this is my first time logging back into this account since February. I see all the love that all of the stories that I have posted are getting so much love and I thank you guys so much for liking them.
A lot of things have happened in my personal life that I wish to not discuss, but I am in a new place of employment, which is a good thing cause now I’m getting paid more than how I used to with my old job.
A lot of things on the masterlist also got removed because I decided that I don’t want to write anymore of those stories I have planned unfortunately, so I do apologize for those who were looking forward to any of the stories that I deleted.
As for do I have anything….. I do and it’s with one of the characters on the list, but that’s not coming till late summer, and its following a different format than what I had planned originally, but I’m excited for everyone to read it.
As I said previously, thank you for the support and I hope to see you all when that series get posted.
hello! i was wondering if you could make gothic architecture themed dividers? your dividers are so lovely :)
if not its totally ok btw! im just an architecture nerd and i was curious 😅
Hi! You’re so sweet, I actually have an architecture tag but it’s rather barren (added it to this post for easy finding). I hope these are a good addition to the tag, and fit what you’re looking for. Thanks for the request! 💗
Sorry, but I won’t be celebrating a film that fetishizes black women in a race play way winning just because its black people everyone likes in it. And when people bring this up, his white fans and the black people that like his work get all worked up for no reason when it’s valid criticism.
To see a lot of non-blacks calling this “a love letter to black women” just because there is two fully black actresses and a half-black actress taking up of most of the screen time while ignoring the racial undertones and desire from one of the white supremacist characters (who actually forces one into having sex with him to avoid prison time) is very gross as it gives the impression that the only way a revolution happens is if black women used their bodies as power to get shit done.
Not to mention, the director, writer, and producer had the same exact issue with his last film as he wrote lines that were very racist about Japanese people and got called out. He also abused Fiona Apple as he threw a chair towards her after he lost his Oscar nominations and pushed her out of a moving car, but everyone ignores this because they love his work and he’s married to Maya Rudolph.
But hey, it’s OK because this is his overdue legacy award wins so no one’s not really gonna give a damn.
So it’s interesting to see an industry that is trying to make sets and events a safe space from terrible people still awarding the same people being apart of the problem. Also, it adds onto the long issue of how the only time you’ll ever see Black people win and like big categories as when they’re playing like a stereotypical/fetishized role.
That’s all I have to say, but do not be surprised if that particular film is winning most of the categories at each of these events. Always remember it’s mostly white people voting, so don’t expect Sinners to win everything besides like three-four categories (Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Costume Design, and Original Song (if Golden isn’t winning everything).
Don’t even expect the non-English films (The Secret Agent, No Other Choice, and Sentimental Value) to win big because even though they love advocating for diversity in wins, it’s still mostly made by white people categories we still get to this day. I mean, look at the state of television right now.
Crazy how the criticism of this character from this particularly film is currently being turned into a “you guys only want us to play happy roles”/“yall don’t want complex characters”/“yall don’t watch enough movies to have this opinion” discourse when the main issue drew everyone is having is why did a white man have to write the main black woman like that?
No one is saying we should we only be playing happy characters. We’re saying if you’re going to include us in your work as a non-black person, maybe don’t try to write the characters in harmful stereotypes. And he uses the marketing of this by saying all of this was inspired by his marriage to his biracial wife, which I don’t know about y’all but does it not raise an eyebrow on how does your relationship inspire you to do a satire revolution movie with white supremacy and race play as one of the few themes?
Such a shame that we went from having so much pushback about these types of characters from white people’s perspective to bring it down to how a people are not smart enough to understand why a white man wrote the character like that while crying in the same breath that we don’t have much representation or black stories being made.
Well, like I said, you can include wherever you want in your stories. No one saying all the characters have to be happy, but please stop accepting any type of character a white person makes with one of us in there. And we don’t have to watch that if we don’t want to. If you wanna act like a fucking coon about it, be my guest.
It’s not gonna get you a seat at the table and this is coming from somebody who is trying to break into an industry that you are so desperately trying to gatekeep.
Summary: It’s past midnight. The beach is quiet. The waves aren’t the only thing rolling in slow and deep.
The beach was nearly empty, just the moon and the hush of the ocean. A breeze rolled soft off the water, brushing sand across her calves as she walked barefoot beside Chiron. He hadn't said much since they left the car. He never did. But his presence was thick beside her, not heavy, not overbearing, just there, like the tide.
She liked the silence. It wasn’t empty with him. It was full of everything they weren’t saying.
They came to a stop near one of those old loungers, the kind with the wide umbrella that leaned forward like it had a secret. Chiron looked at it, then at her. One nod. That was all.
She sat first, sand clinging to the back of her thighs. He knelt in front of her, one knee sinking deep into the shore, the other elbow resting on it. Still quiet. Still watching.
"You always look at me like that," she whispered.
"You always look like that," he answered.
His hand reached out, fingers wrapping around her ankle. Thumb dragging up slow over her shin, knee, resting against the bare skin above where her wrap had ridden up. No rush.
She shifted. Slight. Barely a breath of movement. But he felt it.
"You good?" he asked, voice low, head tilted just enough to catch her eyes.
She nodded, throat too tight to speak.
His lips brushed her thigh first, not a kiss, not really. Just a test. She inhaled. He moved higher.
She opened her legs. Slowly. The fabric gave way between them.
Chiron stayed kneeling. One hand gripped the chair behind her, grounding them both, while the other slid beneath her wrap with deliberate slowness, fingertips grazing the soft skin of her inner thigh before curling into the fabric and dragging it aside. His eyes stayed on her the entire time, dark and unreadable, but heavy with intent. As he exposed her, the cool night air kissed her folds, already glistening with need. He exhaled through his nose, slow, controlled, nostrils flaring as he took in the sight. His gaze said everything he didn’t: You’re mine now. I’m going to learn every inch of you.
He didn’t lunge. Didn’t rush. He paused, lips just inches away, the heat of his breath ghosting over her clit, making her thighs quiver with anticipation. His nose dipped close, inhaling her scent like it steadied him, made him ache. When he finally leaned in, it wasn’t with haste—it was reverence. His tongue made first contact in a slow, deliberate flattening stroke from her slick entrance to the top of her clit, dragging every sensitive inch into awareness. Then again. And again. Each pass firmer, wetter, more possessive. He groaned low into her folds, the vibrations shooting through her core like an electric current. He didn’t tease. Didn’t dance around it. He devoured her, tongue circling her clit with heavy, languid intent before sucking it into his mouth, lips sealing around it like it was something sacred. She could feel the pressure of his mouth, the scrape of teeth just grazing, the way he anchored her with both hands, thumbs digging into her hips to keep her from escaping the slow, overwhelming rhythm. This wasn’t a tease. It was a claiming, and he meant to leave no doubt who she belonged to when he was done.
She gasped—soft, sharp—then bit it back with her knuckles.
His tongue dragged from her entrance up to her clit, slow and firm, savoring her like a last meal. He circled it once, then twice, deliberate and slow, before sucking it into his mouth with a deep, reverent groan, like she was something sweet, sacred, and his alone. The suction was perfect, wet, focused, just the right pressure, and he alternated between licking and sucking with a rhythm that made her toes curl into the sand. He flicked the tip of his tongue across her bundle of nerves in teasing bursts before plunging back into a long, drawn-out suck that sent her hips rolling forward. He moaned into her, the sound vibrating through her center, low and hungry and full of restrained need. His hands moved up to her hips, fingers splayed wide, anchoring her in place as her thighs jerked, then clamped tightly around his shoulders, trying to keep him there, trying to pull him deeper, like her body already knew it couldn’t let go.
"Fuck... Black," she whimpered.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch. Just sucked harder, tongue flattening and flicking with deliberate rhythm. His fingers joined in, two slipping inside her, thick, slow, curling just right. She could feel herself clenching around him, heat building sharply in her belly.
"Oh my God... don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop."
He didn’t.
He pressed his palm against her stomach like he wanted to feel every twitch from the inside and out, grounding her, connecting them in that raw, electric moment. His fingers curled just right inside her, pressing up against that spot that made her vision blur, while his mouth stayed latched to her clit, sucking harder, more urgently, tongue flicking in tight, relentless motions. Her thighs trembled, her toes dug into the sand, and a broken sob slipped past her lips as the orgasm rushed her. Her whole body locked, then unraveled around his mouth, muscles contracting in rippling waves that started deep in her core and rolled out until she was shaking against him. The orgasm tore out of her in waves, hips grinding down like she couldn’t help it, like her body was chasing every last flicker of pleasure. Her hands gripped his head, holding him there, needing it, riding the aftershocks as he licked her through the tremors, never once letting up until she sagged back against the lounger, breathless and wrecked.
When he rose, lips slick with her, he didn’t speak.
He just kissed her.
She tasted herself. Salt. Skin. Him.
He reached down, pushed his sweats low just enough to free himself—thick, already glistening at the tip. He pulled her down from the lounger and onto his lap, back to the umbrella pole, the ocean still murmuring behind them.
"C'mere," he said low, voice catching.
She climbed over him, straddling, her knees in the sand. He gripped himself, guiding the head to her entrance. She was still soaked. Still fluttering. He pushed in slow—too slow. She gasped again, hands on his chest.
He filled her. Thick. Stretching. Real.
"Goddamn," she breathed. "You feel... so fucking good."
He grunted low, jaw clenched, hands spreading across her ass, kneading the soft flesh as he guided her to move just the way he needed. His fingertips dug into her skin, not to hurt, but to anchor her, to show her he was there, everywhere. She rolled her hips slow, deliberately, finding his rhythm and building her own, grinding down to savor the full stretch of him inside her. Her walls clung to every inch as she took him deeper, each slow rock sending a shiver up her spine. She tilted her pelvis forward, circling her hips to drag him against every sensitive nerve ending she could reach. He hissed through his teeth, grip tightening, eyes locked on the way her body moved against his. She was learning him. Letting him feel her grip every inch, molding herself to him stroke by stroke, until there was no space between want and need, between his body and hers.
"That’s it," he muttered, voice low in her ear. "Just like that."
She rode him slow at first, pace matching the waves. But the way he filled her, deep, tight, it made her lose rhythm. She started bouncing harder, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He caught her hips, slowed her down.
"Nah. Let me feel it," he whispered. "Every inch. I want all of it."
She whimpered into his neck, body trembling. Every thrust dragged her clit against his pelvis, every stroke made her tighter.
"You gonna come again?"
She nodded frantically, barely able to speak.
"Then take it."
She shattered again, body clenching around him, head thrown back.
He didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, letting his own pace stutter, groan spilling out against her skin.
He came with her name in his throat, the sound raw and deep as his body tightened beneath hers. At the last second, he pulled out, fist wrapped tight around the base of his dick, stroking once, twice, then spilling hot across her lower belly, some catching the curve of her thigh, thick and sticky against her flushed skin. His breath hitched in her ear as he groaned through it, hand braced at the small of her back to hold her steady.
She didn’t move. Just watched him through heavy lids, heartbeat still skittering in her chest.
When it was done, he reached down and smoothed his hand over the mess he made, thumb brushing gently through it, spreading the heat across her skin like he was marking her one last time.
They stayed pressed together. Breathing. Sweating. Sand clinging to skin.
And when he kissed her shoulder, soft and lingering, he didn’t say a word.
???? I guess you didn’t see the hashtag where I said One Battle After Another (OBAA) is the film I was talking about not rooting for, not Sinners. Cause where did I even say Hailee is half black?
Sorry, but I won’t be celebrating a film that fetishizes black women in a race play way winning just because its black people everyone likes in it. And when people bring this up, his white fans and the black people that like his work get all worked up for no reason when it’s valid criticism.
