which sounds sooo whatever but living it is like. whole years just disappear. and tbh i didn’t realise genuine excitement was a feeling adults had. like when you were a kid and you were really looking forward to something. didn’t know that was still a thing for some people
request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤
2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+
It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.
You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.
Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.
But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.
The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.
You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?
Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.
You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.
The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.
Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.
You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.
“Did you do this?”
Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.
“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.
You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.
The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.
Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.
But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.
You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.
The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.
Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.
“Like, before we got together?”
It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.
Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”
A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”
Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.
Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.
Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.
“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”
“How many times?”
Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”
You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.
“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.
“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”
His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.
You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”
In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.
“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”
At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.
Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.
You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.
You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.
It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.
“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”
“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”
Then just to check, “Is that okay?”
Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.
“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.
“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.
“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.
They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.
You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.
This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.
Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.
After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.
Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.
“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”
His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.
Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.
His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.
You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.
“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”
“That what you thought bout?”
You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.
“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”
Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.
“What I’d sound like?”
“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”
Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.
Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.
“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”
This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.
“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”
He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.
Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.
Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.
You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.
“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”
“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”
You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.
“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.
The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.
He’s asking permission.
Oh, that does something to you.
“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”
Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.
His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.
He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.
He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.
And you’ve soaked through your panties.
“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.
“What?” He asks.
“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.
Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.
“Shut up,” He mumbles.
“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.
Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”
cw: 18+, pwp, sex tape, p-in-v, established relationship, clark is a big ol meanie in this, he uses his x-ray vision to see how deep he is in you, switch!clark (1.4k wc)
"Hey…what are you…doing?"
You're bent over Clark's lap, fiddling around at your bedside drawer. He's looking at you with confusedly. Palms steadied around your hip as you thrash around over him. He focuses on the antique oak for a second. And then relaxes.
"There's nothing but a couple of books, pills, and a camcorder in there —" he continues, and you peer at him over your shoulder.
"Camcorder. Where?"
Clark sighs. Looking back at the side table. Eyes twitched for a second. "On your left."
You dive right back in and perk right up with the silver device in your hands. Hair mussed from your jerky movements. Clark's brushing the locks away from your face, tucking then behind your ears. "So you interrupted us mid kissing for a camcorder?"
Clark hums into your lips when you kiss him once, and then deeper, "I wanna…—mmh—try somethin' new.." You're cupping around his jaw, kissing and nibbling until he's grabbing you, pulling you away. Blue eyes meeting yours.
"Elaborate…maybe?"
You huff, holding up the camcorder, the device whirring to life after you click the black button. "Just. You could…record me, while we..."
"You want me to record you while we're being intimate?"
A prolonged groan leaves you, and you're nudging it in his hands. "If you wanna put it so innocently. Yes. I want you to film me while giving me back shots —"
Clark's holding you by your jaw. Thumbs squishing your cheeks to shush you before easing his grip. "Geez louise, alright. Alright. I got that. But…wouldn't that sort of…I don't know…get really dirty?"
"Really? You think so?"
He's looking at the way your eyes glint at that, biting your lower lips and taking your gaze over him predatorily.
"You're not going to give this up now are you?"
Clark's shoulder slumps back as you scoot backwards. Seated on your thighs all coy and sweet. Fixing your blouse as well as you could.
He adjusts the camera up, holding your face in frame, the RECORD button going active.
"How do I look?"
Clark smiles behind the camera, looking at you through the screen and then tilting his head askew to look at you in real time. "Gorgeous as always."
You roll your eyes. "Can you try being less farm-boy nice and more, amateur porno-video taker?"
"….Fine. Take your blouse off."
You let out an amused giggle, popping the buttons off one by one. "See? You've got some spunk on you."
"Well I'm hoping to be getting some spunk in you."
"Yeah okay no, don't try to do the dirty talk."
Clark's lips pressed into a taut smile, shaking his head in embarrassment. "Maybe I'm at my depth here." He begins, but you grip around his wrist. Tutting.
"Relax. It's all in good fun. Follow my lead?"
You're tugging at his sweats, his half-hard cock bobbing up at his abdomen. Clark grunts at the obnoxious whistle you give at the sight. You grin, looking up into the camera lens as you take your first lick up the prominent vein running up his cock.
"W—…woah.." He lets out a breath all at once. Transfixed on the viewfinder. "You…look…"
He doesn't get to the end of his sentence. Biting back another gasp the way your lips stretch around the girth of his cock. You pull away, a string of saliva following.
"Good?" You mumble, mouthing at his cock.
"Yeah." Clark huffs out. His hand coming in view of the frame, thumbing your jaw with reverence. "You look amazing." It comes out embarrassingly shaky.
The camcorder somehow remains stead with his other hand. You take him in deeper, bobbing your head up and down, "g-gosh—…" Clark's head tilts back, the weight of his palm rested firm on the back of your head.
You pull off from him entirely. The pink of your tongue catching the dribbles of pre-cum on your lips. Clark looks to you hazily when you stop. When you get his attention again, you smile sweetly up at him. Kissing upward, where the coarse hairs let up to his belly button.
"Look….straight out of a dirty magazine…" He mumbles, holding the camera away. Clark leans down to kiss you, tugging you back up with a firm hold around your chin.
"Mmn..this won't work if you keep—mmh…turning the camcorder away." Clark smiles against your lips, turning you over with one fluid movement. Resting you on your belly.
"I had something different in mind."
Clark places the device down facing the two of you, twisting the view finder flap so you could see your yourselves.
You tilt your head back at Clark who was positioning himself behind you, squealing when he hiked your hips up to slot a pillow beneath your belly.
"Comfy?"
Your content mhm has Clark leaning down to kiss at the back of your neck and collarbone, making you giggle at the ticklish feeling it incites.
Clark's hand cradles your jaw to lift your head up just enough to draw your attention back at the camcorder.
"See that? I prefer that sight much.." He kisses your cheek. "Much.." Another kiss up your ears. "Better." You bite down on your cheeks. Legs kicking back and forth playfully. He grabs around your shorts, tugging them down at one go.
"There's nothing sexy about just seeing my face, Clark." Your voice comes out shaky, hips lifting just enough for him to drag his cock over your folds. You don't notice how he's eyeing the screen. And he smirks.
"Are you aware of the 'face' you're making?"
"What?"
Clark nudges himself into you. Inch by inch, and your eyes flutter, the whites visible. "Ughh—!" He leans down, hips snapping once, letting you feel the sting from the stretch of him.
"Hey," he reminds. His bicep curling around your jaw, your cheeks rested up between the muscles in a headlock. "Eyes on the camera, remember?"
You grunt at him reminding you on your own words. Clark moves his hips in slow, deep strokes, drawing stuttered, groans out of you. "Sh—Shit! Cl…ark…s'deep…so…dh—eep!"
He's relentless with the pace he sets. His other palm snaking down to rub at your clit. "Clark!" You're whining into his biceps. Biting and drooling all over him. Clark leans down, an airy laughter ghosting the shell of your ear.
"Oh sweet thing, gettin' too much for you?"
"H-Hardly.." You're barely able to keep your eyes from rolling back again, but it's impossible with how deep his cock was pressing in your pussy. The build up comes out of nowhere, you're tensing around his cock, in spasms, and then your body goes limp.
Clark presses a kiss at the side of your cheek before he's housing your body, boneless still, to straddle him instead. Sitting you down on his cock with a scary strength. "Nngh!"
You're clawing at his chest in a stabilising effort. Panting, still feeling overcome with your earlier release. "C'mon. Give me a show." He mutters boyishly through a lustful gaze, holding the camcorder up, but just enough to capture what was below your neck.
"Mean. You're mean." You grumble under your breath. Grinding your hips down onto him with a stuttered breath. "Cl—aaark."
"Wh—aat?" He repeats your whine with a teasing smile. Thumbing your clit, watching you jolt beneath. Clark's palm kneads at your breast gently, a low huff leaving his lips as his thumb grazes down your midriff.
You seem to catch him staring absentmindedly at your belly, swiping over where his cock poke at your stomach. "Wh…what are you looking at?"
He hums gently, smiling lopsided. "If you could see what I'm seeing…how deep I am in you." You don't catch what he mutters, only how he's turning you beneath him.
The device left beneath him. "Should I be nicer?" Clark leans in, kissing at your jaw. Rocking his hips into you a gentler pace. You're whining into his neck, tears pricking the corner of your eyes at how easily he was filling you.
"Be nicer to my pretty…pretty girl?" Your thighs clench tightly around his hips, nodding into his shoulder desperately, without saying a word.
"S'what I thought." He smiles against your neck, glancing over at the abandoned camcorder beside, turning it over just enough to capture them in missionary.
Clark turns his attention back to you, whispering into your skin enough to send shivers down your spine, "give me one more sweet girl.." Your eyes flutter shut, letting Clark's relentless thrusts tip you over the edge once more. "G—god. Damn" He pants into your cheeks, hips stuttering. The sensation of his cum spurting deep in you has you coming at the same time, pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him for its' worth.
You're giggling, all fucked out, cheeks nuzzled into the messy sheets next to your face. Clark leans down to assualt you with a barrage of kisses, "shall we?"
Lazily, you turn to look at him, squinting. "Shall we what?"
"Do what you wanted."
Clark turns you over, thumbing where his cum leaks from your spent folds. Your own words come back to haunt you as a reminder. He reaches out for the cam corder, looping the thread in his palms.
'Yes. I want you to film me while giving me back shots'.
My husband’s voice floated about the room as he dried his hair. Bill was only wearing his pajama bottoms and his chest was bare. Stray droplets of water dripped from head, down his pecs and along his abs. I broke my gaze once he pulled a shirt over his bare skin, disturbing my view.
"They are," I sighed, rubbing lotion between my palms. "I saw Stack near the station, while I was picking up the shipment. Along Mary and Preacher Boy."
A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of her name from my lips. I had tried my best to avoid her at all costs. But, just like Stack, she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. She sent letter after letter to my house. Begging and pleading to have a conversation. Claiming that her guilt was eating her up something fierce and she could barely sleep.
That was right after Maddie was born.
She even tried to come over to my house, but Bill stopped her before she could get too close to me. Practically tore her a new one for disturbing my nap after nursing the ever-hungry newborn.
I knew right then that I wanted to marry him.
Through the mirror on the vanity, I could see him rise from the bed. His fingers pressed tightly together and a deep frown on his lips. He took small steps toward me, hesitation oozing from his being. Several deep breaths fell from his lips before he met his gaze in the mirror.
"He spoke to you, didn't he?" The look of sadness deepened to one of sorrow. Almost like his soul was aching at the statement.
“He did,” I said, massaging the cream into my neck. “But, your daughter called him ugly and sent him away with a glare.”
The smile turned into a sad smile at the statement. “Fearless little thing. She gets it from you.”
I hummed softly as he reached for the cream and took a dollop from the top. He rubbed it between his palms just like I had moments before. With a firm grip, he kneaded the lotion into my shoulders. My eyes rolled closed as I leaned into his touch and moaned.
“Baby, I need to ask you something,” Bill said, after a silent moment. “Promise me you won’t be upset.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
I shot from the bench of my vanity and spun around to face him— causing him to stumble back a few steps. “William Chow, explain yourself this minute!”
He raises his hands in surrender and takes another step back. “Baby, you knew this would come up. You always said they would come back home eventually. Part of me thought that meant you wanted to see him again.”
“No,” I snapped back. “That meant that I would have to explain to your daughter why she looks damn near identical to an absolute stranger. Not that I was in love with him!”
“Y/N, we never talk about it,” Bill rebutted, his tone softer than mine. “Not since we first got married. You pretend like the man doesn’t exist and it has left me wondering a few things.”
“Like what?” I interjected. “I will take Maddie and run away with him?”
Bill flinched like I slapped him, but didn’t say a word.
That was exactly what he thought I’d do.
A lone tear rolled down my cheek as my lip began to quiver. I turned my back to him and placed both palms on the edge of the vanity. A million thoughts swirled in my mind. Images of Stack laying his head on my chest, Mary gloating about how he did the same thing to her, Bill holding my hand during my delivery because Anne was too far away and my baby girl crying for the first time after 12 hours of labor. The vow that I made to her that I would choose a better daddy than her lying, cheating sperm donor. Someone that was kind, patient and full of love; ready to give it away at any moment.
Someone like William Chow, Bo’s baby brother. A Malaysian immigrant turned baker, damn near identical to his kin with hair past his shoulders. His strawberry and cream donuts were all I ever craved while pregnant. I would gather as much change as I had to snag two at the end of the week, he would alway sneak me an extra one. Bill was the only one to speak to me after it became very obvious I was pregnant. The whole town knew it was Stack’s, since our relationship was hardly private. But, when he left, everyone treated me like spoiled goods. Barely made eye contact and snickered behind my back. Fearing that Stack would shoot them where they stood for looking at me funny.
But, Bill was not scared of any of that. Stack loved his strawberry donuts just as much as I did. Meaning, that Stack would rather cut off his own pinky than cross Bill or the Chow family.
“After all this time, you still think he has a hold on me?” I whispered as another tear rolled down my cheeks. “After everything we’ve been through?”
“Honey, he can give you things I can’t,” Bill countered.
The silent part hinted loudly: He could give you more children.
That was William’s only fatal flaw, if one could even count it as such. He was impotent. The possibility of having children together was slim to none, which was why he remained single all that time. Some women wanted a family and others needed a kind of pleasure only a certain an could give. But, that didn’t matter to me. Sex wasn’t a deal breaker for me. I had learned that sex didn’t mean love, nor affection. It was a simple pass time that felt good. It didn’t hold emotion, unless you wanted it to. And like an idiot, I held enough emotion for Stack and I both. Yet, it still wasn’t enough to make him stay.
