#so hes trying not to let it get to him BUT ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 2 days ago

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Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- mentally/emotionally abusive Naoya, Sukuna is possessive, violence, mafia ties, a lil bit of smut in here- whipped ass Kuna- he whimpers hehe- angst smut AND fluff - WC-6.2k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts- I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (esp on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part Three Playlist Masterlist Part Five>>> (coming Soon)

Part Four

��I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?” Your heart hammers in your chest, as Touma is tilting his head curiously, you bolt up to sit straight, feeling sick to your stomach as his cat-like tone works its way into your mind.

“What!?” You demand quietly, standing as you head towards the door, you’ve rarely ever had him come here, he’s been so uninvolved aside from his never ending calls or texts, which were just taunts truly.

“You heard me, honey, I’d love to come see you. Wonder what you’re wearing hmm?”

You hang up the phone, disgust making bile rise in your throat, turning to Touma then and bending low on your knees, brushing back his hair gently. “Hey baby, let Mama talk to him, hmm?”

“But will daddy upset Mama?” He asks, breaking you slowly into pieces, you take a shaky breath, plastering on a smile.

“No way, I’ll be good! Promise. But I want you to stay inside, will you do that for me?”

“Of course! I'm a big boy.”

“You are!” You snatch up a cardigan, you’re literally in a crop top and shorts, the last thing you need is him to tear apart you showing the stretch marks he loves to shit on you for, for being comfortable with your body, that gives him more power over you.

You open the door and see him, sleazy smile on his face, those narrowed brown eyes raking down your figure as you shut the door behind you, looking directly at him with a scowl. He chuckles, grinning with sharp canines as the sun that should be warming your skin makes you so hot you feel faint, blood pressure rising and rising to where you can’t breathe.

“Naoya. Need something?” You whisper, he leans a hand on the door, right by your head, the other brushing back your hair, you itch to smack him but you’re terrified, knowing more and more of what he does.

“Not a nice greeting sweetheart, where’s my kiss?”

“You’re not getting one ever again.” He laughs harshly, dragging you to him then by your waist, and you shove at his chest. “Back off.”

“No way to talk to me, maybe I should occupy your stupid fucking mouth, huh?” You glare and smack him right in the face then, earning him pinning your wrist brutally to the door. “Gonna put your hands on me?”

“You’re not gonna kiss me, ever agin. Stop it, you’re making a scene!”

“Then let me in, huh?”

“No. I’m not letting you scare Touma.” Naoya rubs his red cheek, letting your wrist go now, eyes trailing down your body once more, tugging at your cardigan, seeing the marks Sukuna left, glaring.

“And just what are these?” He touches your neck, making you shiver, pushing his hand off once more.

“None of your business, Naoya.”

“Gonna get marked up like some whore?”

“Says the man who had women bent over tables in front of me?” You counter, raising a brow, as Naoya tilts your chin up, touch so vile compared to Sukuna’s that you wonder how you ever really did it with him.

“If you would’ve tried harder, maybe I wouldn’t have had to. Served your man a little more, appreciated all I did.”

You scoff now, eyes narrowing. “All you did was down me, make me feel like shit, and blame me for your infidelity instead of just taking responsibility. And I served you plenty, you sure didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Get me off.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes and adjusting his suit jacket. “Oh really? You’re playing that?”

“It’s not a game, I know you didn’t.”

“And you’re gonna stand here looking so satisfied, for what?”

“Because I’m happy for once, you can’t stand it, can you?” You whisper, only for him to press your back against the door, hovering over you, for all his faults he’s never hit you, but your eyes go wide, tummy flipping so much you feel sick, you’re dying to just be in Sukuna’s arms suddenly.

It’s an insane thought, too much too soon, but fuck you want him to hold you, to tell you it’ll all be okay, to feel him cup your face with one of his big hands, that make you feel so safe. You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to gather yourself, as Naoya continues to spit his nasty words, mixed with falsehoods.

“You wanna live in this piece of shit apartment with the kid?”

“He’s happy here, and it’s what I can afford.”

“So come back, and live like you should, have you in furs and diamonds, hmm?” He’s caressing your cheek as he speaks, altering his tone, and shit that used to work but now!?

“No.”

“No!?”

“No, I’m good with working hard, and doing what I can. I haven’t asked you for a dime, Naoya.”

“Making such good money shaking your ass?” You tense then, jaw setting, glaring back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Heard the rumors, someone saw you coming out of that club downtown, the real fancy one. Are you actually bartending, or are you just slutting it out?”

“I swear to god, go the fuck away.”

“Want me to tell the lawyer what you do? Mommy who strips, who knows what else she does for money. How much are you charging them?” He cooes again, brushing back your hair as your hands are numb from the blood pressure rising higher and higher, until you almost feel faint.

“What are you getting at, stop talking in circles.”

He laughs then, throwing his head back a bit. “That you either come back where you belong, with me, or I make sure he’s not gonna be yours.”

“You will not, and since when do you even want him in your life?” Your voice is under your breath, you can’t have Touma hearing, Naoya’s brows lower, as he finally backs up a bit, but his hands are slipping across the sides of your breasts, to your waist and your hips.

“Miss you, don’t you know?” He tries to run it, that game he used to, but it doesn’t work, not now that you’ve had Sukuna, a real man. “I need you in my bed, not some john at a club.”

“I don’t get paid to fuck.” You speak through your teeth, he snorts then.

“You were good with your mouth, you know.”

“Wouldn’t know if you were, thank god.”

“What now?” You smile then.

“Nothing. If you want to see Touma, set it up with our lawyer, you don’t need to come here, or do you want more legal involvement in your hair?”

“You threatening me, stupid little bitch?”

“Just giving what I’m getting, bet you don’t want the feds on you.” He laughs cruelly, pinching your cheek so hard you gasp.

“Think I don’t have feds in my back pocket? Stop acting like you fucking know shit, huh? Think about it, coming back, being safe with me, or acting like some dumb bitch at a club. What’s better?”

“Call me a bitch one more time, I swear.” He leans close, lips against your ear, hands slipping down your body, gripping at your hips.

“You’re real pretty when you’re scared.” Is all he says, kissing your ear and laughing again, before pulling back, finally allowing you a breath. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

You try to compose yourself, finally walking inside and seeing Touma nomming happily on his little cheese puff snacks, giggling as he’s watching his cartoon. You exhale in relief that he hadn’t heard it, but then a sense of dread starts to fill you, as you have no clue truly just what your ex is capable of.

******

Candy looks at you with a frown when you walk in, as do the other girls, not saying a word as you start to get undressed, they never really talk to you, seeing as you’re Mr. Sukuna’s favorite, and you can’t blame them. Sukuna was heavily lusted after by the girls here, and you’re sure from overhearing conversations that he used to partake in the women here as well.

But it definitely seems like he no longer is, as body spray is spritzed and lockers are shut, leaving you alone as you’re dusting glitter on your skin, struggling to pull yourself together just a bit. Sukuna isn’t here yet, and when he is you’re certain the flood gates are going to open, and tears will fall.

You need to tell him what happened.

You struggle to save face, stepping up the stairs to one of the stages, clear platform heels clicking, the straps have calloused your ankles all week, but you seem to be getting used to this again. Your body after just a couple weeks is a little stronger, a little more used to the movements, though you’re not sure you’ll be able to get up all the way like before Touma.

You spin and glide, earning grins and looks, as you slip to the floor, hair falling loosely, you’re not wearing a wig tonight, hair just flowing lightly, led lights glittering like diamonds on your skin. You try to fake a smile, try to put on a bright exterior, as men ogle you with their eyes, as they slip cash into your garter, when you see Sukuna walk in, along with Toji, Suguru and Satoru.

As soon as his eyes hit you, he knows something is wrong, and he panics, was it him, yesterday? Was it the fuckfest you two had!? Was he too much or…

What you do to him.

He walks up now, casually standing at the stage and pulling out hundreds, becoming you over, blunt in his mouth as he hands you a lighter. “Light it f’me, pretty hmm?”

“Of course, Mr. Sukuna.” You step closer, taking it and cupping around the flame, he exhales, slipping a hundred in your garter, then another few in your waistband, thumbs brushing on your skin, feeling so good then. “Don’t give me-”

“Shh. Tipping my girls here.” He says, inhaling the blunt as more men are gathering around, trying to garner your attention, and Sukuna’s putting another few hundred in your other garter, as your body responds to his every touch. “God just look at you.”

“Mnh…” Is all you manage to whisper, he smirks then, inhaling the blunt and exhaling against your skin as you spread your thighs, pulling your panties up to where your lips are just barely visible, making his head spin.

“Teasing me, huh brat?”

“Maybe.” You turn now, rolling your hips, before pulling him by his tie, as he stands so close, feeling your heat against him, making him almost moan as he lets you pull his face to your titties.

“You better not do this with anyone again.” He says as you jiggle your breasts, managing the first soft laugh since your run in with your ex.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Sir.”

“Fuck.” You pull back a bit, and he sighs as his name is called, looking over his shoulder, then back at you. “Come see me in a bit.”

You nod, finding it hard to pay any attention to any of the other men, outright shuffling off dances to the other girls, until your set is done and Sukuna eyes you heading to his office. Soon he’s in there, shutting the door and pulling you close, intending on kissing you when he sees the tense set of your face, the way your eyebrows are drawn together.

He softly says your name, and you know you’re losing it, your hold on everything. “Anyone bothering you?”

“Not any of the guys here, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Sukuna cups your face, and as soon as he does, you drop your shields, your barriers, all your defenses, lip trembling so much you have to bite at it to make it stop. You’re blinking back tears, when his crimson eyes narrow with concern, his jaw tensing. “What’s wrong, brat, out with it.”

“I don’t wanna worry you.” You whisper, then Sukuna knows.

“He fuckin threaten you?”

“Just with custody, not… physical. But he was grabbing at me, saying nasty things to me… I… Kuna, I…”

“Shh, shit just c’mere.” He pulls you in his embrace, a big hand on your head, pressing you against his chest, letting you inhale that familiar scent, feeling so right and perfect, this cardamom mixed with something so heady, so him. You inhale it as your tears decorate his black dress shirt, and he’s just holding you.

You can’t stop crying, it opens up like a damn flood gate, all while he’s holding you against his chest. “S-someone saw m-me here… that night he w-was here, I think he was looking for me.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens, holding you so close you can barely breathe. “He won’t fucking touch you, not a hair on your head.” Sukuna feels his chest aching, how much and how intense he’s feeling for you, with every breath you take, the thoughts fill his head over and over.

Kill him, he wants to kill Naoya.

It would start a fucking gang war though, but he can’t even think of anything, seeing red as he looks at the door to his office, as he holds you while you cry, over a man who doesn’t deserve shit, especially your damn tears. Didn’t deserve to touch you, and now has made you cry? No.

“He won’t bother you anymore.”

“You don’t understand who he is-”

“You don’t understand who I am.” You look up at him, as he swipes his thumbs across your cheeks. He can’t stop himself then, he wants to finally tell you, just how he feels, how much he feels. “Listen, I-”

Suddenly there’s a commotion, and Sukuna hears the sounds of a fight breaking out, you both quickly dart out of the room, and see it then, Naoya being held by his collar with Toji. The dancers and bartenders scatter, the men there gathering around, including several Zenin, with guns on the ready, you feel sick when Naoya sees you, wearing literally just pasties and panties.

Brown eyes lock as Sukuna spins a gold ring on one of his tattooed fingers, putting the insignia on it under his fist, stepping in front of you, as Toji hooks him under his shoulders, and Satoru and Suguru walk in, starting to punch the other men around you all, taking their guns right from their hands. The entire room is chaotic as you stand behind Sukuna, hand gripping his shirt like some lifeline.

“Out of the fuckin’ way, Ryomen. That’s my property right behind you.” Naoya says, and Sukuna’s body flexes with his fury, as he steps forward, laughing while he watches Naoya wriggle in Toji’s hold.

“She isn’t your damn property, Zenin.”

“She was my wife-”

“Was, being the keyword. You’re in our territory, fuck face.” Toji says then, and Naoya laughs, trying to heatbutt Toji and failing.

“Not the traitor son talking shit about territory, you all just are little bitches for the Gojo clan now, huh?”

Gojo quietly knocks another member out, until several are on the floor, as Suguru makes sure every last patron and dancer are out of the door, shutting and locking it with a click. “Speaking of my family, you are on my land, so why don’t you do us all a favor and leave her alone?” Gojo says then, as Sukuna steps closer, and Toji drags Naoya to a seat, holding his arms behind the back of it.

“The fuck do you care, you all tagging her?” Sukuna punches Naoya then, with a sickening crack, only making him lick the blood that drips from his lips, grinning when you find you have a jacket on you, tugging at it a bit and seeing Suguru smile just a bit, touching your back gently.

“You shouldn’t see this, love.” He murmurs, as Naoya coughs up once Sukuna has punched him in the stomach.

“Don’t talk about her, don’t even say her fucking name.” Sukuna mutters now, gripping Naoya’s collar and lowering his face.

“Do you know what my family can do?” Naoya asks, earning Sukuna’s grin.

“Do you know what I can do? What I feel like doing right now?” Satoru now has an arm around your shoulder, turning you to face his chest when you hear another scream from Naoya now, along with Sukuna chuckling.

“Shouldn’t see all that.” Satoru mumbles, as you’re shivering against him, and he has a hand on your head.

“I can look at it, I swear-”

“You really care about her, then you won’t piss me off, she’d fetch a pretty penny on the market, stretch marks and all- ah.” You hear another hit then, another sickening crunch of bone, making you just bury your face further against Satoru’s chest, feeling how stiff his own body has gotten, hands tight on you.

“Gojo, get her out of here while I finish this.” You hear gruffly, to just be ushered away from where your ex was further digging his grave. You’re gasping for a breath when Satoru has you in Sukuna’s office, struggling with your tears as you pull the coat closer against you.