To see a lot of non-blacks calling this “a love letter to black women” just because there is two fully black actresses and a half-black actress taking up of most of the screen time while ignoring the racial undertones and desire from one of the white supremacist characters (who actually forces one into having sex with him to avoid prison time) is very gross as it gives the impression that the only way a revolution happens is if black women used their bodies as power to get shit done.
Not to mention, the director, writer, and producer had the same exact issue with his last film as he wrote lines that were very racist about Japanese people and got called out. He also abused Fiona Apple as he threw a chair towards her after he lost his Oscar nominations and pushed her out of a moving car, but everyone ignores this because they love his work and he’s married to Maya Rudolph.
But hey, it’s OK because this is his overdue legacy award wins so no one’s not really gonna give a damn.
So it’s interesting to see an industry that is trying to make sets and events a safe space from terrible people still awarding the same people being apart of the problem. Also, it adds onto the long issue of how the only time you’ll ever see Black people win and like big categories as when they’re playing like a stereotypical/fetishized role.
That’s all I have to say, but do not be surprised if that particular film is winning most of the categories at each of these events. Always remember it’s mostly white people voting, so don’t expect Sinners to win everything besides like three-four categories (Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Costume Design, and Original Song (if Golden isn’t winning everything).
Don’t even expect the non-English films (The Secret Agent, No Other Choice, and Sentimental Value) to win big because even though they love advocating for diversity in wins, it’s still mostly made by white people categories we still get to this day. I mean, look at the state of television right now.
hiii! i was searching for gold (the colour) dividers and there’s only so little? would you mind doing some hearts or minimalist designs in gold please….
Hi anon! Honestly gold just isn’t something people request often so I’m not surprised the tag is small. I do sometimes miss tags, so you might find a few more if you just search the word gold instead of the tag. Anyways, I hope these work for you? I found it difficult to keep them super minimal but I think this is a decent variety 💗
Summary: The headboard. The moaning. Elijah’s voice, low and nasty, telling her to take all that dick. Annie moaned so sweet and filthy, Elias’s hand was already wrapped around his shaft before he knew what he was doing. He stroked it to the sound of her getting split open, legs no doubt spread wide, taking everything his brother gave her.
Warnings: SMUT, rough sex, nasty talk, voyeurism, masturbation, cream pie
This is some freaky nasty rough sex! 😛 read at your own discretion 🫣
Elias sat on the edge of the bed, jaw locked, running a palm over his face.
He wasn’t tired anymore.
That image of Annie, rich brown skin all bare and soft, body thick and glistening in the kitchen light, had branded itself into the back of his eyes. She was all hips and full tits, stomach soft, ass sitting high like it was carved just to make a man weak. Not even trying. Just breathing, reaching for coffee, bare as the day she was born.
And he saw it. Every damn inch.
The roundness of her ass as she stretched. The deep curve of her waist. The underhang of those heavy titties swaying when she turned fast, clutching the towel like it could do a damn thing.
He’d caught the glint of a chain between her breasts. A little silver one that Smoke must’ve left on her. Something about that made Elias twitch under his sweats.
He shouldn’t have stared. But he did.
Not once.
Not twice.
He saw too much, and now he was hard—full, fat, and pressing thick against the fabric like it needed air. He shifted, huffing, trying to ignore it. Palming it didn’t help. Thinking of something else didn’t help. All he could see was her.
Then he heard it.
The door next to his cracked just slightly, voices leaking out.
“Elijah, baby—”
“You walk your ass out like that again, we gon’ have a real problem.”
“I didn’t think he’d be up. I was gon’ come right back. Just wanted tea—”
“Walkin’ round like you forgot who put that arch in your back. Like that pussy don’t stay full off me.”
Annie giggled. Low. Breathless.
It punched Elias in the gut.
Then came the sound of lips. Wet, open kisses. Her whimpering. That kind of laugh that meant her robe had just come undone.
He blinked.
The bed dipped as he leaned back and slid his hand down, gripping himself through the fabric. Hard already. Could feel his own pulse in the way it throbbed up thick and long in his palm. He dragged his sweats down slow, freeing it, his chest already rising faster.
The next sound made him suck his teeth and lay back fully.
Slap.
Again.
Slap.
Annie gasped, loud enough to hear through the wall.
“You so damn disrespectful. Got my brother waking up to see what’s mine. You walkin’ around like your pussy don’t belong to me.”
“You—ahh—Elijah, wait—”
He was fucking her now.
You could hear it.
Annie was moaning, trying to hush herself but not really trying. And Smoke wasn’t quiet either.
“That’s what you wanted, huh? Wanted him to see what you got. You needed me to show off what I be workin’ with?”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Her cries echoed through the wall. Elias gripped himself harder, eyes shutting tight.
Her voice hitched in a way that made it clear he just bottomed out.
The bed next door was squeaking now. No rhythm. Just chaos. Like Smoke was fucking her in punishment. Long, rough strokes. Using that weight. Making her take it.
Elias stroked slow. From the tip to the base, dragging his palm over the fat vein running along the side. Thick. Slick. His thumb swept across the top. Already wet. He bit his bottom lip, heart knocking.
Smoke kept going, “Sound like you creamin’ all over me. Pussy too good to be actin’ this dumb, Annie. I gotta fuck the sense back into you?”
Annie cried out. That high-pitched sound that came right before a squirt.
Elias’ eyes rolled shut. He pumped faster. Groaning.
“You like that? Huh? That what you needed? Dick so deep you can’t even talk?”
“Yes—yes—f-fuck, right there—don’t stop—”
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even right.
But Elias couldn’t stop stroking.
Not when he could hear every bounce of her ass against Elijah’s lap. Not when he could picture it in detail—her bent over, robe hanging off one shoulder, hair a mess, face twisted up in pleasure while Smoke dug in deep, working her slow and deliberate, not letting her breathe. Holding her down, whispering filth in her ear.
She was mine first. I laid eyes on her first
That thought didn’t help. It made him grip harder.
He stroked from base to tip, squeezing, imagining what she looked like from the front. Her belly rippling from impact. Her eyes dazed. Her thighs trembling.
Smoke’s voice dragged him back, “Tell me whose pussy it is. Say it so my brother can hear you.”
Annie’s moan was long. Shaky.
“Yours—Elijah, baby, it’s yours—”
Elias groaned low. Gripped the base. Squeezed the tip. Rubbed slow with his thumb, making his own precum bead. It was leaking down his hand, sticky, warm. His breath sped up. He didn’t care how wrong it was.
He wanted to hear her break.
And she did.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Oh my god—it’s so deep—I can’t—Elijah—”
“You can take it. You gon’ take all this dick since you wanna act like a lil’ naked bitch in my kitchen.”
The clapping grew louder.
Faster.
The sound of her ass bouncing, wet and heavy, every slap echoing.
Then Annie’s voice again, breaking into ragged whines.
“I’m sorry! I’m—oh my god—I’m so sorry, baby!”
Smoke chuckled low, “Nah, you ain’t sorry yet.”
Elias fucked his own hand to that. Balls tight. Muscles clenching.
He was getting close.
Next door, the bed hit the wall.
Again.
Again.
He bit his lip hard enough to leave a mark. Groaning through his teeth. Eyes squeezing shut.
And then he heard it.
The telltale gasp. That choked-off cry from Annie that meant she squirted.
Wetness.
Soaking everything.
Smoke laughed again. Dark. Triumphant.
“That’s what I thought. You ain’t got no fuckin’ sense. Creamin’ all over me like you was beggin’ to get caught.”
Elias pumped faster. Legs tensing. Chest rising. His other hand gripped the sheets tight, fighting the urge to grunt too loud. He pictured Annie—body a mess, face in the pillows, juice on her thighs. He imagined being in the room, watching.
Then he came.
Long strokes. Slow release. Hot. Messy.
All over his abs.
All over his hand.
And still Smoke kept going.
Annie was still moaning.
Like she could take another round. Like she wanted it deeper.
Elias laid back. Breathing hard. Sweating.
Smoke grabbed her by the hips and folded her without warning.
Annie yelped as he flipped her onto her back, dragging her ass to the edge of the mattress. Her belly sat round and soft, folding into herself when he pushed her thighs up. Thick legs spread wide, trembling. Her titties spilled up under her chin, heavy and full, brown areolas stretched tight, nipples hard and aching as they brushed her throat with every breath.
Her pussy was wrecked. Shiny. Swollen. Cream smeared along her thighs and soaking the sheets beneath her. Every shift made it slicker.
Smoke climbed over her slow and deliberate.
Toes dug into the floor. Thighs flexed. He planted his fists into the mattress on either side of her head and leaned down until his chain slid forward, lodging right between her tits. The weight of it pressed into her skin, cool metal against hot flesh.
He shoved back into her in one sharp stroke.
Annie cried out, sound breaking from deep in her chest as her body jolted up the bed. Her ass slapped down hard against the mattress edge, the sound loud and wet. He pulled back and drove in again, just as rough. Just as deep.
Her mouth fell open. Breath punched out of her with every bottomed-out thrust.
“That’s it,” Smoke said, voice low and tight, “Folded up just like I want you. Look at that body shakin’ when I hit you.”
He snapped his hips again. Harder.
Her eyes dropped between them, watching his dick split her open over and over, thick and shiny, disappearing deep inside her. Each thrust pushed her further back on the bed, made her stomach jump, made her tits bounce heavy and slow.
“I’m sorry,” Annie gasped, biting her lip hard, eyes glassy, “I’m a nasty bitch. I don’t think right. I like bein’ checked.”
Smoke laughed under his breath and slapped her tits, palm flat. The sound echoed sharp. Her nipples jumped. She whimpered, chest heaving.
“You like daddy puttin’ you in your place,” he said, “Like me remindin’ you how you supposed to act.”
Another thrust. Deeper. Slower. Mean.
Her thighs shook around his hips. Her pussy clenched hard, pulling him in like she needed it.
“Yes, daddy,” she breathed, voice breaking, “I need it. I like it when you discipline me with your dick. I like when you mad and still fuckin’ me.”
He leaned down and bit her lip, not gentle. Tugged it between his teeth until she hissed. His forehead pressed to hers.
“You a bad girl,” he said quietly, “Walkin’ around showin’ off what ain’t for everybody. You know better.”
He slammed into her again. The bed knocked the wall.
Her ass bounced hard, jiggling with every stroke. Her belly rippled. Her tits slapped against her chin, nipples brushing her mouth. She moaned through clenched teeth, fingers digging into his shoulders.
“I do know better,” she panted, “I just like bein’ bad. I like when you punish me for it.”
Smoke growled and grabbed her thighs, pulling her tighter, folding her more. He fucked her harder now, sharp strokes that made her voice stutter and shake. Each time he bottomed out, a sound tore out of her throat, raw and helpless.
“Say it again,” he ordered, “Tell me what kind of bitch you are.”
“I’m nasty,” she cried, “I’m greedy. I like dick too much. I like bein’ put on my back and fucked till I apologize.”
He slapped her tits again, harder this time. She sobbed out a moan, back arching even though she was already folded tight.
“That’s my girl,” Smoke said, “That’s how you take it.”
In the other room, Elias had pushed himself back up on his elbow.
He had already spilled once, but his dick was still thick and heavy in his hand, standing proud like it hadn’t learned a lesson yet. He stroked slow at first, spreading what slick was left along the length, breathing through his nose.
Then Annie moaned again. Loud.
Elias cursed under his breath and tightened his grip.
He could hear the wet slap of skin. The bed rocking. Smoke’s voice low and commanding. Annie’s broken responses spilling out between gasps.