We had tried all kinds of herbs, old wives tales and remedies, but it hardly ever worked. His member would stiffen, but not long enough to really have fun. Still, I didn’t care. Bill more than made up for it with his mouth and fingers. He would have me screaming all the way to sunrise.
I turned to face him. I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. His tanned skin turned a faint red, as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his whimpers. Bill’s shoulders shook with sadness as his chest rose and fell rapidly. The sheer thought of losing me, of losing Madeline, was tearing him apart at the seams. I had never seen him cry until that moment and it broke my heart.
I took several strides over to him, leaving a foot of space between us. “Can I hold you, baby?”
“Please,” he sobbed, lifting his head.
I took a final step and pressed my body against his. My head resting on his shoulder and my arms hugging his upper back. Bill gripped my waist with a pressure that was almost painful, but it didn’t bother me. I knew he needed me close.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lose you two,” he whimpered into my hair. “I don’t think I would survive, Y/N. I truly do not.”
“I would’ve been maggot food if it weren’t for your generosity all those years ago,” I said, rubbing his back. “No man was willing to marry an already pregnant woman. Let alone the broken possession of the Moore twins. Only you would talk to me. Not only talk, but smile. God, your smile would be like sunshine on a rainy day. It kept me warm for hours.”
Bill’s whimpering stopped, but his hold was still firm. “You don’t have to lie, Y/N.”
“I’ve never lied to you, Bill. Not once since we’ve met,” I said, drawing circles on his back. “I’m not about to start now. I love you far too much to let a criminal come between us.”
He pulled back gently and faced me. Tears streaming down his face, he looked at me like I was his entire world and it broke my heart. I brought a hand to his face and placed it on his damp cheek. He leaned into the palm and placed a hand atop mine. His eyes fluttered closed as a shaky breath fell from his lips. Bill's entire body relaxed at my unwavering presence. The floodgates were completely lowered as the tears continued to fall from his eyes. But I knew they weren't for sadness or desperation, like before. These were tears of relief and compassion.
“I love you, William Chow,” I said once our eyes finally met. “More than you'll ever know. More than I can put in words.”
“You are my world,” he replied, pressing his forehead to mine. “And Madeline is my sun. I would be dark and lonely without you both.”
A tear spilled from my eye, which he caught with his thumb and swiped away. His lips were on mine before I could blink. Our bodies pressed together so tightly we could crack an egg. He held me in his arms if I would disappear at any given moment. Kissed me like I would be stolen away from him. The action made the tears pour faster. Our hands gripped each other's clothes before the desire to tear them off struck.
My hands slithered up his pajama top slowly. Fingers brushing his toned abdomen and structured hips. My touch moved from front to back— I dragged my nails against his lower spine. Bill shivered at my touch and moved his kisses from my lips to my neck. A gasp escaped my mouth as his tongue licked a sensitive part of my neck. A moan followed shortly after as teeth found that vein and dragged it across it. A lovely nip earned him another moan. His hand kneaded my soft rear as he sucked the delicate skin of my neck. His hips ground into mine and I felt his member between us. Stiff and ready to use.
“Tell me how you want me, suga,” he purred in my ear. “My head between your legs.” Bill’s hot tongue ran across my ear. “You sitting that pretty pussy on my face.” He gave it a little nip. “Or, we see if the new herbs are really up for the challenge.” He ground his hips into me once more and I moaned loudly.
“Yes,” I replied, breathlessly. “All of the above.”
------------------------
a/n: where did all of y'all come from?! i did not expect this but hey! i'm happy you're here! once again, let me know if you wanna be in the taglist. Smut will be in the next chapter.
also, bare with me. i might not be able to post regularly, but i will try my best to post often.
“Stop pretending that you hate me,” Stack said with a smug grin.
“I’m not pretending.”
I let the words fall upon his ears like a cracked glass on the floor. His face dropped. The smile was long gone and a look of pain flashed across it. Stack looked as though I shot him in the chest. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he flicked the cigarette bud from his fingertips. He closed the distance between us in three long strides. My back was pressed against the brick wall of the shop before I could blink. The pain on his face morphed into anger so hot it made his skin burn.
“You don’t mean that,” he spat, looking me dead in the eye.
Stack tried to make himself bigger, more intimidating. A lackluster attempt to scare me, but it hadn’t worked. Not only were we a few inches shy of the same height, but I could see right through him. I knew Stack before he was Stack.
When he was just Elias.
“Y/N,” his voice was a warning. Danger in his tone, but it didn’t phase me. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”
“Get out of my way, Stack,” I said, in a low tone. A desperate attempt to hide the pain in my voice. The stitches of an old wound was beginning to reopen. “I have work to do.”
His eyes poured into me just used to. Filling my head with stupid assumptions that only left me heartbroken in the end. I thought about how he set my dislocated shoulder in place; it must've meant he liked me. How he acted as my left hand for weeks until the pain went away; that must've meant he cared about me. The way he hunted down the man who did it and made him pay… must've meant he loved me. Only me.
But, that wasn't the whole truth.
“So that's why you never replied to my letters,” Stack replied, eyes still searching my face. “Still angry about Mary, huh?”
I dared to stare back at him. My gaze like cold rain to his heated gaze. I refused to slip the mask and embarrass myself in public like she did. He wasn't worth that. Not anymore. Not after seven years.
I was better than that.
“Not really,” I said with an air of indifference. “I was a little preoccupied to hold a grudge.”
As if summoned, a squeaky little voice cut through the tension. Making Stack freeze on impact. Something he hardly does.
“Mommy?”
My sweet baby girl tilted her little head up at us to assess the situation. Her deep brown eyes searched the potentially dangerous stranger before flicking back over to me, in a caged position. A look of irritation, or disgust briefly graced her face. She narrowed her eyes at Stack and crossed her arms against her chest. Madeline was not afraid of anything. She was always the kind of child to look danger in the eye and laugh.
"Is that ugly man bothering you?" She said, staring directly at Stack. "Should I call daddy?"
An orchestra of emotion appeared on Stack's face. He seem to be both deep in thought and confused at the same time. Like he working out something profound. It took him several seconds before he came to.
"How old are you?" He asked Madeline, jumping right into the conversation.
"I don't talk to strangers," she tilted her in defiance, earning a smile from me.
Good Girl.
Stack, then, turned back to me. A desperate look in his eye; silently asking me the same question. Though he couldn't bring himself to the vocalize it. A look a true fear and hope on his face.
I used his trembling expression to my advantage and slipped from his arms. I took Maddie's hand and steered her away him.
His eyes drilled into my back, but he didn't dare move a muscle. He couldn't. He didn't to make a scene, or worse, alert everyone else of an open secret.
My baby survived, while my cousin's, Annie, didn't.
-----------------------------
a/n: watched sinners and I had to whip something up. let me know if you would like a part two! drop a comment if you would like to be on the taglist, if this becomes a series.
Contains: smut, giving a bitch sum head or sum, minimal plot, no I genuinely mean it, oral (f. receiving), kissing, dirty talk, refers to the 🐱 as ‘her’, he’s feral for the cookie, pussydrunk Bo, biting, petnames, “I ain’t never date no man who ain’t suck me off the bone”, BITINGGGG, public, but u guys are alone, I saw sinners again last night and this is the product so good luck
A/N- if you see a mind running around that looks lost, it’s mine. Leave it be.
+ with @bochowswife and @taylormarieee in mind🥰🎀
*Takes place in the ‘fix it’ universe
.♡
The club had been open for weeks and had been a bigger success than originally planned.
It was kind of an unspoken rule that anyone in attendance didn’t mention the incident from that night, it being “bad mojo” and all that and people were only too happy to put it behind them.
Another thing that happened by the end of the first week was the switch from plantation credits to actual money or change. Quarters, dimes, nickels, were all welcome as long as it could spend. They changed it in a way that business wasn’t affected but worked for the locals. Now, prices were different depending on what they was drinking and that did wonders for money flow. So much in fact, that they needed help managing it all.
That’s where you and Bo come in.
Managing his own store and such, Bo was good with numbers- quick too- a trusted friend of the twins, and he’d been there to help them set up since day 1. So when the twins asked him to do the till counts during near end of the first half of the night, it was an easy yes. Surprisingly enough, Smoke and Stack were on the same page with not minding Bo bringing you into the office with him while he worked; claiming you kept him focused and that was that but….
Bo was supposed to be counting the tills and you were supposed to keep him focused.
“Mmmm, she’s so sweet baby”,
Bo purrs in that heady southern drawl before he laps another firm drag up your slit. “Nice n’ wet f’me..”.
A debauched moan bubbles deep from your chest as Bo slurps your clit into his mouth with a drunken hum. The vibrations make your head spin, lower stomach tensing up as you try to ground yourself before you lose your mind but Bo doesn’t let up- can’t bring himself to. Not when you coat his mouth with your taste looking like the answer to every prayer he’s ever prayed with full lips and wide eyes that constantly looked at him like you didn’t just want him but needed him.
He groans, pulling away with a string of saliva connecting you, smacking his lips hungrily as his hands help themselves to your curves and god- you melt. Much like ice would under the heat of the devil’s tongue only faster this time because pleasure is always better when business is meant to be the goal. Tingling nips to your thighs trail back up slowly to your wetness and you suck in a deep breath through your teeth, heavy arousal licking flames across your skin making you sweat. The music outside was loud enough to drown out your activities which was great because Bo was aiming to suck you off the bone.
Gripping the fat of your hip, he pulls you closer against his open mouth- tongue wet, hot, and insistent as he hungrily licks inside you. The pleasure is crushing and your hands find his hair, petting and messing at it weakly while you gasp and whine in bliss. Bo takes your throbbing bud in his mouth again, lapping stroke after stroke against the underside of your clit before rolling it between his teeth and you jolt as he bites down with just enough pressure for the pain to warm before he soothes it with a heavy lave of his tongue and you cry out so hard it feels like your chest is caving in.
“B-Bo! We-, the t-ti- fuuuck!” You can’t even string a sentence together with the way he’s taking you apart, sucking your clit like a piece of candy before rolling the sensitive swollen nub back between his teeth and you’re shaking. Eyes fluttering back as the most pitiful choked out sobs you’ve ever heard from yourself fall from your lips as you grind up into his handsome face.
It’s as if you’re floating. His hands are so big and rough- strong and everywhere. You might be crying for real now. Bo’s so hard that the blood rush makes his ears ring but he couldn’t be bothered to pay that any mind.
Not when you’re so close.
“Thaaat’s it sweet thing..”
And you’re crying and stuttering in that sweet, pretty, way you did whenever you got real close-your hips bucking up into his greedy maw and he can feel the way your leaking hole twitches under his tongue and he growls. A hand leaves your hips in favor of stuffing three of his fingers knuckle deep inside your spasming cunny as he catches your clit and bites- flattening his tongue to soothe the pain sweetly and he’s so sloppy with it as his fingers lazily stretch you open that you can’t take it anymore. It’s too good- too much.
The slutty arch of your back doesn’t make your orgasm any easier to bear as it tears clean through you, coming so hard you hear sight. Heart beating through your chest as you scream, spraying his thick fingers and sinful mouth with a hot burst of your slick. It gives Bo goosebumps as he moans into your flushed skin, mouth working even harder as he laps up your release. Even sucking you off his fingers before rushedly undoing his pants and jerking his fat throbbing shaft off with that same hand. Burying his head back to finish cleaning you up, the sweet taste and smell is so fucking good- so heady- that he’s coming minutes later into the hand that’s soaked with you, resting his head against your thigh while you catch your breath and wait for your senses to realign so you can convince him to take you home.
᭢༘۠ summary: you had no intentions of staying in the delta for much longer than you needed, but something, someone held you back. the longer you stayed, the more involved you became.
what lies ahead: smut, age gap, poc!reader, pet names (sugar, peach, darling, baby), sorta slow burn, thigh riding, fem!reader x bo, dirty talk
wrds: 2.9k
a/n: this was supposed to be a blurb... but my writers block was cured half way through so! i grant you, 2000 words. i was tired of not seeing any more fics of this delicious man + i love age gaps so much and also.. no shade.. but a lot of the fics were not very inclusive in their writing so. hehe. - per usual, not proofread !
clarksdale wasn’t your ideal hometown, you knew when you had the chance to leave, you’d take it. but your father’s death gave you a sudden epiphany. before you knew it, you were on the closest train to mississippi from new york.
things really hadn’t changed. you were only up in new york for a few years, enjoying the urban life of the city compared to the rural places you grew up in. and your accent suddenly drifted away over the years you were up north.
the heat, though. that you did not miss. not in the slightest.
your blouse was low-cut and your skirt high against your hips, only exposing a bit above your ankles. letting some sort of summer breeze hit the exposed skin.
at the train station, you were greeted by your ‘uncle’ smoke. the entire trip to clarksdale, he wouldn’t stop talking about how big you’d gotten. how excited everyone was to see you.
smoke and stack weren’t exactly your uncles, but they grew up living beside your father, and they claimed that even as a baby, you were always able to tell them apart.
so clearly, they were family.
the delta heat was bothering you way too much, maybe it was the lack of nutrition in your system, but you felt like if you kept walking, you’d collapse in an instant.
after a sit-down with the woman your father was married to, you needed some sort of pickup. the entire time, all she did was undermine you and act as if she was more upset about his death than you were.
escaping out of that house was like a breath of fresh air.
you recognized the majority of the layout, even a familiar “bo chow & co. delta” something else was beneath the bright letters, but they piqued no interest in you.
as long as there was some food you could get into your system.
pushing the door open, your brows furrowing when you noticed that there was just a teen girl running the counter. whatever.
navigating yourself through the store, there was a small section, honed with ritz crackers and regular saltines.
you sighed in defeat and grabbed the box of ritz, tucking it beneath your arm.
when you stumbled up to the counter, the little girl was replaced by a man who looked to be about a few decades your senior.
for some reason, you were growing embarrassingly nervous.
he was undeniably handsome, a baby blue collared shirt sat on his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing the thick muscle that you could tell was built through years of work. the blue of his shirt was accompanied by a light lavender apron which covered his striped suspenders.
when you stepped closer to the counter, his attention was stripped from the notepad in his hand and straight to you. what was a stoic, brow-furrowed, concentrated expression, softened into something you could only explain as relaxed. you swore that he had cracked a smile, corner of his lip twitching.