“You have the worst taste, pookie.” Satoru says, and you laugh through your tears, as he leans over to grab tissues, dabbing them on your cheeks.

“How are you a mobster? You’re too sweet.”

“I am sweet, hmm?” He wiggles his brows, making you giggle again.

“How do you do that, be so sweet still?”

“Lots of sugary drinks. Sit.” You sit down now on the desk, hearing more screaming, trembling more as this giant coat swamps you, and Satoru sits next to you sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate this shit actually.”

“The head of the Gojo family hates it?”

“Sure do. Boring, bloody, just annoying. Sukuna, he really runs things for me, honestly, he can handle it all. I can but…” He frowns, looking at the backs of his knuckles, his long fingers spread out. “I don’t prefer to.”

“Do you think he’ll really do it, try to s-sell me?” Your trembling whisper makes Satoru frown now.

“He’s capable of it, and if Sukuna kills him now, there’ll be a war. He runs the Zenin at this point. But… no one will let it happen.”

“But my kid, I-”

“No one will let it happen. Okay?” You nod just a bit and he sighs, pulling you against him again. “Look like you need a hug.”

“Ugh, I do. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Satoru, we’re friends now hmm?” You nod with a little smile when Sukuna walks in, covered in blood all over his hand and forearms, eyeing you two.

But instead of irritation, he feels appreciative of idiot ass Gojo, even if just for the moment, as he comforts you. “I’ve got it now.”

Gojo smiles at you. “Don’t worry mmkay?”

You nod, wishing you could feel as unbothered as he’s trying, as he walks past Sukuna, and he murmurs something in his ear, before Sukuna shuts the door behind him, walking up to you now. Slowly, step by step, those dress shoes of his click quietly on polished hardwood floors, until he’s right in front of you, his shoulders finally relaxing their posture.

“Kuna…” You whisper, looking at his bloodied hands, as he cups your face with them, exhaling and leaning low, the crimson liquid decorating your cheeks as his thumbs brush over them.

“You need to come stay with me.” He says, husky voice so deep and broken, you take a shaky breath, your hands slipping up his shirt, dark line of sweat down his broad chest making it damp.

“I can’t do that, I can’t impose like that!”

“He’s more dangerous to you and your kid right now than anyone. You both need to stay with me for now so I can have you safe. No arguing, got me?” He says softly, and you nod, blinking tears back as he kisses you, deeply, hungrily now. “Good girl, actually listening.”

“Good girl, don’t do that.” You feel it then, his adrenaline just pouring from his veins, and he moans now, shoving off the jacket, baring you to him, every where he touches leaving little trails of blood, your ex husband’s blood at that, now coating your pretty breasts when he grabs them. You’re desperately unzipping him, feeling the need to be ever closer.

“God, what do you do to me.” He murmurs more to himself than anything, kissing the corner of your lips, down your jaw, pulling your pretty body so close, dying to take you, have you his and only his.

“Please.” You whine out softly, stroking his cock now, thumb trailing just over his piercing when he spreads your thighs, kissing down your neck, and you’re rubbing his tip between your folds, whining.

“I can’t touch her like this.” He huffs, and you whine out, making his cock throb in response.

“Don’t even need to touch me, please. In me- Ah!” As he presses his cock at your entrance, you’re soaking him, all while he’s cupping your chin, kisses hungrier now, your teeth clicking as he’s stretching out your little pussy.

“You’re too tight, brat, shit.” He huffs now, pulling your hair as he lays you back on his desk, yanking your thigh so he can sink even further, and you almost cum then and there, the sound drowned out by his mouth, muffling your cries.

“Need you.” You whisper again, and you needing him, hearing you say that, right along with your perfect pussy ruins him completely, he’s fucking into your slick walls now, harder and harder, pulling back to look at your face. Covered in mascara streaks, tears from this piece of shit who should have never had you, still so beautiful.

“You’re all mine now, aren’t you brat?” He huffs, you nod weakly, when his piercing drags on your spot, and you’re screaming out, he covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes dilated, lidded while he fucks into you. “Shh, baby.”

Baby.

Sukuna called you baby.

As you’re cumming and he’s whispering ‘that’s it, baby lemme fuckin’ feel you’ it’s partially from his cock, partially from his possessiveness, the way he owns you. He pulls out of you then, much to your whining dismay, chuckling a bit when he’s bent you over his desk instead, legs dangling at just how high it is, even with your heels they barely touch the floor.

“Mine, say it.” He huffs, fucking back into you, tip drooling as it kisses your cervix, your head falls back as you whine out. “Mine, just mine, never his again.”

“Never, Kuna, never.” Your cries are again muffled by a rough palm, as Sukuna feels a protectiveness so intense he can’t bear it, the need to claim you, to keep you, to make you his and all his. He’s closer and closer as he ravages your tight little cunt, which is pouring down his veiny length to accommodate.

“Gonna k-keep you s-safe, keep you cumming, f-fuck… got me?” You nod eagerly, screaming out into his palm when his ring drags on a new spot, and you’re cumming all over him, making him throb and moan himself, right in your ear, so sexy it sends shivers down your spine. “Gonna protect you baby.”

Protect you.

Fuck you believe him, you trust him, more than someone you knew for years. The way he grabs you. Holds you. Kisses you. Fucks you. There's nothing like it, that strength as he rails your pretty pussy, yet the gentleness of his little kisses, then the feral way he claims you.

“Mnh!” Is all you squeak out against his rough hand, as your eyes roll back in your skull, and you’re convulsing around his thickness.

“Fuck…” Sukuna whimpers, the sound that always ends you even further, as he tries to keep going buried deep in you, he has to rest his other hand on the desk, clutching it, while he turns your face to him, breath on your lips burning. He almost says it, insane words, you make him think when you look at him with those eyes.

I love you.

Fucking brat, coming in and making him obsessed, making him soft, reckless and stupid, and now in love. He barely knows you, he’s surely pussydrunk, but that’s just not it, Sukuna has been whipped like a little bitch since day one, and it’s truly all your fault, as your pussy milks him, as your lips part and you look at him like that, like something he can’t explain.

Well shit.

He can’t just say that, so he stutters, his mouth open, shoving his cock so deep you scream out loud, and he couldn’t care less if someone heard then and there, not when he’s burying his face in your neck, murmuring your name. He also murmurs it, silently, those three little words, as he grabs you so tight, thick muscled arms around your body, so small compared to him.

“Kuna, cum in me, please. Wanna f-feel you.” You whisper, and who is he to deny anything you ask? He cums immediately, like your whispered plea was some command, his moans echoing in the room they’re so loud. “Mnh oh my god yes.”

You’re shuddering now, as his cock fills you so good, white cum shooting so deep inside you, and your head falls back as you rock your hips, arching your ass out for him to cum even deeper. Sukuna kisses you over and over, one hand gripping your hip, the other your face, trying to catch his own breath as he pushes in just a bit, feeling his cum and yours drooling down his length.

“Holy fuck…” You mumble, and he chuckles just a bit. “What?”

“You’re cute.”

“Cute, hmm?” He eases off you, pressing kisses down your spine, exhaling as he watches goosebumps rise everywhere he does.

“Cute. Even pouring cum like this.” You jerk as he pulls his cock out, and the emptiness and soreness hits. “Mmm, come with me tonight.”

“With my kid and everything? Let’s just… tomorrow? I mean I have to bring some things.” You try to adjust as you clean yourself up a bit with the tissues, hands shaking as you do.

“I mean… he’s not gonna do shit tonight, I guess, but I’ll have someone sit in front of your place, just to be sure.” You cup Sukuna’s face now, tiptoeing.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Let your kid sleep tonight, then we’ll figure something out.”

“Kuna I think I’m… like in love?” He snorts, but you’re dead serious, earning a blush on his high cheeks.

“It’s the moment brat, calm down.”

“Is it the moment?” Your eyes lock on his, he sighs now.

“You’re ‘like- in love’ what a shitty confession.” You glare now, earning his chuckle, the moment just a little lighter.

“Excuse me for not having the best confession, I have my exes blood on me and my boyfriend fucked my brain away.”

“Boyfriend?” He raises a brow, you bite your lower lip nervously then.

“Aren’t you?” He sighs, he wants to be that and more, brushing your messy hair back just so.

“You’re asking me out and confessing love? Damn, pathetic.”

“I swear if you-”

“I’m joking, brat.” He’s grinning now, for a moment this huge, tall and intimidating man with bruised knuckles is just a little sweetheart, genuine joy in his tone when he speaks. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah!?”

“Yeah.” You grin and kiss him again and again, until he’s damn near ready to fuck you all over, when the door knocks, and he clears his throat, grabbing his own coat and shoving it over your shoulders. “Come in.”

“Smells like sex in here.” Toji jokes with a grin, and Satoru sighs.

“Good sex.” He says with a pout.

“Can you two actually fuck off?” Sukuna demands, and you stand up, handing Suguru his jacket with a little smile.

“Thank you.” He smiles just a bit, nodding.

“How about we have a drink, I could sure use one.” Toji mutters, and Sukuna chuckles.

“Is that code for, I really fucked shit up and we need to talk about our plans?”

“Something like that. Wanna have a drink, doll?” Toji asks you then, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“I should get home, I need to be with my son.”

“I’ll have someone go there now.” Sukuna says, texting on his phone for a moment. “Want my driver to take you?”

“I can drive, Sukuna.”

“Aren’t you shaken up a bit?” Sukuna murmurs, before grinning. “Or should I say fucked out?”

“Oh stop!” You head off to get cleaned up and dressed, and when you’re out there aside from knocked over chairs and broken glass shattered, it seems relatively normal. Toji, Sukuna and Gojo are sitting there with Suguru at the bar, pouring them each a drink when Sukuna sees you, in your hoodie and jeans, sighing.

“You gonna be okay alone? I can come with you.” Sukuna asks, and Suguru hands you a shot, which you down with a little shiver, coughing a bit.

“If you have someone keeping an eye on the place I’ll be okay.”

“Just in case…” Sukuna walks behind the bar now, grabbing a gun and handing it to you, you blink a bit in confusion, frowning at it. “I’ll be showing you how to shoot a mother fucker.”

“Right now!?” You hear the chuckling of the men around you.

“Just point and shoot em, pookie.” Gojo says.

“I’m not gonna have a gun around! I don’t have a lock box and-”

“There’s the safety, and you can put it right under your pillow, just for tonight. Tomorrow I can protect you.” Sukuna says softly, putting the cool metal in your hands, dainty and shimmering. “It’s not a big gun, it’s tiny, just a little ‘22, enough that it’ll fuck em up, but barely any kick back. And easy to keep on you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, doll, ya need to start carrying, with that ex of yours? Trust us.” Toji says, you sigh then, nodding and taking the gun carefully, hand trembling just a bit.

“Safety is here, trigger here, it’s loaded so don’t play with it. Okay?” You nod now, and pops a little holster around your hips, securing it and covering it with your hoodie.

“I don’t have a permit-”

“Baby we run coke and are in the mob, you think that matters?” You look down and they all chuckle again at you. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I should go home though, I need to clean up and… be with my kid.”

“I’ll walk you out.” You wave to the other men now, as you feel the weight of his gun, though light, the mental weight of it is heavy on you, as you look up at him and a car pulls up.

“Only go straight home, already got someone parked, red mercedes, any other car lurking you call me, okay?” You nod then, leaning up and kissing him softly, sighing against his lips.

“I think I really love you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, pulling you against him now, hands warm even over the layer of your fleece hoodie. “Do I gotta baby proof my house for the kid, or can he keep his hands off my coke?”

“Oh god, Sukuna!” He’s chuckling more now, earning your narrowed eyes. “Yes I need it somewhat put up, certain things, but he’s three, not an infant, so he’s good with most things. Are you really sure this won’t be a big imposition?”

“I’m sure it’ll annoy the fuck out of me, but it’s worth it if you’re safe.” You melt now, the breeze softly blowing his pastel hair around as you look up at him in the night.

“You’re gonna meet the kid, hmm? So soon?” You tease, he smirks.

“Already clearly met the ex.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully, for a moment you can let go, this horrible night, a night where your ex said and did terrible things, and threatened worse, because with Sukuna you just feel safe.

“The kid, he looks like you…”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Sukuna’s mind flits, to wild things he shouldn’t think about yet, like if he puts a baby in you, but he tries to shove it back, down with the pesky I love you, that doesn’t need to come out yet.

In just a couple of weeks you’re turning his entire life upside down, but he’s not sure he’s upset about it, really.

“He’ll love you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” He is.

“Well, good night Kuna.”

“Dumb nickname.” He grumbles, kissing you again, soft and sweet, and your eyes meet, seeing so much behind them, the worry and fear and… more. “Call me when you get home, lock up good. Keep the gun close, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.” You giggle when he moans at that, hands on your hips, pressing you close against his hard body.

“Keep talking shit. I have that room soundproof you know.”

“Freaky ass.” He snorts, and you both kiss once more, as he leans over the car door, opening his mouth as if to say something, then sighing.

“Don’t forget to call me.”

“I won’t.” His heart aches when you drive off, he quickly walks back in however, his entire demeanor shifting when he sees the other men are serious now too, now that they don’t have to try to keep it a little more positive for you.

“He fucked up big time coming here.” Toji slicks back his inky locks, downing another shot of tequila, as Satoru’s hands clutch the bar so hard his thin veins are popping from his hands and wrists.

“He’s gonna come back with more people, we need to amp up, call in some of the guys to be on watch. God this shit is boring.” Gojo sighs now, leaning his snowy head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Tired of the Zenin.”

“They’re becoming more and more of a problem, no respect.” Sukuna takes a bottle of whiskey, pouring it into his glass now, jaw clenching. “And that Naoya, the things he fucking said.”