He pumped harder now, hand sliding smooth and steady, wrist flexing. His hips lifted off the mattress as he chased it again, jaw tight, eyes screwed shut.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice rough, “She soundin’ like that on purpose.”
The image burned behind his eyes. Annie folded up. Ass bouncing. Mouth open. Taking it deep. Being told exactly what she was.
Elias groaned and stroked faster, thighs tense, breath ragged. His dick twitched hard in his palm, ready to spill again just from the sound of his brother tearing her up through the wall.
“Flip me,” Annie said, voice wrecked and breathy, fingers clutching at Smoke’s forearms, “Please. I need it again.”
Smoke stilled for half a second, eyes dark, chest heaving. Then he laughed low.
“You beg pretty, baby.” he said
He grabbed her thigh and rolled her fast, dragging her hips up until her face hit the mattress. He yanked her ass high, forcing her knees under her, belly hanging heavy between her legs. Her back arched deep. Ass lifted. No hiding. No closing her legs.
“Hands back,” he ordered.
Annie reached behind herself, palms shaking as she spread her cheeks open wide, fingers digging into her own flesh. Her ass sat high and full, jiggling with every breath. Her pussy was slick and swollen, lips parted and shining, leaking down onto the sheets.
Smoke stepped back and planted his feet.
“Stay just like that,” he said, gripping her wrists and pulling her arms straight back until her shoulders tightened, “Don’t you fucking move.”
Her voice came out wrecked. Soft. Ruined.
“I won’t,” she whispered,“I swear. I want it. I want you to make me squirt again. That’s why I needed to be turned. I needed it deep.”
Smoke groaned and shoved into her hard.
Her ass jumped forward like she got hit. The sound was loud, wet, obscene. He pulled back and slammed again, feeding her pussy with sharp, punishing strokes. Her ass ricocheted, flesh clapping against his thighs, belly swinging under her with each hit.
“That’s what you wanted?” he growled, “Pussy stuck in the air with nowhere to go but take dick?”
“Yes,” Annie cried, face buried in the bed, “I’m sorry. I’m greedy. I needed it again. I needed you to fuck it outta me.”
He tightened his grip on her arms and leaned forward, hips snapping harder now. Each stroke drove deep enough to punch broken sounds out of her throat. Her body shook from the force. Her legs trembled like they might give out.
“You ain’t got no shame,” Smoke said, “Ass up like this. Pussy open. Askin’ to get split again.”
“I like it,” she sobbed, “I like when you don’t let me move. I like when you make me take it.”
Her ass bounced violently now, cheeks spreading with every thrust. Wetness dripped down her thighs. Smoke slapped her ass once, sharp and loud, and she cried out, whole body jolting.
“Hold it open,” he ordered, “Wider.”
She obeyed, fingers shaking as she pulled herself apart further. Her pussy clenched hard around him, milking, desperate. Smoke cursed and drove in deeper, slower now, making her feel every inch.
“That’s it,” he said, “Let it go again.”
Her legs locked. Her back bowed. A broken cry tore out of her as her body seized, slick spilling out of her, soaking the sheets beneath her knees. She shook hard, ass still high, arms pinned back, pussy pulsing around him.
Smoke fucked her straight through it, not easing up, riding it out until she sagged against the mattress, gasping.
In the other room, Elias had his back against the wall, dick thick in his hand, breath coming short.
“Fuck,” he whispered, “I know he breakin’ her ass.”
He stroked slow, talking himself through it, eyes squeezed shut. His hand slid heavy and slick over his length, balls tight and full beneath his palm.
“She take it just like that,” he spoke low and wrecked, “Ass up. Greedy. Let him tear her up.”
The sounds through the wall drove him wild. Her cries. The wet slap. Smoke’s voice steady and mean.
Elias pumped harder, hips rolling into his fist.
“He fuckin’ the life out her,” Elias breathed, stroking slow, “Got her locked in, squeezin’ all over him. I know she wet as hell. Can hear it in how loud that shit clap.”
His grip tightened. His breathing went ragged.
“Wish she was on her knees right now,” he groaned, “Wish she could suck all my nut off me. Balls too. Make a mess of herself.”
The image hit him hard. Annie’s mouth. Her lips slick. Her tongue dragging slow.
Elias cursed and stroked fast, muscles locking up, dick twitching hard in his hand.
Annie’s body sagged into the mattress, arms shaking. Legs trembling. Slick everywhere. She could barely breathe.
But Smoke wasn’t done.
He grabbed her by the waist and flipped her again—hard. She landed on her back with a gasp, belly rippling, legs open, pussy still pulsing. Her chest heaved, titties jumping with every breath, nipples dark and stiff, glistening with sweat.
“Get on top,” he ordered, voice low and mean, “Right fuckin’ now.”
She scrambled up, climbing over him, thighs wide, sinking down on him slow. That stretch pulled another sound from her throat—raw, fucked-out—but she didn’t stop. She took every inch, bottoming out with her nails digging into his chest.
Smoke slid down just enough to plant his feet into the mattress, knees bent. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them flat against his stomach, locking her in place.
Then he fucked up into her.
Hard.
Sharp thrusts that bounced her thick ass off his thighs. Titties clapped against her chest. Her belly jiggled with every slam. She couldn’t move, couldn’t ride—just took it. Her moans came in broken gasps, head falling forward, lips parted, chain swinging between them.
“That what you wanted?” Smoke grunted, “Huh? Wanted to get flipped? Want to be my lil’ bounce toy?”
Annie nodded, gasping, whining like she couldn’t find words.
Smoke hit deep again, slower this time. Letting her feel every inch on the way in.
“Say it,” he hissed, “Say why you wanted it like this.”
“I—I knew he could hear,” Annie whispered, voice cracked, “I wanted him to. I wanted your brother to listen to how you fuck me.”
Smoke growled. Hips snapped harder.
“Say that shit louder.”
She arched back, let her head drop. She was gone. Slurring now. Soaked.
“I wanted Stack to hear me,” she cried, “Hear how nasty I am. Hear what this pussy sound like when you fuck it right.”
Smoke slapped her ass from below, then drove up again, lifting her with the force.
“You hear that, Elias?!” he barked, loud enough to shake the goddamn wall, “She want you to listen while I fuck her through the floor!”
Annie screamed into her next orgasm, body jerking. But Smoke didn’t slow.
“You hear these thighs clappin’?! This pussy gushing?! She bounce on me like she don’t need air. Pussy greedy as fuck."
He grabbed her throat and made her look down at him, those eyes wild.
“Now tell him.”
Annie trembled, tears slipping down her cheeks from too much pleasure.
“This my daddy’s dick,” she moaned, “He the only one who make me squirt. He the one diggin’ it out. He the one this pussy belong to.”
Smoke grunted, planting his feet harder, slamming up into her with force that made the bed knock.
“Say my fuckin’ name.”
“Daddy,” she cried, “Fuck—Daddy Smoke!”
Meanwhile in the other room…
Elias was damn near on the floor, one foot braced against the wall, stroking his dick with a slick, tight grip. His thighs twitched. His abs clenched.
He heard his name. He heard her say it. He heard her call Smoke daddy.
And he still couldn’t stop.
His voice broke into a rough whisper:
“She talkin’ to me like that on purpose. Pussy sound like it’s grippin’ the fuck outta him. She a fuckin’ mess…”
He groaned as precum spilled again. His hand never stopped moving.
“Bet her throat would feel so good right now. Suck me clean. Take it all like a nasty lil mouthpiece.”
He cursed again, breath catching.
“Fuckkkk.”
The head of his dick flinched in his hand. He wasn’t done either.
Elias sat up on the edge of the bed, legs spread, hand slick and slow on his shaft. He was edging now. Letting that dick go so it could stand up all the way—dark, thick, twitching with need. Veins bulged along the length. His balls were tight, drawn up close. He exhaled slow through his nose.
She sounded too good.
Her voice was breaking. Her moans were higher. That wet clapping echoing through the damn wall like it was meant for him. He could hear her body lifting and dropping, that pace changing, like she took control.
He wanted to hold that nut. Savor it. Let it burn.
So he gripped the base of his shaft and let it throb. Dark. Glossy. Hard like it needed somewhere to be.
Annie was riding now.
Not bouncing.
Not easing.
Riding.
Full body commitment. Throwing her ass down on Smoke’s lap like it was the only way she knew how to breathe. Her lip was caught between her teeth, eyes heavy, brows pulled tight like it hurt to feel this good. She looked over her shoulder, hair wild, and moaned from the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t pull out,” she begged, voice broken and fucked up, “Don’t take it out—please—I love how it feel slidin’ in and out like this. It’s so fat—so thick—I need it.”
Smoke let her go. Just rested his hands behind his head and stared.
That ass was clappin’.
Full cheeks bouncing.
Throwin’ that pussy down on him like she needed to fuck the air out his lungs.
He popped her on the ass once. Then again.
“Ride that shit, then,” he growled, “Fuck me. Ride this dick like you mean it.”
She whimpered and ground down on just the tip, rolling her hips, making it nasty. Her ass moved in slow circles, grinding low, creamy and wet. She pulled up until just the head stretched her, then dropped again fast, making the whole bed shake.
“Like that,” Smoke hissed, sitting up to watch, “Fuck the tip. Ride it right. Throw that ass.”
She did it again. And again.
One hand planted on his thigh for balance. The other on her own stomach. Her tits bounced wildly. Her belly rippled. Her pussy kept talking.
“Daddy,” she whined, drunk on it now, “I’m fuckin’ addicted. I don’t even know who I am no more.”
Smoke grabbed her waist and held her in place while he just watched her fuck herself on him.
“You done lost your mind, huh?” Smoke teased, voice gravelly, “Ridin’ like that pussy tryna prove somethin’.”
Annie gasped.
Her face flushed deeper. Her movements slowed to grind mode again, dragging that slick slit over the tip and pushing it back in inch by inch.
She whispered, low and ragged, “You gon’ make me squirt again…”
Next door, Elias was biting his damn knuckles. Dick standing proud. Angry.
He was stroking now but only halfway, stopping before the edge.
“Shit,” he growled, “She ridin’ like she possessed. I know that shit slippery as fuck. Gushy.”
His hand trembled a little. Not from nerves.
From trying to keep that nut locked up tight.
“Bounce on it, baby,” he whispered to himself, “Make him feel that grip.”
His toes curled. Thighs flexed.
He still wasn’t ready to let it go.
Annie was unraveling.
She had no rhythm left. Just chaos. Pussy gushing, thighs shaking, ass bouncing out of control. She ground down hard one more time—and it happened.
Again.
Her breath caught, hips locked, and a high, broken sob tore from her throat as she squirted again, soaking his lap. Her whole body trembled from the release, cunt pulsing in aftershock, slick running down his thighs.
Smoke groaned. Loud. Sat up fast, “Move,” he barked.
She barely had time to breathe before he flipped her—manhandled her right into a new position.
Smoke pushed her thighs up, wide, until her knees nearly touched her shoulders. “Grab ’em,” he growled, “Hold them legs just like that.”
Annie obeyed with a shaky whimper, folding open for him completely.
He settled between her legs, thick arms anchoring him as he gripped her titties like handlebars, palms full, thumbs brushing her nipples. His gold chain swayed between them. His eyes dropped to her swollen, glistening pussy—already fluttering, already wet.
“You feel that?” he rasped, dragging the tip of his dick up and down her slit, teasing her entrance.
Then he slammed in, deep and raw.
“That’s me hittin’ the back, huh?” he groaned, watching her mouth fall open.
He pulled out slow, letting her feel every inch, then shoved in harder.
“Feel how I do it like that?”
