warnings: cussing, drinking, fighting, blood, ghetto shit, the n word, smoke and annie both young hos fr. childish stuff and very goofy.
an: heyyyy y'all. i'm back ;) i played to bad writing this but it was so fun. i wanted to write something playful after my last work. y'all was on my ass about them not getting away so i made y'all favorite couple have an eventful night lol. hope you guys enjoy and happy reading.
annie was sitting in her walk in closet, glancing up at all the outfit choices in front of her. she let out a deep sigh. the irritation was already there. she did NOT want to go out tonight. a bad feeling was sitting deep within her chest. all of the warning signs to stay home were going off but she ignored them anyway.
it was her friend's graduation outing and she didn't want to be the only one to not show up when it mattered most. no matter how much she wanted to crawl back in bed and watch reruns of law and order suv.
aneika decided on a black bandage dress and black heels with the gold ysl holding them up. if she was going to go out she might as well put on her good shit. annie just hoped she wouldn't regret this at the end of the night.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
annie's mood was looking up but that was to be expected when your friends are as lit as her's were right now. the feeling that she had prior was melting away by the minute due to the atmosphere her group created. drinks were flowing, the dj was playing hit after hit, and all her girls looked good.
partition by Beyonce was the next song to come on. aneika lost all home training as she and her friends raced to the dance floor. she grinded her hips against her friend, drunk giggles escaping freely. she sighed deeply as she thought about how she always sung this to smoke. but she wouldn't be one of those " i miss my man" bitches, at least not right now. maybe later though..
she continued to dance until she felt her homegirl, asia, stumble into her back. before she could even turn around to ask what was wrong, she heard words that ensured the night was about to take a turn for the worst.
"damn bitches can't say excuse me" asia yelled out to another group of girls pushing their way through the sea of people.
"ian gotta say nothing if ion want to ho" that feeling was back in annie's chest. she knew something was about to pop off.
"girl shut the fuck up" another one of annie's friends said back.
next thing you know a drink flew and a heel came next. annie thought for a few quick seconds. thought about what would happen after the fight. what would happen if smoke found out.
but that was a later annie problem.
she swung on the girl across from her. fists punching harder and harder with each swing. each hit connecting more than the last. in her mind she knew this was crazy but she would always have her friend's back no matter what. she would think of the consequences later.
the girl got one good punch in before what aneika assumed was security snatched her up. legs kicking and body turning trying to make an escape.
the night time air smacked annie in the face as she was sat down on the curb.
"sit down and chill the fuck out" the security guard said as her friends were sat down next to her.
annie bounced her leg fast, adrenaline spreading through her body like a virus. she could not wait to tell her man about this shit. she picked up her phone and hit the only contact pinned in her phone.
elijah saved under the name "jah jah 💋" since he hated when she called him that name.
jah jah 💋
why tf i just get into a
group fight at the club😭
aneika 😐
i'm otw
annie put her phone down and continued to rethink her life decisions. she knew smoke was going to pissed ALL the way off when he came to get her but a part of her didn't really care at the moment. aneika would cross that bridge when she came to it.
"so you hoes think it's okay to put y'all hands on people now" this random man approached the group of women.
annie picked up her phone and began to scroll through instagram because there was no way in hell he thought he was talking to her like that.
" yea you too bitch" the man spat stepping directly in front of annie.
"who tf you talking to???" anieka looked up irritation seeping back into her blood just as quickly as it had left.
"you was the one swinging on my girl so wassup. keep that energy with me!"
"nigga fuck you! grown ass man arguing with women. find you something safe to do for real!!" annie said back to him, accent coming out stronger now that he had took her there.
while they were arguing, smoke turned the corner to the club on one wheel. base booming as he parked on the curb beside the building entrance. he hopped out swiftly when he caught sight of some nigga standing in his girl's face.
the man didn't get a chance to respond as smoke shoulder checked people to move through the crowd forming quickly around them.
"ima tell you one time to back up out her face." he said voice level despite how mad he was.
aneika knew this was the wrong time but seeing her man handle shit does something to her.