“Love is the biggest weakness, Sukuna.” Satoru murmurs, Sukuna glares at him, but he’s right.

You’re now his weakness, a target, long standing shit mixing with Naoya’s clear need to get you back, it spells disaster. “Did I say I’m in love, Gojo?”

“Written all over your face.” Suguru smirks a bit, earning Sukuna’s glare.

“And her kid, you’re like gonna be a stepdad. God, imagine Ryomen Sukuna as your step dad?” Satoru’s cackling, and Sukuna stands now, stepping up to him as he holds his hands out. “I don’t blame you!? I’d do it too, look at her-”

“I think I need more blood on my knuckles tonight.” Sukuna yanks Satoru by the collar, his arms flailing.

“Shit, sorry step dad-”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Separate you two, god.” Suguru shoves them apart, shaking his head. “Satoru, you really just enjoy being threatened I think.”

“You do love her.” Satoru gets released, brushing himself off as Sukuna grumbles.

“I’ll never let him touch her again, whatever I gotta do.”

When you’re snug in your bed after a shower, you yawn, calling Sukuna, who is riding back home. “Hey, Kuna.”

“Brat, are you all good?” He tries to hide the worry in his voice, but it comes out through the phone, as you turn on your back, blinking a bit, hand clutching tightly.

“I’m okay, I promise. Scared for Touma. I don’t know, would he hurt him?”

“He’d hurt you, and that leaves him with no mom. So it doesn't matter if he’d hurt him or not.” You bite your lip then, feeling exhaustion starting to seep in.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Tch.”

“Answer me, you brat.”

“Me a brat!?” He laughs now, and you giggle. “You’re asking for it.”

“Am I? Gonna punish me?” Your words are just a whisper, but hearing his sigh even through the phone makes your tummy clench.

“Hah- you’d like it too much, won’t you, me beating that bouncy ass?”

“Shush. I’m sore, you know.”

“Gotta work on the stamina, pathetic.”

“Hmm.” You’re dozing now, lashes are lowering, and he soon hears a light little snore, glaring at the phone.

“You’re sleeping?” He hears more snoring now, chuckling and leaning back in the seat, shutting his eyes for a moment, picturing you.

You’re making him so sappy, god it’s annoying.

“Night then, brat.” He murmurs, hearing you stir then.

“Night Kuna.” He hates the stupid smile on his face, hates the heat spreading from his cheeks to even the tips of his ears, hanging up the phone with a sigh, mind swirling.

Images of you, images of Naoya with his broken fucking nose, then more and more thoughts swirling, especially one-

How is he going to baby proof his damn penthouse?

A/N- there's a LOT of plot here vs just smut, but I really wanna get into just how awful the Zenin are in this mafia world, esp Naoya. NEXT CHAP we get Kuna meeting Touma OMG. Also I included a lot of Satoru bc he's getting his spin off hehe. Hope you enjoyed, tysm for the love so far on this lil fic!

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

#strip club owner sukuna #sukuna x female reader #sukuna x reader #divider by cafekitsune #sukuna x fem!reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader

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cameronsprincess · 3 days ago

Note

omg pls write about frat!rafe and reader and she wants to make a sex tape with rafe as revenge porn for her ex

PLEASE!!!!! i love this so much omfg!!!! i hope you love it baby!

CW: smut! 18+ only! frat!rafe, slight violence, drinking, multiple positions, fingering, male receiving oral, rafe ‘n reader make a sex tape and send it to her shit ass ex bf!

a/n: i’ve never been in college so bare with me, bc idk if i’m getting some terms or things correct, but i did some googling for this😂 also.. i lowkey gave this a lil more storyline.. oops.

masterlists.

you had your sights set on the frat president for a couple of weeks now. ever since you and spencer broke up, you had wanted to figure out a way to get back at him for cheating on you… and what better way to do that than to hook up with his frat brother, the most sought after man on campus, rafe cameron.

it’d been two weeks of you subtly flirting with rafe, giving him fuck me eyes any time you saw him, running into him in the courtyard or dining hall, finding an excuse to talk with him after the fact. it didn’t take much, honestly, after day one rafe was already reeled in.

you’re currently sitting in the library, books open and scattered around the table, studying for a final exam when you hear a voice you’ve grown accustomed to hearing as of late.

“hey, pretty girl. whatcha studying for?”

you glance up from your textbook, setting your pen down on the tabletop and crossing one leg over the other before smiling brightly at rafe. “my final for forensic psychology. worth twenty percent of my grade,” you pause, biting at your bottom lip and batting your lashes at him. “what’re you doing in here?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.

rafe chuckles, the sound deep and smooth. it sends a jolt of arousal straight between your legs.

“just came for some quiet between classes, didn’t expect to find you here though,” he shifts closer to you, his large, ringed hand falling on your thigh. “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t happy i ran into you though.”

your eyes flit down to where his hand is resting on your bare thigh, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. you give him a small smile, “well i’m glad you ran into me too, it’s always nice being around you.”

rafe grins, his hand tightening on your thigh before he pulls back. you frown at the loss of his touch, but you quickly mask it, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. this is all a plan, you and rafe will never be anything more than a one night stand.

rafe clears his throat after a beat of awkward silence, “so i’ve been meaning to text you, but i’ve just been busy… this is better though, asking you in person i mean.”

your brow furrows, tilting your head to the side. ask you what?

“okay..” you say hesitantly. “what’d you wanna ask me?”

rafe pulls his backpack off his shoulder, setting it on the floor in front of him before unzipping it and pulling out a wrinkled flyer, passing it to you. “we’re having an end-of-the semester party is this weekend, i was wondering if you’d come?”

you study the paper in your hand, trying your best to stifle the smile wanting to break free. this is perfect. you can attach yourself to rafe’s side all night long, spencer would definitely see the two of you together, and then you can make sure he sees when you disappear upstairs together, because let’s be real… you weren’t planning on ending the night not sleeping with rafe.

your eyes finally lift, finding rafe’s sparkling blue ones. you nod your head slowly, “yeah, absolutely i’ll be there. can i bring a friend?”

a big smile takes over rafe’s face. “yeah, ‘course. bring whoever,” he zips his bag back up, standing from the chair he’s in and slinging one of the straps back over his shoulder, gripping it with his right hand. “see you saturday night, pretty girl.”

he winks at you before turning and disappearing out the library doors. you wait until you’re sure he’s gone before letting out a quiet squeal, grabbing your phone and snapping a picture of the flyer, opening your messages with your best friend before sending her a text.

you: *attachment: 1 image* oh my god, lex! rafe fucking cameron just invited me to the end-of-the semester party at his frat this weekend.. he said i could bring whoever, you in?

her reply comes in almost instantly.

lex: *lex hearted an image* ummmm. of course i’m fucking in, holy shit, babe! see i told you that you could pull this off. hurry back home, we need to start planning what to wear now!

—

three days later, saturday night.

“y/n, c’mon babe, we’re gonna be late.” lex groans, her knuckles tapping against your bathroom door again.

you laugh silently, checking your hair and makeup one final time before opening the door. lex’s hand hangs mid-air, her probably ready to knock again. you roll your eyes at her, “i’m coming i’m coming. isn’t that the point of these parties though? no one’s ever early or on time..”

lexi laughs, letting out a slow whistle after. “you’re right, but damn girl. rafe is not going to be able to keep his hands off you, you look sexy!”

you give her a small twirl, running your hands down the front of your tight black dress. you make your way past her, grabbing your heels before plopping onto your mattress and slipping them on your feet. you stand, grabbing your purse before slipping your phone and wallet inside.

turning to face lexi, you smile. “ready?”

“ready.” she repeats with a smile.

the two of you make your way down the stairs of your two-bedroom townhome, walking out the front door and to the sidewalk, waiting on the uber lexi ordered to arrive.

“so what’s the plan, ma? just gonna show up and attach yourself to rafe?”

you shake away the nerves you’re suddenly feeling, trying to clear your mind. this was going to be fine. a little alcohol, some flirting and touching, rafe would be putty in your hands.

“yeah.. i guess? i mean, what else can i do? if i’m just upfront about what i want he’d respect it more, right?”

lexi smiles. “right,” she pauses, looking down at her phone to check where the uber is. “almost here. but, back on the rafe subject, you’re hot, and you’re single, and from word around campus, rafe isn’t one to deny a pretty girl on his arm for the night. it’ll be fine! and bonus points, that jackass spencer will be there and he’ll be furious seeing you two together. plan ‘get back at spencer for being a cheating prick’ is going to be a success!”

you smile, opening your mouth to respond when a black nissan altima pulls up to the curb. the window rolls down. “for lexi adams?”

lexi smiles, grabbing your hand and opening the back door, pulling you inside the car. the driver pulls away from the curb, asking for the address.

—

the drive is only about fifteen minutes, the uber pulling up to the front of the frat house and letting the two of you out. you grip lexi’s hand in yours, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly before the two of you begin walking toward the front door.

two brothers stand outside the door, “names?” one of them asks.

you look over at lexi, your eyes slightly narrowed in a ‘is he serious’ type of way. you shake your head, looking back at the man who’d asked your names before responding, “y/n y/l/n… and this is my best friend, lexi adams…”

the two look at each other, almost like they’re contemplating letting you in. this is fucking ridiculous, it’s a frat party for christs sake, not a fucking vip section at a high dollar club.

you open your mouth to say that rafe cameron had invited you, but before you can even speak, rafe’s voice fills yours ears.

“you made it!” he says excitedly, squeezing between the two men outside the door, his hand gripping your free one. he turns to walk through the doors, but before he does he stops and whispers something to both of the men standing there. they both look up at you and lexi before putting their focus back on rafe, nodding their heads at whatever he said.

rafe drags you inside, lexi following closely behind as her hand is still holding one of yours. the music inside beats loudly throughout the house, vibrating off the walls and floors and rafe pulls you into the open living space.

he pulls you toward a table lined with various liquor bottles and beer, stopping and releasing your hand. you and lexi stand side by side, staring at rafe as he smiles. “whatcha drinkin’ tonight?” he shouts over the music.

you eye the various bottles of liquor, mixers and beers. you finally settle on a malibu and coke, lexi settling for a vodka cran. rafe quickly makes both drinks, passing them to you and lexi before slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side with a smile.

the three of you walk around the house, squeezing through crowds of people and watching as partygoers dance or partake in intense games of beer pong and flip cup at the various tables spread throughout the house. rafe finally reaches a small group sitting on a few couches, his hand gripping yours as he plops onto the couch, pulling you with him and into his lap. butterflies erupt in your stomach when his free hand snakes its way around your waist, resting flat on your lower stomach.

you rest your back against his chest, leisurely sipping on your mixed drink. rafe leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you look fucking sexy tonight.”

your cheeks heat up, biting softly at the rim of your cup before bringing it down. you lean forward to set it on the table in front of you, leaning back and turning your neck toward him to thank him. you barely finish your sentence before a familiar and unwelcome voice fills your ears.

“well isn’t this fucking cozy,” spencer says, anger and jealousy lacing his tone. “y/n… what the fuck are you doing?” he scoffs, letting out a dark laugh before he speaks again. “better yet, what the fuck are you doing, cameron? that’s my ex girlfriend. why the fuck is she here and in your lap no less?”

rafe breathes out an annoyed sigh. his thumb rubs gently at your stomach through your dress, his large hands gripping your hips and lifting you off his lap, setting you on the couch and standing. he steps into spencer’s chest, his voice low and demanding as he speaks. “last i checked, i’m the fucking president of this frat house, and i can have whoever the fuck i want here…” he gives spencer a one up, laughing before tapping his cheek and stepping back. “also… didn’t you cheat on her? with vanessa walsh? a shame, really, spence. vanessa is a major downgrade compared to y/n here.” he says, his right hand gesturing back at you.

spencer’s lips part, an annoyed and irritated expression on his face. he rolls his eyes, letting a slow smile take over his lips. “okay. have fun, she’s a fucking prude bitch anyways.”

you gasp and lexi moves to stand but you grip her wrist, pulling her back down. your eyes flit around, taking in the expressions of everyone sitting around you. there’s a lot of shock, a lot of excitement, and some people just blankly watch the interaction. lexi scoots closer to you, gluing herself to your side, resting her head on your shoulder. “fuck him, babe. you’re not a prude, he’s just a prick.”

rafe presses his tongue into his cheek, nodding his head slowly. he turns to face you, his eyes softening when they meet yours. “i’m sorry.” he says softly.

but before you can even respond, he’s turning back to face spencer, his hand clenched in a fist by his side rising and connecting with spencer’s jaw. the party grows silent, people gasping, some shouting praises at rafe, and others concerned for spencer.

“what the fuck, man?” spencer shouts, his jaw moving side to side as he moves to cup it in his hand.

rafe steps into him again, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into him, “don’t you ever. fucking talk about her that way again. understand?”

spencer tries to speak but rafe shoves him back, the force knocking spencer onto his ass. rafe turns to face you, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, placing your hand in his and letting him lift you up from the couch. his eyes go to lexi, “i’m gonna just borrow her for a moment, yeah? i’ll have my best friend topper come sit with you, keep you company. i promise he’s a good guy.”

lexi smiles, waving her hand through the air. “don’t worry about me, cameron. you take all the time you need with my girl,” she pauses, her smile dropping off her face. “but if you hurt her, i’ll be forced to hunt you down…”

rafe smiles, letting his head fall as he laughs. “got it, boss. she’ll be taken care of.”

lexi gives him a nod, and rafe drags you away. spencer’s eyes are burning into the two of you, but you couldn’t care less. you know what your next move is now, that is, if rafe’s okay with it. rafe stops near a staircase, talking to a blonde boy who you’re assuming is topper. topper glances at you, then over to the area you just were before nodding and pushing his body off the stairs, he stops to give you a gentle smile, “don’t worry, i’ll make sure your friend is good.” you thank him, and then rafe continues to pull you up the stairs once topper disappears into the crowd of bodies.

he pulls you down a long hallway, making it to a door at the very end of the hall. he digs into his back pocket, pulling out a set of keys and sifting through them before landing on the one he needs. he quickly unlocks the door, pushing it open and pulling you inside before he’s shutting it and locking it back. you take in the room you’re in, a queen sized mattress on a metal frame sits against one wall, a long dresser against the other. he has a desk pushed against one wall, his laptop, business textbooks, and a small lamp sat on top of it. he has a small closet in the room, the doors slightly open and revealing the rack that’s stuffed full with clothes. you grin, taking in the rather bare walls, give for a few pictures of him and friends and some sports posters.

