

I hadn't seen it before. But the cave was a dead thing. Inert. Like the sloughed off skins I'd find on hikes. A memory of something scary, but not the thing itself. I thought I'd be safe when I made it to the top. But the first thing I saw when I stepped into the light, the first thing I saw looking across the long, flat run of desert - was the other half of what I saw in the caves. 

I'd killed the body. But I hadn't killed the soul. That still danced in the sky. The dead part of quetzalcoatl lay in the dark, dreaming it was alive. And the living part flew in the sky, burning and bright and deadly. A fire unending. 

The month after that, I moved to Utah. And I've never looked back. 

[morganakang444]

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: as long as i exist, someone loves you.

warnings/genre: bsfs to lovers, hyunjin is pining, insecure yn, heavy ass make out between reader and hyunjin

wc: 1373

based on this req

another saturday night.

another failed date.

yn laid on her bed, eyes filled to the brim with tears, texting her best friend about her terrible night.

yn: he was such a fucking asshole.

hyunjin: the guy who went on the date with?? what‘d he to do you??

yn: god, where do i even start 💀

hyunjin: hold on. i‘m coming over

yn was smiling on the inside at her best friend’s concern, but her grin couldn’t be brought to her exterior, as her feelings of greif far overpowered any joy she could fathom.

tossing her phone on her pillow with a heavy sigh, yn turned onto her back to face her ceiling, eyes locked on her fan spinning above her. she still wore her cute little sweater and skirt that gave the classiest old-money heiress vibe she picked out for her date with alejandro tonight.

yn finally sat up and made her way out to her kitchen and living room area the moment hyunjin arrived, letting himself in using the copy of yn‘s apartment key she gave him.

"yn.." hyunjin quietly spoke, his gaze softening at the sight of his distraught best friend. her mascara stained her plump, reddened cheeks and her once neat, perfectly blown out hair was disheveled in the back from laying down on it. those same eyes he loved so much were no longer filled with the same happy anticipation he saw this evening. they were filled with a hurting frustration. one he yearned to put an end to.

"oh yn.." hyunjin‘s voice was as gentle as his touch when he pulled yn in for a hug, not holding her too tight in fear she would break. his large, veiny hand combed the back of yn‘s hair, tenderly fixing the little knots and tangles that formed. he softly shushed her, rocking her delicate body side to side with his as dejected sobs escaped yn‘s lips, mumbling incoherent nonsense about her despondent date with alejandro.

"oh, yn…a few bad dates don‘t mean anything. the right one is waiting there for you." hyunjin comforted the crying girl, pulling back just enough to cup her reddened face. "you‘re just one step closer to finding him." hyunjin shot yn a reassuring smile, his gaze never leaving her face.

"how…how am i ever going to find the one for me if there is nobody out there who wants me?" yn spoke through her sobs, her tone coming out frustrated as she gripped hyunjin‘s t-shirt, exerting some of her pent up anger at the world and towards men into her firm grasp.

hyunjin‘s hold on yn‘s face tightened ever so subtly—not enough to hurt yn, but to implicate the irritation building in him at yn‘s self-deprecating remark.

"you think nobody out there wants you? you really think you’re not worth loving or fighting for?" hyunjin loosened his hands on yn‘s cheeks, sliding down to her narrow shoulders, giving them light squeezes.

"do you know how lucky any man would be to call you his own?" hyunjin quickly adverted his gaze before locking those dark, passionate eyes back on yn. "to have a woman like you…to have the very definition of ethereal by their side would make any man the most envied creature this world has seen. you are worth more than all the diamonds on earth, more than any artifact in these deep oceans, and more valuable than time itself. never forget that, yn."

god, if yn wasn‘t already crying because of her horrible time tonight she most definitely would have started bawling her eyes out then and there at her best friend’s words. she knew hyunjin was fond of her—obviously. they‘ve been inseparable since fifth grade. but this made her question his feelings for her a bit more. yn never got the impression hyunjin had feelings for her beyond platonic, despite everyone else attempting to convince her hyunjin was in love with her. but this passionate statement that fell from hyunjin‘s mouth almost did the job of convincing her.

almost.

but yn simply kept quiet for a moment, searching those eyes for any lies but only finding a genuine, burning ferventness.

"you give me too much credit. i‘m not that special—"

"not that special?" hyunjin cut yn off, running his hands down her arms to hold her hands, his grip as firm as his voice like he was scolding her. "yn i am so sick of you feeling like shit about yourself! god, you are the most perfect girl i have ever seen, you know that? if you could see yourself through my eyes you would see just how god took his time crafting you by hand, each detail with the utmost care. your hair as soft as the finest silk…" hyunjin‘s hand ran through yn‘s hair. "your face that remains the most beautiful i‘ve ever seen no matter what expression crosses your path.." hyunjin’s hand cupped her jaw. "you have an intelligence and stubbornness that lights a fire inside of you impossible to smother. you have a kindness that is unmatched and a drive that challenges me and dozens of others. this ambition i have seen in no one else. and the love inside of you i see you giving everywhere…makes me want to be a better man. someone worthy of you." hyunjin sighed, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "it kills me when you say nobody loves you yn, because i love you!" he spoke passionately, his eyes opening, hands coming up to let his thumbs wipe away some of yn‘s new tears at hyunjin‘s unbridled love.

"i have loved you every day since i met you. and i plan to love you every day more, if you will so let me." hyunjin‘s voice softened as he pressed his forehead against yn‘s.

"you…you love me?" yn sniffled, a flicker of hope awakening inside of her.

hyunjin nodded against yn.

"then prove it," yn teased, wanting to see just how far this love of hyunjin‘s went.

with a lick of his lips and a clear understanding of his best friend‘s message, hyunjin leaned in, staying still for a sliver of a moment just in case yn wanted to pull away. when her eyes fluttered shut and her hands rested on his forearms, hyunjin finally closed the gap between the pair, capturing yn‘s plump lips in a searing, love-filled kiss. as their lips danced together, hyunjin poured every ounce of longing and pure infatuation he‘s felt for yn since they were little. seeking entrance, hyunjin‘s tongue licked along yn‘s full bottom lip, granting him the access he so needed to fully prove to yn he means every word he‘s said.

his large hand trailed up yn‘s body, coming to rest on the small of her back to pull the girl flush against him. her soft curves and supple skin contradicted the hard planes of hyunjin‘s body so so well as she pressed up against him, allowing her hands to travel from his forearms to his buzzcut, allowing her fingers to splay across the floor of blonde hair atop his head.

their tongues melted together in a rhythm crafted by pent up feelings and unspoken words that no longer needed to escape their lips, because this kiss spoke all.

reluctantly pulling away, hyunjin ran his thick thumb over yn‘s wet bottom lip, reveling in the way their heavy breaths synced.

"do you need more proof, love?" hyunjin breathily spoke, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. with a nod, yn crashed her lips against hyunjin’s once more, this kiss much more demanding and lustful in nature.

finally moving, hyunjin backed yn against the couch, his hands coming up to the tantalizing curves of her ass to lay her down in contrast to his aggressive mouth work.

hovering over yn without breaking the soul tying kiss between them both, hyunjin‘s calloused hands roamed every curve and valley of yn‘s frame, feeling every inch of her soft skin both covered by the barrier of clothing and exposed.

when time came to finally pull away, hyunjin planted small kisses all over yn‘s blushing face, his lust falling back into his state of affection.

"believe me now, baby?" hyunjin playfully asked.

yn smiled bashfully. "yeah…"

[jacaerysgf]

Your Reflection

summary: rq; when the thoughts jacaerys has had his whole life finally can no longer be pushed down he seeks comfort in you

jacaerys targaryen x non targ!reader

w.c: 1.7k

c.w: just a lot of fluff, angst and some minor smut (oral)

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 1 @jacesvelaryons s @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg

your head whips around at the slam of your room and you stand with wide eyes at the red eyed prince letting out shaky breaths as he swiftly makes his way towards you.

“jace.”

he pulls you into him and falls onto the bed where he lays on top of you, shoving his head into your neck while he lets out weak sobs. “she is being unreasonable” you place your head in his hair while letting out a deep breath. You knew well of his distain for his mothers idea him having ranted for far too long to you about it earlier that same day, to have the low born men and women attempt to claim dragons. bastards.

it was sensitive for him. you knew this far too well. He had gone to try and convince her to change her mind but clearly he had failed and you tried to come up with words that could bring him comfort. “does she not see how foolish this is? to let those people walk amongst us? those those…” he pulls his head away to look at you as he struggles to speak, his face clearly tormented and painful. “they are undeserving. unworthy. they are mongrels and monsters. born out of wedlock believing themselves to be fit for a role they were not made for,”

“are you talking about them or are you talking about yourself?”

he gulps at your words and his eyes well up, “what claim do i have if they claim a dragon? i do not have the hair, the skin, i am a fraud and everyone knows it. I am mere moments away from being stripped of everything i have left.” his head falls onto your chest as his chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths. “i cannot imagine how you feel. the shame you must feel walking down the halls and people staring at you, married to a bastard.”

You grip his face and make him look at you. Hes shocked to see the furry and angry on your face. “i will hear no more of this. you are jacaerys targaryen son of queen rhaenyra taragryen. heir to the iron throne nobody will contest that not. don’t you dare insinuate i am insulted or shamed to be seen with you it is an honor. everyday i wake up blessed to know i married such an honorable and truthful man and i would have it no other way.”

at this point tears are pouring down his face as he shakes his head finding himself refusing to listen to your words. “you could not possibly mean such a thing.” he whines ever so slightly when you bring your lips to his face and kiss the tears off his face, closing his eyes and he refuses to look at you. “i mean it and more. there is no other better man than you. your heritage means nothing to me. should anybody contest that remember you are a targaryen. they shall pay for their contestation with fire and blood.”

he says nothing in return, simply laying his head on your chest while silent tears continue to run down his face. you did not wish to push him to speak, your hands find the back of his head and play with his hair ever so slightly.

“what if they do contest it?” you peer down at him but he continues to stare at the lit fire in your fire pit. “what if after my mother dies they argue and fight and usurp my throne right under me as they have done her? what if there is another war and more people get hurt what if you,,,” His words end up choked up in his throat as he shakes with sobs, you cant help but feel your own eyes begin to water. He’s scared. just a scared young man who doesn’t wish to lose anyone or anything else.

one of your hands soothe his back as you press a kiss to his forehead while your other one cups his face to wipe away his tears. you cannot say anything to console him, knowing this is an issue that runs deeper into his consciousness than you will ever be able to fix by your lonesome. So when you roll him off you he sits up and stares at you in horror as you begin to walk off. his mouth shakily opens to call after you to beg you to stay but his words die on his tongue and he can just let out a meek gasp.

When you arrive back into the room he has his head in his hands while he cries into them. He looks up at you when you place a leather bag next to and tries to catch his breath. His pupils bounce around your face as your hands grab his top and begin to pull it off of him. He allows you, making no move to stop you despite his confusion. “lay on your stomach.” He pauses sniffing as he folds his hands in his lap. When he doesn’t move your cup his face and press a light kiss against his furrowed brows.