"or what" the man said with a fake air of confidence. smoke could see straight past the bravado he was trying to display. elijah was never one to do too much talking.
next thing annie knew, smoke's fist crashed into the dude's jaw. he didn't stop when he heard the cracking noise. eli kept punching even when the dude hit the ground. aneika's man was just like her for real.
"smoke stop and come on. before they call the police on yo crazy ass!!" she said trying to pull smoke off the man who was starting to lose consciousness. he ignored her at first. the man thought it was cool to talk to women any kind of way. especially elijah's. smoke didn't think he had learned his lesson just yet.
the man lay slumped on the concrete. blood staining his cheap white tee when eli let go finally, kicking the man one last time. he just wanted to be a lil extra. he turned around gripping annie's face in his hands.
"you good mama?" his eyes searched her face top to bottom looking for anything out of place.
she giggled still kind of adrenaline high and tipsy from all the lemon drops.
"yea i'm good. this been one crazy night man. " she laughed again.
"what you laughing for? you know damn well you not supposed to be out here fighting and shit" smoke scowled at her. he wasn't really angry at her, more so at the danger that could have took place if he hadn't showed up.
"babyyyyy. they were messing with asia and you know i was not letting that shit slide. that's my bitch. " aneika shrugged her shoulders, she didn't see anything wrong with her actions.
"if asia went to jail were you going too?" he raised an eyebrow at her.
"you don't remember freshman year of college babe? been there done that." annie looked up at him goofily.
he shook his head and led her to his car still parked halfway on the sidewalk. he would go to hell or jail behind aneika so he couldn't judge at all. he was forever riding behind her.
an: hey guys:) kinda long time no see but i am here lol. this lowkey some god awful writing but i tried to switch it up. hope you enjoy and happy reading💕🤞🏽
aneika bounced her leg fast as she sat in an unmarked car made to be hidden in plain sight. smoke was two minutes behind schedule. in any other situation a few minutes wouldn’t have mattered but now it did. she clutched the gun tighter with sweaty palms and grimaced when she thought over their current situation.
they had been on the run for six weeks. six weeks since they had to leave behind the home they built from the ground up. the roots and connections made in a city annie was beginning to love. all over a spur of the moment decision smoke made to save his brother. stack had gotten caught up. it was supposed to be a standard run. in and out. he had been meeting with the same business partner for months now. he didn’t pick up on the signs of the man being a fed.
but smoke did. elijah hardly ever missed a detail, he even paid attention to the smalls one. which was exactly how he ended up in this mess. it started off small: cars making the exact same turns, at the exact same time. then it picked up. money coming up missing, people who didn’t usually look twice suddenly asking too many questions. elijah took note of it all. knew when to be in place when the raid happened. played as his brother during questioning. they were twins after all. he could mirror mannerisms without a second thought.
and when he came to aneika’s door telling her he had to dip out for a while. she packed a bag and emptied her safe without another word. she knew it was dumb but smoke was all she knew. and if he was going, she was riding too.
he told her the plan: they would only be moving for a few weeks. laying low while also not being sitting ducks. cash payments only, they couldn’t afford to be tracked. not when the feds were on their tails and the devil was knocking at their door. and no matter what, he would never leave her behind. not then and not now.
annie played the plan back in her head. smoke was a man of his word. so if he said something annie had no choice but to trust it.
annie was so locked into her thoughts that she almost missed the passenger side door cracking open. almost. the intensity of the situation had her on high alert. her head snapped up quickly. smoke slid in stealthily while throwing two duffles bags into the backseat before the door even closed. she pulled off from the bank without another word.
they both chose to ignore the faint sound of sirens as they pulled off of the 2nd block from the bank. they had put enough distance between themselves for smoke to finally lift the ski mask from his face. sweat sliding down his temple. half from the cali heat and half from the adrenaline.
the car cruised into a smooth motion as they blended into the ongoing traffic. smoke peeped it off rip. a car unmarked just like theirs making the same turns, at the same speed. he felt a tingle go down his spine.