“ain’t you the city mouse? y/d/n’s kid?” he asked as he started to calculate your crackers. the
you had no idea who this man was, but clearly, he knew you, and it made your brow raise in enticement.
“yeah. do i know you?” it wasn’t said with the intention of being disrespectful, mainly curiosity. it earned a soft chuckle from the other man, shaking his head as he laughed, his smile bearing teeth. “nah. doubt it. yer daddy was a good man, though. helped me build this place up.” he southern drawl was thick and smooth, sensual in a way that you’d never heard before.
it made you swear hearts were forming and bulging out of your sockets.
all you could do was hum out in agreement, nodding in response. “yeah. i’m just in town for the funeral. not planning to stay here any longer than i need to.” you answered honestly, tapping a quiet rhythm against the material on the counter.
there was something past his eyes that you couldn’t wrap your finger around.
intrigue or irritation.
it was almost impossible to get a read on him.
he laughed again at your words, leaning against the back counter with his arms crossed in front of him, staring at you with a cocked brow. “what? clarksdale ain’t up to yer city girl standards anymore?” it wasn’t said with judgement, more so as if he was interested in what you had to say. unlike any other man you’d ever met.
“guess not. i grew out of it.” simply just shrugging, giving him a quick look over from where you stood across the counter, noticing the wedding band along his left ring finger. “married? hm, so that little girl here earlier, your daughter, i presume.” you mused, hand instinctively moving to fidget with the silver necklace that sat just above your cleavage.
the man’s eyes were quick to glance, then back up to your eyes.
“married, one could say that, yeah.” he quickly dodged the topic, looking away then to you. “listen, ‘m sure y’r daddy wouldn’t have wanted you to leave so soon,” he paused like there was a preposition sitting against his tongue for you. “stay and work f’me for the summer. promise to make it worth your while.”
the promise was far from empty, and there was a sudden drop in his voice as he stood closer, resting his forearms against the counter.
if you had half a mind, you’d think he was flirting with you.
╴⊹ꮺ˚
the longer you stayed, the hotter you were.
a realization struck you the same week, you had no clothes, causing you to take a trip to whatever boutique there was in town.
bo had given you a place to stay, in return which you take care of regular things in the store.
managing storage, holding great customer service, and cleaning up every now and then. he claimed you were the best employee he ever had, which you always brushed off because you were the only employee outside of his daughter, whom you had managed to break down and befriend. despite the age gap between the two of you.
in your time working for him, you realized you never saw grace much because she owned the same association but for whites.
one quiet night, you stood behind the register, bent over with your forearms holding you up. you messed with the kinky curl of your hair in front of your face, bored out of your mind as the sun went down.
you watched as the grandfather clock face told you the time was a little past 7:30, making your eyes roll at how much time was left until you had to close.
honestly, you had no idea why you agreed to stay. maybe it was the little convincing and charming face that was asking you to, or the fact that every part of this town had your childhood written around it, painting nostalgia every time you walked around.
the door to what you grew to know as the storage room flew open, and an evidently exhausted bo chow stepped out.
the way the door slammed behind him was enough to knock the neighboring shelves off the walls.
it drew your attention right to him. “rough day?” a stupid question, but it just slipped out, creating an even more hollow silence between the two of you.
“g’nna close up early, tonigh’. not really in the mood right now.” his answers were short and distant; there was definitely more to them, but you hated prying, as much as you wanted to.
as he flipped the small sign at the door and locked up, his hand lingered against the handles.
in a blink, he was pulling a cigarette to his lips, lighting it as he walked towards the register, standing behind it, near you.
his proximity was close, way too close.
the silence was enough to drown you both, and it was toxic, along with the strong smell of his cigarette.
“you smoke, sug’? bet ya they ain’t got cigarettes as good as these up in the city.” bo teased you, a dynamic you grew familiar with the weeks you’d been here.
all you did was shake your head in response, quickly running your tongue against your lips that were suddenly growing dry.
if there was one thing guaranteed, it was that he always managed to grow some kind of gut-punching feeling in the pit of your stomach. you weren’t accustomed, but you knew you’d have to get used to it.
every time he discarded the smoke out of his nose or from between his lips, it hit you right in the face, choking a cough out of you. each time you coughed up, he stifled out a laugh, letting more smoke escape his lips.
this moment felt too intimate, a soft blush dared to creep up against the caramel tint of your skin. despite the dark lighting that fell through the store, he noticed it. and that added more fuel to the fire.
“y’know, darlin’, i’ve been studyin’– and if i had half a brain, i’d think y’fancy me.” bo’s voice had dropped an octave and he was growing a few inches closer than before.
you could hear your heart beat in your ears and taste it on your tongue, eyes wide in shock as if you had heard him incorrectly.
lips parted in shock, all you could do was stare up at him through your lashes and let out a shy “huh?” in disbelief.
it wasn’t that he had gotten your actions lost in translation. you were beyond attracted to him, but you were so used to men disregarding you and being mistreated simply because of how you differed to all the paler women up north.
a still silence fell, and the cigarette sat still between the corner of his lips, eyes entranced solely on you. “c’mon. don’t gotta play dumb with me, peach. ‘m much older than you. i can tell when a girl's got a lil’ crush.” his voice was hypnotizing, like melted butter being spread across toast.
and that fucking accent.
“i– you’ve got it mixed up, mr.chow–” your voice betrayed you, sounding much more desperate than intended. his name rolling off your tongue like some sort of sonnet.
it earned a soft smile from him, a free hand cautiously sliding to your back, stabilizing you against his chest. your hands instinctively pressed against his chest as if you were going to push away, which wasn’t the case.
bo discarded of his cigarette, pressing against it on the floor to make sure it was out, then his attention was all on you. the way your eyes were big and full of longing, full lips parted in shock.
you were so sweet and he was beyond ready to ruin it. the good girl act you had and the way you addressed him, it hit a weak spot he didn’t even know he had.
╴⊹ꮺ˚
seconds fastened into minutes and you two were tangled into a sensual yet sloppy make out session at the foot of the store, your backside pressed against the edge of the counter, his hands grabbing at anything they could.
bo was beside himself, enjoying the noises you made against his lips and the way your body was flushed against his as if you were scared to let go.
“ya taste as good as you look. so fuckin’ sweet.” his voice rang between your ears, thick and slow, the praise taunting you by pooling even more arousal against the sheer texture of your undergarments.
he managed to be delicate, cautious but sensual and hungry at the same time.
the harder he kissed you, the more you became slack in his arms.
it was safe to say you were far used to this kind of physical attention, you just hoped that it wasn’t obvious.
your hands stayed their place flat on his chest, momentarily sliding up to his shoulders and back, as if you were massaging him, too anxious to move anywhere else in worry of making the wrong move.
when the kiss came to a stop, bo was the one to stop it, a trail of both your saliva’s connecting you two, making him let out a soft, breathless laugh. his hand stood it’s place on the small of your back, teasing a bit lower but not fully.
the way he was staring at you was different than any look he had given you before, his eyes were low and the look behind them was short from respectful and it lit some kind of fire in you.
because the longer he stared, the hotter you grew. before you could form another thought, you were wrapping an arm around his neck, tugging him down to kiss him again, your free hand setting against the counter behind you for stabilization.
while the kiss grew, he parted your leg with his knee setting your hips to adjust and sit on top of his leg. the more his lips ate at yours, the more he pushed his knee against your core, spiking a peak of pleasure throughout your entire body, earning him a moan from you that was muffled by his mouth.
you felt him smile against your lips, consequently feeling a lot of other things. your body simultaneously betrayed you, your hips realizing that the friction of his limb beneath your cunt brought a different kind of pleasure, causing you to slowly rock them back and forth against him.
as he pressed your body against the counter, with a free hand, bo began to unbutton your blouse until it was sliding off your shoulders. when your breasts were exposed to the humid air of the shop, he wasn’t short to latching his lips against them.
the pleasure became way too much to handle, body heating up and hips rutting faster against his thigh as he helped, shifting his leg up higher each time you rode. his tongue flicked against your aching bud, drawing strangled moans from deep in your throat.
he was abusing your chest, biting, sucking, and lapping his tongue against any exposed peace of skin while his free hand gripped your ass cheek, helping you move your hips.
the more you fucked against his leg, the better everything felt. the sensation of his mouth and his thigh was making you beyond dizzy.
you could barely make up any thoughts. “tha’s it, baby. finish all over me. j’s like that, sugar.” bo was muttering now in your ear, fingers playing with your nipple as he kissed against your neck.
the barrier between your reasonable thinking and lust were completely broken and everything you did was past you. hands gripping at his clothed back for stability as you fucked yourself against his leg.
you were a shriveling, hot, and moaning mess. it felt way too good, the way he managed to rut your hips for you against him, his hot breath against your neck and his words of encouragement that you could hardly understand.
that was when you felt it, the thick knot in your stomach snapped and you let out something that would only be identified as a yowl.
“there ya go, princ’ss, jus’ like that.” bo grunted against your jaw, licking a stripe against the side of your neck then biting down gently against the skin.
he kept moving your hips for you until your automatic movements became staggered.
you rode your orgasm with pride, back arched and jaw slack as strings of moans left your lips. whatever you were staring at before quickly became splotched into white sparks as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
coming down from your high, your body grew limp against his, his hands caging you in as he held you, slowly removing his leg from in between yours.
he placed a soft kiss on your temple after moving hair behind your ear, soft curls sticking onto the sweat at the sides of your face. you looked like a mess, curls frizzy from the peak in humidity and lips stuck apart, a bit of drool sitting on the corner of your mouth.
it made a soft smile twitch against his lips.
“you good?” bo asked you quietly, speaking in a low tone as if him speaking louder would startle you.
all you did was hum a soft ‘mhm’, your forehead velcroed to his shoulder, resting there as everything you just did hit you like a bus.
bo could read the room, despite not being able to see your expression. “ain’t got nothin’ to be embarrassed about. i liked it jus’ as much as you did.” he admitted, not any sign of dishonesty in his tone.
and it was true, because as you stared down, you noticed the harsh tent peaking through his slacks, accompanied by a wet spot right at the tip of it.
your head quickly perked up, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you palmed him through his pants. causing him to tense up in surprise, brows raised when his eyes met yours.
“what’re we going to do about that?” a rhetorical question but it made him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head.
he pressed another kiss on your lips, breathing against your mouth as he spoke up. “yer g’nna be the death of me.”
Even from down the road, the live music from the juke joint radiated, and it felt as though every note pulled you in closer.
“Miss Y/n,” Cornbread nodded as he rose from his post by the door.
“Cornbread, how ya doin’ these days?” You greeted warmly as he tipped his hat kindly.
“Mighty fine, expecting my missus to deliver any day now,” he smiled from ear to ear.
“Now if y’all need any baby watchin’ then knock on ma door anytime,” you offered before stepping into the joint.
The music seemed to flow through you as the crowd danced to the beat. You watched as Delta Slim and Sammie performed on the stage, earning hollers and cheers from the crowd.
Dryness tickled your throat, your feet carrying you to the bar where Annie stood keeping watch over the frying fish.
“I was hoping to see tonight,” she smiled as she reached her palm out to squeeze yours warmly.
“Oh I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you assured, taking in the atmosphere around you. “The music, drinks, the food,” you sighed contentedly, “It must feel nice to have Elijah back,” you added.
“I don’t know if it’s a happy feeling’ or my head is achin’-trying to keep up with his business,” she replied with a tired but happy look in her eyes. “But don’t let my chatter stop you from having a good time,” she said, dropping more cuts of fish into the boiling hot oil.
“Annie you could never," you assured, grabbing a couple coins from your purse. "Just a beer for me please,".
"Comin' right up," she nodded as she counted the money and handed over the chilled bottle. "Enjoy yourself now," she jokingly instructed as you got up from your seat.
"I always do," you beamed before sashaying back onto the dance floor.
You watched as Sammie took his place on stage once more and began to sing, chills were sent down your spine. The room seemed to have moved in slow motion as everyone fell into the music.
Tipping the bottle against your lips, your body felt free and fluid. A tap on your shoulder pulled you from your trance. You met the trickster smile of Elias, alias and nickname - Stack.
"Glad you came out tonight," the younger twin grinned he gave a loose hug. "There's someone I want you to meet,' he said mischievously.
"You tryna get me into trouble Stack?" you replied back playfully as he guided you to the back of the old sawmill.
Pushing open a door, you were greeted by the smell of cigarette smoke and the man who had the white stick in his mouth. When his eyes set on yours, the cig bobbed a bit as his lips curled up.
He tossed his playing cards on the table, leaving the other players baffled. His eyes took in your body like drinking water in the dessert.
"Y/n, this is Bo Chow-he's a grocery owner," Stack chuckled as the man with jet black hair stood to his feet.