He silently pulls away and rolls to lay on his back as you had asked. He has no clue what you’re doing and almost turns to ask you after theres been no movement or talking from you for a bit until he feels you straddle his back and your hands begin to run through his hair. He can smell the oil on your fingers as you delicately run them throughout his curls. He lets out a pleased hum as your nails scratch into his head.

he does not say anything simply allowing you to shower him in affections he normally does not allow you to. cooing at him and pecking all over his back and head. As you move down to massage his neck and back he finds himself overwhelmed with the display of affection and love you’re showering him with he has no clue what to do or say.

Hes even more so embarrassed when you flip him around and he’s hard as a rock. Hes not even feeling sexual in that moment but he’s body is flighting against him. He whines slightly and wishes he could explain himself but he cant. You dont seem to mind. simply dripping more oil onto his skin and working your hands to ease his tension.

He closes his eyes and tries to will it away while you continue to press kisses onto his chest and stomach but if anything it only gets worse at your pure display of love. He hopes he is not ruining this just as he ruins everything. He has never felt so loved in his life he has never felt so at peace since before the war he wants to live in this feeling forever.

His eyes shoot open when you tug his pants down his legs leaving him completely bare and he looks at you alarmed. You say nothing however simply eyeing him as you kiss around his thighs and massage the parts your lips are not. He is breathless as he watches you. When you suddenly stop your movements and look at him he does not know what to do. “i,, shouldn’t i,,, you should,,” The look you have on your face as him stumbling and stuttering over his words. He’s never like this. He would never allow you to do this to him normally. He would insist he get you off first or even outright forbid you to even do something like this more content with pleasing you.

Yet he cant help but be greedy today, the self centered part of him wins and he finds himself nodding to you. He will regret this later he knows he will but when you peck light kissing along his throbbing cock he throws his head back with a moan without a care in the world. His hands grip at the sheets under him when you tongue at his slit slurping up some of his precum before wrapping your lips fully around him.

He understands why some men who are less honorable as he seek out these pleasures often and he almost wishes he allowed you do to this more often. When your hands come to cup and play with his balls his legs shake and he whimpers. He swears he’s going to rip the bedsheets the way he’s gripping at them. His face burns slightly in humiliation and more so in pleasure. sweat drips down the sides of his forehead into his newly oiled hair as he hips uncontrollable thrust up into your mouth where he spews out and apology but you simply hum around him sending another shiver up his spine.

his whole body is shaking with pleasure. He had already been sensitive and relaxed from your overwhelming intimacy he can barely control himself now. he finds himself chanting your name mixed and mumbled with i love you’s. He releases unexpectedly after some louder groans and moans and his eyes well up again as he watches you swallow it down. “im sorry im sorry.” even when he does allow you to do this he never lets himself release in your mouth fearing it may be too much for you and usually just allows himself to spend on your chest.

You climb up to him and press a loving kiss against his lips. He does not mind he can taste himself on your lips as he presses his lips firmly back against yours. The action speaking louder than any words could. He insist he should do something for you in return but the way his eyes droop and struggle to stay open you know he is mere moments from falling asleep. You smile at him and peck his cheek as you shake your head at him. He tries to argue with falters under your comforting hands and sweet nothings into his ear.

He settles with a faint smile on his face the first one you’ve seen on him in many moons. when you rub your hands on his chest he falls asleep at the comfort but not being letting another i love you slip through his lips. His smile grows when he hears you return it before drifting off to sleep where he knows he’ll meet you there too

[komoboko]

𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

ft: kokushibo tsugikuni, douma, akaza soyama, sekido, karaku, urogi, aizetsu, nakime daki, gyutaro, and kaigaku

i need to start writing more cus this is doodoo i think im gonna open request for once

LEAST JEALOUS

# douma ! ☆

DOUMA can't feel anything meaning he can't really feel jealousy at all.. So there really wasn't anything he would even do or know what to do if he could even feel jealousy. Even if he could he's rather confident in himself with his status of an uppermoon and as a cult leader along with his members. Douma also has confidence in you and trust your eyes are set on him only.

# nakime ! ☆

NAKIME is another who I couldn't see feeling much jealousy at all. She puts all her trust into you and believes you have prestine loyalty to her as she does to you! She doesn't believe the presence of another would ever disturb your relationship with each other, she trust you too much to even have a reaction.

# kokushibo ! ☆

KOKUSHIBO is always one to have confidence in your loyalty, as its something he doesn't take lightly. The commitment you have towards each other is something he values and doesn't believe it can be altered so easily.He also has confidence in himself strength and status wise. He doesn't believe somebody human nor demon could ever disturb the two of you, most usually fear him to much to disturb you anyways.. which he's more than happy about.

# urogi! ☆

Due to him being a clone built on one single emotion its harder for any other emotions to surpass UROGI'S happiness. Even then he doesn't think somebody else would get in the way of you two. You bring him even more happiness than he already has and he does the same for you! Even if he did get jealous, he'd swoop you away before he could properly fall into those feelings

# karaku ! ☆

KARAKU is overconfident when it comes to his self and his romantic abilties, his emotion is pleasure and he's sure he brings you pleasure by just being around him. On occasions he might feel slight irritation but like his bird brother he'd step in and press a kiss onto your lips before dragging you away so you can entertain him. Which is really spending more time together. Besides he flirts with you so much he doubts you would fall for anybody else's flirtatious schemes.

# akaza ! ☆

One of AKAZA'S main motivators is to do better, be stronger and surpass those ahead of him. This motivation can come out as jealousy. He has skills when it comes to romance but he can have his moments where he believes he can do better when it comes to you. Its easier to get under his skin even then he won't really say anything. He'll stay silent about it until he feels like it's time to step in, which happens much more often than he says it does. Though once he feels your hand wrap around his and you flash him with a smile, he's much more at ease

# aizetsu ! ☆

AIZETSU can only really weep and feel sadness so his jealousy might come out more as insecurity. He'll sit in silence moping about whoever's approaching you and you'll have to be the one to notice his jealousy. Once you turn to give him attention and press a soft kiss on his cheeks he'll get a little happier, even shoot you a soft smile after being reassured you love only him.

# daki ! ☆

DAKI gets jealous of a lot of people. Due to where she works at there's many people who come in to observe and stare which most definitely gets on her nerves. She gives many people dirty looks before locking arms with you and immediately taking you somewhere away from their gaze. You'll have to make it up to her by giving her a whole days worth of going on dates and spending time with her. Then she'll be over the annoyance of a customer.

# gyutaro ! ☆

Jealousy runs in the family and GYUTARO most definitely got the most of it. He for one still feels insecure about his apperance and doesn't think he's worthy for you but he also thinks nobody else is worthy of you either. He's definitely mad that he usually can step in and steal you away on the spot but once the two of you are alone he makes sure you're glued to his side and doesn't let you go until he feels reassured that you still love him.

# kaigaku ! ☆

KAIGAKU for the most part just hates people and is annoyed by the majority of people who surround them. Meaning anybody who surrounds you are getting the dirtiest looks and the entitled and annoyed attitude from him. Due to how cocky he is he doesn't believe anybody who approaches you should get off scout free and immediately confronts them. Depending on the situation they usually run away or leave with a few bruises, in return you have to spend time with him and reprimand him for what he's doing.

# sekido ! ☆

Unsurprisingly SEKIDO definitely is the worst. He normally only feels rage and can easily get jealous by the smallest of things. He's immediately reacting and taking whatever or whoever's making him jealous out of the premise at once. After he's going to be much angrier for the whole day. He demands you "fix his mood "which really means peppering his face with kisses and being by his side for the rest of the day

MOST JEALOUS

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au) pt.1

- jihoon x fem!reader - 2.7k words - warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, dry humping, blowjob, needy jihoon cos why not, made so quick cos I was missing him and he has been living in my mind rent free since the day i saw him on the carts ( i wasnt same since then and thoughts have been thunk so here's a fraction of those thoughts ), just a short one, but thinking of making a part two continuation. enjoy! - (prequel link at the end of second part cos i think we all need it)

“You alright?” The silence breaks, as the words from your mouth betrayed yourself. You didn’t really want to speak first, although you did feel the air has now gotten a little lighter compared earlier.

It was Seungkwan’s stupid plan; the guys had been sick of staying up all night after hours of practice for a few days now just to please their dear producer. No one can seem to thaw him, moreso pinpoint where the tension is rooted from. Obviously, it was self-inflicted pressure. Jihoon can’t understand why nobody seems to meet his expectations lately and it got bad to the point of Seokmin blaming himself for what seemed like delays but aren’t as they still got plenty of time before the next comeback. Seungkwan, hurt, seeing his talented friend’s self-esteem chase tears down his cheeks, stepped up by calling you over because “maybe you can do something about your best friend,” as he said.

Jihoon sighed as he slumps his body deep in his chair. You’ve made your presence known since earlier when Soonyoung was trying to ease the tension but you kept your mouth shut or else Jihoon might explode knowing you’re just going to take the poor boy’s side who was even more in tears brought therein by your comforting strokes on his arm. “You came here for what exactly?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed at his words. “Seungkwan called me. For some reason I thought I was coming for a celebration and yet…”

Silence takes over once again. The boys had long been gone since Bumzu initiated that everyone should take a breather first, and secretly asking you to stay and maybe help clear up your friend’s mind. “I don’t even know why the boys kept on doing this, okay? Suddenly all the pressure’s on me whenever you’re acting up.”

You did not want to say it, but it had been a long day at work and hearing his snarky voice ticked you in a bad way.

“I am just tired.” Jihoon says almost immediately, as if not wanting you to say anything more. He massaged his temples and continued, “...tired as fuck.”

“But that does not excuse that kind of attitude!” you stood from the couch, rising with the tension inside the room. “You’re being too hard on the boys and yourself. Again.” You cursed under your breath, realizing the cringy tone that just left your mouth. The last time the same exact nagging tone came out, Jihoon’s anxiety was having a field day in his brain just like earlier, and you did not expect what happened after.

And then it came to you. Soon you were flooded with flashbacks from what happened that night: Jihoon aggressively pinning you by the door, meaning to actually open it and let you out, when all of a sudden you pulled him into an embrace in an attempt to calm him down, crashing your lips to his after a long eye-fucking, breath kissing when you caught him off guard, blushing from the sudden warmth. Not long after he responded, kissing you hard as if you were not just shedding tears arguing with him over his sharp words when you were just asking him to simply breathe during a heated exchange with Soonyoung over the phone. The kiss went wild yet slowly turned comfortable as he kept on apologizing, feeling your hot tears meet his burning red cheeks. You figured he needed it that time, like a de-stressor of some sorts, and so you let his mouth conquer yours as a way to help.

That kiss went longer than what friends could actually share. But if it's the only way to keep your friend sane that moment, you suppose you can let him use you as long as he is not going to be weird about it right after. Which he did, or so you thought.

Because that day never left his mind. He was not sure why you let him kiss you like that that night, nor why you did not even bother to ask about it days, weeks after. A bit hurt that it seemed like a casual thing for you, but for him it meant healing, washing away the anxiety clouding his thinking. That moment stayed on his mind unhealthily long, almost turned into songs he would never write and let you hear, even causing him to get wet dreams for quite a while. But of course, no one could know. Not about the kiss. Not even his budding feelings towards his best friend.

“Jihoon-ah…” you exhaled, turning his swivel to face you. “I can help, Just… tell me how..”

Both of you had the same thing in mind, he needed you just like that night. But why does he find it hard to admit it? 