“speed up a lil bit ma” he tapped her thigh to gain her focus. she floored the pedal. weaving in and out of cars on the busy street. elijah stayed calm to not scare her as a heavy feeling creeped into his stomach.
aneika knew what the look on his face meant. someone was catching up to them. she shifted her mind off of him and back onto the packed highway, only a few more miles until the interstate. they could make it. she had been training for moments like this one since the day she met smoke and became a permanent part of his world.
her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears. she could hear it over the sound of hot tires gliding over worn down roads. smoke felt the unease as if it were his own body creating the sensation. he lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck soothingly.
“whatever happens it’s me and you baby” he said emotion weighing down his words. annie blinked back tears. for some reason his words sounded like a goodbye. the exit for the interstate glowed like a small sun in front of the couple’s eyes.
she moved lanes smoothly. the exit she took was deserted, a sweet reprieve from the fast paced city they just left behind. elijah let out a deep sigh. everything felt too good to be true.
as they neared the end of the street, aneika blinked rapidly. lined up in front of them were swat cars stretching from end to end in a pool of flashing lights. then she heard it. the whooshing noise of helicopters circling above the roof of the car.
the car came to a halt in the middle of the empty road. smoke gripped her hand tightly and pulled her in for a breath taking kiss. every memory they shared together played on a loop in their heads.
“STEP OUT OF THE VECHICLE” was just background to smoke and annie.
sneaking into each other’s dorm rooms to share cold chinese food.
“FINAL WARNING” the chief sounded off again.
wedding vows whispered quietly before they faced the noise.
“FIRE” was the last thing the couple heard before rounds let off.
elijah and aneika had been through many things together and they were ending it with a bang.
warnings: 18++ NO MINORS. smut: daddy kink, hair pulling, slapping, dry humping, choking, dirty talk. mentions a gun once
an: this my first time trying to write smut and i feel so exposed LMFAOAO
elijah’s patience was wearing thin. he had been holding on to his restraint for the past week but it was all about to snap tonight. it started a week ago.
he had been standing in his closet, packing a small suitcase for the business expansion stack had gotten him into. he sensed her presence before he had the chance to glance up. annie was coming into their bed room. skin glistening with the remnants of body oil from her shower. navy blue lingerie hugging curves that had come with age and smoke treating her right.
he bit his lip at the sight of her. looking too good for him to spend even a second away from their shared home. as much as he wanted to stay, he needed to go make that money to bring home to aneika. elijah shook his head and continued packing, he would be back to her soon. smoke would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted though.
a few days later, smoke was laying across the hotel bed. trying to get some kind of reprieve as the stiff mattress held up his weight. the meeting with their soon to be allies was more tension filled than anticipated. his phone buzzed on the night stand. a text tone picked specifically for annie. lips twitching at the corner as he stretched his arm out to pick up the phone.
his jaw tightened when he saw the messages. annie was displayed across his screen. back arched to the heavens, thong barely covering her center, and smoke’s signature gold chain hanging loosely from her lips. elijah’s pants grew tighter the longer he stared. his body had been craving her, missing how she felt sleeping beside him. these pictures were making it no better.
“missin you jah💋” was all she wrote along side the pictures. as if she hadn’t disrupted his whole day. he ran a hand down his tired face before responding,
“ i miss you more baby, dada will be home soon”
smoke was counting down the days until he made it back home to her.
on the twins’ last night in the foreign city, elijah lay restless in his room. every time he closed him eyes, all he could see was her. stretched out and open for him. body submitting to him, the more he gave her.
memories of intimate moments played on a loop in his brain. the push and pull. giving and taking. falling into each other. just one night until he was reunited with his other half again.
‿.⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙
when elijah got home the next afternoon the house was empty. traces of aneika’s vanilla perfume still lingering in the air.
smoke let out a deep sigh, feeling regulated now that he was back in the home he and annie had created together. he took his time unpacking as he awaited his wife’s arrival. soothing sounds of teddy pendergrass coming from his record player as he laid his gun on the dresser.
he heard the alarm system resetting as annie entered the house. he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her. feet tapping with slight impatience and fingers gripping his slacks tightly to hold onto the last of the will to behave.
the door creaked open and there stood aneika in all her glory. long legs shining through the slit in her dress. appearing taller than normal with the stilettos giving her an extra boost.