Annie moaned loud, toes curling, hands shaking as she held her feet. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Just gasped and nodded, her pussy making those slick, obscene sounds every time he pumped back in.
Smoke leaned in, breath hot and filthy against her cheek, “This where I’m bout to empty my fuckin’ balls. Right here in this big, fine ass pussy.”
He pulled out again, slow and wet, letting the suction pop. Smirked at the noise. Did it again. And again. Watching her cream cling to him each time he withdrew.
Then he snapped his hips and drilled her.
Fast. Deep. Ruthless.
Still grippin’ her titties. Still leaned in like he was claiming her soul.
Her legs started to shake. Her voice got high. Her eyes rolled.
He fucked her through it, whispering, “You gon’ take this nut, mama. You hear me? You gon’ let Daddy bust all up in that pretty pussy. Gimme all that fuckin’ cream. Let me feel it.”
Toes curling tighter, her calves tensed, pulling her knees up instinctively to take him better.
“Yeah, that's my girl. You gon’ squeeze this dick till I empty every last drop in this pussy. Milk me dry with that wet ass pussy—show Daddy how much you need it”
“Yessss, keep putting that big dick in me,” she gasped, voice trembling, her pussy clenching around him in response, coating his length in fresh slickness as he pulled out and slammed home again.
The rhythm built, his thrusts turning punishing, each entry forcing her mouth agape in ecstasy, lips slack and inviting. Droplets of sweat trailed down her neck, her breasts jiggling in his grip with every impact.
“Fuck, listen to that pussy talkin’. You want Daddy's load floodin’ you out, don't you? Beggin’ for it? gimme that cream, baby, soak my balls,' he growled, leaning in to bite her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin.
Annie moaned louder, the affirmation breaking into a cry as he drove in relentlessly, her body jolting with the force. Her mouth dropped open wide on the next entry, a choked cry spilling out as he bottomed out.
“Damn, look at you takin’ it so good. You want this load, don't you? Say it louder—beg for Daddy's cum in that big, hungry pussy, baby.'
"Please, Daddy, I'm your nasty bitch—use my pussy, breed me deep! I wanna feel you throb and shoot inside, make me leak. Fuck, I'm so wet for you, gonna cum so hard on this big dick—”
She came undone on that fat dick, gushing hot and messy, her juices squirting out around his plunging shaft, drenching his balls and thighs in a slick flood. Mouth wide in a silent scream that broke into nasty whimpers, toes locked in a rigid curl, she shook violently, pussy milking him with rhythmic pulses.
In the other room, Stack finally broke.
His legs snapped straight, hips lifting as that nut chased him down and caught him in one heavy wave. His fist tightened around the base, stroking through it slow and tight.
“Fuck…fuuuckkkkkkk.”
He came hard across his stomach. Hot. Messy. Stripes of it landing on his abs, hand shaking. His head fell back, lips parted.
“Annie…”
It slipped out rough. Damn near a moan.
She had him sayin’ her name now.
Back in the bed, Smoke’s body locked up.
His grip around Annie’s titties turned steel.
His strokes went erratic—deep, fast, brutal.
“Keep that shit open,” he growled, “You gon’ take every drop. You understand me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Annie whimpered. “Please cum in it. Fill me up—”
Smoke growled low and buried himself to the hilt, holding her body tight as his nut snapped through him. Deep. Hot. Flooding her.
He stayed there, throbbing inside her.
Annie was twitching in his arms. Legs trembling. Breath hitched. Her pussy still pulsing, still messy, still full of him.
Smoke let out a low grunt and finally pulled out slow—his dick thick, glistening, streaked with slick and cream. The second he slipped free, her pussy opened up around the emptiness and let out a slow, wet push of his nut.
He stared.
Watched it drip, thick and warm, trailing down to her ass.
“Look at this shit,” he muttered, voice raw, “You gon’ pull that stunt again?”
Annie tilted her head back onto his chest, smiling lazy, lips shiny with sweat.
“Maybe,” she whispered with a giggle.
Smoke grunted, “Keep playin’.”
But he didn’t sound mad. Just wrecked. Possessive. Drunk off her.
She reached between her thighs, fingers gathering the mess he left inside her, spreading it up and around her swollen lips with slow, teasing circles. Her voice was soft. Smug.
“Don’t waste none,” she said, rubbing it in like lotion, “Daddy gave me all this. I’m keepin’ it.”
Smoke just laid back and watched. His chain tangled between her tits. His nut leaking down her thighs. Her pussy glistening and ruined.
Smoke spoke, breath thick, voice low, “What I give you?”
Annie grinned, still catching her breath, “All your thick nut Deep.”
“Mm.” Smoke’s hand slid over her thigh, “I see that.”
“You made a damn fool outta me.” Annie spoke breathlessly.
“No, baby…I made you mine again.”
Annie giggled, “Hmph. You always say that after you fuck the soul outta me.”
“Because it’s the truth. You feel full?”
“Leakin’. So yeah.”
Smoke chuckles dark, “That’s how I like it.”
“Mm. You like makin’ a mess in me.”
“I like claimin’ you. Again and again. Til you forget anybody else ever fucked you.”
“Then don’t stop.”
Smoke leans in, mouth brushing her ear, “I’m not done. That was just round one.”
In the other room, Elias was a goddamn mess.
His chest was heaving. His stomach, covered. His fist, still tight around the last stroke.
The nut he just let go was the biggest he’d ever had.
Thick. Endless. Hot. Rope after rope painted his own skin, dripped off his abs, smeared across his knuckles.
And it wasn’t for just any girl.
It was for her.
His brother’s girl.
Annie.
His mind went blank. No shame. Just need.
She sounded too good. Took it too well. Looked too soft. And now, after hearing that? Smoke would just have to kill him.
Because Elias needed her bad.
And next time? He wouldn’t be on the other side of the wall.
Pairing: Raven x Elias “Stack” Moore x Elijah “Smoke” Moore
Series: Ours to Claim
✨ Entry #9 in the ongoing polyam domestic chaos saga
Previous: Blaze, Storm, Thunder, and Rain
Summary: Raven thought the ultrasound would settle a bet, not rewrite the future. A new kind of chaos. Between family visits, shopping meltdowns, and one unexpected talk of marriage, she and the twins are building something messier, deeper, and more permanent than any of them expected. There’s no manual for this kind of love, but they’re writing one together, one wild heartbeat at a time.
Warnings / Themes: Polyamory, Black leads, pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, talk of parenthood, mild angst, heavy softness, domestic fluff, twin chaos, supportive partner dynamics, family tension, and one rogue discussion about pregnancy sex.
Stack was in rare form, pacing the hallway with his shirt halfway on, phone clenched between his teeth, and one sock on. He was muttering to himself as he hunted for the other sock, every few steps interrupted by a declaration about the babies. Plural. Always plural. And not just triplets, now he had upgraded the chaos.
"Look, all I’m saying is if it’s three or four, I called it," he said around the phone, yanking open a drawer and tossing aside rolled-up shirts like they’d offended him. "Blaze, Storm, Thunder, and Rain. That’s a squad. A legacy. That’s generational wealth right there."
Raven was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying her shoes slowly, methodically, because if she moved too fast she’d start thinking too hard. The appointment was in less than an hour. Finally. She’d been counting the days since that damn test lit up with those faint little lines. And even though she kept saying it was going to be just one baby, a small and manageable one, Stack’s constant insistence on triplets or even quadruplets had started to get to her. Just a little.
"Ain’t nobody naming a baby Thunder," she said flatly, standing up and grabbing her jacket from the chair. "Let alone three or four babies with weather-ass names. You sound like a comic book villain."
Stack popped up in the doorway with both socks now, shirt still twisted halfway around his torso. "First of all, I’d be an iconic comic book villain. Second of all, I’m just manifesting. Strong genes run in our family."
"So do strong delusions," Elijah said from the kitchen, voice even as always. He was slicing fruit as if it were a peaceful Sunday morning, not the day that could officially change their lives. He’d already showered, dressed, packed the car with snacks and water bottles, and even remembered the folder with Raven’s prenatal paperwork. Stack had done none of those things.
"You see how they talk to me?" Stack said, sock finally on. He turned toward the kitchen. "But when Blaze is born first, I’mma be the one they thank."
"When who is born first?" Raven asked as she stepped into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow.
"Blaze. The leader."
"So now Blaze is the leader of your imaginary R&B quadruplet group?"
"They’re not imaginary, Rae. They’re inevitable."
Elijah passed her a napkin-wrapped slice of mango, soft and sweet. She took it, leaned against the counter, and sighed.
"One baby. That’s my bet," she said. "Y’all are getting ahead of yourselves."
Stack grinned. "Bet. And when that screen lights up with three or four little heads, I don’t want to hear nothing."
"You won’t," she said. "I’ll be unconscious."
The house was buzzing, even in its quiet. They moved around each other with the ease of people who had grown into a rhythm, a strange, imperfect one that somehow worked. Elijah grabbed the keys while Stack looked for his wallet, then looked for his phone, then panicked because his phone was in his hand. Raven rolled her eyes and made sure her insurance card was in her bag.
By the time they piled into the car, the mood had settled into something that felt like nerves covered in a layer of forced calm. Elijah drove. Raven sat up front. Stack sprawled in the backseat like he was prepping for a photo shoot.
"Alright," he said, pulling out his phone. "Before we get there, I’m locking in my names. Blaze, Storm, Thunder, and Rain. Rain's the anchor. Calms the crew down."
"You are not naming our kids like a weather forecast," Raven said without looking at him.
Elijah chuckled. "Just let him tire himself out. He’ll fall asleep before we get there."
"I will not," Stack said. "I’m wired. This is destiny. This is the Moore Era."
And even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Raven’s hand rested over her belly, light and thoughtful. Just one baby, she thought again.
But her heart didn’t say it as loud as it used to.
The waiting room at Dr. Rollins’ office was calm, almost too calm. All soft beige walls and pastel artwork, the kind of quiet that felt padded, like the air itself was trying not to disturb anyone. The room smelled faintly of lavender, printer ink, and a hint of citrus from the hand sanitizer pump near the check-in desk. Raven sat between Elijah and Stack, her hands folded tight in her lap, legs crossed at the ankle, trying her best not to bounce them. Every time her knee twitched, Elijah’s hand would gently find hers, grounding her without a word.
Stack, however, was the opposite of calm. If Raven was quietly simmering, Stack was full boil. Not visibly he wasn’t pacing or fidgeting outwardly but the way his leg bounced, the way he kept glancing toward the reception desk like they were going to forget to call them, the way his mouth kept moving like he had to keep talking, or combust it all gave him away. He leaned forward in the chair like he was trying to hear the ultrasound machine warming up through the walls.
"Four babies ain’t even that wild," he whispered for the third time. "Like, biologically, it’s possible. Don’t even need IVF for it to happen."
Raven didn’t look at him. She just swatted his thigh and kept her eyes fixed on the muted flat screen across from them, which was currently showing a woman doing modified squats at seven months pregnant.
"We should start brainstorming middle names too," Stack added, undeterred. "Like, Rain needs a soft middle name. Something that flows. Rain Eliana. Or Rain Symphony."
Elijah closed the parenting magazine he hadn’t been reading and exhaled through his nose. "You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer."
Raven finally cracked a smile, small but genuine. Before she could respond, a nurse stepped into the room and called her name.
She stood, smoothing her top down over the small but noticeable curve of her belly. Stack jumped up like a spring, grabbing the diaper bag they absolutely did not need yet and slinging it over his shoulder like it was game day. Elijah followed, his movements composed and unhurried, but there was a certain stiffness to his spine. His jaw worked once as they passed the hallway, like he was biting back nerves.