“cute.” you say softly, running your fingers along the length of his dresser. you gasp when rafe’s hands snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, the feel of his breath on your skin sending goosebumps up your arms. you turn to face him, your ass pressed into the dresser as rafe steps further into you.

your eyes find his, dropping down to his lips and back up again. “yeah.. i’m perfectly fine.”

the tension in the room thickens, buzzing through your body like electricity. rafe’s eyes drop to your lips and continue their descent down your body before slowly dragging back up and stopping on your lips again.

“rafe i-” you begin, but his lips crashing against yours has the words dying on your tongue, a moan escaping you instead.

rafe slips his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours as his hands run up and down the sides of your body. he drags his hands up your sides, all the way up to your face. he firmly cups your cheeks, kissing you like he’s trying to steal your air for himself.

he backs the two of you toward the desk that sits against a far wall in his room, his lips never leaving yours, hands gliding down your sides. he reaches your thighs, gripping at them tightly and lifting you up onto the desk. your hands find his face, pulling him further into you, tongues tangling and teeth clashing before he pulls away breathless. his blue eyes search yours, your heart tugging in your chest at the deep pools of blue burning into your face.

rafe’s lips tilt up in a slight smile, his fingers lazily running along your thigh. “tell me what you want.” he rasped, his eyes never leaving yours.

your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, and your voice comes out slightly shaky as you say, “you.”

the one word was all rafe needed to hear, his fingers gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. he tosses it to the floor before he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming every inch of your body through your dress. his hands run up your thighs, disappearing under your dress. he runs his fingers along the crease of your thigh, toying with your thong, a small groan escaping him.

you push him off you, his lips detaching from yours, strings of spit pulling and attached to both of your lips. he eyes you curiously. “you okay?” he says slowly.

you smile. “yeah. perfect. i just.. i have one request.”

the corner of his lips tip slightly, head cocked to the side. “yeah, yeah what’s up?”

“can we,” you pause, laughing and shaking your head because you’re afraid he might find you ridiculous for even asking. he barely knows you. you shake away the nerves, continuing with your thoughts anyways. “can we record us? i just.. i want to get back at spencer… i know it’s stupid and i have nothing to prove but-”

rafe cuts you off with his lips on yours, kissing you softly and slowly. he finally breaks away, gripping your face in his hands. “shut up. it’s not stupid, i get it and i’m down. i’ve grown sick of spencer’s shit, so this’ll be fun.”

you smile, a wide genuine smile as you softly push him back. hopping off his desk, you kick your heels off your feet before gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head. you stand in front of rafe, in nothing but a black lace thong and bra. his eyes widen as he takes in your body, his bottom lip brought between his teeth. “goddamn… he cheated on you? fucking idiot…”

you laugh, looking for your phone and frowning when you realize you’d left it downstairs with lexi. “shit.. i left my phone downstairs with lex.”

rafe chuckles, moving past you and toward his nightstand. he grabs his phone off the top, opening his camera app and switching it to video mode. he starts the video, setting the phone up on his desk, a perfect view of his bed on the screen. “done.” rafe breathes, stepping back, turning and gripping your hips again.

he lifts you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you harshly again. you moan against his lips, grinding yourself against him. rafe groans, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before he releases it with a messy pop. he drops you onto his mattress, watching as your hair fans out around you. “you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

a blush heats your cheeks and you eyes watch him intently as he begins stripping himself of his khakis and boxers. he stands before you, completely naked, his long and thick cock bobbing in the air. you begin salivating at the sight of him. your hand reaches out, hesitantly wrapping it around his thick length. rafe groans, his head thrown back as your name leaves his lips on a breathless whisper.

you begin stroking him slowly, running your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing at his smooth, pink head. precum drips from the slit of his dick, and you quickly dart your tongue out, running it along the slit to catch it, the taste of him exploding on your tastebuds has you moaning. you drop him from your hand and rafe steps back, grabbing his phone and switching it to the back camera. he fists your hair tightly, wrapping your loose strands around his hand once, twice before tugging your head up. your eyes stare into the camera lense, his next words coming out harsh and breathless.

“suck my cock, pretty girl. go on, show me how good you are at swallowing dick.”

you bite your bottom lip, smiling up at him. your eyes never leave the camera lense as your tongue darts out, licking up the bottom of his shaft. your tongue continues its teasing motions, tracing the vein that runs up the bottom of his thick cock, all the way up to his swollen and leaking tip. you wrap your lips around him, sucking at him softly before pushing him completely down your throat.

“oh shit… that’s it pretty girl… just like that.” rafe groans, his hand holding the camera lowering, capturing every second of your mouth working at his dick. the hand that fists your hair tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting his hips, brutally fucking himself down your throat. the room is filled with your slurps and gags, rafe’s groans also bouncing off the walls. your clit pulses in sync with his dick, throbbing and twitching inside your mouth before he’s roughly pulling himself back.

he breathes heavily, letting out a breathless laugh. “jesus, i almost came too soon.”

rafe moves and sets his phone back up on the desk, making sure it’s perfectly positioned on his bed before he’s walking toward you. he flips you onto your back again, crawling on top of you and kissing your lips hard. he pulls his lips from yours, pushing up with his hands and pulling at the cups of your bra, letting your tits spill out. he groans at the sight of them. his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking and biting at it before he switches to the other, giving it the same attention. he finally pulls back, blowing on your nipples, the cool air making them tighten more.

his fingers run down the length of your stomach, stopping once he reaches the waistband of your panties. he slowly pushes them down, your ass lifting to help him get them off. his eyes find your glistening pussy, a slow exhale escaping his lips. “fuck… you’re so wet…”

he leans over, opening the top drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a condom. he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling out the lubricated condom before he’s slowly dragging it down his length. your chest heaves, eyes watching him as he grips himself in his hand, slowly lining himself up with your soaked entrance. “gonna feel so fuckin’ good… you ready?”

you give him a small nod, breathing out an “mhmm” before rafe slowly pushes his tip inside you. your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into the skin of his back and dragging down as he slowly pushes more of himself inside you.

the two of you moan in unison when he bottoms out inside you, “fuck you feel so good..” rafe groans, his body unmoving as he lets you adjust to his size. you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down and kissing him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

“rafe… please? please fuck me.” you beg him, and he groans.

“yes ma’am.” is all he says before he’s slowly dragging out and slamming back inside. his hips start a quick pace, moving in and out of you harshly, his tip hitting a spot inside you that had your toes curling and bright white light blinding your vision.

you moan his name, loudly crying out and your fingers tug at his hair, scratch at his back, gripping onto any part of him you can as he brutally fucks himself inside you.

“mmmm you’re so fuckin’ wet and tight, i feel that sweet pussy gripping ‘round me, pretty girl… you gonna cum f’me? want you to make a fuckin’ mess on my cock.”

your pussy flutters around him, a moan of his name spilling past your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. the first orgasm hits you hard, your body tensing, legs shaking as you come undone around him. rafe smiles, quickly pulling himself out of you and flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your ass into the air, giving it a harsh smack before he’s climbing off the bed, grabbing his phone and making his way back to you.

he points the camera in your face, groaning as he says “look at that pretty face… look so damn beautiful after you’ve cum around my cock baby.”

you give the camera a lazy smile, your eyes fluttering shut when he pushes himself back inside you from behind this time. he pulls the camera away from your face, focusing it on where his dick disappears inside your soaked cunt. he lowers the camera, capturing every detail of your pussy gripping his cock. “goddamn.. look how good she squeezes my dick. never seen anything more fuckin’ sexy.”

he pulls the camera back up, holding it up with one hand as his free hand grabs onto your hip. he begins pounding inside you again, reveling in the sweet noises he pulled from you with each thrust of his hips. your pussy clenches down around him again, squeezing him tightly and he lets out a strangled moan. “fuck baby, you gonna cum again?” he teases, his hand that’s holding your hip releasing it, landing a harsh smack to your ass again.

a loud cry is pulled from you as your second orgasm washes over you, this one dragging out and lasting longer than the first. rafe never lets up, his pace never faltering. he fucks himself into you, helping you ride out your high. once you come down, he’s pulling out again, setting the phone back up and lifting you into his arms. his hands hold the underside of your ass and he backs you into a wall, kissing you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as he grips his dick again, shoving himself inside you again. the new position coupled with the ways he’s holding you, his hands moving your hips up and down his length and the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms already has you seeing stars.

“that’s it baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”

your vision blurs, nothing but white light blinding you as your pussy clenches around him again. rafe’s dick twitches inside you, a strangled “fuck” and call of your name falling from him as he slams you down one final time. he holds you in place, your body shaking in his hold as you cum around him and he empties himself inside the condom.

once the two of you come down from your highs, rafe kisses your lips softly, “did so fucking good, so good baby. you’re such a good girl.”

you smile at him softly, your body fucked out and exhausted but your mind still floating on cloud nine from the three orgasms he’s drawn out of you. rafe slips himself from inside you, laying you in his bed and covering you up before grabbing his phone and stopping the video. he discards the condom in the trash, climbing into his bed with you and wrapping his arms around your body, pulling your sleeping figure into him and kissing the top of your head.

quickly opening his texts, he finds spencer’s contact and sends a quick text.

rafe: *attachment 1 video* don’t worry bro, she’s taken care of now. you’re stupid as fuck for letting this one go.

once he sends the video he smiles to himself, moving the video to a private folder for himself before locking his phone and laying down with you. he nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses as he whispers, “don’t worry pretty girl. you’re mine now, and i’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

tagging some moots: @quinnsbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @nemesyaaa @maybejj @sarahsangelicdoll @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @dementedkittenribbon @hauntedfawnn @memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @cherrygirlfriend @maybanksangel @jjsbaby @jjslaybank @littlelamy

#*ೃ༄ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #frat!rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic

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bookshelftreasures · 3 days ago

Text

Jealous Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Azriel's shadows have always been loyal, always obeyed him without question. Until now. Until they start misbehaving whenever another man so much as looks at you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,066

Notes: This is my first fic, I hope you like it! :)

~~~~~

The first time it happens, you don't think much of it.

You're at Rita's with the Inner Circle, nursing a drink at the bar while Cassian and Mor dance somewhere among the crowded space. The music thrums through the air, and the conversation hums around you when a male slides into an empty seat beside you.

"Didn't think someone like you would be sitting alone," he says, flashing a grin.

You don't even get the chance to respond before a flicker of something moves between you.

The male frowns, swiping at his hair, which has suddenly transformed from being neatly styled to sticking up in wild angles, as if an invisible force had run its hands through it... aggressively.

You blink in surprise.

He mutters a curse, trying to fix it, but the moment he smooths it down, the strands spring right back up. His frustration grows, hands swiping over his head repeatedly.

"I- what the hell?" he grumbles. "Is this air cursed or something?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a laugh.

And then you feel it.

A cool, familiar brush against your wrist.

Slowly, you glance down—just in time to see a shadow curling around your fingers before slipping away.

Your stomach flips.

You don't even need to turn around to know exactly where Azriel is.

~~~~~

The second time it happens, it's harder to ignore.

You and Azriel are training in the House of Wing, and the session has drawn some attention—mainly from a visiting group of Illyrians who very clearly wanted to spar with you.

One in particular, a cocky warrior named DAIN, is relentless. He lingers, circling the ring as Azriel corrects your stance, his gloved hands light against your arms.

"You sure you don't want a real sparring partner, sweetheart?" Dain calls, grinning. "I promise I'll go easy on you."

Azriel stills.

His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he steps back, shadows slithering at his feet. "She's training," he says evenly, but there's an obvious warning beneath the words.

Dain chuckles. "Training is nice and all, but I'd be happy to teach her a few things myself."

Something cold coils around your ankles.

Before you can react, the shadows yank. Not hard. Just enough to make you stumble backwards, right into Azriel's chest.

Your breath catches.

His hands steady you, fingers gripping your waist for a fraction of a second before he forces himself to let you.

You glance up at him, about to ask whether or not that was intentional, but his jaw is tight, hazel eyes locked on Dain.

Azriel's shadows have started to shift.

Not the lazy, fluid movements they usually have—but sharp, possessive flickers that wrap around you. One curls over your shoulder, while another drapes across your wrist, looping around like a claim.

You shiver, pulse skittering.

Dain seems to notice, too. His smirk falters, his eyes flicking between you and the swirling darkness. "Uh-"

The shadows snap toward him.

Not touching—just close. Close enough to make him step back.

You swear you hear them hiss.

Dain swallows hard. "Right. I, uh, should probably-"

Azriel doesn't blink. Doesn't move.

Dain takes the hint. He all but scrambles away, muttering under his breath.

And just like that, the shadows slip away, leaving you cold.

You whip around, crossing your arms. "What was that about?"

Azriel frowns, too casual. "What was what?"

"Oh, I don't know," you say dryly. "Maybe terrorizing a man into running for his life?"

His brow furrows, like he truly doesn't know what you're talking about. "I didn't do anything."

You narrow your eyes. Then one last shadow curls around your wrist before darting away like a child caught misbehaving.

Azriel glares at it.

Your lips part. "You have got to be kidding me."