“wassup mama” he smirked at her from his place at the foot of the bed. a shiver ran down her spine from the way he gazed at her. as if he could feel the need for him building in the pit of her stomach. a feeling that had been growing since the day he left.
“hey baby, i missed you!!!” annie exclaimed as she walked toward him, arms wrapping around his neck.
“i missed you more sugar” he pulled her down the rest of the way until her thick thighs were bracketing his legs.
he ran large hands up and down her back. taking her in to make up for his time away. aneika arched into his touch. her body a match and his hands were fire to combat it. he couldn’t wait anymore to get his fill of her. warm fingers sliding further up the skirt of her dress. she let out a shaky breath.
“you missed dada a lot huh” he began to leave sloppy, open mouth kisses down the side of her neck.
“mhm” she said breathily as she slid down firmer into his hold. she couldn’t even form a full sentence and they had barely started.
he gripped her hips and gently guided her to rock back and forth on the bulge in his pants. annie responded immediately. bending down to kiss him hungrily. the kiss being all tongue and passion. she let him lead despite how desperate she was to feel him.
“grind on this dick and let me know how much you been needing it. sending me those pictures with my pussy hanging out. acting like a slut” he growled low in her ear.
annie’s hips bucked wilder at his filthy words. her grinding getting deeper and deeper as she chases the release she couldn’t get without him helping her.
he pulled her head back by her long braids, wrapping them around his frst. she whimpered, the pain pairing beautifully with the pleasure his hard dick was giving her. even through their clothes.
“open” he slapped her face lightly. her tongue slipped out easily as he spit into her mouth and pushed it closed.
“swallow that shit” he bit his lip and she followed his command with no hesitation.
his hands came back down to guide her again as he saw her losing momentum. he needed to feel her come apart against him. knowing he made her feel this good was bringing him closer to his own orgasm.
“does it feel good daddy” aneika moaned seductively in his ear wanting to reciprocate how well he was talking her through it.
“so fucking good mama. this pussy so wet for me” he whimpered. “she been needing me all week”
annie licked and sucked at his neck. she wanted to hear him more, hear him feeling as good as she did.
“talk to me jah, fuck, keep fuckin talking to this pussy” she moved faster against him, orgasm building up in her core.
“cmon mama you got it. give that nut to daddy, cum all on my lap” he slapped her again.
“harder” she cried out, right on the brink of an overwhelming pleasure.
he smacked her again not enough to actually hurt but enough to satisfy her desires.
aneika’s rhythm stuttered as her peak rushes upon her. fingers gripping his throat as she rode out her orgasm.
smoke was right behind her, gripping her ass hard enough to bruise as they fell apart in tandem.
an: heyyyyy. i’m back lol. thank y’all so much for all the love and support. it’s so heartwarming to see. this is very short but i hope y’all like it. happy reading🫰🏽
the room was buzzing. women moving around like time was moving faster than they could keep up. and in a way, it was. lash clusters were strewn across countertops, hot combs were sizzling with blue magic residue, and monaleo was playing from the built in speakers. in the midst of the chaos sat annie. trying to keep it together even though her heart was beating out of her chest. she blinked her eyes rapidly to keep the tears from falling, her face was too beat for all that. tears because she had been dreaming of this day since she was 16 years old.
back when she was too young to know what she was feeling for elijah or how to navigate those emotions. she met him when he was just a lanky kid who didn’t say much, if anything at all. she had watched him grow into the man she was marrying today. now at 25, aneika couldn’t picture life any other way.
as she sat processing her emotions, renee - a life long friend- came up behind her. a bright smile was stretched across her face.
“it’s finally that time sis!!” she said playfully. renee had been with annie since the beginning. back when they were broke nursing students with no idea how they were going to make it through. it was a full circle moment for annie, having her closest friend with her in this moment. her heart felt even fuller than it was before.
“i don’t think i’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life” annie whispered back.
“that’s what happens when your man’s been loving you for as long as smoke has.” the ladies giggled together sounding just like they did years prior in their dusty two bedroom apartment.
