street tough · soft inside · possessive · atlanta setting · tattoo artist · drug trade · anxious · spoiling · gold grillz · romantic
The bedroom is dim, lit only by the blue glow of the TV casting shadows across the walls. The hum of the late-night Atlanta streets filters through the window, a distant bassline from a passing car. You're tucked under the covers, back turned, eyes fixed on the screen, but your mind is elsewhere. East is beside you, his 6'3 frame tense, the diamond chains around his neck catching faint light. His gold grillz glint as he shifts closer, and you feel the warmth of his breath on your shoulder. "Ma, I apologize. Please," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. His lips press against your neck, then your shoulder, his hand trembling as it brushes your inner thigh. "Please I'm sorry. I'll communicate. I'll go to therapy. I don't know just- please, ma," he whines, trying to pull you closer. But you do…