"And mighty handsome at that," You exhaled, offering your hand to Bo.
"Sure is a pleasure to finally meet you Miss Y/n," Bo said as he brought your soft skin to his lips.
"You know about me?" you asked, Stack slipping out of the room sneakily.
"Sure do," Bo replied, "But you gon' know awful well of me by the end of tonight." he promised as he took the beer out of your other hand and took a swig.
"Boy don't play about a good time," you tsked as he put out his cigarette and set your bottle on the table.
"I ain't no boy," He corrected, "And I swear I ain't gonna disappoint," he added and took your hand-leading you deep into the busyness of the crowd.
The rhythm of the music and the soft haze due to the smoke made it all feel make-believe. Bo twirled you into his arms smoothly, your back pressed against his chest.
Your hands slithered behind you and combed their way through his hair. Bo couldn't help but let his own hands discover what could possibly be held captive underneath your dress.
His lips pressed lazy wet kisses against your neck, earning a gasp that erupted from your throat. It was as though you were in your own world and your core was just itching for more.
Bo spun you around-now both you facing one another. Without instruction, he leaned in for a kiss. A kiss you greedily allowed and met his lips halfway hungrily.
You felt him smirk against your lips and his palm traveled down the back of your dress. His grip hugging the curve of your ass gently.
"Can you handle all that?" you teased, taking a breather.
"Handle it? Baby it's mine now," Bo said coolly and you could've sworn he could sense the slick wet coating pooling in your undies.
In an quick act of boldness, your hands pulled him in by his shirt collar. Your lips hovered against his ear as you muttered, "Then come take it,".
Bo pulled away, searching your face for a dirty grin but he was met with a small smile and eye lashes batting slowly. As if your invitation didn't leave his length becoming more apparent underneath his slacks.
He had no hesitation in taking your hand once more and making his way out the juke joint with you. Cornbread chuckled as he moved aside from his post.
"Now ya'll be careful uh-uh," he warned jokingly, watching Bo whisk you away to his car.
"Pay us no mind Cornbread," you giggled as you swatted your hand in his direction. "You takin' me home?" you asked as Bo helped you into the backseat.
"We won't even make it home baby," he confessed, biting his lip at the sight of your dress sleeves beginning to slide down your arms.
After taking a quick look around through the windows, Bo slid unbuttoned his vest and joined you. You weren't sure if it was the heart beat in your chest or the pulsing of your cunt that made you shiver. But Bo took it up on himself to guide the sleeves of your dress all the way down to your ankles.
You whined as the air of the night surrounded you. Impatiently, you scooted closer to Bo but he placed his hand on your chest.
"Let me take in the sight honey," he asked, "Don't want you mistaken me for a fling," he sighed as he began taking of the rest of his clothes.
Your hand trailed up your back to unhook your bra, Bo watched wordlessly as it dropped into your lap. Your eyes continued to watch his as you kicked off your shoes and slid your panties down.
"Oh honey," he said breathlessly, leaning in to capture your lips once more.
You moaned as he pulled you into his lap and wet pussy dragging against his cock. With one hand supporting your back, Bo's other hand cupped your breast.
Breathing heavy, Bo motioned for you get up slightly as both of your eyes looked down. Your hand reached for his length, wanting to guide it into your cunt. Upon getting a hold of it, your wrist began sliding up and down.
Bo stifled a groan as he watched you begin to sink back down onto his cock. Your pussy tight and wet, making the feeling all the more satisfying.
"Baby-" he sighed, watching your ride him like a horse.
Tits bounced in his face as you bounced up and down. He was mesmerized by your body, every part of it. You watched him throw his head back, his hands beginning to guide your hips.
"You likin' this?" you groaned as your walls clenched around him, wanting to keep him inside you forever.
The rocking of the car caught the attention of other passer-byres. Cornbread however telling them to mind they business no matter how hard the vehicle swayed.
"Didn't even bother leavin' the car lot," he sighed, shaking his head at your's and Bo's recklessness
smoke and stack come into the shop looking for bo chow only to find y/n at front desk and bo chow discreetly under her hehe
anon i love the way u think! one eater chow blurb coming right up :3
your hair was a mess, curls sticking up through every end and frizz spiking through its texture.
lips parted letting strings of whines as your husband was kneeled down in front of you, tongue lapping slow stripes against your slit.
the day was slow, only usual customers coming in and barely even meeting you at the counter.
bo thought he could use it to his advantage, missing the taste of your every aspect against his lips.
forearms holding you up against the counter, legs trembling from behind it as you hid moans between your lips.
“b— bo… someone’s comin’.” you gasped out, nails digging into the edge of the counter as he started to suck against your clit, knees buckling beneath your dress the more he continued.
he was humming in content, devouring you with full lips, his entire upper body hid by the fullness of your skirt.
your hand quickly covered a moan trying to escape your mouth as two men stepped through the doors, the jingle of the bell alerting you back to reality.
they walked sternly towards the counter, they were broad and a lot taller than you, staring down at you as they stood a respectable distance from the counter.
you swallowed dryly, the extra bodies in the room seeming to not stop bo at all.
“h— good evenin’, how ca— can i help ya?” a chirpy yet cracked voice, as if a moan was threatening to escape past your words.
the twin wearing red sort of just stood there, staring around the market curiously.
the other man, wearing blue, stared for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.
“we mean no harm, missus, jus’ lookin’ for bo chow.” he spoke to you and his voice was low, gruttal, but he looked like he meant business, intimidating you for just a moment.
“is he here?”
only for a moment did you almost forget about the sensation between your legs.
and just as you thought, bo was not about to let you go through this without a fight.
before you spoke up, you felt a digit teasing your entrance, and as you were opening your mouth to speak, he was shoving it inside of you. knuckles deep.
“he’s— oh!” you perked up, gasping and quickly slapping your hand against your mouth.
you stared up at the two men, eyes wide as if even you were shocked at the noise you just made.
they both just looked at you with an insane amount of concern in their eyes.
you held a finger up, signaling them to give you a second as you swallowed dryly. clearing your throat.
when you tried speaking up again, all you did was choke up. so you decided to just expect your fate.
shaking your head ‘no’, and they seemed to get the hint.
one of them slowly nodded, a cocked up brow as if he was trying to figure out what the hell was happening.
“well. in that case, tell ‘im smoke needs t’ talk to ‘im.” with one last nod, as if to say ‘thank you’, he and his twin walked out the clear doors.
when their figures discarded out the stores line of view, you slammed your forehead against the countertop, letting out all the choked moans you’ve been trying to hide.
your hands grabbed at whatever was near, lips parted as bo started to fuck you with his fingers, plunging an extra one inside.
his tongue didn’t stop, and your hips started to rut against his face, your clit bumping against his nose, adding onto the pleasure.
he somehow managed to fit two digits knuckles deep inside of you, curling them against the plush of your walls.
that was it. he hit a familiar spot and you came undone against his lips.
your moans were unhinged and loud, legs feeling weak and knees practically giving out.
bo let you ride out your orgasm against him, letting you come down from your star-seeing peak.
one last moan of his name and a string of curses, your upper body became slack against the counter.
he appeared in front of you at some point that you couldn’t recollect because of the state of euphoria the orgasm had you in.
you managed to pick yourself back up, eyes meeting with a very proud bo chow.
his lips were glistening, eyes low and full of nothing but lust.
the look of frustration on your face made him chuckle, his hand reaching to your lower back in order to hold you close.
“did s’good, darlin’. taste j’s as good.” he murmured against your mouth, pressing his lips with yours.
lewdly tasting yourself momentarily. you still had a brain of putty, melting into the kiss as easy as ever.
“‘m give it to ya s’good tonigh’. my pretty lil’ wife.” he hummed as he broke off the kiss, hands grabbing at your ass through the dress, somehow simultaneously pulling you closer.
his words and actions screwed a quiet giggle out of you, fingers curling around his suspenders.
“i’d like that. maybe.” you teased, staring at your fingers as they played with the suspenders then back up into his eyes.
his head tilted a bit, grinning against your mouth again. “yeah? tha’s what ya want, peach?” before you could even respond, he was kissing you again.
this time with more fever, a hand grabbing beneath your knee to hold your leg against his side while he devoured your lips.
SYNOPSIS: Returning to your hometown in the South, you see that a lot has changed, but many people have stayed the same. Bo Chow was one of them. Still behind the counter, still wearing that same unreadable expression, still Mei’s daddy… only now, you were old enough to notice how good he looked when he leaned back in that creaky stool, arms folded, eyes trailing just a little too long.
CONTAINS: 18+ mdni, age gap (reader is his daughter's friend), kissing, explicit sexual content, PDA, forbidden love, hard core yearning, widower bo chow, dry humping, Bo is a munch, public sex, oral, p in v.
A/N: i got you babe!! ;)
You never meant to return to this town, let alone set foot in the Chow’s grocery store. The bell above the door hadn’t even finished ringing when you saw him behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, cigarette tucked behind one ear. He hadn’t changed much. Still wore that tired smirk like he knew something about you that you wished he didn’t.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, not looking up immediately. “That’s what you always said, right? Said you’d burn if you stayed.”
You rolled your eyes in response. The past you was very theatrical, anything I opposed felt like the end of the world. You stepped past the fresh peaches. They smelled like summer spent on your Nana's porch, sippin' sugar water. “And yet here I am. Guess I didn’t burn fast enough.”
He finally looked at you. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught Bo staring at you, too long, back when you used to trail behind his daughter like a shadow. You were only a couple of years older than Mei, but those five years felt like lifetimes when you turned twenty-three and started noticing how Bo’s eyes followed you, carefully.
“You here for something?” he asked, voice low, half a joke and half serious. Bo Chow wasn't the type to play around, and sure as hell wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He didn’t blink as he looked you over. He waited as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it anyway.
You swallowed. The air inside the store felt humid, even though the fan whirred lazily overhead. “I came for peaches, and I plan on making a pie,” you said, picking one up. "But maybe you got something sweeter behind the counter.”
Bo stepped around it, wiped his hands on a towel. “Still got that charm in your voice,” he said, now close enough that you could feel the heat of him. His eyes dropped to your lips, lingered. “Bet you still know how to use it, too.”
“Learned it from watching you,” you replied.
Like candle wax down a spine, the tension burned slowly, teasing every nerve.
“You were just a youngin' back then,” he muttered, like he was trying to convince himself.
“And now?” you asked. “What do you see now, Bo?”
His gaze dropped to your mouth. And stayed there. “I see trouble,” he said. But he didn’t step away. Bo stood close, his fingers ghosting over the towel in his hands like he needed something to ground himself. You could hear the hum of the fridge behind you, the slow churn of old machinery and old feelings. Then, without thinking, you reached out.
Two fingers under his chin, tilting his face toward yours. A quiet challenge in your eyes. “If you see trouble, why aren’t you running?”
“Because I never could.” His jaw flexed under your touch.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn’t gentle. Bo wasn’t the gentle type. It was rough with restraint, the kind of kiss that tasted like heat and hunger and years of not now bottled into a single breath. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you in like gravity had finally given him permission to fall. Your back hit the counter, knocking a jar of honey loose. Neither of you noticed.
Your fingers fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, mouths clashing like an argument long overdue. His lips were chapped, his stubble scraped against your skin, and when his tongue slid against yours, it felt like salvation disguised as sin.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he growled against your lips.
“But you are,” you whispered, tasting guilt and citrus.
Bo’s hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip. His forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, trying to regain control but failing.
Outside, a car door slammed. You both froze. Reality slipped in like a cold wind through a cracked window. His chest rose and fell. Yours did the same.
“You need to go,” he said, voice low and tight.
But neither of you moved. Because no matter how far you ran, this small-town store always brought you back to the same place with lips swollen, bruised, and hearts just stupid enough to try again.
Mei’s friend.
That should’ve been enough to stop him. Had been, for years. Yet now, you stood there, lips parted, breath catching, and he felt it again, the sharp pull low in his gut.
Bo remembered you when you were younger, full of questions and quick wit, always hanging around the shop afterwith the other youth, stealing pickled plums and grinning like she owned the world. But now? You weren’t that girl anymore. And he wasn’t a man built for restraint.
Your fingers were still in his shirt, waist pressed flush against the counter. You weren't going to pull away, you were waiting and baiting his response.
His hand drifted without permission up your thigh, over your curves. He wanted to curse himself for how easily his body betrayed him. Because God, she was warm. And she made him feel alive in a way nothing had in years. Not since Grace died and the world's weight settled into his bones and stayed there.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” he repeated, brushing his nose against hers, not quite kissing her again.
She smiled, slow and knowing. “And yet here I am. How often will you tell me what I should or shouldn't do?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I do.” Your voice was soft. “You’re the one pretending you don’t want it.”
Bo swore under his breath. His forehead hit hers again, harder this time. But when she confidently kissed him again, he let her. Let the whole world burn down around them. Because maybe he didn’t want to be good anymore.
Your fingers slid from his shirt to the nape of his neck, and just like that, he caved.
“Hold on,” he muttered against her lips. “Come on.”
Your eyes were already tracking him as he grabbed the keys off the hook and locked the store before closing all the blinds. The heavy metal clanged shut behind them, locking out the rest of the world and locking them in.
He backed her against the wall between sacks of jasmine rice and crates of long-forgotten sweets.
“You sure about this?” he asked, even as his hands were already sliding beneath the hem of your dress.
Your answer came in the form of curling your leg around his hip, pulling him into the space where only desire existed.
“You waited long enough, Bo,” you whispered, your voice thick with lust.“We both did.”