“anyway, i came over here to get you because smoke won’t let the barber stack hired cut his hair. he talkin bout nobody does it right but my lady!” renee laughed again mocking elijah’s deep voice.
annie rolled her eyes on queue. she knew this was going to happen. he had been fussing the whole week leading up to the wedding. going on and on about his hair. he knew annie wasn’t going to do it because she was adamant on the traditions. “no seeing the bride before the ceremony” or whatever it was she had been preaching.
“i knew he was gone pull some shit like this” she scoffed, grabbing her phone from where it sat beside a half finished starbucks drink.
$tack dollaz🤞🏿
please tell yo brother to stop
sis i tried, just come up here PUHLEASE.
i got ah idea
annie threw a tiny tantrum in her seat while grabbing her robe that had “mrs. moore” emblazoned on the back. she slipped on her fuzzy slippers and walked up the stairs to the boys’ dressing room. stack was waiting on her by the top of the stairs, knowing she couldn’t say no to him.
“looking mighty fine this morning lil sister” stack grinned wolfishly at her.
“stop tryna butter me and lead me to your brother. he know damn well he too old to be acting like this” she grumbled, biting back a smile of her own.
“yeen said nothing slick to a can of oil” he agreed before continuing,
“but look though, i put a sleep mask over his eyes. that was the best i could come up with for how he was acting. i’ll be surprise if his whipped ass didn’t cut holes in it by now.”
annie giggled and said “not too much on my man. how am i supposed to get by his ears with the mask?”
“you figure all that out. i gotta go see if the dj gone play my song recommendations. yo bridal party looking too sexy to dance alone tonight.” he called over his shoulder while jogging down the stairs.
annie shook her head and went into the room closest by the stairs. she could hear the ending of one of their favorite songs as she opened the door. in front of a vanity, sat smoke - in a chair with “the groom” stitched onto the back. no doubt a gift from stack and the boys. he was fiddling anxiously with the edge of his sleeve. she pouted, seeing the haint blue ribbon they were going to tie around her family’s wedding broom laying against smoke’s handkerchief.
“hey jah” she breathed out softly. chest clenching with the overflow of her love for him. she could feel the tears coming back to her eyes.
“hey mama” he reached out for her as he felt her move closer to him.
his instincts told him to rip away the mask but he controlled it. he would just have to imagine how gorgeous she looked. all done up to walk down the aisle to him. eyes growing misty at the moment he curated in his mind.
aneika had been changing his life for the better ever since she stepped into it. she welcomed him and his brother with open arms, no matter how many times he was reluctant to fully step into them. she never gave up on him. he would spend the rest of his days making sure his were always open for annie.
“you know you wrong eli. i’m not even supposed to be in here. my mama would blow a fuse if she knew where i was right now.”
he ran a hand up and down her arm. missing the feeling of her skin since they had to sleep apart last night. he tossed and turned without her beside him. breathing in her scent from the pillow she left behind.
“i’m sorry baby but nobody knows how to cut my hair the way you do. plus i missed feeling your presence. that was the first night we slept apart in years. i’m losing sight in my left eye” he joked just to hear the sound of her laughter.
she swatted at his chest. before she could move to grab the clippers, he pulled her in until she was sitting sideways on his lap.
“we still got time for all that, tell me how you feeling” he said, head coming to rest on her shoulder.
“i can feel forever at our finger tips” she says, referencing a song he always played while flipping slightly burnt pancakes at the stove in the morning.
smoke could see if now. barbecues in their backyard ( at the house he was surprising her with as a wedding gift), anniversaries, maybe even kids.
his face grew warm at the thought. it was a dream of his to be a father. a better one than the one he and stack grew up with. he wouldn’t mind a couple of mini me’s running around.