They were led down a softly lit hallway, the walls lined with educational posters—"Your Baby at 12 Weeks," "Safe Sleeping Habits," "What to Expect in the Second Trimester." Raven didn’t look at any of them too closely. The last time she had, she’d spiraled down a rabbit hole of worries for hours.
The ultrasound room was cooler than she remembered. Dim lights, the gentle hum of the machine already buzzing in the background. Stack immediately adjusted the guest chair next to the exam table, pulling it close like he was front row at a concert. Elijah took the other side, pulling out his phone to silence it before slipping it into his pocket.
"You ready, Rae?" Stack asked, voice lower now, but no less intense.
"Don’t hype it up," she muttered, pulling her shirt up just enough to expose her stomach. "It’s just an ultrasound."
The tech entered with a bright smile, clipboard in hand. Her energy was gentle, practiced. She dimmed the lights a bit more and explained what she was going to do. Raven nodded along, already flinching at the thought of the cold gel. It hit her skin and she did, in fact, flinch. Elijah’s hand wrapped around hers again, his thumb tracing small circles into her palm.
The probe moved across her skin. The screen flickered to life. The tech tilted her head, squinted, adjusted. Silence fell, thick and humming.
Stack leaned forward, lips parted.
And then the tech said it.
"Well, looks like we’ve got three."
It hit like a thunderclap. A silence so deep it had weight. Raven blinked. Elijah didn’t move. Stack sucked in a breath so sharp it could have cut glass.
"Three babies," the tech confirmed, cheerful as ever. "You’re having triplets."
Stack jumped to his feet.
"I KNEW IT. I TOLD Y’ALL. TRIPLETS. THREE! I NEED THAT ON RECORD. I NEED A CERTIFICATE, A PLAQUE, SOMETHING. I NEED A WITNESS."
Elijah lowered his face into his hand and dragged it down slowly, letting out a long breath through his fingers as if that alone could settle the storm that just landed in the middle of the room. His palm stayed over his eyes for a beat longer than usual, the weight of what they had just heard sinking into his chest like wet concrete. Behind the shield of his hand, his brow furrowed deeply, his jaw flexed once, then again. He didn’t speak yet, not because he didn’t want to, but because he needed a second to catch up. Three babies. The number kept looping in his head like a broken record. Triplets. Not one. Not two. Three. When he finally pulled his hand away, his eyes weren’t wide with shock or panic, but something steadier, more profound. He turned his head just slightly to look at Raven, and then at Stack, and finally back to the glowing screen with those flickering lives staring right back at him. His voice hadn’t returned yet, but the realization had. They were really doing this.
Raven let out a laugh. It bubbled out too fast, almost wild, startled right out of her chest like it had been waiting in the wings all day. Her shoulders shook, not just from the force of it, but from everything it meant: the disbelief, the surreal thrill, the complete absurdity of Stack being right. And then, without any transition, the tears came. Hot, fast, and heavy, rushing down her cheeks as if they'd been stored up for weeks, waiting for this exact moment to escape. Her hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes like she could press the emotion back in, but it was already spilling over. Her breathing stuttered, caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. Elijah leaned forward without hesitation, his hand never leaving hers, and pressed a soft, grounding kiss to her temple. He still didn’t speak, didn’t need to. His presence was full enough to steady her even as the room tilted on its axis.
"We’re gonna need another car," he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.
The tech kept smiling, pointing out the three little blurs on the screen as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb.
Stack was still celebrating quietly in the corner, nodding to himself like he had just won the lottery.
Raven breathed. Deep and full. Her heart didn’t feel lighter or heavier. Just grounded. Anchored. Real.
Three.
Three little storms, flickering and fluttering on a black and white screen that would change everything.
They were still stunned when they were moved into a separate exam room. The tech had printed out ultrasound images, handing them to Raven with a grin before quietly slipping out the door. Raven clutched the little black-and-white printouts like they were made of glass, delicate and reverent in her hands. Elijah guided her to sit up on the exam table, steady as ever. Stack hovered nearby, closer now, a hand on the small of her back, fingers brushing comfort into her spine even as his own excitement buzzed beneath his skin.
The new room was warmer and smaller. It smelled like disinfectant and lemon wipes. The cushioned table crinkled beneath Raven as she shifted, leaning back against the incline while Elijah helped her adjust the sheet over her lap. He sat on the stool beside her, flipping the ultrasound printout over and tracing the blurry outlines of the babies like he was trying to memorize them already.
Stack sat in the guest chair, calmer now but glowing, his knees bouncing in place, but his voice softer when he spoke. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes bouncing between Raven and Elijah with barely restrained joy.
"Three babies," he said, his voice dropping to something awed. "Man, they’re in there. Really in there. I can’t stop looking at ‘em."
Raven glanced at him, the edge of a smile playing on her lips. Stack caught her eye and grinned, then reached over to squeeze her knee.
"I still say we’re gonna need two cribs and a mini fridge just for late-night feedings," he added, tone light but affectionate. "And I’m installing one of those little light projectors that makes stars on the ceiling. You know. Ambiance."
The knock on the door was soft but quick, and then Dr. Rollins stepped in with her clipboard and a warm smile. She was mid-forties, sharp-eyed, with a calm that immediately smoothed out the buzzing energy in the room. Her eyes swept over the three of them like she already knew they were bringing her something extraordinary.
"So," she said, closing the door behind her, "triplets, huh?"
Raven nodded, breath catching again at the word.
"Congratulations," the doctor said genuinely, stepping toward her. "That’s big news, especially for a first pregnancy. How are you feeling? Any nausea, dizziness, fatigue aside from the usual chaos?"
"All of the above," Raven said, smiling despite herself. "And I can’t tell if it’s from the pregnancy or from living with those two."
Dr. Rollins chuckled. "Well, that’s fair. You’re doing great so far. Your blood pressure looks good, and you’re gaining weight at a steady pace. With multiples, we’ll be checking in a bit more often, just to be safe."
She pulled on a pair of gloves and moved to check Raven’s abdomen, palpating gently while asking a string of quick, practiced questions about her symptoms, sleeping habits, and appetite.
"Are you still taking the prenatal vitamins I recommended?"
"Every morning," Raven said. "Elijah keeps a whole chart on the fridge."
"Color-coded," Elijah added without shame.
"We don’t miss nothing," Stack said, leaning forward again. "She gets the smoothie with the flaxseed in it even when she swears it tastes like grass."
Dr. Rollins raised an eyebrow, amused. "Well, that’s definitely dedication."
When she was finished with her examination, she peeled off her gloves and moved back to her clipboard.
"So, any questions or concerns so far? Anything you’ve been wondering about now that we know there’s three in there?"
Stack’s hand rose slowly, his expression soft and open. "When do we get to find out if they’re boys or girls?"
Dr. Rollins smiled at the eagerness in his tone. "Typically, around 18 to 20 weeks, but with multiples, it can be a little tricky. We might see sooner, might not. I’ll be referring you to a maternal-fetal medicine specialist too, just for closer monitoring."
Elijah nodded, his expression still thoughtful. "Anything we need to be preparing for early? Risks or complications we should be aware of?"
"There are higher risks with triplets, preterm labor, and low birth weight, but we’re watching everything closely. The fact that Raven’s healthy and coming in early puts her in a good position. The best thing you all can do is keep doing what you’re doing. Support her. Keep her rested, hydrated, low-stress."
Stack exhaled, brushing a gentle hand over Raven’s ankle. "We got her. For real."
"Low-stress. Yeah. That’s definitely gonna happen when I’m outnumbered three to one."
"Four to one," Raven corrected.
He blinked. "Damn, you right."
The doctor laughed and made a few more notes. "I’ll leave you with the front desk to schedule your next appointments and your referral. You’re doing great, Raven. And it looks like you’ve got a strong team here."
Raven glanced between her boys. One grinning like he just won a lifetime achievement award, the other still quietly tracking every detail like it was mission critical.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I do."
As Dr. Rollins left the room, the weight of it all settled into the silence. Not heavy. Just real. Just beginning.
The car was quiet.
Not heavy quiet. Just stretched-thin quiet. Like no one had figured out how to say what they were feeling yet.
Raven sat in the passenger seat, her thumb tracing the edge of the ultrasound printouts in her lap like the texture might change. Three blurry, bean-shaped blobs—alive, real, nested deep inside her. Three. Elijah sat behind the wheel, staring out through the windshield even though the engine wasn’t on. Stack was in the backseat, uncharacteristically hushed, his forehead resting against the window.
Triplets.
"So… what do we do now?" Raven asked quietly.
Stack leaned back into his seat, letting out a low whistle. "We should get food. And then… baby stuff?"
Elijah finally blinked and looked at her through the rearview mirror. "We haven’t bought anything yet. Not really. We didn’t know."
"And now we do," Raven said. Her voice was steady, but her hand gripped the paper tighter.
"We go to that baby store in Midtown?" Stack offered. "The one with the big registry wall and the snack kiosk."
Raven side-eyed him. "You only want the pretzels."
"And triplet onesies. You think they got ones that say ‘Copy,’ ‘Paste,’ and ‘Buffering’?"
Elijah finally smiled, slow and faint, but it stayed. "Let’s go. We’ll take it slow. Just look around."
Raven nodded, but her heart was doing something wild under her ribs. She didn’t say it aloud, but just the thought of walking into a store full of baby things made her stomach flip. Not bad. Not good. Just… a lot.
Too much.
They drove in a strange kind of peace, broken occasionally by Stack muttering baby names under his breath like spells. Blaze. Storm. Thunder. Rain. Names that sounded more like a weather report than a nursery list, but they rolled out of him with such energy that neither Raven nor Elijah had the heart to stop him at first.
"Absolutely not," Raven said after the fourth repetition. "We are not naming our kids after natural disasters."
"They gon’ come out strong though," Stack replied with a grin. "Built-in resilience. Blaze gonna run track. Thunder plays drums. Rain? Rain got a poetry book already."
Elijah sighed from the driver’s seat. "Let it go, man."
"Alright, alright," Stack said, tossing out the names like cards. "Okay. How about something classic then? Avery, Jordan, Micah, gender-neutral. That’s modern parenting, right?"
"You tryna be trendy now?" Raven teased. "Pick a lane."
"I got range," Stack said, leaning forward with a hand on her seat. "What about Lyric? Or Halo? Or—wait—Legend. That one’s hard, right?"
Elijah groaned again, louder this time. "I’m not raising anybody named Legend."
"Okay, what about something with meaning?" Stack continued, undeterred. "Nia means purpose. Amari means strength. Zuri for beautiful. I got culture too, don’t sleep."
Raven finally smiled. "Better. Still no Blaze, though."
Stack held up both hands. "Fine. Retiring the weather squad. For now."
The mall loomed up fast. Too fast.
And the chaos waiting inside was louder than any of them had prepared for.
The moment they stepped into the baby store, Stack’s whole vibe shifted like he’d just walked into Disneyland. He clapped once, looked around wide-eyed, and immediately grabbed a cart. "Okay, we’re gonna need like… three of everything. Minimum. Maybe four of some things, just to be safe."
Raven stared at the sea of shelves. Cribs, strollers, tiny clothes, high chairs, swaddles, bottles, swings. Rows and rows of pacifiers, diapers, wipes, formula she wasn’t sure she’d even need. Everywhere she looked was soft pastel chaos.
"We are not buying three of everything today," Elijah muttered, already pulling his phone out to start a list. His voice was dry, but even he didn’t sound fully convinced.
"What if we get the babies matching pajamas for every holiday? Like pumpkins for Halloween. Tiny turkeys for Thanksgiving. Snowflakes—"
"Stack."