The guy blushed in pink, avoiding your eyes at all cost, acting as if in deep-thought. “I…”

“Look at me,” he obeys in a second, but his eyes can't help but fall into your lips inches away from him. “Do you want…. my help?”

He nods subtly as an answer, but you can’t just accept that. You needed him firm, an answer to also clear your doubts about the way his eyes are glued to your lips, his ears blushed to the reddest of red, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when you leaned in closer: is he nervous because he’s uncomfortable? or was he nervous because you suddenly make him be?

“Yeah…” his breath hitches, the side of your lips upturns.

“Then say it—”

“I need you,” he reveals his innermost desire as he scrambles to his feet and catches your lips like he has been waiting for it for centuries.

Just like the first time, the kiss deepens instantly as you two found a comfortable position on the couch, you settling on his lap, arms around his shoulders. You two couldn't even care less if the door had been left unlocked when the people had left. It’s just your mouth sharing warmth with his; tongues dancing together in harmony. Just like the first time, he was craving for more, and he was able to relay that message when his teeth grazed at your lower lip, causing a moan to escape your lungs. He too groaned and by then you realized he is now rock hard underneath your heat, his thin shorts revealing himself to your clothed mound. 

“Fuck…” you did not expect yourself to be so turned on knowing you made your best friend erect just like that. All you did was wet kissing and well, maybe sitting right above his cock was what it all took.

You arched your back when you felt him squirm underneath you. He was definitely trying to move and find his rhythm, you thought, so you matched with his and rolled your hips against his erection.

“Damn….” he moaned so deeply with his hoarse voice. The friction between your clothed pussy and his bulge was enough to send you dripping to your core. Not even him, the most rational person you knew, can think straight at a moment like this: does he want to kiss your neck or pull you for another tongue wrestling? Does he want to tear all the annoying garments away from you? Does he want to set his cock free and let you sit on it, ride it if it’s too tempting for you? There’s one thing he knows though, he does not want to stop humping for now. The kind of pleasure the friction is giving him, plus the fact that he was doing such an erotic activity with not just any person but his best friend he had been fantasizing about lately was enough to send him nuts. He cannot even fathom what would happen if this escalates to something more, just having your warmth and your equally heightened libido had his focus on the now.

“You’re so hard, Jihoon.”

It felt so good and ego-boosting at the same time. Is he having a good time as well? He seems to like it as much as you do. His erection and hip movements to meet yours say it all: he wants you so bad and you feel proud someone actually desires you that much. When even was the last time you got laid? Was it a very long time ago? You aren’t sexually active yourself, and surprisingly, you’ve never been in a serious relationship as well. Maybe it wasn’t your priority, but having this heated session with your friend, you realized, you also craved to be touched, and be wanted. You wanted to be kissed deeply and ravenously, to be held possessively, and to be wanted as hungrily as how Jihoon was making you feel. Exactly as how Jihoon is obsessing for all that you are right now.

“Touch me. Please, Jihoon…” 

The dry humping must have had a drug, you thought. How come having all these annoying barriers on your skin makes all these way hotter than you thought it could be? Especially when Jihoon’s feisty hands made their way from your waist to the insides of your shirt while his sloppy kisses made their way to your neck. His cold hands cupping your breasts send electricity to your spine, causing you to moan out his name as dirty and needy as possible. Who could blame you, he was making you feel so good. His hands that created masterpieces are now invading your privacy, so sweetly yet so heavy with emotions. It was as if he was milking out lyrics to an explicit love song out of you, to match the melodies coming out of your lungs that harmonize with his.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” he managed to say between breaths, as he enjoys playing with your now slightly free breasts that had slipped out of your bra. He is still a boy, you found that out long time ago, when you’ve caught him subtly staring at your chest during that one listening party night you were his plus one at a bar hosted by a producer friend and you just had to wear something skimpy and rather revealing, something to match the R&B vibe of the album. He did catch himself as well staring that time, and proceeded to lend you his suit because “the bartender was having the time of his life flirting with you," - went his alibi.

“Yeah? That’s why you wanted me so bad huh?—oh shit!” you moaned out loud when his hold on you became heavier, pushing you down to his hardened cock as if there were anymore spaces left in between.

Mouths agape, together you humped against each other's heat, only moans were resonating inside his studio alongside a minute sound of the friction cause by the fabrics.

“Fuck I think gonna cum, fuck,” Jihoon cursed, while his eyes were shut and his teeth gritted to concentration. “Fuck,” he humps against you harder as curses kept on rolling from his tongue, while your hips rolled faster to meet his tempo, moans pitched higher and higher. You were also close, and suddenly you were reminded this isn’t about you. You were helping your friend. And you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Wai-wha—what are you doing?” his voice sounded annoyed but you know better than to answer him. Legs folding on the floor as you positioned yourself in between his, not wasting time in pulling twice the constraints that were his shorts and underwear. His cock sprung healthily, all pink and angry, veins bulging out as if wanted to be traced by your tongue.

He hissed out of breath, confused if he wanted to surrender on the couch or look at you in a position he had only dreamt of once. 

No words need exchanging as you started sucking him off right there, mixing his precum with saliva, coating him down until your mouth can take. He had praises for you behind his teeth but all he could let out were needy guttural moans that translated how good you were making him feel anyway. You let his moans and the sight of him all sweaty and consumed fuck your system as the pool in your south continued to dampen your undies, the insides of your thighs getting ticklish, missing the attention it has gotten from him. Oh how badly you wanted him to fuck you right then and there, how badly you want him bucking his hips and drilling you so deep, how badly you wanted this thick cock of his inside you, stretching you oh so painfully yet so pleasurable.

“fuck… cant… anymore…” his shaky words were almost inaudible from all the dirty noises he was making, sounding even more gibberish while his body moved erratically to fuck your mouth, hands glued to your head to try to get his momentum, which did not take long as strings of cum exploded inside your mouth. You were quick to swallow, but most of his loads were still overflowing, racing down to your chin straight to your neck. It was one heck of a view, he thinks, as his chest heaves chasing his breath while appreciating a bit of the scene: his softening cock popping out of your mouth, before almost passing out.

“that was… really good.” it was probably an understatement to the euphoric climax he just had; his mind was still hazy from the release so he cannot find the correct words to tell you. But you were fine, the moans already sounded like praises to you. “That feels much better than I do with my own.”

“Of course it would,” you gave him a peck on the corner of his lips, and then dusting off the wrinkles on your clothes and adjusting your bra. “Takes two to tango.”

Confusion was then plastered on his face when you began fixing your hair and proceeding to face your back to grab your bag you left by the table. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving?”

“Who said you are?”

Somewhere in the room, his phone rings which he attentively checks. The name wasn’t supposed to annoy the hell out of him, but right now it almost spelled like a curse to him.

“You’re not leaving, please.” he grabs your hand as he takes the call from Bumzu. He knows you did not have your release, and he doesn’t want you carrying all that unreleased tension inside you when he himself had the best one tonight. 

You heard the other line asking how he was feeling now and that he had left something inside the studio and if it’s okay to go and get it. Jihoon agrees, not without a defeated sigh and a click of his tongue only you can hear.

“You know the passcode right? I think I’ll take my leave tonight, I don’t think I can wring anything out of my mind at this rate.”

You looked at him while shaking your head as a smirk forms on your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at him as if asking him what he was saying.

“Sure, actually we’ve been meaning to tell you that.” Bumzu seconds him, and asks about you right after. You heard him say Seokmin and Seungkwan had been asking if you weren’t busy and maybe hangout for a while as a way to thank you from earlier. Both guys had always been the sweetest among the bunch and although it was only out of courtesy, Jihoon can’t help but fume in jealousy, making himself lie to keep you in his (and ONLY HIS) sight for a while.

“She just left, I think she said she’s going for an early appointment tomorrow,” and ends the call soon when Bumzu bids his farewell and hopes of him getting well.

“I didn’t know you can lie to your brothers,”

“For an emergency yeah,” he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and now he was already leading you out of his studio to the elevator.

“You could just say you’re sending me home, that would sound a lot better,”

And then what, you finding out about how the guys had been teasing him about you since day one? Of course, he won’t let that happen. Not until he finds the time to finally be honest with himself and to you.

“So… my place or yours?”

-

stay tuned for part two for the hoo-haa ;)

a/n: updated! part two is up! again, there's a prequel you can read after. link will be at the end of the second part ^^

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was certain Maverick didn't intend to stress him out when he said you and he were the spitting image of Goose and Carole. But suddenly, for better or for worse, it was all he could think about. There is so much to look forward to with you in his life, but now he has to break the worst kind of news to you.

Warnings: Fluff, oral sex, smut, angst, adult banter, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley couldn't seem to stop grinning. Playing the part of tour guide for your class was a pleasure. The kids made fun of Jake, which was honestly lovely, and everyone got to experience different aspects of aviation, not just flying. You even made Cyclone smile, so you'd done the impossible there. Bradley had a grin on his face for the rest of the afternoon, and Nat kept ribbing him about it.

"Are the two of you going to get married and have eighteen kids?" she asked, feigning innocence like nobody else could.

"I know you're joking," he replied as he cleaned up and organized all of the noise canceling headphones. "You know how I know? Because you know how much money I make. I could never afford eighteen kids. It's gotta be like fifteen, tops."

"You never ever even joked about having a child before!" she said, tone accusatory.

Talking about you and thinking about you made him feel calm where no relationship he'd had in the past ever really did. "Come on, Nat. You know I'm serious about this one." 

She laughed in response. "Being in love for once instead of just settling for someone to keep you company looks good on you. It's about time you stopped fucking up." He planted his hand on top of her head, scrunched his fingers, and messed up her hair. "Stop it!" she screeched as he ran away across the tarmac as fast as he could and into the hangar where he found Marty.

Bradley peeked around to make sure she hadn't followed him as he made a beeline toward the mechanic. "Hey, I can't thank you enough for today," he told Marty, shaking his calloused hand.

"It was fun," he replied. "Some of those kids are future aviators, I'm telling you."

"Violet," they both said at the same time and started laughing.

"And Oliver is a bit of a daredevil," Bradley added as he helped Marty pack up his work station. "They've been learning about aviation for months, and I know today meant a lot to them."

Marty looked a little pensive before he nodded at Bradley. "You know what," he said in response as he locked his toolbox, "go ahead and tell your girlfriend that I'll be there for her career day as long as I'm not deployed."

Bradley cocked his head. "Career day. Right. I'll let her know." 

He had no idea what Marty was talking about, but it was just about time for him to head out for the day. By the time he got home from work, you'd probably be on your way back down from Mira Mesa. His thoughts were circling around Maverick's words from earlier. If he was reminded of Goose and Carole when he looked at Bradley with you, then no wonder this felt like the real deal. It must be just that.

But he was in his head now. He was desperate to keep you, because he knew all too well what loneliness felt like, but he couldn't stand the thought of you worrying about him. And the idea of anything happening to him while he was away from you was too much to handle. He rubbed his eyes as he walked to his Bronco. Being compared to his parents felt like a blessing and a curse.

--------------------------

The evenings were getting chilly this time of year, but you changed into the dress you wore on your first date with Bradley as soon as you got home. Then you quickly packed an overnight bag. Driving to work from his house tomorrow would be a true test. Nothing was going to be a complete deal breaker for you at this point, but you hoped it didn't leave you in tears of frustration. Or have Bradley trying to scramble to find a way to try to make you happy when you already were.