“good, cause i’ll be loving you always.” he planted a kiss to her neck.
an: heyyyyy. long time no post but here y’all go. this is incredibly unserious and goofy but i had fun writing it. i hope y’all enjoy 🫰🏽
warnings: cussing and use of n word (i’m a black queen)
food simmered low and slow on the stove top. erykah badu sung gracefully on the record player he had gotten her for christmas about meeting somebody in another life. while annie and elijah sat tucked into the corner of their slightly worn out couch. bodies pressed together in a comfort only they could bring to each other. they had been comforting each other for years now.
ever since a tutoring session turned disaster in their first year of college, they had been kicking it. time had been spent playing catch up for all the years they had not known of the other’s existence.
head pressed against annie’s chest smoke thought back to a time in their lives where they almost didn’t make it through.
it was the summer before their final year of college at FAMU. the sun was beating down hot on the quad. D9 was strolling like their lives depended on it. while the smell of grilled food was in the air.
smoke stood with stack in the midst of it all. eyes darting from body to body as he looked for the one person he showed up for. annie was nowhere to be seen. probably still in her dorm room stressing over which way to lay her side part this time.
stack stood beside elijah, taking in the crowd. he had always been the ladies man of the two. never keeping the same girl for long and it had only gotten worse with their time spent in college. he believed that there were too many beautiful women around campus for him to choose just one. so he been choosing multiple ever since.
“yoo staci, lemme holla at you real quick!” stack hollered as he saw his current target making her way through the crowd. the girl smirked at him and signaled for her friends to follow.
smoke smacked his teeth as he already knew where this was going. stack was going to talk another unknowing girl out her panties in the middle of the party. again.
while elias carried out his conversation, smoke shifted on his feet uncomfortable as ever. one of the girls had made it her business to stand too close. every inch he moved away, she was right there to follow it up. ignoring his signs of subtlety trying to move away.
before he could politely excuse himself, annie was already walking towards the mismatched group. looking irritated at the group of girls surrounding the two brothers.
“hey elijah” annie said shortly, perfectly plucked brow raised on one side. the cards seemed to not be in smoke’s favor today.
it was too hot, too loud, and this random girl was standing too close when his actual girl had finally gotten near him. he made a note to punch stack in the fucking throat whenever this bullshit party was over.
“and who are you” the girl fake smiled in annie’s face.
“well who am i elijah” annie looked towards him. smoke couldn’t think straight in that moment. not when annie was looking at him like she wished he would slip up and say the wrong thing.
he hesitated for a moment. words caught on his lips. before he could say anything, stack answered for him.
“this my lil sis in law annie. she smoke’s girl”. stack said as he threw an arm around annie’s shoulders.
“funny he didn’t mention you” the girl giggled as if something was funny. this pissed annie off more than she already was. as smoke went to correct her, annie scoffed and turned to walk away.
“actually don’t worry about who i am. i’m leaving anyway” annie said as she turned to walk away.
this was the cherry on top of the already rough day she was having. she came to the function expecting to be up under her man, but even that couldn’t go according to plan. and while annie knew she barely gave him any time to collect his thoughts, that was her final straw on the shitty day. she was over it.
she walked back to her dorm just as quickly as she had came.
“well you done fucked up” stack mumbled so only elijah could here.
“nigga fuck you” smoke grumbled as his chest grew tight watching annie’s retreating figure.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
weeks had passed with annie dodging all of smoke’s calls and texts. she made it her personal mission to leave her dorm early and come back late just to avoid him. him taking to long to answer her question of who she was to him had planted doubt.
smoke had slowly been becoming an important factor in her life and for him to not mutter a word had her feeling stupid in front of so many people. and annie was intelligent if she was not anything else.
smoke sat alone in his room, replaying their time spent together before she walked away from him. he felt so lame listening to frank ocean on repeat but this was the only way to chalk up how he was feeling.
“ight bro i’m sick of this shit” stack pulled the covers from his body.
“you been moping in this room sad as fuck for a month. i’m tired of you looking pitiful so get up and come on.”
smoke huffed as he slipped on his black nike slides and grabbed a hoodie from the back of his desk chair.
they drove all around the city to put together the plan stack had curated. this was a little much for smoke’s taste but at this point he was willing to do it all.
as they pulled up outside annie’s building later that night, stack instructed him to wait there.
stack took the stairs two at a time up to annie’s door. when he reached the door, she was already pulling it open.
she sighed loudly as soon as she saw him.
“what you want with me elias?” annie said agitation seeping through her words.
stack winced slightly but kept on anyway.
“you know he sorry annie. he was just panicking because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“i’m really not tryna here that right now.” she said as she tried to push past him. he blocked her path immediately, hands stretched out like she might hit him if he moved any closer.