"I’m just brainstorming! This is productive chaos!"
Raven started slow. A few onesies. She held a soft yellow sleeper up, then put it down. Elijah was debating between two different stroller brands, reading comparison reviews out loud while Stack added a giraffe-shaped pacifier clip and then a flamingo-shaped rattle to the cart.
But the noise. The people. The colors. The music looping through the speakers.
It all started to pile up.
Raven’s breathing grew shallow. The list Elijah was reading blurred into static. The register’s beeps were too sharp. The strollers were too bulky. There were too many people brushing past, too many soft giggles and newborn cries from other families nearby. By the time they reached the aisle full of baby socks, Raven had stopped walking.
Her chest felt tight. Her fingers trembled. She didn’t know when she stopped listening to the boys—only that the tiny, color-coded rows of socks had blurred.
Elijah looked up first. Noticed the way she froze.
"Rae?"
Stack caught on right after, his hands still holding a pack of novelty onesies that said "Worth the Wait."
"Hey," Elijah said, stepping in close, hand resting gently on her arm. "You good?"
She didn’t answer.
Stack dropped the onesies back in the cart and moved to her other side.
"Come on," he said softly. "Let’s step out."
They left everything behind. Elijah looped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her carefully out through the automatic doors and into the crisp mall air. The noise dimmed instantly, and the world slowed.
Raven didn’t cry. But she looked like she might. Her eyes were wide, breathing shallow, like her body was trying to hold back an avalanche.
Stack crouched a little to look up at her face, his voice quieter than usual. "It’s not just tired, is it?"
She shook her head.
"You scared?"
Raven nodded. And that one motion cracked something.
She didn’t have to explain. Didn’t have to say what part scared her most, the babies, the unknown, the responsibility, the future. It was all of it. It was the way the world had shifted on its axis, and she hadn’t caught up yet.
Elijah pulled her closer.
"We got you," he said. "We’re in this. All the way. Every minute."
Stack kissed her knuckles, voice gentler than usual. "We’ll figure this out. One onesie at a time. Or, like, ninety onesies. However many we need."
Raven let out a wet laugh, the tension easing just a little.
They stood there together, huddled near the sliding doors, just outside the chaos. Not immune to it. But together in it. And somehow, that made it bearable.
As they finally turned into the driveway, the late evening light cast a warm glow across the neighborhood. The sky was streaked with pale gold and lavender, the kind of hush that comes after a long, emotionally charged day settling over everything. The ride home had been subdued, but not tense, more like the calm after a storm, where silence felt necessary rather than awkward. Raven leaned against the window, her palm instinctively curved over her belly, trying to metabolize everything they had just learned and felt.
Three babies. Her body was home to three developing lives. The images from the ultrasound, the surreal clarity of it all, replayed again and again in her mind alongside the chaos of the baby store. Price tags. Lists. Jokes. Panic. Names that sounded like soundtracks or fantasy novels. It was more than she could hold in one sitting.
Elijah powered down the car and turned in his seat to look at her. "We’re home," he said softly, his voice a deliberate calm in the swirl of thoughts.
Raven nodded slowly. "Yeah," she echoed, more out of habit than certainty, her voice barely louder than a breath.
From the back seat, Stack sprang into motion like a coiled spring released. He pushed open the door, stretched dramatically, and made his way around the car to open Raven’s door. His movements were exaggerated with purpose, almost theatrical. "Allow me, mama," he said with a grin, offering his hand like she was royalty stepping out of a carriage.
She took it, her lips tugging into a tired smile. Elijah joined her on the other side, his arm slipping easily around her waist as they walked up the path. Their steps were unhurried, Raven moving carefully, her weight equally supported by both men on either side.
The inside of the house felt like exhaling. Familiar. Safe. They left their shoes by the door, jackets dropped wherever they landed, and Stack made his way into the kitchen like he was training for a triathlon. Raven dropped onto the couch with a groan, reaching for the blanket draped across the back and wrapping it around herself like armor.
"That store was an Olympic-level mistake," she muttered, pressing her fingers into her temples.
"I tried to tell y’all we needed to eat first," Stack called from the kitchen. "Nobody listens to the snack prophet."
"You said that after piling half the store into a cart we didn’t buy," Elijah shot back, easing down next to Raven. He tugged the rest of the blanket over her lap and kicked off his shoes before settling in beside her.
Stack returned moments later with a collection of offerings in his arms: a bottle of water, a container of cut mango, and the specific granola bar Raven liked, the one with coconut flakes. He approached with the seriousness of a surgeon.
"I couldn’t find your fries," he said solemnly, crouching beside the couch. "But I got you these. Premium mango slices. Crunchy granola. Hydration. We’re on survival mode now."
Raven looked down at the food, then at him. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly before her lip began to tremble. The tears that came next were instant and overwhelming.
They weren’t delicate, cinematic tears. These were the kind that clawed their way out, guttural and hot. She tried to hide behind her hands, but it was futile.
Stack immediately scrambled. "Oh, hell—babe, no, wait—don’t cry, okay? I’ll go back out. I’ll find the fries. I’ll makefries. I’ll grow potatoes in the backyard, start farming, get us certified organic—"
"Stack," Elijah said calmly, from beside her.
"I’ll make a whole spa corner! Foot rub station, essential oils, maybe a vibe playlist? Spotify got a prenatal collection, right?"
"Stack. Just sit with her."
Stack froze like someone had unplugged him. For a moment, he looked completely lost. Then, slowly, he sank to the floor in front of the couch and gently took Raven’s hands from her face.
"I got you," he said softly, kissing her knuckles. "You ain’t gotta say a word. I’m right here."
Elijah leaned in too, curling an arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his hand rubbing small, steady circles against her back.
"This is part of it," he murmured. "All the hormones, the stress. We’re not going anywhere. We’re with you every step of this."
Stack adjusted her foot into his lap, rolling up his sleeves. He pressed his thumb into her arch, slow and purposeful. "I read that this helps with swelling," he said, concentrating. "And here—" he moved his hands gently to a different point—"for stress. So we multitaskin’."
Raven sniffled, the tears tapering off now into softer exhales. Her chest still ached, but the worst of the pressure had lifted.
"Y’all are so annoying," she muttered.
"And beautiful," Stack said quickly.
"And present," Elijah added.
"Still annoying," she insisted, her voice thick but teasing.
They chuckled, quiet and genuine. It wrapped around the room like a balm. For a while, they didn’t speak at all, just sat there, held together in warmth.
Eventually, Elijah shifted. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to her stomach, letting his forehead rest there for a beat. "You three good in there? Making mama cry over missed fries and granola bars?"
Stack followed suit, rubbing small circles along the side of her bump with reverence. "Y’all better be easy on her. She already raising two full-sized knuckleheads."
He kissed her belly, once, then twice. "If you got cravings, hit me in a dream or something. Fries. Ice cream. Pickles. Just send the message. I’ll deliver."
Raven rolled her eyes, but her smile broke through. She reached down, brushing her fingers across Stack’s low fade, her nails lightly grazing the edge of his hairline. Her gaze drifted to Elijah, whose curls were starting to grow out more than usual, giving him that effortless, rugged look he liked but rarely acknowledged.
"I’m lucky," she said softly.
Elijah met her gaze without flinching. "We all are."
And just like that, in the dim quiet of their living room, things felt okay again. Not simple. Not perfect. But deeply, profoundly okay. A different kind of peace. One built out of laughter, tears, and the promise that none of them would face this alone.
It felt like home.
The sun crept in through the curtains slowly and easy, casting pale stripes across the hardwood floor and the edges of the couch where the three of them had eventually passed out the night before. Raven stirred first, eyes fluttering open to find her legs tangled with Elijah’s, Stack’s arm draped across her waist like a seatbelt. Their breaths rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the quiet hum of the house a soft backdrop to the thrum in her chest.
It felt different now. Not dramatic. Just... fuller. Like the air had changed since yesterday, heavier with meaning but easier to breathe.
By the time all three of them were vertical and halfway human, Elijah was in the kitchen making breakfast while Stack flipped through a pregnancy book at the counter. Or tried to.
"It says here—" Stack squinted at the page, frowning. "—that fetal movement usually starts around... week sixteen. That’s like... three months, right?"
"We’re in month three now," Raven said from the table, sipping tea and scrolling through nursery color palettes. "So maybe soon."
"I bet one of them gon’ kick next week," Stack declared, nodding to himself. "The one that takes after me. Strong ankles."
Elijah snorted as he cracked eggs into the skillet. "They all better inherit some of your energy. Lord knows you got enough."
"What if one come out chill like you? That’s balance. One Raven. One Elijah. One Stack. Boom. Perfect harmony."
Raven laughed softly and leaned back in her chair. She felt the warmth of it build in her chest, and then it slipped out in a snort.
Both twins froze.
Stack slowly looked up from the book like he’d just witnessed a miracle. "Was that... a snort?"
Elijah turned the stove off and walked over slowly. "Did we just make you laugh so hard you snorted?"
Raven flushed, shaking her head. "Nope. Didn’t happen."
"It absolutely happened," Stack grinned. "We gotta frame it. Write it in the baby book."
"First snort of the pregnancy," Elijah added, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
The rest of the day flowed like honey, slow, golden, a little sticky in parts but sweet all the same. At some point between folding clothes and rearranging drawers, the conversation turned to names.
"So," Raven started, holding up a folded onesie, "are we really going to keep calling them Thing One, Thing Two, and Bonus Baby?"
"Absolutely not," Elijah said flatly, already pulling up a note on his phone.
"Speak for yourself," Stack said, balancing a baby bottle in one hand. "I still think Blaze, Storm, and Thunder are top tier."
Raven blinked. "You’re serious."
"Dead serious," Stack replied. "Tell me Blaze don’t sound like a future track star."
Elijah sighed. "They sound like a weather alert. I’m leaning toward names with meaning. Amari. Zuri. Khalil. Strong, rooted names."
"Zuri’s pretty," Raven said thoughtfully. "I like Onyx too. And Adonnis."
Stack perked up. "Wait, wait—you like Onyx? That’s hard. Real strong energy."
Raven looked away, smirking. "And... I lowkey like Blaze."
Stack pointed triumphantly. "Ha! Knew it. One down, two to go."
"We’re not naming all three after natural disasters," Elijah muttered.
"It’s balance," Stack countered. "Blaze got the fire. Zuri’s calm. Onyx? That’s grounding. I’m telling you, the vibe is there."
Raven shook her head, laughing. "We’ll make a list. No promises. No vetoes yet. Just... a mix."
"A group project," Elijah agreed.
"A chaotic one," Raven added.
"But ours," Stack said, grinning.
They all laughed, the sound curling into the corners of the room like light. They folded laundry while debating whether the nursery theme should be stars or jungle animals. Stack burned one side of the grilled cheese but managed to salvage the rest. Elijah finalized a spreadsheet on his laptop, muttering about strollers, bassinets, and the rising cost of organic baby wash.
At one point, Raven sat in the middle of the bed surrounded by baby clothes and samples, holding up a tiny onesie with the word "newbie" on it.
"I can’t believe we’re really doing this," she whispered.
"Believe it," Elijah said, setting a folded blanket beside her.
"You got three little booties to fill now," Stack added, kissing her cheek as he passed.
That night, the couch swallowed them whole again. Elijah’s head rested against Raven’s shoulder, her fingers in his hair. Stack’s feet were in her lap, one arm slung behind both of them as he drifted off mid-sentence about stroller suspension.
The TV played something no one was watching. The windows were cracked. The night was quiet.
And they slept, tangled up, wrapped in the beginning of something new.