His expression darkens as more shadows flick around you, playful now.

Azriel sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. "They don't usually-"

"Get jealous?" You finish for him, holding back a smile.

Silence.

His throat bobs.

And then—quietly, almost too quiet—you hear his shadows whisper something.

A name.

Your name.

And you realize—maybe it's not just his shadows who are jealous.

Your breath hitches. Azriel's wings rustle. And he looks like he's about to bolt.

Which is just unacceptable.

You cross your arms, tilting your head back to study him. "You know, I think your shadows like me more than they like you."

Azriel exhales sharply. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" You smirk, glancing down as a shadow curl lazily around your wrist. You give it a little wiggle, and the shadow clings tighter.

Azriel scowls at it. "Traitor."

A laugh bubbles out of you. You can't help it.

The great and terrifying Shadowsinger, bested by his own shadows.

"Oh, this is too good," you say, beaming up at him. "All this time, and they've secretly been on my side."

Azriel mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse. His wings twitch again. His shadows flick in annoyance—except the ones still clinging to you, moving to curl around your waist like they never want to let go.

You bite back a grin. "I mean, it makes sense." You gesture vaguely at them. "They probably just think I'd be a much better master."

Azriel gives you a deadpan stare. "That's not how this works."

"I don't know," you hum, pretending to consider it. "They seem pretty happy right now."

As if to prove your point, one shadow playfully loops around your fingers.

Azriel glowers. "You're encouraging them."

You give him an innocent smile. "Would I do that?"

He sighs, but you catch it—the way the corner of his mouth twitches. The way his gaze softens, just a little.

And then, so softly you almost miss it, he murmurs, "They have good taste, at least."

Your breath catches.

Your teasing falters for half a second before you recover. "So, you admit they like me more?"

Azriel exhales, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

You grin. "And you love it."

He doesn't answer. But the way his shadows linger—curling, warm, content—tells you everything you need to know.

~~~~~

Cassian walks in moments later, takes one look at Azriel's shadows practically cuddling you, and immediately points.

"I knew it!" He boasts.

Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose. His shadows flick toward Cassian, clearly unimpressed.

And you?

You just laugh.

Because really—Azriel might deny it all he wants, but his shadows?

They don't lie.

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel one shot #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar oneshot #fluff #light angst #azriel fic #azriel fluff

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f1lovr · 2 days ago

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SILLY SUPERSTITIONS | LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the one where she doesn't believe in superstitions or otherwise known as he can't get into the car without his pre-race kiss

warnings: none!

Y/N didn't believe in superstitions, rather she thought they were stupid, lando on the other hand, he was a firm believer.

it had started as a joke between you both.

"kiss in exchange for a podium?" you had told him in a teasing manner, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before the race.

"guess we'll figure that out soon enough," he had said in response, a smirk dawning his face as you could feel the confidence coming from him.

he finished in second that race, he had insisted it was your kiss and from there he refused to get into the car until he got a kiss from you, saying he wouldn't do well or he couldn't drive without it, as if it would make him a better driver.

that led to here, minutes away from lando having to get into the car, you nowhere in sight.

the mechanics and engineers were rushing around him, last minute checks on the car, making sure everything was good before the race. the cheer of the fans from the stands as they wait for the impending race.

but lando couldn't focus, not on the race ahead of him, not even on the sounds around him, because you weren't there and he needed you to be because he hadn't gotten his kiss yet.

lando's leg was bouncing up and down nervously as his head scanned the surrounding area looking for any sign of you. his mind being consumed with thoughts about where you could be, about the fact that he might have to go into today's race without you, without his good luck kiss.

his mutters to himself broke his silence, "where is she?"

jon, his trainer, who was next to him turned and looked at him with furrowed brows as he heard the muttering coming from the driver, "who?"

lando's head turned to jon, a look being shot at his trainer as if his answer was obvious, "Y/N, i need her here but i don't know where she is."

jon smirked at lando's answer, "ah, so you mean you need your lucky charm?"

lando didn't deny jon's comment, his eyes only rolling in response, "she should be here by now, she's never this late," he mutters nervously.

jon's eyes fall to the watch at his wrist checking the time, "you've got three minutes mate."

he had three minutes. three minutes to somehow find you in the chaos that is the race or he'd have to go get in the car and race without the one thing that kept him from botching it turn one.

he was about to get up and leave when his ears perked up at a voice, not just a voice, but your voice.

"looking for me pretty boy?"

he could have gotten whiplash with how fast he had turned his head, watching as you walk up to, nothing but a casual nature in your step as if you didn't know the chaos you had caused with your absence.

"baby where the hell have you been?" he all but demanded.

"easy tiger, i got stuck, security guards and journalists kept harping on me. all of them acting like i was infiltrating the FIA instead of just trying to get to my boyfriend," you giggle with a grin, his reaction to your disappearance amusing.

lando didn't care, he could care less about why you weren't here actually, it was all just excuses to him. but you were here now and that was all that mattered to him as his hand grabbed your wrist pulling you close to him, the glances that were being thrown his way being ignored.

"i almost had to go into the race without you," he mutters, a tone so low that only you were able to pick it up.

"you wouldn't have let that happen," your hands coming to his shoulders as you smirk.

lando huffed as his lips twitched, the smile he was trying to hold back failing to stay hidden, "you have never been more right about something love."

next thing you know he was pulling you into a kiss, the kiss being soft and gentle but still firm. he didn't rush his kiss, taking the reassurance it provided as he let himself calm down from the storm of not having you.

he pulled away with a grin on his face, "now i won't crash turn one," he said with a chuckle.

your head shook as you laughed, "whatever makes you sleep at night pretty boy," you giggle out.

your moment was broken by the call of lando's engineer, letting lando know it was time to get in the car.

you watched as he let go of your hand with a sigh after giving it one last parting squeeze, reluctantly stepping back from you as he moved to climb into his car.

you were leaned against the garage watching as he settled. you could tell he was focused, he was ready, and you would never let him live it down if he got on the podium, reminding him over and over that it was your kiss that got him there.

did you actually believe that? no, definitely not, but if it meant more pre-race kisses and it helped him, then you'd remind him over and over.

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inkedinshadows · 3 days ago

Text

Brooding, Cuddly Shadowsinger

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you @pey2618 for this one! It was such a cute idea and I love it! I'm always down bad for soft Az. Note: i just finished writing it (it's 11pm here) after a full day of classes, so forgive me if there are mistakes or typos

Prompts: "You're not so scary after all, are you?" + "You're my new pillow now." + reader and az are out somewhere and he is all broody and scares ppl away but when they are home he is as sweet as a marshmallow

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word count: 824

The party was going well. For you, at least.

When your friend had told you that you could bring Azriel along, you said you would ask, fully believing he'd decline. Instead, he'd agreed to come with you as soon as you mentioned it.

You were sure he was now regretting that decision.

When you were beside him, everything was fine. His hand was on your knee if you were sitting on the couch, on your back when you stood. But whenever you left his side—to get a drink, to dance, to talk with the other guests—it was like a bubble enveloped him. He became quiet, his brows knitted together, and he looked at people as if they might suddenly turn out to be an enemy he needed to fight. Even his shadows were restless, swirling around his shoulders and wings like a dark tempest, calming only when you joined him again and yet never disappearing completely. The all-black clothes definitely didn't help his case.

You couldn't blame people for avoiding him. And when you passed by two girls on your way back from the toilet, you couldn't help but chuckle as you caught a snippet of their conversation.

“I don't really know how she does it.”

“Well, he's very handsome.”

“Yes, but he's terrifying. Just look at him!”

“Yeah, he kinda is…”

You walked up to Azriel, a smile already on your lips. “You're scaring people off.”

His face softened as soon as he saw you, and he shifted to a more relaxed stance, his shadows settling down. But at your words, he frowned. “I'm not doing anything.”

You crossed your arms and looked him up and down. “You're standing here, just brooding.”

Azriel's gaze swept around the room. Some guests quickly looked away from him.

“Why would that scare people?” he asked when his eyes settled on you again.

“Because you're the big, infamous Shadowsinger?” you replied with a teasing smirk. “The High Lord's Spymaster?”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but his lips curled up at the corners. Before he could say anything, you playfully patted his arm.

“Try not to scare too many people, okay?” you quipped. “I'll be right back.”

His expression fell, and for just a moment, he reminded you of a lost puppy. “Why? Where are you going?”

“To say goodbye to everyone.” You were already stepping away, people parting to let you through after a quick glance at Azriel. “I'm taking you home.”

~~~~~~

Not even an hour later, you were back in your room, ready for the night.

Azriel was already in bed. As soon as you slipped under the covers, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. He rested his head on your chest, right on the soft swell of your breasts, his eyes closed as he let out a content sigh.

You laughed softly. “Are you comfy enough?”

He hummed. “Yes. You're my new pillow now.”

You laughed again, shifting just enough to find a comfortable position without disturbing him. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, while the other hand came to rest on the nape of his neck.

Azriel melted in your arms as every ounce of lingering tension from the day left his body. His shadows vanished, and his wings splayed out above the sheets, covering you like a second blanket. You swore he purred like a cat when you began gently massaging his scalp.

There he was—the big, infamous Shadowsinger who had terrified everyone at the party just hours earlier.

“You're not so scary after all, are you?” you murmured. “Those people just didn't know you like I do.”

He nuzzled into your chest, his voice already groggy as he mumbled, “No one knows me like you do, love.”

You smiled and kissed the top of his head. “That's right. Just me.”

With another soft sigh, Azriel settled against you. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his long eyelashes tickling you every time his eyes fluttered.

The party had drained him, despite the fact that he hadn't danced or interacted that much. But being around so many people could be overwhelming for him, especially when in an environment so different from what he was used to. Yet he had still come with you.

“Why did you come to the party?” you asked quietly.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “Wanted to be with you,” he mumbled, the words blurring together.

He was adorable. Utterly, sickeningly adorable.

“Go to sleep,” you murmured. “I love you.”

You felt his small smile against your skin as he whispered, “Love you too…”

You continued stroking his hair, holding him close to your heart, right where he belonged.

To others, he might be scary. Terrifying, even. The Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, the one no one truly knew.

But to you, he was this—a sweet, cuddly male who needed the comfort of his mate's embrace.

To you, he was just Az.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #sjm #sarah j maas #fluff #drabble #fanfiction #requested

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partiallysame · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! Love your Price's Lil Wife drabbles so much! I was wondering how birthdays (for the boys) are treated now that they have Price's Missus looking out for them? Also, how does one go about finding out Simon's birthday (lord knows that man won't willingly give that info up without severe puppy eyes)?

Johnny offhandedly said he’d want whatever meal you just made for his birthday next year and the giant exaggerated gasp that left you had all the men minus your husband ready to defend ready to jump into action but no need for any actual panic. “YOUR BIRTHDAY. WHEN IS YOUR BIRTHDAY?” Johnny told you and fuck you missed it. Kyle’s too. Big ol smile and head snapping over to Simon to ask him. Price was behind you shaking his head waving his hand in front of his neck trying to save Simon from answering the question. He wasn’t going to anyway but now he was curious as to why he shouldn’t (personalized and handmade triangular party hat that is mandatory to wear all day and too many pictures).

“Whens your birthday Simon?” Big ol smile on your face dropping when he says

“Don’t got one”

“Yes you do”

“No I don’t”

“Simon Riley” uh oh. “Tell me when your birthday is”. He let out a mhm mhm and you turned to your husband who held his hands up in defense. Ofc he wasn’t gonna help. Now your crossed arms in front of him trying to look mean. “Tell me.” He shook his head. Fine you’ll let it go for now (no you’re not) Gonna have to get creative.

Breakfast the next day you asked before handing him his plate. Making it seem like he wouldn’t get the food if he didn’t answer. He didn’t. You gave it to him anyway. “I’ll make your favorite for dinner if you tell me” “everything you make is my favorite” shut up Simon.

Now he’s sitting on the couch and you approach him with the prettiest saddest lil puppy dog eyes you could muster. Finger tracing his biceps. “Just wanna celebrate you Simon. Without your birthday you’d never have come into my life. Wanna make you feel special.” He almost broke. Your big eyes. Sweet voice. Gentle, teasing touch. He was so close to telling you. But he hesitated too long and you switched tactics hard and fast.

“Fine. But you made me do this Riley. Remember that” and suddenly you were calling for MacTavish who came strutting in the stupidest smile on his face holding a dark blue jersey. “From now on this is a Scotland house” you said putting on Johnny’s Scotland National football jersey. No no no. Simon began panicking watching Johnny put on a matching one. “On game days. This house will NOT be watching Manchester anymore.” Wait wait wait. “I’ll tell ya please” Simon’s reaching for you. Don’t do this. He’s begging but you’re not giving in. “It’s may 17th please lovie don’t go this far. Take it off.” He’s trying to pull the jersey off of you, fighting Johnny’s hands trying to keep it on you. Price walked in on the scene “dear god Lieutenant what did you do?” His wife wearing the wrong colors? Oh Riley’s gonna pay for this.

#prices lil wife #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost #blurb #tf 141 #cod modern warfare #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #poly!141 #kyle gaz garrick #john price

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daycourtofficial · 2 days ago

Text

You two are dancing in a snow globe round and round

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 8.2k | warnings: needles/requiring stitches

Summary: four times a trope fails to bring you and Azriel together, one time it prevails. This is my submission for @sjmromanceweek day 5: favorite tropes (and yes these are all elite tropes, argue with the wall 😤)

Author’s note: this is for my You Are in Love by Taylor Swift girlies. Also on the fence about the ending but ya know it felt right and @ninthcircleofprythian loved it so her opinion is the correct one

Fake dating

The streets of Velaris are quiet. A sleepy morning after the holiday excitement of Starfall has died down. A week past it and the fae are still holed up in their homes, only going out when necessary. The cobblestone streets are mostly empty, you, Nyx, and Azriel passing the occasional fae as they move in the opposite direction. They would nod or wave at the three of you, but never linger to talk, eager to get on their way.