“just go back inside so i can show you something at least?” annie weighed out her options and hesitated before turning around to walk back inside.
stack shot a text to smoke as soon as her back was turned.
“show time big bro.” was the only thing the text read.
annie walked further into the apartment while stack closed the door behind them.
“close your eyes and trust me” he said with his usual playful smile.
“stack stop playing and hurry up.” she shifted from foot to foot with nerves.
“shhh and do what i asked please.”
she huffed another reluctant breath and closed her eyes. stack gently took her shoulders and guided her to the window. he opens it as quietly as possible without alerting annie.
outside there stood smoke with a huge bouquet of hydrangeas, her favorites. and an old school boombox that they had gotten from somebody stack knew from around the way. the brothers nodded to each other before smoke pressed play on the boombox.
thinkin bout you by frank ocean blasted so loudly that annie shot her eyes open. she looked down the open window and saw smoke standing there staring back up at her.
it took everything in her to not laugh at how sorry he looked, standing there in some old sweatpants and the same nike slides he wore like he didn’t own actual shoes.
suddenly she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad anymore.
“come upstairs dumbass” she yelled out to him through giggles. smoke didn’t hesitate this time to answer her. he picked up the boombox and sprinted towards the entrance to get his girl back.
as they lay tangled together on the couch, a whole 20 years later, he couldn’t picture their story going any other way.
Summary: The night is supposed to be about legacy. About gold statues, applause, and a name cemented in history. And Ryan plays his role perfectly in front of the world, composed, grounded, untouchable. But the moment he sees Justice in that deep red, backless dress, it feels like the world stops. They’ve already crossed that line once. Already know how each other feels… against skin, inside memory, inside need. So the tension isn’t about if. It’s about how long they can pretend they still have control. The after party becomes background noise. A corner becomes a confession. A whisper becomes a promise.
Warnings: 18+ content, explicit language, heavy sexual themes, possessive dynamics, praise and dominance undertones, public-to-private escalation, oral sex, squirting, unprotected sex, intense dirty talk, emotional intimacy mixed with physical intensity, Black romance
Between Frames | After Hours, Still Yours
It didn’t start at the Oscars.
It started in the quiet.
In the kind of spaces people don’t clap for, don’t document, don’t replay in highlight reels. The kind of moments that don’t need validation to matter.
Late nights stretched into early mornings, scripts forgotten on coffee tables while conversation drifted into something softer, something more honest. The kind of honesty that didn’t need an audience, the kind that settled into the body instead of just passing through it, leaving something behind every time.
Justice had gotten used to his presence before she ever let herself name what it was becoming. It crept up on her, not loud, not dramatic, just steady.
Ryan wasn’t loud with it. He wasn’t flashy. But he was consistent in a way that felt dangerous.
The way he showed up.
The way he listened to what she said actually mattered, like he wasn’t just waiting for his turn to speak.
The way his attention stayed on her even when the room tried to pull it elsewhere, like everything else faded just enough when she was around.
And then there was the way he touched her.
Never rushed. Never careless. Always intentional, like he understood that touch meant something, that it said things words didn’t have to.
His hand at the small of her back when they moved through a room, grounding without being heavy. His fingers brushing hers when he handed her something instead of just passing it, the contact was brief but felt. The way his palm would rest just long enough to be noticed, then pull away like he was giving her space to feel it after he was gone.
Like he knew anticipation could be just as loud as action if you let it sit long enough.
That first night after dinner changed something. Not just because of what happened, but because of how it happened.
The kiss in his car wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t impulsive. It was overdue, built up in every glance, every almost-touch, every moment they chose not to cross the line before that night.
Slow at first. Measured. Like they were both making sure it was real.
Then deepening in a way that made it clear they had both been thinking about it longer than they admitted out loud. His hand at her jaw, steady and grounding. Her fingers gripping his shirt like she needed something to hold onto. Breath shifting between them like something alive, something that had finally been permitted to exist.
And when they made it back to her place, it wasn’t about rushing into anything new. It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t reckless. It was intentional.
It was two grown people finally letting something that had been building… happen without pretending they didn’t feel it.