The house was too quiet the morning of the visit. Not nervous, quiet. Just tense. Like the air was thick with unspoken things. It had that kind of weight that settled into the walls and clung to skin. Raven sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing down the front of her loose-fitting dress, fingers twitching against the fabric. Her stomach was rounding now, full with promise, full with expectation. She didn’t feel ready.
"You good?" Elijah asked, stepping into the room with the quiet confidence he always carried. He had on his cleanest jeans and a black button-up, the sleeves rolled up neatly to his forearms. His curls were brushed out and tied loosely, framing his face in a way that made his eyes seem gentler, warmer.
"I will be," she murmured, her voice steadier than she felt. "You look nice."
"So do you," he said, walking over. He bent to kiss her cheek, letting his fingers rest against the side of her neck, grounding her in that subtle, steady way he always did. "We’re here. No matter what they say."
Stack appeared in the doorway next, already dressed in a crisp white tee and fresh sneakers. His low fade was sharp, lined up just that morning. He carried himself like a man who thought confidence could deflect anything. "Y’all ready to face the music? I brought charm and a bulletproof smile."
Raven gave a tight laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "Just... be yourselves. That’s all I ask."
"Then we got this," Stack said, his tone lighter than the moment deserved. "Ain’t nobody not gon’ like me."
They drove in a silence that wasn’t quite heavy, but wasn’t relaxed either. Raven stared out the window, hands resting over her belly, tracing invisible circles into her dress. The twins didn’t push her to talk. They didn’t fill the quiet with noise. They just let her sit in it, both of them aware that anything they said now might not help anyway.
Her parents’ house looked just as it always had, neat, deliberate, a little too still. As they walked up the path, Elijah held the ultrasound photos tucked neatly into a folder. Stack carried the bag of prenatal vitamins and baby books Raven had insisted on bringing. She wanted to be prepared, to show them this wasn’t just chaos. This was her life, chosen.
Her mother opened the door first. She smiled, but there was hesitation in her eyes. She pulled Raven into a tight hug, murmuring her name like it was something delicate. Her gaze flicked from Elijah to Stack, guarded.
"Raven, baby," she said. "And you must be..."
"Elijah," he offered, extending a hand with a polite smile. "Nice to meet you, ma’am."
"Stack," the other said with an easy grin. "Real name’s Elias. You can pick."
Her father’s footsteps were louder, echoing down the hallway before he appeared. His eyes were sharp before he even said a word. "You bringin’ both these boys in here, Rae?"
Raven inhaled through her nose and lifted her chin. "Yes. I did."
The beginning of the visit was tame. Her mom offered tea, setting out mismatched mugs like that would soften the mood. Her dad asked questions wrapped in politeness, but every word carried weight. “So… how does this work? Are you all just… together?”
Stack leaned back on the couch, arms sprawled along the backrest like this was a casual game night. Elijah sat upright beside Raven, posture tight, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back.
"Yes," Raven answered. Her tone was calm, deliberate. "We’re all together. I love them. They love me. We make this work."
Her father narrowed his eyes. "And the baby? Who’s the dad?"
Elijah shifted then, leaning forward, his voice low but unwavering. "We’re both stepping up. Doesn’t matter whose DNA it is. We both wanted this. We’re both here."
"We family," Stack added. "Not just baby-daddy status. This ain’t temporary. This is real."
Her mother didn’t say anything. Just sipped her tea, eyes flicking between the three of them.
Her father looked at her belly like it was a wound. "This what you wanted for yourself, Raven?"
She swallowed hard. Her chest ached with the need to explain, to defend, but she kept it simple. "Yes. This is mine. I’m happy."
They stayed a little longer, and somewhere between sips of lukewarm tea and the clink of spoons against porcelain, Raven reached into her bag and pulled out the ultrasound pictures. Her hands shook slightly, but she laid them on the coffee table without a word.
Her mother leaned forward first, curiosity outweighing caution. Her fingers hovered over the glossy black-and-white images before finally picking one up. "Three?"
Raven nodded, voice softer now. "Triplets."
Her mother blinked, then let out a quiet, stunned laugh. "Lord have mercy. That’s... that’s a handful."
"A blessing," Elijah offered gently. "And a wild one, yeah."
Her mother looked between the two men, then back at her daughter. Something softened in her expression—maybe memory, maybe maternal instinct. She reached over and squeezed Raven’s hand. "I didn’t expect this, but... I see you. And I see the way they look at you. That baby glow’s not just from the babies. It’s from love."
Raven blinked back more tears. Stack grinned wide and nudged Elijah. "See? Told you we were glowy."
Her father remained quiet for a long time, his eyes still fixed on the pictures. Then, finally, he cleared his throat. "I always wanted something more traditional for you. Simpler. But... I also wanted you to be loved. Truly. Fully."
He looked up, locking eyes with Raven. "And I see that here. I might not understand it yet, but I see it."
That was enough to crack the silence.
Stack leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "And just so you know, we're serious-serious. Not just about the babies. About her."
Raven turned to look at him, brows raised.
"You said be myself," Stack said with a shrug. "So I’m sayin’ it. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout rings. About what it looks like down the line. Not now, not tomorrow. But it’s real."
Raven blinked, caught off guard. Her lips parted like she might say something, but nothing came. She looked between the two of them, her heart thudding so loud it almost drowned out her thoughts. They’d talked about the babies, the house, the future, but marriage? She hadn’t known they were already thinking about that kind of forever. And it hit her, warm and dizzying, how deep this ran. How deeply they saw her.
Elijah nodded. "We want to build something lasting. And that includes all of you. The family, the history, everything."
Raven’s mother smiled faintly, then gave a slow nod. "If you’re building something, then build it solid. And take care of her. That’s all I ask."
Her father grunted, then finally allowed himself the smallest of smiles. "Sounds like she’s already got that handled."
And this time, when they left the house, Raven didn’t cry.
She smiled.
Back in the car, Raven sat quiet for a moment before it all spilled out in a soft laugh. She shook her head, looking over at the twins with a grin that tugged up slow and wide.
"So... y’all been out here plotting marriage and didn’t think to tell me?"
Stack blinked like he’d been caught red-handed. "Ain’t no plot," he said, shrugging. "Just—considerations."
"Real ones," Elijah added, his tone warm but serious. "Not just baby-induced panic. We’ve been thinking about this. You, us—forever."
Raven leaned her head back against the seat, covering her face with one hand. "Y’all ridiculous," she said, but the way her voice trembled gave her away. "Y’all really been out here planning forever behind my back."
"Not behind," Stack corrected, flashing a grin. "More like... parallel. Like a surprise party but emotional."
"Yeah, well. You might’ve just talked yourself into being the one planning the wedding," she muttered, wiping under her eyes with the heel of her hand.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Raven’s mood had shifted. She wasn’t holding it together out of fear; she was holding it together because her heart felt too full to carry anything else.
Inside, she made it halfway down the hallway before the emotions caught up to her again. She ducked into the bathroom, but this time, the tears were soft. Cleansing.
Elijah and Stack didn’t knock. They just came in, quiet like before, and found her there smiling through it all.
"You were perfect," Elijah said, brushing his thumb under her eye. "You didn’t owe them more than what you gave."
"And now they know," Stack added, settling behind her to press a kiss to her shoulder. "About the babies. About us. About how deep this runs."
Raven looked between them, heart still pounding but steadier now. "They’ll get used to it. Might take time, but they’ll get there."
"And until they do," Elijah murmured, placing his hand on her belly, "we’ve got everything we need right here."
She laughed, small and unfiltered. "Damn right you do."
She pulled them in close again, not because she was falling apart but because this kind of love, this kind of bond, deserved to be held onto tight.
The bedroom was dim, the only light flickering off the flat screen across from the bed. Some mindless show played in the background, the kind of thing none of them were really watching. Raven was sandwiched between them, her head on Elijah’s chest, her legs tangled with Stack’s. A bowl of popcorn sat forgotten somewhere near the foot of the bed.
It was peace. Finally.
No appointments, no questions, no emotions waiting to sneak up behind her. Just the three of them, quiet, full, tired, and whole.
“Y’know,” Stack said, breaking the soft lull of the moment like he always did, “they say pregnancy sex is wild.”
Raven groaned immediately, dragging the blanket up over her face. “Oh my god, Elias.”
“What?” he asked, laughing, clearly unbothered. “I’m just sayin’. All them hormones? You glowing, emotional, and needy, might be the perfect storm. I feel like we not takin’ full advantage of the situation.”
“You mean the situation where I’m growing three humans?” came Raven’s muffled voice beneath the blanket. “That situation?”
Elijah didn’t say anything at first, but when Stack turned his head to smirk at him, he met the look. That low, knowing twin look. Elijah raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
“Don’t encourage him,” Raven warned, peeking out from beneath the blanket.
“Didn’t say a word,” Elijah said, voice smooth, teasing. “But now that he’s brought it up…”
“Y’all are the worst.”
“You love us,” Stack grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple.
She sighed, flopping dramatically into Elijah’s side. “Unfortunately.”
“Fortunately,” Elijah corrected, sliding his hand along her belly in a slow, steady motion. “For all of us.”
And just like that, the room settled again. Teasing gave way to laughter, laughter faded into warmth, and warmth folded into stillness.
The show still played, but none of them noticed. The only thing worth watching was already in their arms.
So mad that he was wasted on this season because he knows how to play a no backbone cheater who will fuck anyone while focusing on his artwork and gets mad when his wife (who cheated on him first before they got married) does the same thing to him, but it was with Cory 💀💀💀
the adventures of co-parenting with Teddy for the sake of little baby Cruz Spencer 🪐
warnings: 18+ material, mentions of pregnancy and birth, relationship with Teddy prior to getting pregnant and finding out you were pregnant. mild toxicity, minor arguments, Teddy just wants his family back, fluff :,), Teddy Spencer as a father, mentions of sex/ sexual activities, sexual insinuations, dirty texts, mild sexting, drinking (responsibly).
a.n: wrote this on a whim.. AGAIN. This was fun, simple, and a little naughty 🤭 I might write a full fledged piece but we’ll see! Face claim is the ever so stunning Chelley Bissainthe ✨ enjoyy baes! 🪽
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Baby Daddy! Teddy wasn’t meant to just be your child’s father. You two were actually engaged to be wed before you found out you were pregnant. He was the man you wanted to spend your life with and you were the love of his life
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy whose parents— Grant and Jill Spencer loved and supported your union before it was official. They felt you were perfect for Teddy, perfect to shape him up and ready him for that next part of his adulthood
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who proposed to you at a 4th of July light show behind his family’s gorgeous home after only a year of dating. Everyone was there— Danica, Ava, Milo, Stevie, and others. With the help of his parents, Teddy took charge with arranging everything. Even down to a specific firework that spelled out ‘Will you Marry Me, (Y/N)?’
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy that always put it down and fucked you like no other. The later night after he proposed, Teddy had you everywhere in the house. The living room couch, the kitchen counter, in the bathroom where he forced you to watch yourself in the mirror, migrating to the bedroom, before finally finishing in the shower.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who understood your sex drive and endurance was there because of the way he treated you. You trusted him, he encouraged you, and made you feel safe. You turned into your own personal porn star for him and Teddy loved that shit.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who isn’t surprised when you find out you’re pregnant two to three months into being engaged. He respected whatever choice you wanted to make, it was your body after all.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who was over the moon when you wanted to keep the baby. Who happily planned every OBGYN visit, listened intently and took notes from the doctors and nurses, and asked questions, all for the betterment of you and his child.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who helped you surprise your parents and his, along with your friends in South Port. Grant Spencer probably being the most excited and proud because it was time for Teddy to “grow up”.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who planned your baby shower at six months pregnant and thoroughly where it was revealed you were boy parents.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who couldn’t keep his hands off of you as you got bigger. Who couldn’t control the way his libido seemingly increased being around you. You smelled differently, you filled out in the places he loved already.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who can’t help himself watching you bake cookies in nothing but a short, silk babydoll nightgown. You’d just gotten your hair done earlier that day— the perfect blowout, silk press with curls that made him glad he was making you a wife soon. Baby daddy! Teddy who waits until you put the baking tray in the oven and closes the lid to strike.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who has you bent over the kitchen island table, gown lifted up, his cock stuffed deep within you and stretching you out, with his hand on the back of your neck. His thrusts made your head spin. He was an even mix of rough and loving— just how you liked it.