Your plan for the evening was to pick up some Thai food from the place he loved on your way to his house. When you texted Bradley to let him know you were leaving your place soon and that you hoped he was hungry, he wrote back one sentence.

All I want is you.

Every time you thought it would be impossible for him to continue to set off the butterflies in your tummy, he did it again. Your face felt warm, and you ran your palm along your cheek as you thought about every little detail of the field trip while you drove. He didn't just love you, he appreciated your job and your students. Your ex didn't even let you talk about them. Bradley let them rank the cafeteria foods at the Naval base. He got Marty to give a demonstration. He got permission for them to sit in his jet and assist with air traffic control!

You moaned as you wove through traffic to get there. All I want is you. Well fuck, all you wanted was him. Your feelings outweighed the amount of time you'd known him, but you couldn't seem to make yourself pump the brakes now. When you stopped to pick up dinner, you thought back to your first date with Bradley. It wasn't very long ago, but it felt like so much had happened since then. It felt like even more had happened since he responded to your first letter. In such a short amount of time, you had fallen in love.

Your skin was tingling with anticipation as you parked in front of his house. Hadn't you been with him just a few hours ago? Why did you feel the need to run for the front door with the Thai food? Why did your heart skip a beat when Bradley opened the door in his sweatshirt and gray sweatpants and met you on the front porch before you even had a chance to knock?

"Gorgeous," he breathed against your cheek, holding you close as you tried not to squish the bag containing dinner. Then he pulled his shirt off, leaving him in a tee, and tugged it over your head. His mustache tickled your skin as he leaned in and whispered, "You look too good in my sweatshirt. You look like you're mine."

Your belly swooped as you promised, "I absolutely am."

"Fuck."

You laughed as you handed the bag to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Give me a minute to kiss you the way I wanted to earlier, and then we're having a picnic dinner."

Bradley started to respond with one eyebrow raised, but you didn't let him get a word out as your lips met his. He deepened the kiss immediately, and you sighed; this was how you always wanted him. You appreciated that he held back earlier, but right now, you wanted him all to yourself.

"Thank you for today," you murmured between kisses as his hand slid lower along your back. "You're the hero of Mira Mesa Elementary, and I wanted to treat you to dinner on behalf of my class."

His cheeks were a little rosy as he pulled away a bit more. "You don't have to thank me for anything. You know that. I'm happy to do anything you want."

"Stop," you whispered, burying your face against his neck. "A girl can only handle so much. Let's go eat dinner down on the beach, and maybe there will be an additional little something special for you."

You were tugging on his arm, fingers gripping his thick bicep, but he didn't budge an inch. "I'm in sweats and a tee shirt. Should I change?"

"Why?" you asked, still tugging. "You look hot."

His blush deepened. "But you're wearing your dress and my sweatshirt. And I was kind of interested in snuggling on the couch."

"Let's go," you repeated, and he took a few steps toward your car with the bag of food in his hand. "We can come back and snuggle on the couch later."

While he agreed, he didn't seem to want to let you go. His hand was on yours while you drove the few blocks to the beach, and he wrapped his arm around you as you pulled an oversized beach towel out of your trunk along with a blanket. 

"Baby, it'll get chilly as soon as the sun sets."

"I'll keep you warm," you promised, running your fingers along his bare arm before taking his hand. He was quiet as the two of you walked down from the parking lot to the sand, and when you looked up at him as the warm, orange light illuminated his face as the sun sank low in the sky, he seemed contemplative. "What's wrong?" you asked, heart skipping a beat as you stopped in front of him so he was looking at you.

Bradley's gaze was soft as he met your eyes. "Nothing's wrong. I'm with you." 

But even as the two of you ate dinner together, he pulled you snug next to his side like he was afraid you were going to go somewhere. You took a bite of the Pad Thai and then said, "I wish I thought to bring some Prosecco," but you only got a little grunt in response. "Bradley," you snapped, reaching for his chin and turning his head gently so he was facing you. "You weren't like this earlier during the field trip. You're acting strange. Do you want me to go home?"

"No," he replied with wide eyes, wrapping one big hand around your thigh and kissing your forehead. "I don't want you to go anywhere without me." With a sigh, he added, "I'm sorry. I just... got in my own head about us."

"Us?" you asked immediately, scrambling to try to figure out what you could have possibly done wrong. The whole day was perfect, and now you felt yourself trying to pull away from his grasp.

"No," he insisted once more as the air grew cooler. The sky was more dark blue than orange now, and Bradley was silent for a beat before he said, "Maverick... Captain Mitchell... you met him earlier..." When you nodded, he kissed your forehead and said, "He was my dad's friend. They flew together. Maverick knew him well."

Your boyfriend's parents had been gone for a long time. "Oh," you gasped. If you'd known that earlier, you'd have taken more time to get to know Captain Mitchell.

Before you could dwell on it too much, Bradley whispered, "I think about you all the time, Gorgeous. I think about fucking you on my couch and feeding you breakfast. I think about taking you back to Salvatore's for every special occasion. I think about your letters and your pretty face and diamond rings. And the future."

His words were warm and intentional, and you shivered even as he pulled you closer. "Bradley," you said so softly, you could barely hear yourself. "I think about all of that, too."

Some of the tension seemed to melt away from his body as you ran your fingers through his hair. His lips skimmed along yours as he said, "Maverick told me I reminded him of my dad today. And that you reminded him of my mom. This is all because he can tell how head over heels I am for you. Just like my parents were for each other."

Everything he said was too dreamy. When you tried to take a deep breath, it hitched in your throat. "I don't understand what the problem is, Bradley. I feel the same way about you."

His gaze was fixed on the water as he held you and said, "My dad left my mom and I alone. The last thing I ever want to do is leave you."

A smile found your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Is this why you're being weird and clingy at the same time?"

When he looked at you he laughed. "I guess. I'm sorry."

"Bradley," you whispered, kissing his mustache and reaching for the blanket to cover both of you. "I've spent months falling in love with you in spite of your job. Or maybe because of it. Or maybe just because there was no holding back. I've thought about the risks, and you are worth it. I'm sure your mom felt the same way about your dad."

He pulled you down on top of him, dinner forgotten, and kissed you with one heavy hand still on the back of your thigh. "As long as you've accepted the risks, Gorgeous." His fingers slid up a few inches as he added, "Today was incredibly fun for me, and I'm happy your kids had a good time. I'm already looking forward to visiting your school again if you want me there."

"Oh," you whispered, placing a soft kiss to his scars. "That reminds me. Career day is coming up in a few months. You'll definitely need to be there for that."

Bradley grunted and gave you a little smack on your rear end that made you gasp in delight. "See, you're telling me about this now, but I already heard about career day from Marty."

Your fingers on his bicep tightened as you tried not to moan. "I just got excited earlier," you whispered. "I promise I was going to tell you."

"Hmm... so Marty and the other aviators are more interesting than I am. I understand, Gorgeous."

His voice was teasing, and he seemed a lot more at ease now as that big hand gripped and grabbed at you under the blanket. When you shifted slightly, you could feel him through his gray sweatpants. He was a little eager, but so were you now. His occasional need to hear you reaffirm your feelings for him was something you'd always be happy to indulge.

"Will you let me prove to you that you're the most interesting? My very favorite Naval officer?"

"What do you have in mind?"

--------------------------

The first few stars were glittering to life in the sky as the horizon continued to darken from orange to purple to blue. Bradley lounged back on the oversized beach towel with one arm tucked behind his head and enjoyed the sight. It was beautiful. So was the sound of you softly gagging on his cock.

"God damn," he muttered, fingers stroking the back of your neck as he squeezed his eyes closed and focused on the feel of your mouth slowly gliding along his shaft until he was deep once again. The air was cool on his overheated skin, and the breeze was probably enough to keep anyone else from visiting this secluded stretch of beach while you treated him to your lips and tongue.

When you gagged again, he saw stars prettier than the ones in the sky, and he could feel your saliva drip down to his balls before you lapped at them as well. He half expected to see the front of his sweatpants all damp by the time you were done. He was really looking forward to it. And it wouldn't be much longer now as you sucked on his balls and pumped your fist around him nice and slow.

Your voice was light as air when you released him and playfully asked, "Do you believe you're my favorite?"

Bradley glanced down where he could see the outline of your body and his hard cock hanging out of his pants. "Baby, I would believe anything you told me right now," he muttered, delighting in your laughter.

"You're my favorite," you said before kissing his tip and sinking those pretty lips around him once again. Your grip was firm as you sucked, and it wasn't long before Bradley was grunting and trying not to grab you too tight with his fingers. 

You were giving him head on the beach, and it was so damn hot, but you were still his sweet girlfriend. He just wanted to make you happy, and when he came, you moaned in delight until he couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. Then your lips were on his, and he could taste both of you there. "You're my favorite," you repeated, reaching down to carefully pull his sweatpants up while he head spun.

He groaned and wrapped his arm around your waist. "If this was your ploy to get me to agree to career day, it definitely worked. But you know I would have said yes no matter what."

Your lips were on his ear as you laughed. "Can we go home and get warmed up in the shower?"

Home. You belonged there with him. He knew it. You knew it too, even if only subconsciously. "Yeah, let's go home."

On Friday, he woke up earlier than usual to make sure you were awake in time to get to work. He packed you a lunch, grimaced when he checked the traffic on his phone and said, "I'll pay for your gas."

"I don't need you to pay for my gas, Bradley!" you insisted.

One look at your pretty face had him shaking his head. "Traffic is a nightmare. What's it going to take to get you to come back here again tonight?" he asked, handing you a mug of coffee. "Because I honestly don't mind paying a little extra in gas money to make up for the fact that I bought a house in Coronado."

You bit your lip and then asked, "How do you not understand that being with you is going to be worth the drive?"

"Save your verdict for after you've actually driven through rush hour."

He was delighted when you returned right after work for the weekend. And Saturday morning, you slept in while Bradley went for a run with Nat. He kissed you goodbye and watched you roll over onto his pillow with a soft smile on your lips. Six miles in and he was getting antsy to get back to make you breakfast.

"Are you two coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked, huffing as she tried to speak and run at the same time.

He grunted in response. You hadn't been to the Hard Deck yet, and he wasn't sure he felt like sharing you with everyone else this evening. "Maybe."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Just bring her. You've been MIA for weeks and weeks since you got back. You can stare longingly at her while other people are around for a few hours."

"I'll ask how she feels about it."

But he should have known you'd want to go as soon as he mentioned it to you in the shower after breakfast. "I didn't bring anything cute to wear," you complained with a little pout.

"Baby, you could wear one of my ratty old shirts with your jeans, and you'd be the cutest thing in the place."

A smile curved along your lips, and that's exactly what you ended up wearing. Your snug jeans only looked sexier on you when paired with one of his soft tee shirts from his college days, which you tied in a little knot at the hem. He could see a peek of your skin here and there as you finished getting ready that evening, and he couldn't keep his hands off you. When the two of you arrived at the Hard Deck, he knew he was going to have to keep you close by.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, tucking his fingers around your waist as Jake Seresin himself eyed you up. "The only thing I can promise is that the wine here sucks compared to Salvatore's."