A light tugging on your scarf brings you out of your daze. Looking down to find Nyx’s blue eyes looking up at you, his tiny hands pulling on your scarf. “Az, can you help undo my scarf?”

The two of you stop, moving over to the side of the street to avoid being in anyone’s way. Azriel’s scarred fingers reach out, unwrapping the scarf from your neck, and rewrapping it to include Nyx. The babe has been doing this all week to anyone wearing a scarf - tugging incessantly until he was also tucked into the scarf. If he was after the scent or the warmth, nobody knew. Cassian had even bought him a scarf, a little thin knitted piece of black wool, thinking the boy would be delighted. Nyx cried and pulled on the scarf when Cassian wrapped it around his neck before spitting up on it.

The princeling is still holding a slight grudge against Cassian, in turn causing the general to try desperately to get Nyx’s affections back - holding him constantly, playing with him, trying to slip him some sweet treats. Cassian’s antics have led the three of you here, walking the streets of town instead of being in the River House.

You usually watched Nyx in the afternoons and after a week of Cassian’s antics you had quickly grown tired of his need to get back in the heir’s good graces. As soon as Azriel returned from training and bathed, you had rushed the two of them out of the house with you before Cassian could come looking for Nyx.

Nyx settles in your arms, enjoying the comfort the scarf brings him. His head rests against your shoulder, the slightest bit of drool permeating your jacket. You sigh, cursing yourself for wearing your favorite coat when you know just how messy Nyx is.

“He’s quite fond of you,” Azriel’s deep voice is laced with affection. You look down at Nyx, finding it difficult not to coo over how cute he looks snuggled up to you.

“He better be - I spend more time with him than anyone save for Rhys and Feyre. Hopefully he remembers that when I begin my plans to take over the world.”

Nyx’s little giggle comes from underneath the scarf, immediately bringing a smile to your face. One of Azriel’s hands lingers around the small of your back, gently helping guide you down the near empty street.

“When you take over, will you spare me? I hear a shadowsinger could be very useful in world domination.” He leans into your ear, his voice soft as to not disturb the silence of the road.

You start moving down the street again, Azriel just a half step behind you. His left wing was open around your back, offering protection to you and the princeling. You wanted to sink into it, let his wing envelop you fully.

“You'll have to submit an application, I already have quite a few offers.”

“I’d expect nothing less, but I am hoping some favoritism can move my application forward.”

“Mm, does favoritism come with perks?”

“I’ll buy your lunch and any pretty things you find on the way back to the house.”

“Oh, I like your methods of persuasion, shadowsinger.”

The two of you walk into the bakery, Azriel holding the door open for you and Nyx to walk through first.

“I’m just saying, but if Cassian really expects to keep disrupting my plans with Nyx, the least he could do is make me a smoothie.”

Nyx babbles in your arms, and you look into his violet eyes, the same color as Rhys’s, but they held the same twinkle to them as Feyre’s eyes, “yes, that’s right. I’m right.”

You all get in line, five fae in line ahead of you. Azriel unwraps the scarf from around Nyx, the warmth of the bakery causing him to want to be out of the confines of the fabric.

“But if you woke up a little earlier, you could make one yourself without Nyx there to watch over.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You ask, your finger tickling Nyx’s side to get him to giggle with you.

Azriel rolls his eyes at your obvious tactics to get the toddler to agree with you, but he can’t help the soft smile he has as Nyx giggles at your poking and flaps his tiny wings.

The older female in front of the two of you turns and gasps at Nyx, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“Well, if this isn’t the cutest babe in all of Prythian.” Her face lights up as Nyx flaps his wings harder at the attention he’s getting, hiding his face in your shoulder, hiding his big grin.

“He’s just darling, you two must be thrilled to have such a sweet babe.”

“Oh we’re not-“ Before you can disagree with her, Nyx has made his own decision.

“Mama!” He calls to you, putting his chubby little hands on your face, squishing your cheeks together. You move one of your hands back towards Azriel’s stomach, stopping him from speaking further, deciding to just roll with it.

You crinkle your eyes, “He’s just darling, isn’t he?”

Nyx gives you a toothless grin, and you shoot him a look he mistakes for pure affection, preening under your withering gaze. It is nearly impossible to stay mad at him, his chubby cheeks the ultimate ‘I can do no wrong’.

“How old is he?” You pale, having a hard time keeping track of Nyx’s age. You dig through your mind, trying to remember when Nyx was born. Azriel answers much quicker than your brain could. “He’s fourteen months old.” The female squeals at Azriel’s words, the shadowsinger slightly wincing.

“Wow, what a great age! My boys were little monsters by then, each of them would love walking around at night, they’d always manage to escape their cribs somehow. I can’t imagine how I’d deal with one of them with wings!” She continues, her eyes lit up talking about her kids when they were young. You find it incredibly sweet, until she continues on and on until it’s her turn to order.

Her back to you both, you turn toward Azriel, widening your eyes slightly and looking at her. He shrugs, a soft “what can you do” coming from him. After she orders, the two of you step up, ordering your sandwiches and something sweet for Nyx. The woman gets her sandwich right after you pay, telling you, “it was nice to speak to you - you and your family are beautiful.”

Nodding and smiling, the two of you find a table and sit, Nyx still in your arms. You lightly kick Azriel’s foot underneath the table. “Thanks for paying.”

He sips his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t want her to think I was a poor father.”

You laugh, the sound causing Nyx to laugh too. The light hit the pair of you, giving the two of you a sort of glow. If Azriel squinted, he could feel the edges of fantasy grasp hold of the image - you holding a winged babe, laughing at something he had said. He wished he had some way to capture this moment, knowing he would return to it over and over in his mind when he couldn’t sleep. He smiled, unable to keep your joy from infecting him.

One bed

“That’s not funny,” Cassian pouts, looking to you for support. You shrug, taking a sip of your wine to avoid speaking, opting to look towards the portraits on the wall rather than meet his gaze.

“You’re right - it’s hilarious,” Feyre responds, looking at her mate, seeing the comparison. “The last female you hooked up with looked just like Rhys.”

“She did not!” Cassian bellows, slamming his hand on the table. All of you howl in laughter, the revelation of Cassian’s recent hook up bearing quite the resemblance to his brother an endless source of amusement.

Cassian, Mor, Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and yourself were all nestled into the dining room of the townhouse. The fae light in the room produces an incandescence that provides a stark contrast to the brutal snow storm outside.

You’re all trapped here, none of you brave enough to step far enough outside of the wards to winnow away. The six of you piled into the townhouse earlier in the evening, where you lovingly made a three course meal. It was a monthly tradition - you liked getting everyone together, you loved cooking for your friends, and they loved eating your food. It was a win all around.

Dinner was just starting to be served when the snowfall took a turn for the worst, coming down in massive heaps of white.

“Good thing we have a feast right here - I was starting to eye Azriel’s legs.”

Mor rolls her eyes at Cassian, “you were eyeing his legs because you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”

Cassian smirks at her, a charming grin many females have fallen victim to. “You’re just upset it wasn’t your legs I was looking at.”

“Can we stop discussing my legs?” Azriel grumbles, passing the bowl of mixed vegetables to you. You nod in thanks, scooping a serving for yourself. “At least they’re being kind to you - last week Cassian was making fun of my arms.”

You pout your lip dramatically, but Azriel ignores it, his scowl still on his brother. “I wouldn’t call being the first to be eaten a kindness.”

“It’s not my fault you have short arms. How do you reach anything?” Cassian’s mouth was somehow already full of food, despite one of the platters just making its way to him.

“I believe she reaches things by scaling countertops and climbing shelves,” Rhys adds, plating himself some dumplings before serving some to Feyre’s plate.

“Hey! We were not talking about me, we were discussing Azriel’s delicious thighs!”

“He didn’t specify thigh.” Rhys points out, his fork pointing toward you.

“Oh, but I meant his thighs.” Cassian chimes in, his arm outstretched for another serving of potatoes.

“I’d start with his arms - he has a lot of meat on his bicep.” Mor doesn’t look up from her plate as she states it so casually.

“This conversation has taken a turn for the worse,” Azriel mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. You rub his arm soothingly, and he softens a bit at the feel of your touch.

Until you start squeezing the muscle beneath your hand. He immediately glances at you from the side of his eye, a stony and cold look.

“Flex for me, please.”

“I will not indulge this!” He starts trying to pull his arm away, but your fingers are surprisingly strong.

“Hmmm,” you hum, your hands still wrapped around his bicep, squeezing as you contemplate. “They’re a decent contender, but my vote is the thigh.”

“Not you too!”

You squeeze his arm lightly, “I’m sorry, this is a worst case scenario! I promise I’ll only eat you if you were already dead from like a freak accident.”

“What are our thoughts on someone being run through with my sword as a freak accident?” Cassian muses, licking his fingers dramatically. Azriel scowls at him as everyone around the table giggles.

Azriel turns back to you, “you only picked my legs because you wouldn’t be able to reach my arms.”

You drop your hands from his bicep, mock exasperation on your face. “How dare you! I was complimenting you. Being able to feed a family from your lifeless body is a compliment!”

“I can think of many families more deserving of my meat than you lot.”

He huffs, rotating his body to look at his brother before adding, “don’t you dare, Cassian.”

Cassian scoffs at the finger pointed in his direction. “You’re the one who said you can feed a village with your cock.”

“That is not what I said! And it was a family, not a village.”

“Whatever.”

The two keep bickering until Cassian throws a green bean at Azriel, who quickly moves his head. A shadow comes and quickly pushes the leftover food on Cassian’s plate into his lap in retaliation.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Rhys looks equal parts amused and equal parts annoyed, likely at the mess that was made of his chair lining. He looks towards the window, the snow coming down even heavier than before. He sighs.

“I’m assuming we’ll all be staying here tonight?”

Everyone nods, no one wanting to brave the cold, wet snow. Not even Cassian or Azriel volunteer to leave, their bodies tailor made for this kind of weather.

“Right,” he nods, looking at Feyre. “Feyre and I will stay in the big room. You two,” he points to you and Azriel, “can stay in the room with the mirrors. You two,” now pointing to Cassian and Mor, “can stay in the room with some of Feyre’s paintings.”

Your heart picks up, its beat erratic and echoing through your ears. This would hardly be the first time you and Azriel shared a bed, but each time turned you into a bundle of nerves. You spent the entire night doubting each movement you made, uncertain if you were making Azriel uncomfortable until your brain eventually shut down, allowing for sleep to overtake you.

Every time your worry was for nothing - each night full of nerves brought forth a morning of tangled limbs and warm cuddling. Waking up in his arms did nothing but cause your feelings for Azriel to soar, spending several extra minutes in bed pretending to be asleep, trying to imprint the feel of his arm around your waist to memory.

“No,” Cassian bellows, “she has that painting of Bryaxis in there. Creeps me out. I won’t be able to sleep.”

Rhys breathes through his nose, uncertain when becoming High Lord meant delegating his friend’s fears. “Put it in the closet.”

“I’ll know it’s there.”

“Fine, we’ll take the painting out of there.”

“Maybe Cassian will be who we eat if a simple painting puts him on edge this much.” You whisper conspiratorially, Azriel making a soft hum in acknowledgment. If he can hear the loud beating of your heart, he doesn’t let on.

You look at him, his face not giving any apprehension away. It was hard not to fall further for Azriel with each look he gave you, each night you two shared a bed just sinking you deeper and deeper into your feelings.

He is beautiful, a detail impossible for anyone to ignore. You have heard countless fae mention it over the years. Most of them only see him from a distance - the cold, mysterious front Azriel wanted the world to see him as. But you have the privilege of seeing him up close, getting to take in every small detail about him.

The exact angle of his nose, how his jawline curves. How his shadows move languidly around his face, almost wanting you to pay attention to his eyes. You’re certain you could draw an exact replica of how his tattoos litter his chest, the design close to Cassian’s, but not quite the same. Azriel’s tattoos were looser, as if his shadows acted as stencils when the tattoos were made.

You can even tell when his hair gets to the length he finds too long, the black curls getting into his face, his shadows sweeping the hair off his forehead when he trains.

You treat knowing him as if you’re a scholar writing an encyclopedia of Azriel, needing to know every little thing about him.

The weather doesn’t leave much lingering, everyone turning in quickly, seeking solace under a warm comforter. You follow behind Azriel, making your way to the room allocated to the two of you.

‘Room with the mirrors’ was an understatement. Mirrors of all sizes surround the both of you - more with ornate frames, intricately carved figures and plants decorating each one. One mirror even had detailed Illyrian wings on the bottom. You could see yourself and Azriel from every angle, every movement meant for observation.

“Why do they have so many mirrors in here?”

Azriel’s eyes sweep across the room, counting at least two dozen mirrors. He knew exactly what Rhys used them for. It was impossible to know the High Lord for centuries and not know his bedroom preferences. “Do you really wish to know?”

Shivers go down your spine at his whispering voice. You have the whole room to yourselves, but his proximity is difficult to handle knowing exactly how Rhys and Feyre use this room.

“It’s obviously because Rhys tries out mirrors until one shows him a flaw.” You watch Azriel grimace through a reflection.

“They’re a bit unnerving.” Several of his shadows dance around the mirrors, almost watching themselves as they slither and writhe. They are putting on quite the show, causing you to nearly miss Azriel’s statement.

“I guess.” You shrug, not really caring too much. In truth, you like the mirrors. It meant there was nowhere for Azriel to hide from you in here.

A shiver ran up at the thought that you couldn’t hide either.

A room of truths and being seen.

“I could just winnow back home.” You startle from your thoughts, Azriel’s tight lips and tense shoulders giving away just how uncomfortable he is. Is it your shared company? Or is it the thought of staying in his brother’s spare sex room that’s putting him on such edge?