He lifted her like it was muscle memory. He’d dreamed of this too many times, not knowing how to do it by heart. Your back hit the wall. Bo buried his face in your neck.
“God forgive me,” he breathed.
When you moaned his name against his ear, he didn’t stop. In that moment, the woman, this girl who used to trail around with Mei like a shadow, had become a force of nature. And for once, Bo Chow let himself fall.
You grinded against Bo Chow's hard dick, already knowing the rhythm he hadn’t yet given you. His mouth found the hollow of your throat, tongue tracing the beat of your pulse as he pinned you to the wall.
“Bo, please!” You gasped as you searched for any friction he could give you and Bo felt it like a match to dry kindling. His hand slid up your back, fingers splaying wide, remembering the shape of your spine, the softness of skin he wasn’t supposed to touch.
“You feel that?” he growled into her neck. “How long you been waiting for this?”
“Long enough,” she said, breathless. “Long enough to know I don’t want you gentle.”
Bo pushed you harder against the wall, grinding his hips into yours with a slow roll that had your head dropping back, lips parted, eyes half-lidded with need. Your hands were under his shirt now, nails raking across his chest like she wanted to leave proof. Wanted to mark him. Own him.
She bit his bottom lip when he kissed her again, really kissed her this time, and he responded by sliding his hand between them, under her waistband, finding her already wet for him.
“Shit,” he muttered, fingers slipping through heat. “You’re soaked through your panties.”
She arched into his touch, shameless. “Told you. I’ve been thinking about this for years.”
A wave of pure, unfiltered longing surged through him, gripping his heart with an intensity that took him by surprise. She had no idea what kind of thoughts he’d buried just to survive around her. What kind of guilt lived in his chest every time she smiled too sweet or leaned too close.
And now? Now he had you underneath him, splayed across the desk.
“Hold on,” he said, voice rough and low.
Bo carried you across the store to the old desk in the corner, swept thereceipts off with one arm, laid you down like something sacred.
Then he dropped to his knees. Your breath caught.
“I thought you didn’t want gentle,” he smirked, kissing the inside of her thigh.
“I don’t,”
“Good.”
Bo Chow was done pretending. Tonight, he was going to taste every part of you that he'd denied himself for far too long. Bo took hold of your hips and dragged you to the edge with slow precision. He didn't break eye contact as he descended lower and lifted your dress to reveal your wet panties that stuck to your skin. Squirming under his gaze, breath stuttered when Bo kissed the creases when your thighs met your core.
The first stroke of Bo’s tongue had you grasping at the desk, a lewd whimper slipped loose from your mouth. You desperately thrust your hips to put more of your pussy in his mouth.
“You have such a perfect pussy” Bo rasped, low and rough. You tasted better than he imagined. His tongue worked slow at first, savoring. Drawing circles, teasing the sensitive parts until you trembled around his shoulders.
“Right there… that feels so good” Your voice cracked, and that was all the encouragement Bo needed.
Bo gripped you tighter and devoured you like a man starved. You arched, cursed, and even cried out with your body trembling with every flick and suck of his mouth. His name spilled from you like worship.
When he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to hit you G spot, your back left the table.
“That’s it,” he whined against her. “Let me have it.”
You came hard with your mouth open, and hands in his hair. Bo didn’t stop until you were twitching, breathless, wrecked.
When he finally rose, mouth glistening, chest heaving, your eyes met his. He leaned over you, pressed his forehead to yours, voice dark with promise.
He didn’t undress her, he roughly twisted her over, bent her bare chest against the cool wood of the desk, slid his pants just low enough, and guided himself into her with one steady, brutal thrust.
They both gasped. You were hot, tight, and still pulsing from before.
Bo planted himself deeper and deeper in you. The desk creaked under the beat. Your hand reached back to clutch his lower back, pulling him to drill into your insides, and he gave it to you. Every inch, every groan, every ounce of frustration and want he’d bottled up for years.
When he came, it was a full body surrender. He collapsed against her, both of them panting, and slick with sweat.
It had been a few weeks since smoke let you back in his bed. You had a lil life to get back to. Ya lil apartment to get back to. Your job…that you kept calling out of…
Not just back in tho — back in good.
Now? You was up in there every night like rent-free real estate.
You done made yourself real comfortable.
Damn near lived there. Clothes in his drawer. Lipgloss on the nightstand. Breakfast every other day. You were living the dream.
He was gentle when he wanted to be. But clingy as hell in his own quiet way — always touching something. Your hand. Your leg. That lil crease in your waist.
He’d kiss on you randomly, like he just remembered he could.
Pull your bonnet down before bed like it was a crown.
Sleep hard as hell behind you with a thigh between yours like a seatbelt.
Anyway.
You had just got your hair done.
Knotless. Butt-length. Parts crispy. Baby hairs laid by God himself.
You posted one lil pic, and he was already texting like:
“Where you at? I’m tryna see somethin.”
So when he pulled up? You really didn’t know what he was doing there...
He came in smelling like Dior and weed.
Looked you up and down, reaching over to twirl a braid around his finger. Then nodded all calm like it wasn’t nothing.
“You wanna come with me?”
“Come where?” You tilted your head.
He just smirked.
Threw his arm around your waist. Kissed the side of your neck.
“Miami.”
You blinked.
He said it so casual. Like he was askin’ if you wanted to go get wings.
“We got a lil shit to handle, me and Stack,” he added, “but…figured I’d bring my girl with me. Have some fun.”
Damn near shed a tear…he called you his girl…
Your heart jumped so ugly. You played it cool, though.
Bit your glossed-up lip, leaned into his hoodie.
“Aight then. Lemme pack.”
next day.
Private jet.
No TSA. No crying babies. No coach seats. No stress.
You stepped up the lil steps in a skims set, black hoodie tied round your waist. Sunglasses on. Edges still immaculate. And he let you go first, his hand under your ass like a lift.
Stack was already on the plane, lounged out with a PS5 controller and a pair of Louis slides like they wasn’t headed to commit light crime.
“Daaaamn, look who came wit’chu,” Stack grinned. “Don’t start fuckin’ on the seats, damn.”
You rolled your eyes.
Smoke just smirked, wide and lazy.
Yall sat down and he had you in his lap like luggage. Hand on your inner thigh, thumb rubbin’ slow back and forth like he was markin’ territory.
You was takin’ pictures, snappin’ vids, postin’ lil sneaky ones on your close friends story like
“He don’t like pics, but look at himmm.”
He’d lean into your neck while you posed, kissin’ behind your ear.
Real quiet and low under his breath.
“Keep postin’ me like I ain’t gon’ fuck you when we land.”
“Nigga —” he cut you off.
“Keep postin’. Watch.”
You were gigglin’ so much he had to press a hand to your stomach just to stop you from movin’.
He kissed you.
Hard and slow. With tongue. With pressure. Pullin’ you closer by your jaw.
Not even tryna be discreet.
You straddled him sideways for a lil minute. Y’all was talkin’ low, touchin’ lips, whisperin’ stupid shit back and forth like —
“You miss me already?” You bit your lip.
He gave you a look. “I’m lookin’ at you.”
“Still.”
The jet hit the clouds, and all you could feel was his hand between your thighs and his hoodie strings looped around your fingers.
And his mouth?
Every couple minutes?
Back on your skin.
Just because he could.
The house was stupid nice.
Like MTV Cribs meets Cartel safehouse nice.
Marble counters, all white everything, a pool out back that looked like it came with a breathtaking view.
You walked through barefoot like a dream, silk robe flutterin’ behind you, braids tied up in a high bun like a crown. Took you a minute to do it.
Everything smelled like money, weed, and cologne. Like a music video before the chaos hit.
You had packed many bikinis.
The one you’re wearing right now. Just a simple one. Strings tied at the side of your hips and back of your neck and the trust you put into it was…let’s not talk about it.
It was cute tho.
When you put it on, you looked like a problem. Like his problem. His prettiest problem.
Like somebody who deserved to be on a boat right now, not chillin’ while her man got dressed to leave.
You threw on your anklet. Stepped out into the main room and leaned in the doorway.
“You leavin’?”
Smoke glanced up from where he was putting his chain on.
Black tee. Cargo pants. Diamond in his ear. Beard lookin’ sharp. Skin glowin’ like sun-drenched honey. Too fine.
“Yeah. Stack need me for a sec. Be right back.”
You blinked.
Then blinked again.
“I thought the whole point of me comin’ was to have fun with you.”
That man had the audacity to smirk.
“You is havin’ fun with me. I flew you out, didn’t I?”
He said it all calm. Like he didn’t see the way you were standing — thighs out, bikini on, glistening like a goddess in the Miami light.
You sucked your teeth.
“So I’m just supposed to sit here lookin’ cute while you go do…whatever the hell?”
Smoke walked over slow. Hands in his pockets. Laughed low under his breath.
“That’s what you wanted to do. When I first met you, anyway.”
Not true.
“Yeah, well.” You looked away, arms crossed, lips pouted. “Now I wanna do it with you.”
He was in front of you now.
Close enough to smell his neck. Close enough to feel the warmth off his body.
One of his hands slid up under your robe — just a little. Found your waist. His thumb brushed along the side of your swimsuit.
“You gon’ be alright for a couple hours, pretty girl,” he murmured. “Ain’t like I’m leavin’ for good.”
You leaned back against the door frame. Looked up at him from under your lashes.
“You always say that like I don’t be countin’ the minutes…”
His hand flexed just a little on your hip.
“Don’t start.”
You tilted your head. Let your lips brush his jaw real soft.
“I miss you.”
“I’m standin’ right here.” He chuckled.
“Still.”
He kissed you.
Once. Deep. Slow.
Then again. Tongue soft. Pullin’ a sound from your lips.
His fingers slid up to your neck and pulled you closer, pressed your bodies together. Your teeth tugged on his bottom lip before finally letting go.
“You gon’ make me stay,” he whispered. “For real.”
You smiled, real slow. Pressed your lips to his again like you didn’t care. Like that was the goal.
“Then stay.”
“Girl —”
“You gon’ leave me here like this? Hair done, skin out? That’s disrespectful.”
You could feel him biting back a grin. His hands were already low again. Gripping. Palming. Getting lost.
“Damn, baby…”
“Mhm.”
He pulled back finally. Swallowed hard. Adjusted his chain like it was your fault he was about to be late.
“Aight. Ima be gone just a couple hours. Pool out back. Pour somethin’. Relax.”
“Whatever,” you mumbled. But your eyes were still stuck on him.
As he walked off, you called after him:
“You better not be lyin’ this time!”
“You better not post no thirst traps while I’m gone.”
You smirked.
Already had your camera out. Face glowy, body glistening, caption loading.
Out back, you let the robe slide off.
Dipped your feet in the water. Slid your sunglasses on and leaned back like you owned the place.
Smoke might’ve had to handle business but when he come back he was gon’ have to handle you.
Sun was gettin’ low.
But the heat hadn’t backed off.
It was that sticky kind of Florida air. Heavy.
Sky soft orange, palm trees still.
Not a breeze in sight.
Smoke and Stack sat on the hood of a matte black Range Rover. Parked deep in some dead-end lot behind a warehouse near the water — boats nearby, tugboats creakin’, seagulls loud. Whole place smelled like sea salt and decomposing seaweed.
Smoke had the blunt between his lips. Stack was rollin’ another, long fingers fast, calloused. Gold chain glintin’ when he moved.
“Man takin’ his sweet ass time,” Stack muttered, eyein’ the road.
Smoke shrugged slow, eyes half-closed.
He was always the calm one. Looked like he could nap through a shootout.
“That’s how Miami niggas move,” he said, low around the smoke. “Slow n’ flashy.”
Stack just snorted. Lit his blunt and leaned back.
Then —
Headlights turned the corner.
Low, black Benz. Tinted.
Came rollin’ real slow into the lot like it was feelin’ them out before committing.
Smoke sat up just a bit. Didn’t move fast. Just tapped Stack’s arm once. They both stood.
The Benz stopped. Engine still running.
Door cracked. Out stepped a dark-skinned dude in his late thirties — gold fronts, lil chain, Dior shades on.
He had a blunt too. Lit already.
Wasn’t in a rush.
“You Hakeem?” Smoke asked, voice like sandpaper and quiet fire.
The man grinned wide around his blunt. Blew smoke through his nose.
“Y’all niggas twins?”
Stack barked a soft laugh, the sound light but not friendly.
“Nah,” he said, smiling. “We cousins.”
Smoke hit the blunt again, eyes on Hakeem the whole time. Didn’t blink much.
Hakeem laughed. More like a snort.
Didn’t seem fazed.
“That’s good.”
Then a pause.
Tension. But not sharp — more like everybody here knew what this was.
“You got it?” Stack asked.
Hakeem stepped back toward the Benz.
Opened the back door and popped the trunk from inside.
Didn’t say nothin’ — just walked to the rear of the car and lifted it up like he done this a hundred times.
Inside?
Two black, weatherproof duffle bags. Heavy. Zipped up like they were locked down tight.
“Glocks, baby,” he said. “Nine mils. Forty-fives. Couple of those titanium slides — real stealth, real light. Got the Cerakote finish, black and slate gray, keeps ‘em slick and quiet.”
Smoke and Stack didn’t move right away.
They let the silence stretch. Like they were tryna make Hakeem feel something. Nervous. Small.
Didn’t work — the man just pulled on his blunt again and leaned on the bumper.
“Y’all out here for vacation?” he asked, glancing between them.
Smoke finally stepped forward.
Grabbed one bag. Unzipped it halfway. Peeked inside. Matte black frames with silver accents gleaming under the lot lights, mags loaded, safety off.
He nodded once.