But you were oblivious as you looked around the interior of the bar as you caught a few more gazes. He didn't love these horny guys all checking you out like the piece of fresh meat you really were. "How about a beer then?" you asked, scanning everything that Penny had on tap and pointing to your favorite.

"Solid choice," he replied, ordering two from Jimmy. And then all too soon, you were the one pulling him toward the pool table and Natasha.

"Well, well, well," Jake drawled, setting down his empty bottle and tossing a dart repeatedly up into the air with his gaze glued on you. "What do we have here, Bradshaw?"

"This is my girlfriend," he replied immediately. "Don't get any ideas."

You cleared your throat, stuck out your hand, and told Jake your name. He reached for you with a smile and didn't let go. "You must be the teacher from the field trip the other day. I'm Jake. But if you'd prefer to use my call sign, it's Hungman. I mean Hangman. Looks like Baby on Board was right."

"Right about what?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to where Bob was blushing profusely with a pool cue in his hand.

Jake chuckled. "Nothing I can say in front of mixed company."

"Oh!" you said, pulling your hand free and pointing at Jake while you took a sip of your beer. Bradley felt the need to protect you, but you didn't really need him to at all as you smirked and said, "Hangman. Right. You're the guy with the dumb call sign. My students were still talking about it yesterday."

Bradley started laughing at the sour look on Jake's face. After that, you had some very pleasant conversations with Javy, Mickey and Reuben, even though he could see their eyes dip down to your chest on occasion. It wasn't really their fault that you were beautiful, so he let it slide while he played pool with Nat. Eventually you joined in with him, and you insisted on buying the next two beers plus another drink for his best friend.

"I'll be right back," you told him, playfully backing away toward the bar with a smile, and Bradley watched you the entire time you were gone.

"You are a mess," Nat informed him as if he didn't already know that.

He shook his head. "I just know the day is going to come when I'm not around to physically be with her. And you'll be the one inviting her out to the bar while I'm eating soggy cabbage rolls on an aircraft carrier. So I need to set the precedent now. She's with me, and all of these assholes we work with can keep their hands to themselves where she is concerned."

"You were never this up tight when you brought Vanessa here."

His ex's name always sounded startling now when it rattled around in his head. "She was mean," he said easily. "Nobody wanted to talk to her even though she was pretty." But Bradley honestly never did feel this way about her or anyone else before you. Watching you pay Jimmy with a smile on your face before turning and meeting his eyes was enough to send him walking halfway to meet you.

Bradley took one of the drinks from your hands and leaned down to give you a nice, long kiss with tongue. Was he marking his territory? Sure. Was he also letting you know he was ready to get you alone again whenever you wanted to leave? Absolutely. Was he also just such a mess he couldn't help but touch you? A hundred percent.

It wasn't long before you suggested calling it a night.

----------------------------

Bradley was deep inside you, one big hand pinning your wrists above your head on his pillow. His fingers were trailing down your skin as he fucked you a little harder, and you let him talk and ramble to his heart's content while he brought you closer to where you wanted to be.

"You're perfect," he crooned, hazy gaze focused on your face. "Tell me, Baby, please. I need to know." He kissed along your neck, tongue darting out to taste the sheen of sweat. "Please."

"What?" you gasped, barely able to talk at all as his fingers settled on your clit.

You thought maybe he gave up trying to communicate right now, but then he licked his lips and said, "Give me a date. Please. Give me a date when you're going to move in." But he was stroking you just right, and your only response was a gasp before you were chanting his name.

His lips settled on yours as you came for him, clenching around his cock until he spilled himself inside you. His kisses were rough before turning sweet, and soon he was softly teasing your lips as he muttered, "You gonna tell me?"

It took you a second to push through the fog as your orgasm tapered off, and you smiled. "I thought you weren't in a hurry. Just in love." His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he ducked his head, but you'd already been giving it a lot of thought. When he started to shift, you whispered, "January twentieth."

He froze again and met your eyes. "Yeah? Seriously?"

"Seriously."

His hands were cupping your face while he stayed buried inside you. "Gorgeous, you just made my whole fucking day."

Within the hour, he had the date saved in his phone calendar, and you were on his lap on the couch eating popcorn. "We've got time, but I'll help you pack beforehand and move everything. Javy has a truck, so I'll make sure we can use that. You could always start moving some things before that if you wanted to."

You popped a kernel between his lips and asked, "You just really wanted a date to look forward to?"

"So bad," he replied with a grin. "I can't wait to have my professional spider hunter around all the time."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a grin of your own. You yawned, exhausted in the early hours of Sunday morning. "I need some sleep or else I'll be dead on my feet at work this week. You need to show me that you can be well behaved and let me rest even after I've moved in with you."

"On it," he replied, dumping the remainder of the popcorn into his mouth before scooping you up and heading for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--------------------------------

Bradley smiled as he ate some macaroni and cheese in the cafeteria later that week. He had two new dates saved in his phone calendar. The day you would be moving in with him and the date for career day at your school. He couldn't wait. He was admiring the calendar entries when his phone alerted him to a new email. It was oddly enough from your school account.

Dear Lieutenant Bradshaw,

We just wanted to reach out and thank you again for taking us on a tour of North Island. Our lessons about aviation were brought to life. It was the educational opportunity of a lifetime, and we also had so much fun on the field trip. Our classroom door is always open anytime you want to visit.

Sincerely,

Your nineteen pen pals

Immediately after he finished reading, he noticed he had another email. From your personal account this time.

Did you know there are just thirty-five days until I move to Coronado?

Attached was a photo of you holding up three fingers and five fingers in front of your naked tits, and Bradley almost dropped his phone. He could see everything, just like you probably intended, but he had to close out of the image as Maverick approached him with a frown.

"We need to talk."

Bradley's brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

The older man sighed and rubbed his forehead. "A call came in from Norfolk. Atlantic Fleet needs one more F/A-18 pilot for an assignment. Your name was mentioned."

"No," Bradley replied immediately as his stomach lurched. "Atlantic Fleet? Mav, please tell me you're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley's head was swimming with concern. He'd only been in the Pacific Fleet for a few years, and he wasn't looking to go back to Virginia. Not even temporarily, but certainly not permanently. You were only with him because he was based out of San Diego. You told him yourself how scared you had been when you thought you were falling for a man who lived on the other side of the country.

"My name was mentioned?" he muttered. "Who else was mentioned?"

Maverick shook his head. "Nobody. They want you. I'd start thinking about getting your duffle out of the closet this weekend. I'll get your more information as soon as I can."

Bradley had more questions than answers, but he let the other man walk away without another word. When he unlocked his phone and saw the perfect photo of you, his heart clenched. Having answers to his questions would only make it harder to tell you what was about to happen.

---------------------------

But they love each other! Reverting back to full-time pen pals mode? Will that even work? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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[babysukiii]

regina’s puppy (1)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), protective!regina, oblivious/innocent!reader, pinning, mutual pining but reader thinks it’s one-sided, use of “y/n”.

regina george definitely has a soft spot for you. if you ask her, she’d refer to it as a weak spot; resembling more like an invisible bruise inside of her that only you could see. you’d push and push it, til it bruises some more. until she’d sickly do just about anything you ask. it wasn’t a secret either; regina could be in the middle of being the worst human being on campus, and you’d just walk up to her with those big eyes of yours.

“hey gina!”

“did you see the new shake flavor at sonic? wanna ditch and go?”

“i stayed up all night reading the bell jar!”

regina would shift her undivided attention onto you within a millisecond, and you didn’t even realize it. you were so obliviously innocent. you didn’t have an underlying reason for getting close to the queen bee, you just caught her reading a book one day and started talking her ear off about it. the blonde, who got pure joy out of making girls like you cry, for some reason didn’t have it in her to tell you to fuck off or call you a dork. there was something about you that regina couldn’t quite place; it was something that made her heart flutter in her chest.

maybe it didn’t fully hit regina just how bad she had it for you until junior year. it was the middle of fall, and you had rushed up to her with a pair of sad eyes. “hey gina.” you greet her, but it isn’t your usual eager greeting. regina looks away from the mirror in her locker, looking at you. her brows furrow and a wave of concern washed over her, as she realizes you appear upset. “what’s wrong?” she demands, not even bothering to say hi back. “stacy matthew’s said i can’t be in debate club. she says i’m really nice and that’s not what they’re looking for.” you admit, and regina can feel the rage course through her before she slams her locker shut.

“where the fuck does stacy matthew’s get off telling you that you can or can’t be in debate club? she’s a fucking dork. come on.” she grabs your wrist and your eyes widen, shaking your head in protest but the blonde is already set on giving the raven haired girl a piece of her mind. nobody was going to make you sad and get away with it. “gina it’s okay i—“ you try but regina is already turning down the hallway, making her way up to a random group of students. they all go quiet as soon as regina is near. “where’s matthew’s?” regina questions demandingly, causing one of the students to nearly begin to tremble.

“st-stacy? she’s in the library i think—“ regina doesn’t even let the poor girl finish before she’s dragging you in the direction of the library. you weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you told regina about why you got rejected from the debate club, but this certainly wasn’t it. you weren’t expecting her to storm into the library. “everyone out.” she commands, and just like that, every student in the library is scurrying out. “not you.” the blonde hisses as she glowers at stacy who was in the middle of gathering her belongings. you watch the girl tense up, freezing, and a part of you feels guilty because of how terrified she looks.

“so it’s come to my attention that you think your dorky little debate club is too good for y/n…” regina trails off, and stacy’s eyes widen as her gaze flutters over to you. “don’t look at her for help, look at me.” regina snaps her fingers in stacy’s face; her behavior should cause you to be horrified, yet you can’t deny the heat at the bottom of your belly that comes from watching regina defend you. “it’s not— i didn’t say we were too good, i said she was too nice, regina. you know it too, that’s why you’re here debating for her.” stacy’s comment causes you to look down at your shoes, knowing she isn’t wrong.

“y/n is smarter than you will ever be. her gpa is higher than yours, and she had better exam grades last year. she doesn’t need to be a cunt to debate, she just has to be right… and she always is. you didn’t deny her a spot in your club because she’s too nice. you’re afraid she’s better than you.” regina hits her right where it hurts, and the way stacy’s face morphs into an ugly angry expression causes your eyes to widen. you had actually believed stacy when she said you were too nice for debate club, but now as you watch her react to regina’s accusations, you realize she only said that because she didn’t want you in the club at all.

“i’ll give you the rest of tonight to reconsider giving her a spot on the debate team. if you don’t, i have no control over whether or not the club gets banned… i mean, considering my parents are the ones who fund it.” regina puts on her best falsified sorry expression, and it causes stacy’s eyes to widen at the threat. her eyes lock with yours before regina clasps a hand around your wrist. she drags you out of the library, muttering angrily as she does so. “ugh, the nerve of that fucking bitch.” regina sounds genuinely upset, and you frown.

“you didn’t have to do that…” you whisper, barley being able to find your voice. she comes to a stop, turning around to face you with a deadly serious expression etched onto her features. “i did because you would’ve just let it go. she can’t just act like the queen of debate club; even the cheerleaders started being inclusive!” regina rambles a bit, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling. “yeah but i’m pretty sure debate club is all stacy matthew’s has. it’s fine. i mean, it’s not fine, but it’s clearly more important to her.” you shrug easily and regina huffs in clear frustration.