“But that’s not fun. Besides, you can’t leave me here with Cassian. He’s already disaster planning. I need someone to protect me.” You sit down on a settee, unlacing your shoes. A small part of you doesn’t want Azriel to leave, hoping if you get comfortable, it’ll help him relax.

An even smaller part doesn’t want to recognize how large that part actually is. You don’t want to be left alone tonight, and you certainly don’t want to have to explore exactly why his absence has such an effect on you.

“You were saying I’m dinner earlier and now I’m your protector. Which is it?” His wings are loosening their stiff hold and from the corner of your eye you see a few shadows nestle beneath the duvet.

“Whichever suits my needs. And tonight I need you to protect me from Cassian.”

Azriel shakes his head, unable to keep the smile off his face as he sits next to you, unlacing his own boots. He nearly takes up half the settee, but you don’t mind as his wing gently drapes around you. He places them neatly next to yours, the domesticity of it lingering in your mind.

Shoes at the end of the bed, getting ready for bed.

Romance in its simplest form: routine.

He’s gone much too quickly for your liking, his hands quick as he searches drawers for some kind of nightwear. A few shadows help him in his search, pulling out various folds of silk and lace.

“Would you prefer a shirt or one of Feyre’s nightgowns?”

You’d prefer a nightgown, but knowing Feyre’s taste in clothes you know it’d likely leave little to the imagination. Azriel’s already a bit hesitant to stay, and you don’t want to push him further away.

“Shirt, please.”

You thought he was offering you one of Rhys’s shirts from the drawers, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he unbuttons the front of his shirt, his shadows undoing the ties at the back, before the dark wisps carry the shirt over to you. He’s half turned away from you as he digs through the drawers, but you can still make out the contours of his body, the muscles in his arms moving with him.

You thank the shadows for their help, slipping away to the attached bathroom to change and get ready for bed. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it feels different. More serious somehow. You slip into Azriel’s shirt, the fabric practically melting onto your skin.

It smells divine. You want to just drown in the fabric here and now.

Instead you go back into the room, finding Azriel in comfortable sleep pants.

He turns his back to you, doing a sweep of the room to ensure every crevice is shut and locked. When he turns, you can’t help the squeal that leaves your lips at the sight of the words printed on the rear of the pants.

Azriel looks back around at you, only to find you pointing and giggling where his ass had been a few seconds before.

“Your pants say juicy!” Sure enough, the purple plush pants had the word ‘juicy’ in rhinestones and all capital letters. “No wonder Cassian wants to eat you, you’re practically advertising it!”

Your laughs are practically bouncing off the mirrors, Azriel’s body surrounded by your joy. He wants to be annoyed at these ridiculous pants Rhys clearly wears, but as your laughs continue, his annoyance is all an act. He tries his best to keep a neutral expression, but he’s certain some forlorn look of longing is in its place.

“Ha ha, very funny. Can we go to bed?” You’re still a ball of giggles as you make your way to the bed, awkwardly shuffling, a bit unsure. This part is always confusing and awkward - the two of you shuffling, waiting to see what the other would do.

Azriel is well-versed in loving from a distance. He was convinced for so long that if Mor only saw him, acknowledged him, it’d be enough. And then he met you. And Mor became nothing more than she had always been - his friend.

Tonight. Tonight he would not love you from a distance. His legs carried him to the bed, taking the initiative as his wings spread out against the mattress. He pulls back your side of the duvet, his hand patting the bed. An invitation.

Your cheeks turn a shade of red he wanted to paint the walls with. He could see himself in the mirror behind you, one of his wings twitching in delight that he found himself attractive.

Maybe just being in your gaze did that to him - opened him up to see who he could be. Maybe your gaze made him preen like a male bird, putting his best self on display. Or maybe it was the tattoos of his chest on full display, his sweatpants hidden beneath the duvet already.

“Are you going to hog the blankets?” Your words come out a bit shaky, trying to shift your focus from his warm body as you get in next to him. His wing curls back up, tucking in close to his body to make room for you. You shimmy into bed, pulling the duvet back over your body. For several minutes you lay there, practically stock still trying to avoid moving or disturbing Azriel, until he twitches lightly. You turn and notice his pinched brows, trying to hide the discomfort from his furled wings.

“I could- sleep on top of you? So you can spread out your wings? I just want you to be comfortable.” You add hastily, turning on your side to see him better. The bed was large enough for Illyrian wings, but you’re lying right in the middle of the bed, making it impossible for his wings to stretch out.

He’s silent, clearly thinking you’re question over. He’s taking longer than you expected, hesitance in your words as you speak again.

“Or I could sleep on the floor.” Your last word comes out as a gasp, his fingers quickly wrapping around your hips, pulling you on top of him. One of his hands moves around your head, tucking you into his chest. The other moves to your back, his fingers rubbing soothing strokes down your spine as he adjusts to be laying right in the middle of the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” His fingers keep moving, not stopping their soothing patterns. His wings drop dramatically onto the bed, practically yelling at you to accept the space you gave away to them.

“Somehow, I think I’ll survive.” You let out a breath, finally letting yourself relax and breathe normally again. You burrow your face in his chest, the piney scent of him making your eyes droop. His fingers are soothing against your skin, each movement gently guiding you closer and closer to sleep.

“Now if Cassian comes looking for a midnight snack he’ll have to get through you first.” You pinch his side, a squeak hitting your ear as a shadow pulls your hand away.

Blind dates and nosey friends

Your hands tear the bread in half once again as you see the waitress heading straight toward you. An awkward smile is on her face as she approaches your table.

“Miss, are you ready to order?” You sigh through your nose, shredding the roll in your hands. She is just doing her job, you don’t have to take your frustrations on this male out on your server. You start to ask for a menu, when out of the corner of your eye you see large wings you would know anywhere. The shadow that branches off from him, heading in a direct path to you, is the confirmation it was him.

“One moment, please.” You don’t wait for her response before practically sprinting over, grabbing the shadowsinger’s arm before even thinking about it. He jerks his arm back, a scowl on his face before he realizes who it is.

Azriel’s defensive stance slackens as he takes you in, his eyes lingering long enough on your dress that heat creeps up your chest. A few shadows start curling around your bare legs.

“What are you doing here, Az?” His eyes finally look back up at your face, something hidden deep in his gaze.

“I was supposed to meet someone, but they never showed.” Your stomach falls at his words, the hypocrisy impossible to ignore. He was supposed to be on a date? But they didn’t show up?

You take the chance to look at him, his usual leathers exchanged for more formal wear. An all black tunic that shows a glimpse of his chest. It is a gorgeous fabric - a deep black with dark blue embroidery along the edges. His clothes are looser than his leathers, but they still show off his chiseled body.

You were a fool to not take in the back of the outfit when you had the chance earlier, certain he fills out the seat of his pants quite nicely.

Whoever didn’t show up for Azriel was a fool. Your jealousy at that fact is undeterred by remembering you are also supposed to be on a date right now.

“Same here.” Your date not showing up didn’t bother you too much. You were disappointed by how highly Feyre spoke of him, but you hadn’t been too thrilled to be going out anyway.

“Are you hungry?” Azriel gives you a bewildered look, and you cross your arms feeling so exposed before him. You gesture to the table behind you, hoping Azriel will pick up the hint.

He just continues looking at you blankly.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? I have a table, and the waitress certainly thinks I made up having a guest to eat with.”

He looks down at your outfit once again, goosebumps trailing where his eyes land. Just because you hadn’t been thrilled to come didn’t mean you took picking out your outfit lightly.

“It would be an honor.” He follows you to your table, long legs making it to your chair before you do. He pulls your chair out, helping you sit before he takes his own seat.

“Who were you meeting tonight?” His voice is low, nearly a growl as he asks the question. Before you can answer, your waitress comes back, two menus in her arms. You thank her as she hands them to you both.

“A nice merlot, please.” Az holds up two gloved fingers to her, wanting the same.

“Feyre wanted to set me up with some male from the Rainbow. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” His eyebrows pinch together, a shadow curling his ear conspicuously before his face softens.

“And he didn’t show up?”

You shake your head, not wanting to voice the disappointment at being stood up. You weren’t giddy about the date, but it still stings of rejection.

“His loss.” Azriel is so sincere as he says it, his face opening in a way that only really happens when you’re alone with him. “Truly.”

You open your menu, unable to linger in his sincerity. “Maybe he was the great love of my life and now I’ll never have that.”

“I truly doubt that.”

The waitress comes back with two glasses of red wine and a fresh basket of breadsticks that she places between you two before heading off again.

“What are you doing here - who were you meeting?”

“Cassian’s been trying to get me to go out with him more. I got tired of waiting for him.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he probably got caught up with Nesta and I’d rather not smell them in a public restaurant.” Azriel grimaces, and you remember him telling you last week about finding them on the training grounds and immediately turning around.

“So, did Feyre tell you anything about this guy?” You look up from your menu, a bit confused at him circling the conversation back to a male you’ve never met.

“Not really. Just said he’s good looking and a nice male.” You shrugged, reaching for a breadstick to tear apart, giving your hands something to do.

“She didn’t give you a name?”

You think for a moment, replaying the odd memory over again. How Feyre had come into the room, a crazed look about her as she asked if you had any plans this evening. Details of the restaurant reservation flying from her lips, getting a promise that you'd be there before she ran off again.

“No.” You pop some bread into your mouth, finally able to enjoy the softness of it now that you have Azriel looking at you instead of the waitress.

“Do you always go out with nameless males?”

You stop chewing and throw your balled up straw wrapper at him. A shadow catches it before it can hit his face, a smirk taking root, brightening his face. He looks so boyish, so smug.

It was one of your favorite faces he wore.

The shadow throws the wad at Azriel’s face anyway, leaving him speechless at the defiance. You try to stifle your giggles, your hand hardly stopping the sound as you watch the shadows around him also appear to be laughing.

“It’s not funny.” Azriel tries to slip his face back into the cool neutrality he wears so well, but it’s nearly impossible as your giggles grow. You have to look away, the absurdity of the evening making you want to laugh harder.

A few fae turn their heads to look at the pair of you, quickly averting their gaze once they see who you were seated with. Your laughter dies down, and you know Azriel won’t let the topic die until you give him all the answers he desires.

“No. I hardly ever go out with males.” Azriel stops his teasing, his whole body going still as if movement could impair his hearing. Even his shadows stay still, watching and waiting over his shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve only been out a handful of times the past few years, none of them were right.” It’s the truth. Each date felt like a chore, ill-fitting shoes that never quite gave you what you needed. Mor had he annual attempt at setting you up, but you were quite happy to have a quiet love life for the time being. You’re much happier spending your free time with your friends, on your work, or with Nyx than with random males to learn their favorite colors and what they did for a living.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

“No.” His reply is curt, clearly not wanting to further the discussion. His eyes are cold, the gold not shining how they usually do when he speaks to you.

“Okay.” You’re at a bit of a loss for what to say. Conversation between the two of you is usually so easy.

But the two of you never discuss your love lives with each other. How could you talk about some male to Azriel without saying well he’s not as kind or as attentive as you?

“Come on, Az. Take a breadstick. It won’t kill you.”

You shake the basket at him, trying to get him to splurge a little. His rigorous diet is well known amongst your friends, teasing comments accompanied most meals about Azriel’s strict dietary choices.

That’s all it is when you say it - a deflection, a joke to ease the slight awkwardness that accompanies your question. To your utter delight, he picks one up, taking small bites, savoring each taste.

It’s nearly sinful how he eats it.

Once it’s gone, he pats around his chest, looking around the room.

“Look at that.”

“What?”

“I am still alive.”

“Oh shut up.”

“All these years, I thought bread would kill me.”

You roll your eyes at him, picking the menu up to finally look over what you want for dinner.

Who did this to you?

It’s easy to forget Mor is first and foremost a warrior. Her chosen wardrobe is curated to draw attention to her other assets, but her muscles still shine.

“Ow.” Mor’s hand is quick as she jostles your face, clutching your jaw tight. Her grip gives away her true strength - focusing all of it on your face.

You pity anyone who comes in her way on a battlefield.

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying, you’re hurting me.”

“Shush. You’re fine.”

A lone shadow creeps through the crack beneath the door, making its way over to you. It slinks through the shadows of the room, slithering from the shadow of the bed to the shadows beneath the dresser.

You notice it halfway through its journey, but Mor remains ignorant. It moves up your leg, gently swirling your hand in comfort. It works almost instantly, the cool touch of it enough to distract you from Mor’s ministrations.

For a moment you almost forgot where you were.

“Ow!” It comes out louder than you intend, scaring off the shadow. The disappointment of losing your shadow friend took your mind off the pain momentarily before scowling at your friend again.

“Are you sure you don’t want Madja?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop complaining.”

You groan, unable to stop yourself despite Mor’s withering look. You suck in a breath through your teeth, nearly biting your tongue as she continues stitching your face.

“What are you doing?” You didn’t hear Azriel come in, didn’t hear a sound from him. But now he’s impossible to ignore. His shadows swarm you, their soft caresses welcome and wanted. They brush against any open skin they can, a few tickling against the open wound on your face. A few find the bruises littering your legs and hips, their cool caress not stinging like pressure would.

Mor merely rolls her eyes at him, annoyance flickering in her brown eyes as she looks to him. “I’m playing healer because I thought it would be fun, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Several of the shadows leave you, circling around Azriel’s ears conspiratorially. His wings flare out, almost casting a wall between you and the rest of the world. One of the shadows tries to swat Mor away, a huff of annoyance leaving her.

Azriel has been different ever since your dinner together. The two of you are spending more time together than ever - now you see him at most meals, he gives you his weekly schedule and warns you whenever he’ll be gone, and the two of you always slink off and spend the evenings together.