“Work don’t stop,” was all he said.
“So y’all workin’ and partyin’?” Hakeem said, grinning again. “That’s crazy. Niggas like y’all always end up with trouble.”
“Niggas like us always end up with money,” Stack said, stepping forward now.
“Or dead.”
Stack smiled again. Brighter this time. Teeth sharp.
“Ain’t we all?”
Smoke zipped the bag up again. Passed it to Stack.
“What about the other drop?” he asked.
Hakeem shrugged.
“Later tonight. Same place. Different face.”
“He good?”
Hakeem just tapped the ash off his blunt and looked off at the skyline.
“You ever seen a nigga with no tongue run his mouth?”
Smoke tilted his head.
“You tryna be poetic?”
“Nah.” He smirked. “Just sayin’. He good.”
They left it at that.
Money was handed off. Quick count. Nobody flinched. Nobody reached.
It was calm like rainwater — until it wasn’t.
As they got back in the Rover, Stack glanced in the mirror.
“Why that nigga talk like he in a Spike Lee monologue?”
Smoke laughed soft.
Started the engine.
“Long as the shit clean, I don’t care if he speak in haikus.”
You was warm.
Not just body warm — but deep.
Bones relaxed. Eyes heavy. Muscles floated.
That wine done crept up on you.
You ain’t even realize it at first.
Just a lil glass to sip while the Bluetooth speaker played some SZA in the background.
Legs stretched out across a plush outdoor chair by the pool.
The whole place glowing in the blue light of underwater LEDs and Miami night.
But that one glass turned into two.
Two turned into three.
Next thing you knew, you was giggling at your phone and talkin’ to yourself.
You dragged your thick lil tipsy self into the house just before midnight.
Shower ran hot — steam curling up against the mirror like a ghost.
You scrubbed that chlorine off your skin, deep conditioner in, body butter after.
Tied your scarf like somebody grandma.
And slid into bed like you was in love.
Only you wasn’t.
Not technically.
But god — you felt like it.
The sheets smelled clean, expensive.
Room dim, soft glow from the bathroom light spillin’ across the floor.
You were on your side, legs bent, hoodie on — his hoodie, matter fact — the grey one you stole off his suitcase and never gave back.
You curled into it.
Nose pressed to the collar.
Smelled like detergent, weed, cologne, and him.
And you just laid there.
Still.
Quiet.
Thinking.
You wasn’t tryna be dramatic or nothing, but…
You kinda missed him.
And that didn’t make sense.
Because he’d only been gone 13 hours.
But something about the silence when he wasn’t around made the world feel off balance.
Like he carried the gravity of every room he walked into, and without him, shit just floated weird.
You stared at the wall.
Breathing slow.
Mind wandered to the way his hand found your thigh like it was made to rest there.
How he kiss your cheek without warning.
How he look at you sometimes — eyes low, lips parted, jaw tight like he ain’t know what to do with all that feeling.
You swallowed.
Tucked your bottom lip between your teeth.
You thought about earlier.
The way he’d said, relax, like it ain’t hurt him to leave you.
Like he ain’t look back at you twice on his way out.
You thought about the way he touched your chin that morning.
Real gentle.
You exhaled, slow.
Wasn’t nobody who ever made you feel like this.
Not soft. Not wanted. Not heavy in a good way.
He didn’t even say too much — but he was loud in all the places that mattered.
You blinked slow.
Mind startin’ to fade with the wine, body heavy against the mattress.
And then —
Click.
You snapped up.
Quick — like your body knew him before your mind caught up.
Eyes still half-sleep, but your ears perked at the sound of the front door shutting soft.
Not slammed.
Not loud.
That careful-close he only did when you was sleep.
Your heart kicked.
Then melted.
Then flipped again.
A minute later — you heard his voice, you heard his steps.
That slow, heavy-footed walk he always had, like the floor owed him silence.
And when the door opened and he walked into the room, it felt like somebody lit a match in your chest.
There he was.
Elijah.
Neck glintin’.
Chain heavy on his collarbone, eyes low like he ain’t had nothin’ left to prove.
He smelled like cold night air and weed and heat.
Your lips parted.
You was sobered up just enough to realize you wasn’t ready to pretend like you hadn’t missed this man this bad.
He was quiet. Just stood in the doorway for a second, eyes skating over you in bed.
The room still dim.
You in his hoodie, legs bare, scarf tied like a good girl.
Looking at him like he was the moon.
And you wanted to hug on him.
Kiss all on him.
Pull him in and lay up on his chest and tell him don’t go nowhere else ever again.
But your limbs was lazy.
Body melted into the mattress.
You just blinked at him slow, eyes all big and pink in the corners.
He came over though.
Didn’t say nothing at first.
Just leaned down and kissed you.
Real slow.
Real him.
One warm hand cradled your cheek and the other braced on the mattress as his mouth met yours like he’d been waitin’ to all night.
You sighed into it.
Drunk lips parting, letting him taste that wine you still had on your tongue.
You sucked his bottom lip out of instinct.
He pulled back a little, licking his own lip.
Eyebrows dipping just slightly. “You drunk?”
You blinked. Smiled lazy.
“…Just a lil bit drunk.”
He squinted. “Did you eat?”
You shook your head on the pillow.
“Damn…” He looked down at you, thumb brushing your cheek. “You want somethin’ to eat?”
You closed your eyes, still smiling.
“…No. Just miss you.”
That part came out softer.
Almost a whisper.
Like you was embarrassed to say it out loud, but you couldn’t not say it.
He stared at you for a second.
Didn’t smirk. Didn’t joke. Didn’t play.
His eyes just softened real slow, mouth parted like he ain’t expect you to hit him like that.
You looked back at him.
Skin glowing gold from the lamp light spillin’ in behind him.
Lashes low. Lips pouty. Eyes full of every feeling you had no business tryna hide.
“I missed you so much,” you whispered.
That time you meant to say it loud.
Meant for him to hear it.
And he did.
Smoke leaned down again — kissed you with his hand sliding under the hoodie, up your side, slow and possessive.
His breath was warm against your cheek when he whispered, “You been thinkin’ about me, huh?” He asked before standing up.
You nodded.
You smiled.
Then giggled.
The one you only do when your feelings real warm and gooey and girly.
The kind you hate that he be causin’.
You tilted your head, cheek mushed into the pillow.
Lashes fluttering.
Eyes a lil glossy from that wine, but they was all on him.
He ain’t say nothing else for a moment.
Just breathed.
Took another long look at you beneath the covers, then backed up slow to the edge of the bed.
The low thump of his shoes hit the carpet first — then the quiet creak of the mattress as he sat down, back to you.
Tugged his shirt off, slow.
He ain’t face you.
Just sat there in the golden spill of the bedroom lamp, the muscles in his back flexin’ soft as he rolled his shoulders a bit.
You blinked — then shifted.
Sat up onto your knees.
There was no hesitation in your body.
No wine fog between your thoughts.
Just need. Just comfort. Just the overwhelming ache of him.
You crawled across the bed and kissed the space between his shoulder blades.
Real slow.
He stilled.
You kissed his up spine next.
Then the back of his shoulder.
Then up the column of his neck, warm lips soft and open against his skin like a sigh.
Tasted his sweat and cologne and Florida air.
Your arms slid around him from behind, hands resting on his chest, and your cheek pressed against his back like you belonged there.
“You smell good,” you whispered, lips grazing the shell of his ear.
Elijah reached for your arms and pulled your hands up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one by one.
Then turned, real slow, to face you.
You sat up on your knees in front of him.
He looked at you like you were everything.
His fingers ghosted your jaw, then dipped under the hem of your hoodie to rest against your waist.
Just warm enough to make you inhale.
He said nothing at first — just looked you up and down like he was taking inventory of all the parts he’d been craving since the moment he left the house.
Then finally — his voice low and soft:
“Imma spoil you tomorrow.”
You blinked. Your breath caught.
He smirked just barely. “You deserve it.”
“You say that now,” you mumbled, tilting your head. “Then you gon act like spoilin’ me is a chore.”
He shook his head once, low chuckle spilling from his chest as his hands slid down to your thighs.
“You dramatic. But I’m for real.”
“You mean it?” you asked, tilting your face toward his.
He nodded, this time slow. Real slow.
“Whatever you want.”
You paused. Then smiled.
And kissed him again — soft, wine-lazy, slow enough to melt the moment.
He pulled you closer, slid his hands under your thighs and brought you into his lap like you was weightless.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, lips never leaving his.
It wasn’t about sex.
Not yet.
It was about intimacy.
And you was wrapped up in it — right here. On his chest. In his hands. In his arms.
A/N: Love me some Elijah “smoke” Moore — he can have this anytime- anywhere he want — I’m talkin abt IN ITTTT — NO lube, NO protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jittering, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.
You slid over to his house in leggings, lashes, and with a bag packed like it was a field trip—shower things, clothes for a couple days, a lil ‘just in case’ lingerie set…
Ain’t nobody say you was stayin’ the weekend butttt also ain’t nobody say you couldn’t.
And he let you in without a blink.
Kissed your cheek when you stepped in.
Took your bag like it belonged there.
Put it in corner you probably would leave there the next time you spent the night.
“Back again?” he teased.
“Back always,” you grinned, stepping out of your shoes.
Y’all been vibin’ for a good while.
Loungin’ in the living room, feet in his lap, random episodes of whatever playin’ on the TV.
He cooked again Friday night — stir fry this time, okay chef — and y’all ain’t do nothin’ but eat, laugh, and fall asleep halfway through a movie.
Now it’s Saturday night…
…and this man…lord…this man.
“Where you goin’ dressed like that?”
You had asked it real chill when he came out the room in black jeans and a fresh tee, chains hangin’ just right. Cologne hittin’ from the hallway.
“Out with Stack,” he said, leanin’ down to kiss your temple. “Won’t be long.”
You gave him the squinty side-eye.
“How long is not long?”
He smirked.
“Few hours.”
Mmm hmm.
You ain’t trip. Just made a lil face, rolled over on the couch when tried to touch you, and let him go.
But you was watching the time.
An hour passed. Then another.
You ate leftover takeout.
Scrolled on instagram.
Tried to start a show but ended up fallin’ asleep mid-episode.
You was cozy as hell in his tee, bonnet on, face washed, stretched out in his bed like it was yours.
And when you woke up?
He still wasn’t home.
So naturally…
You FaceTimed him.
And babyyyy.
When that screen popped up?
You was lookin’ at chaos.
Loud music. Laughter. Smoke. Some lil LED light tryna change the mood.
He was reclined on some couch, phone low like it was sittin’ on his chest. Eyes low. Shirt halfway up his stomach.
Big, thick ass blunt between his fingers.
“Yoooooo,” Stack’s voice came from behind the screen. “Is that her??”
Smoke tilted the camera slightly and Stack leaned in, grinning like a devil.
“Hiiiii baby mamaaaa,” Stack said in that ghetto ass singsong tone, throwin’ up a peace sign.
You blinked. “Boy bye.”
Smoke was smirkin’. All slow and sticky-eyed.
“Why you look like that?” he asked, voice hoarse from smokin’.
You frowned at him.
“Because you said you was gon’ be back a lil while ago. It’s almost midnight.”
He squinted like he just realized what time it was.
Then smiled wider.
“You miss me?”
You sucked your teeth.
“Answer the question.”
He laughed, real low and lazy, smoke curling from his mouth as he hit the blunt again.
“I’ma be there in thirty minutes, chill.”
Stack was screamin’ in the background, talkin’ to somebody, then suddenly popped back in frame.
“You tryna get pregnant or what?” he cackled.
“STACK—”
“Let me talk to her real quick,” Stack said, snatching the phone. “He be tryna play it cool but he always checkin’ his phone for your name, don’t let him fool you—”
Then it fumbled back to Smoke, who looked like he was too high to even argue.
“Stack drunk,” he mumbled.
You leaned closer to the camera. “You high.”
He grinned.
“You horny?”
Your whole face dropped. “WHAT?”
He licked his lips, all slow. “I said—”
“I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID, RELAX.”
Stack and them was dyin’ in the back.
You covered your face, wheezing.
“Y’all are embarrassing. Y’all need to go to hell.”
Smoke just laughed, then looked dead at the screen with them low eyes.
“Go lay down. I’ma be there in thirty. Maybe twenty.”
You squinted.
“Don’t come home on no weird high shit. I’m wearin’ your shirt and everything.”
He bit his lip at that.
“Bet.”
Then he hung up.
You flopped back in his bed.
Face warm. Heart beatin’ a lil fast. Still lowkey flattered and fake annoyed at the same time.
Now you just had to wait.
And he better not take forty-five minutes…
The last time you looked at the clock it was 12:46am.
You’d been trying to stay up. Really.
Was on YouTube with your eyes fighting for their life and your bonnet hangin’ on by a thread.
You even put one of his hoodies on top of the shirt you stole — cocooned in that big boy scent, just a lil pissed, just a lil turned on still from that dumbass FaceTime call.
And you fell asleep all curled up, thighs tucked together tight like you didn’t know what he was comin’ home to do.
And then…
POP.
You JERKED awake, eyes flarin’ open, body tensing like somebody tried to break in.
Only to hear the deep ass chuckle right behind your ear.
“Nah, don’t get to flinchin’ now.”
He’d slapped the shit out your ass. It started burning a bit from how hard he slapped it.
Woke you up out your sleep.
Real disrespectful. Real unnecessary.
You was finna swing and everything ‘til you felt his chain brush your neck from behind.
“You hit me like I owed you money.”
“You do,” he mumbled, voice all raspy from the weed and the night. “Interest been accruin’ since I left.” He rubbed the spot on your ass.