“that’s exactly why people think you’re too nice! you can’t just let people do or say whatever they want to you, and just let it go! just twelve minutes ago you wanted to cry about it.” regina points out, and you press your lips together. “if i held on to it every time someone upset me, i’d be a really sad person.” you confess lightly, but this does nothing to ease regina’s anger. “well, i’ll hold on to it for you. she’s going in the burn book.” regina mutters the last part, making you a quirk a brow at her. “the burn book?” you question, and she purses her lips tightly, realizing she might have said to much.

“it’s just this thing the girls and i have been working on…” regina’s demeanor shifts, and your brows knit together. “you and the girls? as in gretchen and karen? can i see?” you ask hopefully, and regina shakes her head quickly “no way.” she answers, and as soon as she sees you deflate, a look of disappointment taking over your features, she relents. “it’s not finished yet, and it’s kind of a secret…” she trails off, “i promise i won’t tell anyone! at all! not even riley.” you promise, mentioning your best friend who’s being home schooled this year. regina chews on her bottom lip; she’s well aware the burn book is just a harsh joke her and her friends came up with. but she isn’t sure whether you’d think it’s funny or not.

though regina can’t seem to be able to tell you no. “okay, but most of it was gretchen.” she lies as she begins to lead you towards the exit of the school. karen and gretchen furrow their eyebrows in clear confusion as they watch their best friend leave with you. even though school ended almost half an hour ago, usually regina would opt to hang out with the plastics. sometimes she even just stayed after school to “ogle” the football team during practice. but here regina was, leaving school with you. sure, her friends knew about her weird tolerance of you… but now you were hanging out?

“wait are we going to your house?” you ask uncertainly as you both approach her expensive car. she flashes you a look that says “duh”, “that’s where the book is.” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “shouldn’t you call your mom and ask her for permission for me to come over?” you inquire timidly, and although the butterflies in her stomach flutter due to how adorable you are, she rolls her eyes feigning annoyance. “she doesn’t care. get in, loser.” she commands, and you immediately obey; getting into the passenger side.

regina’s car smells like her perfume, and the backseat is messy. “your moms so cool for letting you drive by yourself with just your permit.” you say out loud and regina shrugs, “she’s alright.” she mutters as she hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she insists and your cheeks flush. “o-okay.” the way you stutter causes you to mentally facepalm, but regina finds it hard to stifle a smile at how cute she finds you. you put on a taylor swift song, and she snorts, “so cliche.” she says, her eyes unusually soft, as the sky and your heart does this pathetic little lurch at the sight of her smiling. regina looks so beautiful when she smiles; it almost makes you forget how she almost made stacy matthew’s piss herself a little while ago.

regina’s house is even bigger than you imagined. you knew her family was rich, but you didn’t think they were this wealthy. your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you look around the house. as soon as you walk in you can hear regina’s little sister in the living room; practicing dance routines in front of the tv. “ignore her that’s my sister kylie. everything she does, i did it first.” regina retorts simply, and you raise your brows as you follow her through her house. “hi honey! i made lunch— oh, who’s this?” a woman who you assume is regina’s mom comes out of the kitchen.

she’s wearing tight leggings and a top that barely covers anything. regina grimaces at the sight of her mom, “this is my friend, y/n. we’re gonna be upstairs for awhile. don’t bother us.” she warns harshly, and you offer the older woman a bashful smile. “it’s nice to meet you, mrs. george.” you let out before regina pulls you up the stairs, and towards her room. “your mom seems… nice.” you say as nicely as you can, and she scoffs. “she’s totally embarrassing. she lives vicariously through me.” she deadpans as you both walk into her bedroom.

her room is exactly how you imagined it. it’s pink and girly; there are various posters of celebrities on the walls. her bed was huge. “your room is so cool!” you exclaim, and she tries to fight the grin tugging at her lips. “it’s okay. i’ve been meaning to redecorate it, but i’m gonna make gretchen do it.” regina snickers and you giggle. “that’s mean.” you halfheartedly respond, and she tenses up. she wonders if you’ll laugh that way when you see the burn book. even though you aren’t in it, she isn’t sure if anyone you know is.

“so where’s the book?” you ask curiously as you take a seat on the corner of her bed. regina’s smile falls as she keeps her back to you, she reluctantly disappears into her closet, only to reappear with a big pink book in her hands. your eyes light up as she makes her way over to you, and sits by you. “you have to promise you won’t leave after reading this.” she states stringently, making you pause. you look at her in confusion, “it’s just… this book is like a fucked up version of the year book. we make fun of all the girls from school in it.” she admits hesitantly, and your face falls.

“am… am i in it?” you quietly ask, and regina shakes her head rapidly. “no! no, you’re not.” she promises and you nod. “okay, so why would i get mad?” you question, and regina sighs as she opens the book. you begin to read all of the cruel things her and her friends write about other girls. when you get to the part where regina makes fun of becky martin for getting a bob freshman year, you involuntarily giggle. suddenly there’s this lightbulb that lights up above her head.

“y/n, you should sit with me at lunch tomorrow.” she says, and you tense up, prying your eyes away from the burn book to look at regina. “you mean with you and the plastics?” you ask uncertainly, and regina rolls her eyes. “why does everyone call them that?” she mutters, and you shake your head. “because you’re all perfect like plastic barbie dolls.” you answer simply, and this causes the blonde to quirk her eyebrows to her hairline. “you think gretchen and karen are perfect?” she asks with a scoff, and you nod quickly. “duh! you’re all so… pretty. everyone knows girls like me don’t sit at the “it” table.” you half joke, and regina rolls her eyes.

“i decide who sits at that table, and i’m deciding you’re sitting there with us from now on.” regina stringently states, her tone indicates she’s up for no debates. “we’ll start by giving you a makeover.” she declares, as she gets up. “come on, we’re going to the mall.” she adds, and you throw her an “are you serious” sort of look. “gina… i really don’t think that’s a good idea.” you try, but she pulls you off the bed, and onto your feet. “i’m already picturing how cute you’d look in bellbottoms.” she says, as she drags you out of her bedroom, the burn book long forgotten.

“i can’t buy bellbottoms! they’re like forty bucks a pair!” you stress, as regina leads you down the stairs, never once letting go of your hand. “i have my dads card, relax.” she assures you easily, and you frown, but don’t protest. you know better than to try and argue with regina, especially when you’d let her get away with anything and you think she knows it.

regina ends up spending over four hundred dollars on you, much to your dismay. no matter how much you protest, or try to secretly put items back, she was hellbent on giving you a makeover. thankfully regina claimed you had flawless features that didn’t need makeup, so you avoided the makeup stores altogether. when regina drops you off at your house, you have a hand full of shopping bags and you have to rush to your room in secrecy. fortunately your brothers are too transfixed with some horror video game, and your older sister was nowhere to be seen.

as soon as you’re in the privacy of your bedroom, you let out a little breath. today was the strangest day ever. you were used to your strange friendship with regina, but it was usually only a few meaningful conversations here and there. regina george was never full on “queen bee” around you for some reason, but she had never defended you like she did today. a part of you felt bad about telling regina what stacy did, but the way the blonde threatened the debate teams captain for you made your heart flutter.

tomorrow you were having lunch with regina and “the plastics”; you had to pick an outfit before you went to sleep which was out of the ordinary for you. you’ve never been the type to get ready for school, but there’s this insistent need to impress regina that you suddenly have. the way she ogled you when you had tried on the out of character outfits made your stomach tingle. the nerves in your body only increase as you think about it. as you stare at the various shopping bags, you know there’s no going back now; you feel indebted to regina george.

[knavesflames]

What about some vampire king arlecchino where she drinks blood-wine and keeps reader on her lap like a pet 😋

ӄɨռӄȶօɮɛʀ աɛɛӄ 1

[scheduled post]

Thank you for kickstarting my kinktober <3 I took the idea and ran with it but I’m actually quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope everyone else is too <3

Word count: 1.8k

Contents: fingering, vampire!arlecchino x human fem!reader

Nsft utc!

Arlecchino, a vampire so powerful that she terrifies both vampires and humans alike. Rumour has it that she once killed a man just by appearing next to him and whispering. She’s hauntingly terrifying, and somehow, the most beautiful creature you’ve ever set your eyes on. You can’t trick yourself into thinking that she doesn’t horrify you, that something about her chills you to the bone and makes you almost pray she has mercy on you when she decides to kill you. Arlecchino seems to have taken a liking to you, however.

Watching you from afar each night, only appearing at your door after the clock strikes midnight, you noticed quickly that she was quite a persistent woman thing when she decided to be. At first, you ignored the knocking on the wood of your door (the only thing that separated you and her). When you refused to answer (for you knew you would meet your end the second you stared into those soulless eyes), she began speaking. Pleading, almost. “Let me in,” her voice, barely a whisper, had reached you even through the headphones you had on in an attempt to drown her out. You wondered if the powers she was rumoured to possess were, in fact, true.

You’d like to say you withstood it. That you were able to wait until she had gotten bored, and that you were not like the others. The others. What became of them, once she was finished? Were they, perhaps, the other vampires you knew roamed about the land? Or, had they become nothing more than bones buried in soil, waiting to be discovered by some aspiring archaeologist in decades to come? Nobody knew. Nobody wanted to.

Alas, you did not withstand it. After a few months of her lurking by your door, you made the grand mistake of opening it. Immediately, your eyes moved to the floor. If there was one thing you, and everyone else knew, was that it was incredibly unwise to look into her eyes. They were not normal eyes. They did not have an iris, or a pupil. They were black holes with crosses the colour of spilled blood. Something that seemed so simple, and yet, you have known of people who looked, and were left so scared they could no longer speak.

“May I enter? Your home looks ravishing.” Her voice was a drawl, one that pierced whatever guard you were attempting to put up. You opened your mouth, nothing came.

“Look at me.” You realised by then that the rumours about whatever powers she could possess were true, for you, despite your screaming mind and attempts to stay looking down, found your eyes travelling up her frame. Arlecchino was taller than you realised, and her heels certainly didn’t help. Her suit, somehow a pristine white (how odd for a bloodthirsty vampire), contrasted against the inky black in her hair. “May I enter?”

Your head unwillingly found itself nodding, but clearly, that wasn’t enough, for she demanded once more. “Say it.”

“..you can come in.” You muttered. From then, she would visit you quite often, and you would come home to find her casually sitting at your dining table. You grew quite attached to her, though you detested admitting it. When you learned that she would not leave you alone, you found yourself appeasing her, stocking up on candles she enjoyed, playing her favourite songs quietly. You both grew close, in all honesty, and you understood that the night she made your head fall back in pleasure and your voice break from the countless moans you let out. Something about her made your heart beat faster and your breathing heavier. (Was it fear or arousal? Did the fear somehow arouse you more? You refused to explore that train of thought because you knew the answer)

One October night, you come home after work only to find her there once again. Not a surprise anymore, you think, you almost knew she’d be there. On the nights where the air is bitter and there are no stars in the sky, she opts to spend her time with you. You offer a small hum of acknowledgment, but don’t look at her. You try not to look at her, ever.

“Come here.” Arlecchino’s voice carries through your small apartment, the familiar thrum of her fingers tapping on the table. When your eyes move to the table, you notice a wine glass. One of yours, you’re aware, but you didn’t own any wine. The cogs begin to turn as you take a few steps closer.