It’s been strange lately.

Despite the shadows whispers, his scowl only deepens. His eyes assess your face, scanning for every injury. Hazel eyes go straight to the bruise covered by your shirt, as if he can see beneath the fabric to the purple skin beneath. Azriel’s face tightens, disapproval clearly evident.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” His voice is deeper, some deep anger taking over his face.

Mor is quick to step in, to calm the shadows that are swirling around you, making it difficult for her to continue her stitching.

“Calm down, she fell down the stairs.”

His breathing starts slowing again. Catching Mor’s eye, she tries not to laugh at the intense display. She even mouths his words back to you, an impish look on her face before she focuses again on your cheek, purposefully ignoring the Illyrian practically breathing down her neck.

You try to laugh but wince as she brings up the needle to your cheek, threading it through skin, slowly closing the wound. An intake of air gives away your true discomfort, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“You’re being too harsh.” Mor groans at Azriel’s admonishment before reaching for his hand, gently handing over the needle to him before standing. She dusts off her dress before getting to her full height. Azriel bends down, trying to keep the needle from pulling too far, allowing Mor to slightly tower over him.

“If my stitching isn’t up to your standard, you may finish it.” She huffs, waiting for his response. Hands meet her hips waiting until he concedes, nodding silently. She’s quick to turn on her heel, muttering about overprotective males before shutting the door behind her.

“She should have taken you to Madja.” Azriel clicks his tongue as if Mor could hear his complaints through the wall. His shadows seem to nod in agreement poking out over his shoulder before making their way back to you.

“I didn’t want to go to Madja.”

“Why not?”

It took a moment to find the words, to vocalize it out loud. It was silly - your arms were full, trying to carry too much at once. Foolishly you thought the stairs were a few feet away, missing the top step and falling face down the stairs.

You had hit the walls with each tumble, causing a loud enough raucous to startle Mor, who immediately helped you up and fussed over you.

“I was embarrassed.” Your arms cross over your chest, trying to hide into yourself. Azriel gently cups your face in his hand, bringing the threaded needle back up. You wince, shutting your eyes tight to avoid seeing it.

Azriel was right - Mor had been a bit rough in her stitching, but not enough for you to say anything.

His thumb gently strokes your cheek, the delicacy enough to have you slowly crack open an eye only to find him looking right back at you.

“Why were you embarrassed?” His voice is softer now, less amusement as he holds your gaze. His gaze is strong, impossible to turn or hide away from.

Maybe that’s why you open up completely, the cowardly parts of you on full display.

“I didn’t want to bother Madja with something I got because I tripped over my own feet.” You watch his face, waiting for him to understand how silly this situation is and to drop it completely. To continue his stitching and leave you with a bruised ego.

That understanding never comes, his face nearly shriveling in confusion.

“I’ve watched Cassian go to Madja for paper cuts.”

“Yes, but-“

“Do you think Cassian’s pain is more deserving of healing?” Azriel is quick to cut you off, his words fast to stop the shame spiral you were gearing up to begin. His gaze is hard and unflinching, pinning you in place.

Truth-Teller isn’t a weapon, it’s a title you feel he deserves. One look from him unspooling all of your secrets.

“It’s different.” Your shoulders slump a bit, finding it hard to find the right words for how you feel. Embarrassing is the best one, but it still feels light.

“How?”

“I’m not… fighting the good fight. I’m not a warrior.” A few shadows wrap around your shoulders in a comforting embrace, almost as if they are holding you up. “Cassian deserves to be babied a bit when he’s constantly throwing himself into danger.”

A more cross look overcomes his features, a hint of agitation lingering.

“I didn’t realize civilians didn’t have healers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you mean.”

“Madja has more important things than tending to my falling down the stairs.”

“I think you’re right. She does have better things to do.” You blink. You’ve never heard Azriel concede in an argument so easily. You’ve watched him argue with Cassian until he was blue in the face just to win.

“But I don’t. So if you’re done…” he trails off, his hand that holds the needle going a bit higher to get into your eyeline. A reminder to both of you that he needs to finish the job Mor started.

You nod, accepting his kindness. The fight eases out of you, slowly leeching from your pores, unable to stand against the softness in his face. Your eyes close more gently this time, the weight of the shadows easing your nerves a bit.

“Just don’t tell me when you’re going to do it, please.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He rubs his thumb along the scar, not applying any pressure. You lean into his touch, unable to stop yourself. The stitch Mor made prickles a bit, but the two of you continue to sit there in a calming silence. Both of his hands now cradle your cheeks, his large palms so comforting you nearly muzzle into them.

“Azriel, are you ever going to stitch up my face?”

“I’m already done.”

Your eyes relax, blinking at him. You bring a hand up to your face, touching where the long gash was to find it stitched.

“I guess that tonic Mor gave me did stop the feeling. Thanks, Az.”

One of his hands gently grabs yours, pulling it from your cheek. He holds it delicately in his own, his thumb swiping across the back of it.

“Stop messing with it. You’ll undo my hard work.”

“It’s like picking at a scab.”

“Don’t do that either.”

Friends to lovers

A fire crackles in the library, casting a warm glow over the room. Of all the libraries in Night, none of them compare to the one nestled in the Townhouse. It’s smaller than the others, allowing for a more quaint and cozy feel.

The shelves are a bit haphazard, you and Azriel using it as a personal library most of the time. Most books continue notes in the margins from either or both of you - quick scrawl to dictate something for the other or something one of you enjoyed.

The Townhouse is where the two of you spend most of your time - the tighter quarters being enough space for the two of you.

The last few weeks were a blur of Azriel - spending most nights in each other’s beds,

A blanket’s folded behind your head. You’re tempted to cover your legs with it, but you lean a bit closer into Azriel instead. You are practically draped against his lap, your torso half over his body, a book perched in your hands. He’s using your back as a rest for his book, one hand woven in your hair, the other one making circles in your lower back.

His shadows flip his pages for him, allowing his hands to lazily wander on their own. It was so domestic and easy, each movement a thrill.

You’re trying to read your book, but if Azriel even asked what it was about you wouldn’t be able to answer. An earlier conversation with Cassian keeps replaying in your mind over and over again, each return to it an attempt to further your resolve.

“Going so soon?” Nesta had pouted, her gray eyes turning pitiful trying to get you to stay longer. “I’ve hardly seen you the past few weeks.”

You started to answer, telling her you hadn’t become that unavailable, when Cassian’s voice boomed through the living room.

“She has to get back to her boyfriend, Nes. He’ll be upset if she’s gone too long. He’ll get broody.”

You had scoffed, nearly jumping at his voice.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know who I’m talking about? I didn’t say a name.” Cassian came into the room now, amusement on his face as he wiped his hands with a dish rag.

“Shut up, Cass.”

“He’s not her boyfriend.” Nesta spoke up from the couch.

“Thank you!”

“You just spend every minute with him, you reek of his scent, and you’re always considering what to do next for him.”

Cassian rounded the couch, plopping down next to Nesta.

“You're his girlfriend without the title.”

“Am not.”

“You sleep in his bed.”

“Not every night.”

Nesta and Cassian looked at each other before turning back to you, almost in unison saying, “or he sleeps in your bed.”

Heat began creeping up your neck, your emotions feeling so violated. You knew the two of you had been close, but was it really so obvious to Cassian of all people?

“Fine, if you two aren’t dating, I’m sure you won’t mind in two years when Azriel’s dating someone else.”

The words clank through your mind like a dropped bell, the same notes hitting over and over again. Someone else.

“Az?” His name comes out as a whisper, your fear only half wanting him to hear you, the other half begging to be heard.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up, his attention still mostly on his book as he tries to finish the paragraph he’s reading.

“Are we dating?”

Azriel looks away from his book, looking down at you in his lap. Even his shadows drop the book onto your back, their attention moving toward their master’s response. He takes a moment, clearly thinking over your question, giving you his full attention. You turn slightly, angling your body to fully see him.

“I suppose we are.” He answers you so nonchalantly, as if this was a well known fact. You sit up now, taking the spot next to him, your book falling off the couch but you don’t care enough to even look at it. His book falls as well, a soft thump onto the carpet.

“Are you… happy about it?” A million questions race through your mind, but that’s what comes out first. His hands had followed you as you moved, one of them still resting on your hip, lazily dragging his thumb in languid strokes.

“Delighted.” You take the moment to really look at Azriel, his face mere inches from your own. You hadn’t noticed the gradual change over the weeks, but sitting here now, it is impossible to ignore. His face is brighter, eye bags having shrunk to a regular size. He’s been smiling more, a few laugh lines making their ways onto his cheeks.

Even his clothes are different - looser, more casual attire covered his body, his leathers getting worn only for training and official duties.

Azriel looks like Azriel. Not the spymaster, not the shadowsinger. Not a thing of legend.

But the male you love.

Your hand reaches out, softly cupping his jaw. Your other hand pushes some of his hair off his forehead, the soft curls bouncing back into place after the attempt to tame them. The smile on his face matches your own: full of possibility, love, and hope. A shadow glides across your lips before moving across your whole face, as if imprinting this moment to their memory.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Your mouth is splitting your face in two, too large to contain your smile to just your lips, it reaches the corners of your eyes.

“Once your questions end, I would like to.”

“Do you love me?”

“So much.” You feel how much he does in his gaze, in his hands, in his words. Everything about him - every interaction, every touch, every moment, it all led you here. You’re grateful for every moment of it as his hands gently pull your face to his, his lips warm and gentle as they meld into yours.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-angst @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl @quiet-loser @thegreyjoyed @paankhaleyaaar @acoazlove

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124 @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar writing #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #sjmromanceweek2025

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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 days ago

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Sleepwalking

How I imagine the lads men handle a partner that sleepwalks. [requested by: anon & @nocturnaoasis]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

calmly watches you as you move around the house

knows not to wake you up ; tries to guide you back to bed without waking you

cleans up your messes behind you ; taking socks into the bathroom? he’s putting them away ; you left the fridge door open? don’t worry he's closing it ; opening the windows? he’s already on it

you tried to use a knife for something one time while you were asleep so now Zayne locks up any sharp utensils before bed

tells you in detail exactly what you did while you were sleepwalking

makes you whatever it was that you were trying to make while asleep “how did you know I wanted sliced fruit this morning?” “You took out all the fruit last night and stood in the kitchen saying ‘knives I need knives’ for ten minutes”

teases you sometimes ; he finds your antics cute

will hold anything you hand him

forbids you from eating foods that will trigger your sleepwalking close to bedtime ; you do it out of spite

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

the first thing he does is wake you up ; rookie mistake

won’t let you live down the fact that you made the funniest face when you were confused

baby proofs the house “why are all the outlets covered?!” “you can’t be trusted”

screamed bloody murder when he woke up one night and you were standing over him

you got outside once and he about had a heart attack

tries singing to you so you follow his voice ; it worked now this is how he gets you back in bed every time he catches you sleepwalking

asks if you’re awake and wholeheartedly believes you when you say yea even though you’re 1000% not awake

doesn’t mind when you indulge on foods that trigger your sleepwalking ; he knows he’ll keep you safe

if you ever say something unsettling he acts like it didnt scare him ; he’s scared af

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

wakes up when he feels you getting out of bed ; groggily follows you around at a distance to make sure you don’t hurt yourself

gently takes objects out of your hands

tries to block your paths in attempts to guide you back to bed

responds to your rambling as if you’re actually having a conversation

tuck you into bed and stays up for a while watching you sleep

wraps his arms around you so he can feel you get up

would follow you down the road if you decided to go for a walk outside

keeps his distance so you can get your bearings I you start to wake up “Hi starlight lets go to bed”

tries to get you to not eat foods that will trigger your sleepwalking, but one look of those puppy dog eyes and he’s folding

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

Sylus is probably the perfect man to sleepwalk with considering he sleeps during the day and you sleep at night.

advises you to not eat anything that will trigger it close to bed, but won’t stop you if you’re really craving it

he would already be up and about when he sees you walking to the bathroom with socks in hand ; he would use his evol to catch the socks when you try to drop them in the toilet

Meticulously guides you away from anything that you might walk into

knows better than to try and wake you up

finds your sleepwalking kind of amusing except when you stand over him and stare with dead eyes

first instinct is to guide you back to bed and he’d use his evol to do this and the second you become difficult he’d keep a close eye on you; has Mephisto follow you as well

Sylus has to hold the twins back from waking you up “She’s gonna get hurt!” “She’s fine” “What if she goes over the balcony?!” “She’s fine”

will always protect you and get you back in bed with no harm

from time to time will indulge in your sleep conversations “I only have five left” “but I need six sweetie” “I have five take it or leave it” ; he’s trying so hard not to die of laughter

the twins once left the kitchen a mess and tried to blame it on your sleepwalking ; he wasn't happy

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋

records the whole thing ; shows you the videos and teases you “look even in your sleep you try to reach the top shelf” “delete it” “luckily for you I caught every dish in time” “shut up”

compiles the videos together and even has favorites

it was all fun and games until you got outside one night and he about lost his damn mind

baby proofs the house every night ; locks up sharp utensils ; deadbolt on the front door

holds you tight every night so he can feel you get up

cleans up behind you when/if you take anything out

shifts furniture slightly if you run into it so your mental map doesn’t get you hurt ; uses his hands or body as a barrier to keep you from running into walls or hitting your head on anything

has considered waking you up, but will never do it

sometimes responds to your sleep rambling “Pears are better than apples” “I like apples better” “……NO!”

forbids you from eating anything that triggers your sleepwalking close to bedtime ; you still eat it anyway

766 notes · View notes

sugarplum217 · 2 days ago

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Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “Ma—”

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

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

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

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

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

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

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terry…” You purred slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terry—” You swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it,” He murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm.

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed. “Baby—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, baby?” He feigned innocence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” You answer, voice low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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