You turned over and he was standin’ there, shirt halfway off, jeans unbuttoned. Eyes low, gold grill catchin’ the light.
Face a little flushed. Smellin’ like smoke and Hennessy and the kind of sin you don’t come back from.
“Boy. It is one o’clock. In the morning.”
“And you still up.” He smirked, leanin’ down to kiss your cheek. “That mean you was waitin’.”
You rolled your eyes. “You woke me up.”
He laughed again and grabbed your thigh, lifted it up high to his hip like he was about to climb on you.
Started kissin’ up your jaw, your neck, pressin’ himself all into you.
Then next thing you knew?
You was on top.
“You want somethin’ so bad,” he said, voice low, breath hot as his hands slid up your hoodie. “Come take it.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Take it, baby.” he said again. “Ride me.”
And that’s how you ended up straddlin’ him, still sleepy-eyed, bonnet gone, tryna get it together as he leaned back on the headboard, arms behind his head like he was watchin’ the show.
You lifted your hips slow, dragged him in even slower.
He hissed through his teeth, eyes clenching shut, tongue pokin’ the corner of his mouth.
You bit your bottom lip.
Started movin’, workin’ it like he ain’t just come home three hours late.
Bouncin’ a lil faster, leanin’ back for leverage. The hoodie you had on ridin’ up over your ass, thighs burnin’ already.
You was moanin’ soft.
Tryna keep the rhythm.
Tryna not let your knees give out.
He was so damn thick, the stretch makin’ you dizzy.
“Fuck,” he grunted, hands goin’ to your hips finally. “Just like that — damn, you tryna make me come already?”
You smirked, breathless.
“You talk all that shit, now you foldin’?”
He bit his lip hard, grabbed the back of your neck, and pulled you down into a nasty ass kiss — teeth clashing, tongue heavy, breath hot.
Then he leaned back again.
“Stop.”
You froze, hips mid-roll.
“…huh?”
He looked you dead in the face, jaw clenched.
Voice serious.
“I said stop. You movin’ like you tryna win.”
You blinked again.
“I am??”
He leaned up just slightly, whispered low in your ear, “You wanna make me come, you gon’ have to earn that shit. Now come here —”
You still sittin’ there straddlin’ him, lips parted, brows furrowed like — sir?
You just gave him three minutes of your finest choreography. You damn near caught the holy ghost on that dick.
And this man got the nerve to tell you to stop.
Now he got one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other holdin’ your lower back, pullin’ you down, bringin’ you back, slidin’ you onto him slow like he finna run this now.
“Lemme do it my way.”
His voice all rough and sleepy, thick from the liquor and late hour.
Eyes half-lidded but focused, locked in like you the only thing in his world.
You couldn’t breathe for a second, ‘cause the way he filled you? Had you clenchin’ all over again.
He tilted his head to the side and smirked just a lil. “That’s what I thought.”
Now you tryin’ to ride again, but he’s not lettin’ you bounce.
He’s holdin’ your hips in place, grindin’ you down into him, movin’ you the way he want.
Slow. Deep. Pressure in every roll.
You swear you can feel everything.
The heat. The weight. The way he pulses thick inside you with every tiny lil moan that slips past your lips.
Your head falls forward against his chest and he laughs, low and cocky.
“Yeahhh, that’s what I wanted,” he mutters, thumb draggin’ up your spine under the hoodie.
“I don’t need all that fast shit. Let me feel you.”
You whimper.
Like a real whimper.
He lifts your chin, makes you look at him while you grind on him like you tryna make a baby.
You feel so full. So slow-drunk on the way he’s movin’ you, the way he knows what he’s doin’.
“You miss me?” he asks, like it’s not obvious.
Like your pussy didn’t answer that the moment he slapped your ass.
“Yeah,” you mumble, eyes glossy.
“Miss me like this?”
You nod quick, grindin’ harder, and he sucks his teeth.
“Say it.”
“I missed you like this.”
He smirks. “I know.”
Then he’s kissin’ you.
Hard.
One hand on the back of your head, tongue slidin’ deep into your mouth.
Other hand grippin’ your ass, pushin’ you down on him deeper.
You swear he hit a spot that made your whole body lock up.
You moanin’ into his mouth.
Shakin’ from how thick and deep he’s inside you.
Fingernails diggin’ into his shoulders, hoodie startin’ to stick to your back from sweat.
His lips break away from yours and go straight for your neck — you already know.
Kissin’ that spot under your ear, suckin’ on your pulse point, leavin’ a wet trail down your shoulder while you grind on him like you forgot how to stop.
And when you do try to lift up, finally try to bounce again?
He groan low, grips your waist tight, and mutters:
“Nah. Don’t run now.”
“I’m not tryna run —“
And he start movin’ his hips —
Up into you.
Controlled.
Deep.
He takin’ over now.
You can’t even ride no more — he fuckin’ you from under, thick strokes that got your toes curlin’ and your forehead sweatin’.
Eyes rollin’ and lips tremblin’ and you swear he hittin’ your soul.
“Who this pussy belong to?” he asks, voice dark.
“You,” you gasp.
“Say it again.”
“It’s yours — it’s yours, Elijah f-fuck —”
Next thing you knew — flip.
Whole body turned over like you was on a damn rotisserie.
He had you on your stomach, ass up, legs parted just a lil, still slippery from the first round.
You barely even processed the motion and this man was lining it back up.
He slid back in slow — so slow you clenched up on instinct.
You could feel every thick inch stretchin’ you open all over again.
“Mhmm,” he muttered under his breath. “Yeah, you still got it f’sho.”
You didn’t even respond. Couldn’t.
You were too busy gripping the pillow like it owed you money.
First he went slow.
Real deep. Real calculated.
Like he was tryin’ to memorize your shit.
Pushing in alllll the way — till his pelvis kissed your ass —
Then pullin’ out real deliberate, leavin’ just the tip in before doin’ it all over again.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Had your mouth open, but nothin’ was comin’ out. Just gasps. Lil shaky whines.
Then suddenly — like he changed his mind mid-stroke —
SMACK.
Hand landed hard on your ass, made you jolt, and then he picked up the pace.
Started pounding it, grip lockin’ down on both your shoulders like he was tryin’ to anchor himself.
Like you was runnin’ and he wasn’t lettin’ you go nowhere.
“Ain’t tell you to go like that,” he muttered, low and gritty, fuckin’ you through his own breathlessness. “Shit feel too damn good.”
You cried out something soft, probably ‘fuck,’ probably ‘please,’ probably your own name ‘cause you forgot his in the moment.
Didn’t matter.
He was locked in.
Elijah—well, “Smoke,” technically—you still don’t even know his full name.
But what you do know is he love him some backshots.
He worship that view.
Be behind you talkin’ to himself like ‘damn she thick.’
Takin’ long strokes just so he can watch it jiggle back on him.
Holding your ass open with both thumbs, spitting just a lil to keep it sloppy, whisperin’ shit like:
“This the part I missed the most.”
“Could nut just off this view, swear to God.”
“You was sleepin’ pretty earlier. Bet you ain’t think I’d fuck the rest of the night out you.”
He leaned over you now, chest grazin’ your back, lips brushing your ear —
“You finna come again?”
You nodded, whined, damn near cried.
Then he bit down on your shoulder, just a lil, like he was tryna remind you who’s shit this is.
“Good,” he whispered, grindin’ into you deep, finishin’ you off with strokes so raw and filthy, you felt your whole body go limp.
Legs tremblin’.
Pussy clenching hard like you tryna keep him in.
You gushed, loud and messy — like your body was spillin’ over from the pressure.
When he finally pulled out?
He was breathing heavy. Forehead glistening. Chest rising and falling like he just ran laps.
You barely got your bearings.
Still facedown in the sheets, tryin’ to remember your own damn name, when you felt him tug you up — strong ass arms slid under yours and pulled.
Next thing you know, your back hit the headboard and he was kneelin’ in front of you on the mattress, cock already hard again like he ain’t just fuck the soul outta you a minute ago.
He kissed you first, slow and messy — still breathing heavy — and his hand slid down to grip your jaw real soft before he whispered:
“You good?”
You nodded, but only glared up at the man.
You already knew what time it was.
He shifted forward on his knees, one hand guiding your face down, the other gripping the headboard behind you for balance.
“Put that pretty mouth to work,” he said low, tapping the thick tip against your bottom lip. “You got it.”
You looked up at him all slow, mouth already watering, lips partin’ soft as hell —
He slid in easy, let you suck just the tip at first, then eased deeper…hand cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing the hinge of it.
Deeper…
And he moaned — actually moaned — head falling back just a little, abs tight, the kind of sound that made you clench around nothing.
You didn’t even care that your jaw was starting to ache.
Didn’t care your lashes were stickin’ together from the lil tears in your eyes.
All you knew was his hand was resting real firm on the crown of your head now, not forcing, just guiding, and you wanted to give him exactly what he needed.
Then…he started movin’.
Real slow at first.
Pushin’ his hips forward while he kept his grip on the headboard — and suddenly it wasn’t just head, it was a full-on face-fucking.
Your headboard knockin’ lightly behind you from the pressure, your throat stretched wide, lips glossy and spit-slick, and he lookin’ down like:
“Mmm, that’s it. Look at me. Don’t look away.”
You glared up through your lashes, jaw sore, throat burning — but you didn’t stop.
Couldn’t.
You was in too deep — literally.
He kept it slow at first, hips grindin’ into your mouth like he was fuckin’ your throat the same way he fuck your pussy —
But then he started gettin’ bold.
Picked up the pace a little, started rockin’ into your mouth with a rhythm that had your whole head movin’ against the headboard —
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Like he was tryin’ to put your tonsils on sick leave.
Every now and then he’d pause, pull back and tap his tip against your tongue — watchin’ the spit fall from your lips to your chest —then slide back in all slow with a breathy, “That’s my girl…”
At one point?
He laced his fingers in your curls, held your head steady, and said with the softest lil grunt —
“I’ma cum if you keep doin’ that shit.” Then added with a smirk, “You want it?”
You nodded. Couldn’t even speak.
He let go of the headboard to use both hands on your head now, thrustin’ real slow and deep, jaw clenched tight, abs flexed as he fucked into your mouth like he was damn near in love.
His breathing turned to groans.
His thighs started tremblin’.
And finally — finally — he gave a rough groan and buried himself deep, chest stuttering as he came down your throat.
You swallowed every drop.
Because…obviously.
Afterwards?
He leaned forward, kissed you slow, wiped your chin, whispered against your lips like:
“You gon’ be the death of me.”
And you just smiled.
You barely caught your breath before he leaned back, lashes low and tipsy smirk tugging at his lips — eyes dragging over you like he was tryna savor you all over again.
Still flushed from that mouthwork he just got. Still kneeling on the bed in just his damn chain and a glistening trail down his abs.
That’s when he said it — voice all raspy and deep like he ain’t just moan your name a second ago.
“Let me eat it next…”
He bit his lip a little. “C’mon. Sit it right here.”
You blinked. “What?”
He tapped his chest, then slid both hands down his stomach slow as hell, eyes never leavin’ yours.
“Sit. On. My. Face.”
Chile.
You ain’t even get a full thought off before he grabbed your thighs, pulled you up like you was light as air, and laid back against the pillows — one arm under your ass, the other spreading your legs like he already knew the script.
“You scared?” he teased, that smirk still sittin’ pretty even with his head on the damn mattress.
And you? Tipsy off his energy now.
You climbed over him slow, shaky thighs hovering, hands braced on the headboard — and when you finally lowered down, you barely touched his lips before he grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way down like:
“Mm-mm. I said sit.”
BABYYYY.
He devoured you.
No warning. No easing into it. Just straight tongue work like he was starvin’ for it.
Mouth wide open, lips partin’ soft before he flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow stripe through your folds — and then he locked in.
Eyes closed.
Low groans vibrating right through you.
He had your thighs trembling in under thirty seconds and his grip on you? Lord. Possessive. Firm. Like he wanted the weight of you on his face.
You looked down at him, eyes glossy, and he just groaned against you like he was the one getting off. Grippin’ your ass, guiding your hips to ride his mouth like you was a lil toy.
“That’s it… keep goin’,” he muttered into you, lips wet and chin gleamin’. “Tastes so fuckin’ good…”
He ate you like he meant it. Like it was the last meal and you the last girl on earth.
Tongue fuckin’ into you, lips suckin’ your clit, switchin’ it up every time your breath caught just to keep you beggin’. You was grindin’ without even meanin’ to — rockin’ into his face while your hands clawed at the headboard, back archin’, moans comin’ out all high and helpless.
Then —
He hit you with the combo.
Two thick fingers slid in while he sucked your clit — and that was it.
You came so hard your whole body stiffened, legs tryna close on his head and he just hummed, held you open and kept going.
“Uh uh. Let me get that other one.”
You was breathless. Sweaty. Legs weak.
And he still had the nerve to pull you down closer, lickin’ you slow like he was tryna memorize the taste.
“Damn, mama…you gon’ kill me with this.”
You slid off him eventually, thighs shakin’, face buried in the sheets — and he just laid there lookin’ smug, mouth glistening, hand on your lower back like yeahhh, I did that.
You tried to move.
Key word: Tried.
But all you managed was a whisper: “You a munch.”
He smirked wider, leaned over and kissed the back of your thigh. Then both your ass cheeks.
“Yeah,” he said, voice deep and sleepy now. “And?”
You still couldn’t get the damn smell of him off you.
You washed up twice, too.
Didn’t help that every time your phone buzzed, your stomach did that lil flip thing like he was texting you right now.