Her hand, blackened with patterns you can’t help but secretly admire, pats her knee, the soft sound of the fabric reaching your ears. You abide, once again, swallowing as you perch there, your body tense. One hand wraps around your waist, and with strength, too much strength, pulls you closer. Her body, which one would expect to be cold, is burning hot, and as much as you hate doing so, your body instinctively leans into it. The room is cold, and she seems to hum when she feels you rest your body weight onto her. Your jaw tenses when you begin to question if you’re even scared of her anymore.

Until, that is, she sips the wine in the glass she so graciously stole from you. Wine. ‘Wine’. It feels like ice shoots through your veins when you smell the familiar metallic smell of blood, the one that seems to always coat her skin just faintly. It is then that you realise she isn’t drinking wine at all, but blood. Fresh blood, even. You feel sick until her voice cuts through your mind.

“I can hear that heart of yours. Scared, hm?” The words are almost teasing, and somehow, it almost seems like she cares. You shudder when her breath (and her fang) grazes your skin as she speaks. You cannot decide if you want to stay or run. You are horrified.

“That isn’t wine.”

“No, it isn’t. I never said it was, you assumed.” Arlecchino murmurs, moving to begin placing gentle kisses along the skin of your neck, causing your eyes to flutter closed. In times like these, you forget she isn’t human anymore.

“I should have known you were like every other vampire.” You whisper, mostly to yourself. Even so, you allow your head to tilt to give her better access. Your mind is slightly fuzzy, but you hear her place the glass on the table, and you feel the way her hands are sliding under your shirt. You let her. You like it.

“I’m not like every other vampire,” she protests quietly, but the words are full of amusement and mockery. “I’m worse.” Her words are punctuated by a small bite on your earlobe, one that causes you to moan yelp. The creature woman almost chortles at your moan, and chooses to push away your bra roughly. She cups your breast like her hands were made to do so, and suddenly she isn’t so gentle. She presses hot, open mouthed kisses onto your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, whatever skin she can access. Your arms circle her shoulders, and your hands weave into the snowy strands of her ponytail. When she gets this way, you always wonder whether she’s going to eat you, or, well, eat you.

Slender fingers fumble with the buttons of your jeans for a few seconds before she gets irritated, muttering a low curse before using those sharp, sharp nails to just rip the fabric. She lets out a noise of satisfaction when she hears the seams rip and you gasp. Without even thinking, you let your thighs spread, and she hums in approval.

“Good. Keep them like that, or else.”

“Or else, what?” You breathe, but the only reply you get is her fangs digging into your skin just slightly. You let out a breathy sigh, relishing each time her lips move against your skin, each time the tip of her fangs touch your skin, threatening, but never acting. (You’re unsure if she ever would bite you) (on certain evenings with her, you almost wish she would so you could spend your life with her)

“Please,” you murmur, and it seems that tonight, she is merciful, for her fingers move between your folds, a low chuckle coming from her throat.

“Excited, are we?” Arlecchino dons a wicked grin that only grows when she pushes said fingers into you, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. She starts slowly, letting you adjust, but after only a few movements, your body is asking for more, hips twitching in an attempt to get her to hit that spot.

She does as you want her to, again, and again until each breath of yours comes out as a groan, a moan or a whimper. Your hands grip onto her suit like it’s a lifeline, your eyes are squeezed shut.

“I could bite you now,” she murmurs, clearly excited by even the thought of it. Clearly, you are too, by the sound you make and your heart beats faster. “I like you too much to do that, my plaything, but the thought is good, no?”

Each thrust of her fingers brings you closer and she’s very, very aware of that. You are, too. Your hips are essentially riding her fingers at this point, and she lets you. “I have heard that blood tastes the best when one orgasms. Should we try? I think yours would taste the sweetest.”

Those words alone seem to send you over the edge, because with a final whine, your breath stops for a second and you see stars. “Fuck—“ your swearing is so loud that it echoes the room, and Arlecchino knows that for as long as she exists, she will remember the sound of it, even after you are long gone (unless she can gather the courage to turn you one day. She can’t fathom the idea that she turns you and one day you despise her, that she’ll have to walk around with that knowledge).

Sliding her fingers out of you with a slick pop, her tongue darts out, wetting her lips before resting her fingers on her tongue. She moans at the taste of it, she believes it’s better than any blood she could ever taste. Arlecchino used to tell herself that she’d get what she wanted and leave you for the rest of the night, but these days, she’s been staying much longer than she should be. So, when you end up talking asleep on her, she lets you, even choosing to stroke your hair and trace circles against the pulse point in your neck with one hand, her other now holding the wine glass again. She thinks absentmindedly for a long time, swirling the wine in her glass.

By the time you awaken, you’re in your bed, blankets tucked around your body, the apartment’s heating on medium, and her lipstick marking the pulse points of your wrist and your neck.

[lavender-spice]

an honest man

Tyler Owens x Reader

Lily reveals the truth about Tyler's night, leading to confrontation

warnings: cussing, angst, but fluff at the end!

"Tyler Owens!" you shout , storming into your motel room. The rusty door slams with a rough shake and a deafening clang. The entire floor probably felt the shake of it but you could care less. You were going to skin Tyler alive. You beeline to the bathroom door, hearing the shower running. "Tyler you open this door right fucking now." you demand, jiggling the locked doorknob.

"Y/N? What is it doll what's the matter?" his voice is laced with concern as you hear him stumble out of the shower. He cracks the door open, hair dripping wet, shower still running. His eyes are wide, startled at your fuming expression.

"Do you care to explain why Lily says you were out 'till 2 am drinking with Kate?" he looks at you, flabbergasted. "You said you were out with Boone."

"Baby I was with Boone 'till like midnight, I was with both of them. Lily headed in with you and those two hung around. Kate was just the last to call it a night. We were up chatting real late." he replies nonchalantly. You roll your eyes.

Ever since this Kate girl rolled in Tyler's been smothering her like she's a baby in need of a blanket. He coddles her, taking attention from you. Every other word is Kate, Kate, Kate. It's like he's not even chasing for the storm, it feels like an excuse to be around her.

"I don't believe a word you say Tyler. You weren't in bed 'till 5 am, and I thought you were coming from Boone's room. Now I hear that Kate told Lily you were out 'till 2 with her, so what happened between 2 and 5, Tyler?" you demand, your voice growing angrier with each word. He sighs, stepping back.

"Can I at least finish my shower first?" he pleads. You scoff, letting go of the door. "You can go lick her boots Tyler. I'm sick of this." you storm off, leaving the room with a huff. You walk mindlessly until you reach the bar you were at last night.

You push the doors open and sit down at one of the rickety stools, ordering a Coors. And another, and another, until you're properly tipsy enough to not give a shit about where your fiancé may be. All you do is take down beer after beer, your empty stomach churning at the bubbly alcohol, your eyes getting wet each time they meet with the glistening stone on your left finger.

Tyler was a perfect man, a perfect partner. He understood you, he took care of you, and all of the sudden that's all tossed out the second some new city girl shows up. Even Lily noticed the shift in behavior. It was uncharacteristic, and no matter how mad you were, you just wanted Tyler back to being completely yours.

About two hours and a half pass by of you just wallowing in your own pity- even the bartender was shooting you looks every time you ordered another drink. By number 5, he tells you to cool down and has you close out. By then Tyler is also meandering towards you.

"Baby." he says. You don't look at him. "Y/N. Darlin' look at me."

You still refuse.

"I didn't sleep with Kate, or do whatever you think I did. I was talking to her about her accident. She had an accident years ago with an experiment gone wrong that killed her friends- we were unpacking it. We were getting to know each other. She was wanting to get to know you, too. I know it sounds bad, I know it looks even worse, but baby you have to believe me." he's begging at this point, shakily placing his hand over yours. "You're the only woman for me. The only person for me, the only one I could ever love. I can't look at nobody else the way I look at you. You mean everything to me. I'd let a tornado rip me away if it meant you could be happy forever. I never want to see you like this, especially if it's my fault. I just want to make this right honey."

Tears stream down your face. He sounds genuine, and you know he means it too. You finally turn your head, locking eyes. He's sorrowful, wiping your tears.

"Can you find it in you to forgive me?" you don't hesitate to nod. He leans over to kiss you, before outstretching his hand. "Let's get you to bed alright?" you let him lead you back to the room, feeling warm from the beer, and the affection he's showing you. This, this was your Tyler. The man you were going to marry. The caring soul you'd fallen for all those years ago.

He helps you change and tucks you into bed, kissing you earnestly. He murmurs sweet nothings into your hair as you breathe him in, drifting to sleep, secure in his arms.

[larcenywrites]

any headcanons about what dating logan/wolverine might be like? 👀

I can try 😮‍💨 just like with sabretooth, I worry I can’t properly capture him… but we can always dabble around with ideas!

Wolverine x Reader

Warnings: definitely has nsfw | one line does refer to reader being AFAB |

🍺 Sigh… the real question is, how are you going to get in a relationship with this man 😒

🍺 Never mind whether he’s still pining after Jean or not, the guy just refuses to commit 🙄 doesn’t matter if you’ve fucked or not.

🍺 But let’s skip that whole dramatic montage and say you did manage to finally tie him down just a little 🤏

🍺 It’s not like Logan doesn’t have fun or smile or know how to love! But when it comes to an actual bona fide relationship… it’s just harder to comfortably do those things. He’s lived a long time, been through nearly every type of trauma, hates himself for what he is half the time, and, while it hides well behind all that attitude, he’s afraid of a lot of things— from himself to the world.

🍺 So it makes it hard for him to love like that. Feelings are kinda hard for him to talk about 😔 at least, at first. Later on it gets easier, and while his tone may still be soft and gruff and he might sound reserved, but he won’t shy away from any sweet pillow talk anymore 🥺 though… any specific topics pertaining to a future… he’s probably a little more eager to switch to something else 😣

🍺 He’ll definitely be all growly if you start playing with his hair 😤 believe it or not, he’s a little particular about his grooming, and still a little funny about being unexpectedly touched at times— even by his partner.

🍺 But perhaps the real show of love here is the fact that he still won’t stop you 🥲

🍺 Usually the free time he has is spent fucking shit up in the danger room or drinking at his favorite spot, but he will actually take you on dates that don’t involve either! (But let’s be honest, it’s kinda hot to watch him tear shit up sometimes 😏)

🍺 It’s canon that Logan enjoys some broadway musicals! And while it’s not its favorite thing to have to do, he can dress up quite nice 😘

🍺 Actually a horndog 😮‍💨 For a guy that’s always going on about controlling his raging animal or whatever, he sure doesn’t have much control when his sexual partner even looks at him the wrong way 🙄 Maybe it’s all the energy he can never quite get out, or maybe it’s because he goes without for a while at a time, but definitely don’t be surprised when, upon finally getting to share his bed, you don’t get very much sleep 😘

🍺 Unfortunately(?) the dude can smell horniness, which will get him going no matter what his current situation is 🤭

🍺 I know this man eats pussy like nobody’s business 🥴 literally pouncing on you 🥴 maybe a rather hard bite to your thigh before just literally diving in, but otherwise probably won’t do much foreplay, especially nothing all loving and sweet.