- [ ] “Gonna make me get you pregnant all over again.. you feel so fucking good..”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who makes it a point to fuck you regularly.. which feels so often with your own growing hormones. Teddy had the pure physicality of a grown man and knew how to take care of you, it was the easiest thing to make you wet.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who is with you when the contractions start. Not the Braxton Hicks contractions but the real ones. He has you in the bed timing the contractions and trying to breathe as he loads up the truck, ready for the hospital ride.
- [ ] “Let’s have this baby” he says and kisses your cheek.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who holds your hand, wipes the sweat from your brow, who pushes your labor knotless braids back from your face to kiss your temple as you continue to push. His mouth speaking all of the positive affirmations of how strong you were, of how powerful you were, and how much of a great mother you already were.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who cries the second he heard your son’s cries. Who cried even more when he got to cut the umbilical cord. Who cried and kissed the head of his son as he laid in Teddy’s huge arms, freshly cleaned and wrapped in a cap and blanket.
- [ ] “What do we have the honor of putting on his birth certificate?” The nurse sweetly asked.
- [ ] “Cruz Theodore Spencer” you and Teddy answered together.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who weirdly began getting cold feet being a parent despite his beautiful efforts during your pregnancy. Who still fed baby Cruz, changed baby Cruz, rocked baby Cruz to sleep, but often found himself away from home more than usual. Who stopped sleeping in the bed with you.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who grew more stressed over his role, the ache of perfectionism from his parents and their own image that now bled into yours and baby Cruz’s
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who began to neglect you. Who took great care of his child but seemingly forgot about his own fiancée. Who put your wedding on the back burner, who didn’t even know if he wanted to “go through this whole thing.”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who’s effort was starting to run low. Who often stayed at his family home with his parents instead of coming home. Who still helped with the financial aspect of baby Cruz but started to falter with the other things
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who was mutual in quietly calling off the engagement and giving you the space you asked for. Who didn’t understand that meant you wanted him out and you stayed with baby Cruz. Who lived out of the comfort suite of his family’s boat to leave you alone.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who let a full year go by without connecting with his ex fiancée but still showed up for baby Cruz.
- [ ] “I could kill you myself for the way you treated that woman” Grant Spencer said to his son as Teddy sat on the family couch. “You’re better than that, Teddy— i raised you better than that”
- [ ] Grant watched his son nod and hang his head in shame. He was right, there was no excuse he could muster up. Teddy ran when all he was supposed to do was be honest.
- [ ] “You did phenomenal during the pregnancy, what happened now, Teddy? Your boy’s about to be a year old tomorrow. To love and care for that child is to love and care for his mother. You better make this right or that’s your ass— from myself and your mother”
- [ ] Grant Spencer loved the hell out of you and baby Cruz. Jill too. It pissed them off to know that their only child was behaving like that of a child. Grant always seemed to get into Teddy’s head the best.
- [ ] Aside from his own self reflection, Grant’s words only strengthened Teddy to do better. He wanted his family back. Not just for the sake of baby Cruz but because he really did love and miss you.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who shows up to his son’s birthday celebration early to help with the entire set up. A Bluey themed party in the backyard, catered food for the adults and little bits for the babies, gifts, the whole nine. Teddy Spencer made it happen, all for his baby boy.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who is absolutely mesmerized by you as you walk in with baby Cruz on your hip. A baby blue bandage dress hugged your figure to true perfection, soft makeup, your fresh sew in cut in those layers he liked, and heeled pumps that made your legs look like the perfect set of stems he’s ever seen. Baby Cruz matched your baby blue attire, his eyes immediately lit up at the sight of his father.
- [ ] “My boy!” Teddy adorably squealed, the widest smile pulling on his face as he walked towards you. “My birthday boy, how’s my baby doin’ huh?”
- [ ] You let Teddy take baby Cruz from your arms and into his, the man leaning down and kissing his cheek. You eyed the stature of Teddy Spencer— 6’5”, gorgeous eyes that Cruz inherited, glowing skin, and a fresh haircut. He looked good, you hated that.
- [ ] “How’s the planning going? Anything I can help with?” You promoted, looking around and eyeing the set up. Teddy outdid himself.
- [ ] Teddy looked you from head to toe, biting at his bottom lip gently. You looked so fucking good. He shook his head.
- [ ] “None at all, please kick your feet up and relax wherever. I took care of everything. Anything for our boy” Teddy kissed Cruz’s cheek again, making the year old baby smile and giggle. Teddy continued his playful antics, anything to hear baby Cruz laugh.
- [ ] You watched on in pure adoration, trying to ignore the way your heart yearned to have Teddy back in your life again. Teddy Spencer and his spitting image.
- [ ] “Did you eat? You hungry?”
- [ ] Your face gave away the ‘yes’ you really wanted to say even though you were about to tell Teddy no. He waved you off and softly took you by the wrist, walking across the beautifully decorated lawn and onto a lounge couch.
- [ ] “I’ll bring you a plate and something to drink, you can relax, seriously, I got it”
- [ ] “I can get Cruz if—“
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who waved you off again, telling you not to worry. He looked at his baby. “Let’s go make Mommy a plate, lil’ man. I need you to pick out everything, okay? Tell me what to get and what Mommy likes..”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who heard your soft laugh as he walked towards the catering station. You glanced over your shoulder to watch and swear you felt your heart do leaps. Teddy was made to be a father. But was that it? Not your life partner?
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who keeps you by his side the entire celebration, even after baby Cruz had eaten and fallen asleep. Eventually the party filled with other family and friends and their little ones, some stayed up, some took naps.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who sat with you on the lounge couch with an arm around the back of it, a beer bottle in his hand as he took small sips. Eyes drifting down to his sleeping child in your arms.
- [ ] “C’mon, we can put him in the crib for now until it’s time to go. Don’t want him outside like this”
- [ ] You accepted his hand to help you stand.. the same hand that stayed interlocked with his as he followed you upstairs to the master bedroom.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who watches you stand up after laying your baby down into the crib and approaches. His grip closes on either side of the wooden crib, trapping you into him. You can feel his body heat radiating, that’s how close he was.
- [ ] “He’s such a beautiful boy” Teddy murmured, basically in your ear with his close he was standing behind you. You took a breath and nodded.
- [ ] “He really is. A beautiful, loved boy. I can tell he had fun today”
- [ ] You turned into Teddy’s hold, your dazzling eyes looking at up him. “Which made me wanna say.. thank you for doing all of this for him. You’ve never been not there for him but I can see that your heart was in this party and that made me happy to see. He really had fun— I really had fun”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who only smiled as he watched you talk. God, you were so fucking gorgeous. He didn’t answer you immediately, merely taking in the energy and having you so close like this.
- [ ] “That boy is half of us which means the way I’m going to keep showing up for him, I’m going to show up for you. You don’t gotta thank me. Anything for him if it means he’s happy, even at a year old”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who stood closer to you, completely enveloping your space. His green hazels peering down at you, you didn’t look away either.
- [ ] “You mean that?” You questioned, “when you said you were gonna show up for me? I believe you’ll about Cruz, no doubt. But me? Do you really mean that? Teddy, you pulled away from me in the moments I needed you more than anything. I didn’t just want for us to be parents, I wanted more. I want you forever, Teddy. I want us to get married, I want Cruz to have siblings, I want us to be in love until we die, simple. But I can’t want it for you, no matter how much I ache for it. I need you to know it and mean it. For me”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who understood and digested every word you said and took it straight to the heart. Whose hands reached out and cupped your face like you were the most delicate, finest china.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who finally kissed you lovingly after a full year of missing you. Lips moving wonderfully in tandem, soft and sweet, of course you melted into your ex fiancé. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who pulled back and observed you. “I love you more than anything in this life, I love our baby more than i love myself and to love him is to be madly in love with you, which I still am. This is both of our first times taking this journey and I got scared. But that’s no excuse, I should’ve been a man— I should’ve been your man and communicated that.. we could’ve worked through it together”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who wiped at the soft layer of tears bubbling in your eyes and leaned his forehead against yours.
- [ ] “I love you, (Y/N). There is no me without you. I want you back, I want us back. I want this life with you and then some”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who accepted your nod and kissed you back with the same amount of fervor you gave him. Who let his hand tangle in the back of your head into your hair. Who sucked on your bottom lip until you opened your mouth and let his tongue caress yours.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who didn’t need to do the heavy stuff with you to get stiff and feel his pants tighten. One look at you and he was harder than a missle, that’s just what you did to him.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who moved your bodies— still kissing— to the bathroom where his hungry hands pawed at your body over your dress. His lips finding your spot in your neck had a moan slipping out.. a little too loud. You covered your mouth.
- [ ] “That just means you gotta keep quiet because if you think I’m done with you, you’ve got another thing comin’” Teddy rasped in your ear.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who didn’t need either of you naked to be buried deep inside of you. Baby Daddy! Teddy who had you on the counter, legs splayed around his waist and thrusting into you like no tomorrow.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who kept his face in your neck, lips leaving splotches of hickies into your skin to conceal his own guttural, ragged moans. His hips snapped forward roughly making your body jut in his hold.
- [ ] “Doin’ so good keeping quiet for me, mama..” Teddy mumbled in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “I know it’s hard when you wanna scream.. tell me how good I’m fucking you.. how good I’m stretching this pussy.. isn’t it? Talk to me, baby.. feel real good, don’t it?”
- [ ] You nodded your head vigorously, holding onto Teddy for dear life. “It’s s-so good, Teddy, so fucking good” you quietly whined, tossing your head back.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who helped you ride out your release— you bit down on his clothed shoulder to stifle your scream. Baby Daddy! Teddy who didn’t pull out as his own orgasm was approaching.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who filled you up the way you hadn’t felt since your engagement party. Who shoved himself as deep as he could and kissed you slow as it happened.
- [ ] “As much as I like that, you’re gonna get me pregnant again. We gotta be careful” Your tone was playful but you still had to reprimand Teddy.
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who only chuckled and pecked your lips twice. “You don’t want two under two?” He laughed when you swatted at his arm.
- [ ] “Shut up and get off of me so we can check on our child”
- [ ] Baby Daddy! Teddy who helped you get situated and back looking decent was the first to approach the crib where baby Cruz was wiggling himself awake. His beautiful eyes landing on his father, his face immediately breaking into a smile.
- [ ] “Hey, daddy’s baby. C’mere, let’s get you outta there” His hands happily scooped up his son and kissed his cheek. You walked into the room shortly after, a copycat smile as you laid eyes on baby Cruz.
- [ ] “Hi mommy’s baby! Did you sleep good? You must be hungry”
- [ ] Teddy watched in pure bliss as you took baby Cruz from him and got situated on the bed, opting to begin breastfeeding.
- [ ] “I’ll bring you some water and a snack” Teddy leaned down and kissed your forehead but with a pull of his arm, you cutely puckered your lips. He chuckled and did as you asked.
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