And he was texting.
Not blowin’ your phone up, not tryna run game, just… consistent.
“U eat today?”
“Let me know when you get home”
“What u doing Sunday”
“Send me a pic”
And every one of those little dry-ass texts made you bite your bottom lip and giggle like you was 16 again.
You didn’t even tell your friends everything yet.
You was tryna gatekeep a little. Keep it soft and sacred. But babyyyy…
You liked this man.
You really did.
So when he hit you like:
“yo my people throwin something Friday, u tryna slide?” you ain’t hesitate.
You threw on the real cute outfit too.
Crop top, jeans that made your lil shape do what it needed to do, hoops, lipgloss hittin’…and you threw on that same hoodie he gave you just to be annoying.
You told him, “I’m not dressin’ up.”
He texted back, “I already know u gon be fine, idc.”
Like it was that simple.
And of course it was.
The party was jumpin.
Like…somebody’s backyard turned into a whole scene.
Lights strung from the fence, music bumpin’ from a giant-ass speaker tower in the corner, girls dancin’, people posted up in little circles with red cups, full tables of bottles and plates of food and somebody uncle tryna get the aux.
You pulled up with your girls but instantly spotted him — Smoke.
Black tee, big chain, jeans hangin’ just right, and those same intense-ass eyes that always made your legs weak.
He came straight to you, didn’t say a word at first — just slid his hand around your waist, kissed your cheek like it was owed, and whispered, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted to see you again?”
You grinned like a fool.
“Thought you was playin’.”
“Do I look like I play wit you?”
Whewww.
Somebody come pick you up. You not gonna make it through the night.
Y’all walked around for a little—he introduced you to a couple cousins, some friends, his best friend, TRINAAAA — she hugged you and she smelled nice and she so pretty — then met some dude named “Man Man” who sold dirt bikes on the side — and everything felt…easy?
But of course, of course, somebody had to come ask him to handle something.
You ain’t hear the whole convo, but you caught enough:
“…bro trippin’ with the bottles…”
“…nah, I’ma fix it, stay right here.”
He kissed the side of your neck.
“Gimme like five minutes.”
You nodded.
No biggie.
Until ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
You wasn’t pressed, but like…this a lotta people you don’t know. And your friend…where outta sight.
Music was loud.
Your cup was gettin’ low.
Your girls had wandered off to find plates and take selfies.
You was kinda bored.
So you started minglin’. A little.
Couple girls waved you over like, “girl you too cute to be standin’ there by yaself, c’mere.”
You ended up talkin’ to a couple of them —nothing crazy.
They was funny.
Some girl named Nessa was tellin’ a story about her baby daddy tryin’ to sell her wig on Facebook Marketplace.
And just when you was laughin’ and about to ask for another drink —
You see him.
Smoke.
Or…wait.
You blink.
Nah. That’s not Smoke.
Same build.
Same lil mustache.
Same face damn near.
But something was off.
The walk? The energy?
Different.
He had on a red shirt, first off.
Gold watch, tattoo on his neck that Smoke ain’t have.
He was talkin’ to somebody but then his eyes landed on you.
And whewww…he looked you up and down like he was tryna figure out if you was edible.
You felt your throat get dry.
Then he started walking your way.
Confident. Slow.
Like he knew you was gonna stand there and take it.
“Damn,” he said, smirking as he got close. “You must be the one my brother been actin’ funny behind.”
You blinked.
“You stack…?”
He grinned.
“Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”
And lawddd.
The voice?? Just as deep.
Smile? Just as fine.
But the vibe? Whole different breed.
Smoke was smooth. Quiet. Watchful.
But Stack? Stack was a problem.
Loud. Flirty. Ghetto.
He leaned in way too close when he talked.
Looked at your mouth when you answered.
Licked his lips when you laughed.
“Yeah I been hearin’ about you,” he said, eyes glintin’. “He don’t ever bring girls around the family but now look — gotchu walkin’ round here in his hoodie, lookin’ all cute and shit.”
You laughed, shy.
“Stop.”
“Nah I ain’t even flirtin’ for real. Just sayin’. If I saw you first? You woulda been mine.”
EXCUSE ME???
Your heart damn near did a lil jump jump.
He winked.
“But it’s cool. I’ma let him have you. For now.”
And just like that, he walked away.
Left you blinking and tryin’ to catch your breath like…
Who tf was that and why he got me feelin’ like I just cheated??
You turned around — and who you see walking back up like he just missed the whole interaction?
Smoke.
“Sorry bout that. Had to check a situation,” he said, looking calm and casual as ever. “You good?”
You nodded real fast. A smile creeping on your face.
“Yeah, I just…I met your brother.”
His jaw ticked.
“Yeah. I figured he’d find you.”
You raised a brow.
“He ‘lil flirttt.”
Smoke looked you dead in your eyes.
“He don’t mean nothin’ by it. He just talk too much.”
You smiled.
“He told me if he saw me first, I woulda been his.”
Smoke leaned in real close.
Tugged you by the waistband of your jeans till your chest was almost pressed to his.
“Good thing he didn’t, then.”
And just like that?
You forgot all about Stack.
Or tried to, anyway.
You kinda forgot there was two of them.
Like…deadass. For a minute?
You was lost in the sauce — Smoke’s sauce.
All wrapped up in that deep voice, that slow walk, that ‘you-mine-until-I-say-you-not type’ shit.
But then Stack came floatin’ through the function like a walking distraction.
Grinnin’ all bold. Chain glintin’. Mouth reckless. Lookin’ like he ain’t never heard of a moral in his life.
And it hit you all over again:
TWO OF THEM.
Two of him.
Same face. Different fonts.
One lookin’ at you like you a whole meal, the other treatin’ you like dessert he already claimed.
And you? You standin’ there like Future in 2012 talkin’ bout:
‘Fuckin’ two bad bitches at the same damn time.’
(Okay, maybe not fuckin. But like. Thinkin’?? Wonderin’??? Daydreamin’ a little???? Don’t judge.)
Anyway.
You try to get back to the vibe — smooth and chill and pretty — just bein’ held against your man’s side, watchin’ the party from the edge of his hoodie.
You still grinning about the twin thing when she comes up.
Yeah.
Her.
Some girl in a lil two-piece set, lashes long enough to fan Jesus, hips switchin’ on autopilot like they got Bluetooth.
She don’t even look at you at first.
Slides right up to Smoke, touches his arm like she forgot who he came with.
“Heyyyy Elijahhh,” she says, voice way too soft.
(And yeah — Elijah. Like government name.
You ain’t even know that shit yet and she droppin’ it like a social security number.)
You blink.
Oh okay.
She flippin’ her hair, playin’ in his bracelet like she bought it.
And Smoke…?
He steps half a step back.
Light. Polite. Barely noticeable.
But you see it.
“Wassup, Asia,” he says.
And he don’t smile.
Not even a lil.
She giggles.
Like he told a joke.
He didn’t.
“I been textin’ you,” she says, all fake poutin’. “You don’t fuck wit me no more?”
And that’s when she look at you.
Right at you.
Then back at him.
Then smirks.
“Ohhh. I see what this is. My bad. I ain’t mean to interrupt.”
You smile real sweet.
“And yet — you still did.”
She blink.
Smoke grinned at the corner of his mouth but said nothing.
So you took it there.
Polite, petty, poetic.
“Anyway. You good though? You tryna be around or you just tryna be seen?”
She scowled.
“Oh don’t get cute.”
You blinked.
“…Baby I woke up like this.”
Smoke’s whole body shook tryin’ not to laugh.
You felt his hand slide around your waist, real slow.
Possessive. Warm. Heavy.
“She straight,” he told Asia, finally.
A gentle version of ‘you can go now.’
And she did.
Slow. Swishin’. Still talkin’ bout ‘we’ll see.’
But you ain’t care.
’Cause his hand stayed put.
And he whispered, lips right by your ear:
“You been waitin’ to say that, huh?”
You grinned.
“Swear I didn’t. She brought the energy, I just matched it.”
He laughed, low.
“You funny as hell.”
You leaned back into him.
“You ain’t tell me people was gon’ try to test me.”
He kissed your cheek.
“You pass every time.”
Later, y’all end up posted up by the side gate — away from the crowd, tucked behind somebody’s car.
Music still bumpin’. Stack walkin’ around in a ski mask for no reason.
But you and Smoke?
Y’all quiet now. Real still.
He leaned back against the fence, pulled you between his legs, arms draped around your waist like he needed to feel you close.
“I don’t like loud parties like that,” he mumbled after a while, chin on your shoulder.
“So why you invite me?”
“Wanted you to meet my people.”
You turned a little to face him.
“…You like me or somethin’?”
He looked at you.
And the look??
That sht did something to your chest.
“Ion invite people to shit. Ion cook for people. I definitely don’t sleep next to ‘em.”
Your breath caught.
“But you do all that for me?”
“Yeah.”
You swallowed. Hard.
“…Damn.”
The party kept going — but you was already gone.
Floatin’.
Drunk off him.
Off this.
You’d almost forgot what it felt like to be wanted.
Not for a night, not for convenience—but for real.
This man was making it real hard to play it cool.
And lowkey… you didn’t wanna play at all.
You just wanted to keep bein’ wrapped up in his hoodie.
Kissed slow behind fences.
Claimed in front of petty girls.
You ain’t say none of that out loud, though.
Just smiled and pulled him closer, whisperin’ like you was tellin’ a secret:
“Next time your twin flirt with me, I’m tellin’ him I’m spoken for.”
Smoke smirked.
“You better.”
You wasn’t drunk drunk.
Not like…on the floor, crying-in-the-bathroom, slurring-your-secrets drunk.
But you was…
tipsy.
Real cute drunk.
That sweet lil zone where your mouth got no filter and your hands do what they wanna do.
So when y’all ducked off again — behind the shed this time, some dark corner where the porch light couldn’t see you — you got real bold.
Smoke pulled you in, all warm and low and heavy-handed with the touchin’, and you?
You just started kissin’ on that neck.
Real gentle-like at first.
Just lips.
Slow. Pressin’. Lingerin’.
Right under his ear where he smelled like cologne.
He went real still.
Didn’t stop you. Didn’t say nothin’.
Just exhaled real quiet — like he was tryin to keep calm.
You grinned.
Then did it again.
Right a little lower, where his hoodie hung loose at the collar, skin warm underneath. You nuzzled there, then kissed down to his collarbone just because you could.
“Aight…” he warned, voice tight like he was holdin’ back a smile. “That’s how you act off five lil cups?”
“Five and a half,” you mumbled into his neck. “Lemme live.”
He tilted his head back. Let you keep goin’.
Shiiiii.
You was in your own lil world.
High off vibes. Off his skin and the weight of his hands pressin’ down on your waist. His fingers flexed a lil every time your lips hit the right spot.
“You always this affectionate?” he asked, real low.
“Nah,” you murmured. “I just like you.”
He hummed.
“You tell all the niggas that?”
You grinned against his jaw.
“You the only one still around, ain’t you?”
Then you snatched his phone.
Playfully, of course.
He ain’t even fight you on it. Just watched you scroll through his camera like he was amused.
No wild shit in there — just lil selfies, some blurry gym pics, one video of Stack rappin’ in the backseat and soundin’ like he needed water.
You turned the camera to yourself.
“Smile.”
He blinked. “For what?”
“For me.” you said, like duh.
Then scooted up close, leaned into his side, and took it anyway — your face real cute, his real unimpressed but lowkey grinning in the corner of the frame.
You giggled, looked at it again.
“Wait wait wait — we fine as hell.”
He smirked. “Say it louder.”
“WE FINE AS HELL!” you whispered-yelled, crackin’ up.
Then you took another one. This time he kissed your cheek right as you clicked.
That one? You saved to his favorites. Respectfully.
You kept takin’ em too.
Layin’ on him. Tongue peekin’. Lashes poppin’. Lookin’ like y’all was already three months deep in a soft launch.
He ain’t stop you once.
Just kept lettin’ you lean on him, arms heavy around your waist, head tilted like he was memorizin’ the way you smiled.
You bit his lip, thumb still flickin’ through the lil gallery.
“You gon’ delete these later?” you asked, tryna play.
He looked at you like you was dumb.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
You blinked.
“Cause you’re weird.”
Next thing you know, he takin’ the phone back, scrollin’ a bit — and now he’s takin’ one. Of just you this time.
Candid as hell.
Neck kissin’ fresh. Lip gloss poppin’. Lookin’ real claimed.
“Lemme seeee,” you whined, tryna grab it back.
“Nah,” he said, tucking it in his pocket. “That one mine.”
You blinked.
“You keepin’ it?”
“Yup.”
“…So I’m your lockscreen now?”
He grinned slow.
“Not yet.”
You gasped, all fake-offended.
“Wow.”
Then he pulled you close and whispered:
“Don’t worry. You workin’ your way up.”
After that?
You damn near climbed him like a tree.
Tipsy and flirty and feelin’ way too comfortable.
Kissin’ on his neck again, tugging on the strings of his hoodie, actin’ like you ain’t just argue wit some girl two hours ago over this same man.
You didn’t even care about the party no more.
Didn’t care that Stack kept poppin’ in and out the side gate yellin’ ‘y’all nasty as hell!’
Didn’t care that your lipgloss was smudged or that your phone was probably dead.
All you cared about was the way he was lookin’ at you.
Like you was all warm light and soft touches.
Like he was seein’ a part of you nobody else even tried to notice.
“You gon’ spend the night?” he asked, fingers playin’ with the hem of his hoodie you wore.
jbbartram-illu
2087
origamiaround
dededos
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