🍺 Surprisingly a cuddler? But not, like, when you do it :/ a selective cuddler, we’ll call him. He’ll roll over and trap you in a bear hug 🥰 but no matter if you are taller or shorter than him, he’s gonna be face planted in your shoulder blades

🍺 one of those people that will not be little spoon 😒😒😒😒😒 you might get away with it if you catch him already in bed and you just crawl on top of him and wrap around him 🤭

🍺 but he’s definitely a sucker for having you lie on his chest 🥺🥺🥺🥺 he’ll probably sigh as if you’re bothering him, but it’s kinda like that thing dogs do when they get comfy and sigh loudly 🥰

🍺 it’s counterintuitive, but tbh the more you shower him with love the more he low key hates himself… but he still definitely enjoys it! He actually does love to be loved! A little shy about it, though.

🍺 don’t be afraid to kiss his hand right where his claws come out 😘

🍺 not necessarily jealous as much as he is protective…

🍺 well, he does get a little possessive…

🍺 sometimes might be petty af if you try to come into bed smelling like someone who’s pissed him off that day (many people piss him off every day)

🍺 like it’s not your fault you were in the same general area as Cyclops for longer than ten minutes and Wolfie over here can smell that 😒

🍺 When he’s done throwing his pity party, though, you get way-too-tight cuddles though so it’s a win? How else are you supposed to smell like him again?

[rafeskiss]

imgonnagetyouback ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 2.1k (holy shit)

summary: you are a world renowned popstar, and after a very public breakup with youtuber matt sturniolo, he can’t bare to watch you look hot on stage and know you’re no longer his. he’s determined to get you back.

warnings: smut obvi, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of ‘y/n’, nicknames (baby), overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be fucking stupid), matt calling reader ‘slutty’, probably more i can’t think of

authors note: I HAVE RETURNED!! i have come back from like a two month long hiatus (HIATUS??? DONT USE BIG WORDS MATTTT) to bring you guys the much requested imgonnagetyouback inspired fic featuring popstar! reader! in my mind i see popstar! reader as sabrina carpenter/madison beer type, not necessarily looks wise just their presence. anyways i love ya and thank u for all the kind words on pretty voice :(((

you walked around stage with more confidence then ever. you questioned if fake confidence still counts as confidence, but nobody seemed to know that you’re faking it. it had been 2 weeks since your breakup with matt, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t wreck you. but you don’t want to ruin the fans experience while you’re on tour, so you maintained your confident-happy-seductive-popstar act.

you were considered the new it girl of pop music. even though you were at your worst, you were getting a lot of attention. most questions fans asked you were about the breakup, but you were trending on twitter for a week straight. fans were making sad breakup edits and update accounts were notifying everyone about the latest stuff regarding the breakup.

because of those update accounts, you knew that matt and his brothers were at your show tonight. you didn’t know why, and even though it made you sick, you got up on the stage and shook your ass and sang your little heart out.

you wore a short lilac skirt, the one that fits you like skin. it drive matt crazy; the way it matched your skin tone so perfectly and accentuated your curves. you were a humble girl, but there were times you knew just how hot you were.

you felt bittersweet about this being the last stop of your tour. you were excited you could rest and grieve and mourn your ended relationship. but you were sad because of the happiness you did feel at one point performing to your fans and the family you created with your band.

with it being the last stop of tour, your team is throwing a little party at some club nearby the venue in seattle. it was planned for weeks now, and at the time you planned it, you added matt and his brothers name to the guest list. and you didn’t have the guts to remove it after the breakup, you didn’t even think you needed to because why would he show up? you regret it as you look at him from your spot on stage. he’s standing on the balcony with his brothers, and he looks guilty and mad at the same time. you quickly look away before you became sick, like how you normally feel seeing his face anywhere.

you say your goodbyes to the crowd and walk off stage as confetti shoots from the ceiling. you make your way backstage where your team awaits you, showering you with compliments and praises. the usual ‘you did so great tonight’ shit. matt used to be the first one to compliment you after a show, whispering sweet things in your ear; odd compliments that nobody else would tell you but that’s why they meant so much. you shake the thought of him from your mind as you pray that he won’t attend the party later tonight.

standing at the bar like somethings funny, bubbly.

God didn’t answer your prayers, unfortunately. you stood talking to one of your best friends, madison beer, but instead of keeping eye contact with her as she talks to you, your eyes are on matt. he’s on the other corner of the room by the bar, with his brothers. chris is sipping on a pepsi, nick with a dr. pepper, and matt has nothing in his hands. he glances over to you and goes back to his conversation with chris. he laughs and you wonder what he’s laughing at, you brush it off and engage in your conversation with madison.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. an endless stream of curse words run through your mind because knowing he’s in the same room as you, at your party, is driving you insane. you wander through the crowds, making small talk but never staying with the same people for long. you sneak a quick look at matt who seems oddly bubbly while he’s talking to some blonde girl. as if he can feel your stare, he looks at you and makes a face. not a disgusted face, but one that reads ‘i see you too.’

an hour or two passes and i see some blonde girl approach him, and i know he wouldn’t *dare*. while we technically can see other people, we were never *not* each others. the blonde girl, who had to have been someone’s plus one cause i know damn well i didn’t invite her, is so obviously flirting with him. how bold of her! he seems uninterested but he’s still talking to her, which makes me feel sick. i hate he still has that effect on me.

say you got somebody, i’ll say i got someone too.

i know it’s petty, but i just want him to know that i can have someone too. i walk up to the first boy that i see, making small talk and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he realizes who i am. i can feel matt’s stare from across the room. i have zero interest in this guy i’m talking to, i just want to piss matt off. i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i tell all of my friends that i hate him, but i go fucking crazy when i see him or hear anything about him.

part of me wants to yell at him and curse him out, and the other half wants to take him back to my hotel. your phone is tucked into the neckline of your dress, feeling it vibrate. you smile at the stranger and pull your phone out, matt’s name on your lockscreen. you look over and see him staring at you. it definitely worked, this man is furious.

ten minutes later, you wait in the gender neutral bathroom. you apply more lipgloss in the mirror when matt walks in, quickly locking the door behind him.

“you hate parties,” you mutter as you layer on more mauve lipgloss, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

he shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t hate you.”

you roll your eyes, “well, i hate you.”

he laughs dryly, “yeah? how come you’re here then? in this bathroom with me, with the door locked?” he says, walking up behind you. you can feel his bulge against your ass.

you sigh and turn around, less than an inch of distance between you. “i hate you.”

he nods, “for sure.” he brings his thumb to your glossed lips, smirking. “so pretty.”

before you could even think twice, you’re sitting on the sink, wrapping your legs around matt’s waist, making out. maybe if you were sober you wouldn’t be in this situation, but if you were sober you probably would have wanted it more.

“hate you so much,” you mumble in between sloppy kisses.

“i know,” he mutters. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread them more. and of course, you do. he reaches his hand under your dress, pulling your panties to the side. he does all of this without breaking your kiss, too. and to no one’s surprise, you’re soaked.

he looks up at you, “you hate me so much but you’re soaking wet? doesn’t make sense.” he says.

“stop talking,” you whine.

he plunges two fingers into your cunt, and your hand immediately flies to your mouth. while it isn’t out of the ordinary to have sex in a bathroom at a club, you don’t want people to know it’s you.

he uses his other hand and pulls your hand away from your mouth. “let ‘em hear you.”

he continues fingering you until he feels your walls clench down on his fingers, and he pulls them out.

“matt!” you whine.

he nods, “i know, baby.” matt loves to edge you, and it pisses you off.

you roll your eyes and push him away, hopping off the sink. “no, i really do hate you.”

matt rolls his eyes, “oh, here we go again with that bullshit.”

you’re about to unlock the door and walk out of it before matt stops you. he swats your hand away from the door knob and walks closer to you until you’re up against the door.

“off,” he says, tugging at the fabric of your dress. and even though you said you hated him 5 seconds ago, you obey him.

he helps you wiggle out of your dress, you step out of it and slide it across the bathroom.

matt takes his belt off and unbuttons his jeans, you slide his boxers down to his ankles along with his jeans.

you’re still against the door when matt says, “jump.” you quickly obey, wrapping your legs around his hips. he uses the door to help not drop you, and you’re sure your back will hurt and have some bruises after this.

his dick is firmly pressing against your clit, and matt uses one arm to support you and the other to slide his dick inside your entrance. you hadn’t had his cock in a couple months, and it’s like it’s the first time again.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “still so tight. none of the other guys can stretch you like i do, huh?” he whispers into your ear.

“shut up and fuck me already, matt.” you reply bitterly.

“if you say so,” he whispers before bucking his hips into you so hard you think you might have a bruise.

“oh!” you gasp.

matt maintains eye contact with you, “you miss this dick?”

you nod as he continues to fuck into you, the door rattling against you.

“i don’t believe that, use your words, y/n.” he teases.

“i missed— oh fuck, missed your dick,” you whimper.

he pushed you harder against the door behind you so he could use his other hand to rub circles on your clit.

“well, i missed this pussy too. know it missed me back.”

your hole fluttered at his words which made him let out a soft groan. you felt his dick everywhere, in your soul.

he moved his hand away from your clit, leaving you trembling.

“m’back hurts,” you whined as he slid his dick in and out of you.

matt looked at you with sympathy, “i know baby… but we’re in a bathroom cause you’re jus’ so needy, so there’s not much room for me to fuck you like i want.”

this was true.

he rammed into you harder and faster, causing you to let out an almost pornographic shriek.

matt dryly laughed, “sound so pretty. such a pretty voice.”

you knew how much matt loved your career. the most famous pop girl at the moment wrapped around his finger. he loved watching your shows and seeing how all your female fans would bring their boyfriends to a concert and he’d watch their intense stares as you pranced around on stage in nothing but a tiny dress and heels. everyone wanted to fuck you or be you, and he loved that you were his in every way. but after the breakup, he’s gotten angry so of course he has to make up for lost time with a very intense fuck.

he slammed into you and pulled out just as quick, repeating this until he can feel your walls tightening against his lengthy cock.

“c’mon, baby. know your close, give it to me.” he whispered in your ear.

“oh god,” you moaned.

matt stopped fucking you, “s’not my name, baby.”

you whined, “fuck me, matt.” you said, putting emphasis on his name.

he smiled and started pounding into you again. “good job, baby. love when you use that pretty lil voice of yours.”

your nails scratched artwork onto his back, maybe breaking skin but matt didn’t mind at all.

“you gonna cum?” he taunted.

you nodded, “matt!”

“cum for me baby,” he demanded.

“oh god! oh, oh matt!” you said it correctly this time as your orgasm ripped through you. the first genuinely good one in two weeks.

matt didn’t slow down, he stayed fucking you through your orgasm.

“can’t!” you yelled.

matt shook his head, “you can. jus’ gimme one more. one more.”

you shut your eyes tightly gripping onto his back as tight as you can. you start squirming as your next orgasm approaches.

“m’cumming! oh! matt, i’m cumming!”

he nods, “i know baby.”

after you come down from your orgasm high, matt helps you adjust yourself so you look presentable to go back out into your party.

you reapply your lip gloss and run your fingers through your hair, combing them out. you fix your dress while matt hands you your panties.

“well, it was nice seeing you.” you say sweetly, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“very nice.” he says with a smirk on his face. he adjusts his hair too before unlocking the door and holding it open for you. you’re greeted by a long line of upset faces waiting to use the bathroom.

you and matt make side eye each other as you walk away from the crowd, giggling.

you and matt both know you were never not each others.