After that, things didn’t spiral. They didn’t get complicated in the way people expect when lines get crossed.
They got deeper.
More grounded. More real.
They took their time. Still saw each other. Still showed up. Still kept their rhythm.
Dinner turned into conversation. The conversation turned quiet. Quiet turned into comfort. And comfort turned into something that didn’t need to be rushed to feel real.
But there was a difference now. A weight to it.
Because once you know how someone feels against you, inside you, how they sound when they stop holding themselves back, how they say your name when it’s low and meant only for you…
You don’t forget that.
You carry it.
In the way your body reacts when they walk into a room.
In the way your breath shifts when they get too close.
In the way your thoughts start to drift at the worst possible time, pulling you back to moments you said you wouldn’t replay.
Ryan stayed disciplined.
He had to.
In public, he was still Ryan Coogler. Focused. Professional. Grounded in a way that made people trust him without question. The man who shook hands, held conversations, and carried himself with intention and control.
“Justice,” he’d say, voice even, respectful, measured like nothing underneath it ever slipped.
And if you didn’t know better, you’d believe that was all there was.
But she knew better.
Because behind closed doors, that same voice changed. It dropped lower, slower, warmer, closer.
“Peaches.”
And the way he said it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t something he threw around.
It was deliberate.
Personal.
Something that settled low in her chest and stayed there, heavy and warm. Something that made her body answer before she could think about it, heat pooling low and immediate, before she could decide how she wanted to respond.
He wasn’t different.
He was just… less restrained.
And that difference mattered.
They didn’t lose control again after that night. Not like that.
They could’ve.
There were moments.
Plenty of them.
Times where his hand didn’t just linger, but wandered slowly along her thigh, testing how far he could go before she stopped him… and noticing when she didn’t.
Times where her breath caught, and neither of them pretended it didn’t.
Times where one more second, one more touch, would’ve tipped everything over again.
But they didn’t.
They kept it contained.
Shared glances that said too much.
Subtle touches that meant more than they should.
Private moments that didn’t cross the line but stayed right on top of it, balanced there like they both understood exactly how far they could go before it became something else.
Like they both knew that once it tipped too far again, there wouldn’t be anything stopping it.
And maybe that was the point.
Maybe they liked the tension.
Maybe they liked knowing exactly what they could do to each other… and choosing not to.
Choosing control.
Choosing pace.
Choosing each other without rushing what that meant.
But that kind of restraint doesn’t disappear.
It doesn’t fade.
It waits.
Builds.
Sits heavy under the surface, quiet but constant, until something finally permits it to come back up.
Tonight just happened to be that kind of night.
Because success looks different when someone is watching you, who knows you outside of it. Not the titles. Not the awards. Not the expectations.
Just you.
And desire hits different when it’s tied to pride, to admiration, to the quiet way someone has been choosing you long before the spotlight ever did.
They had already crossed the line once. They knew what was on the other side of it.
They just hadn’t let themselves fall into it again.
Not yet.
But tonight?
That control was already starting to feel thinner than it had before.
The room is too bright, too polished, too full of people pretending not to be watching each other while watching everything. The Oscars have a way of making even the real moments feel staged, as if the air itself has been rehearsed.
Ryan sits still in his seat, shoulders relaxed, hands resting together like he’s anywhere but here, ike this isn’t the biggest night of his career so far, like his name isn’t about to be called in a room full of people who measure success in gold and legacy. But his jaw is tight. Subtle. Controlled. The kind of tension you only notice if you’re looking for it.
Justice is.
She sits a few rows behind him, dressed in something that doesn’t beg for attention but holds it anyway, the fabric moving with her instead of against her. Her posture is calm, composed, but her fingers rest lightly against her thigh, pressing just enough to ground herself, nails grazing fabric in slow, absent patterns. Because she feels it too, not the pressure of the room, not the weight of the moment, but him. The way he’s holding himself together. The way he always does. The quiet discipline in it.
The presenter steps onto the stage. Names are read. Clips play. Applause rises and falls like waves that don’t quite reach the shore, swelling and breaking without ever fully settling. Justice’s gaze doesn’t leave him, not once. Even when the screen lights up. Even when the room shifts. She watches the way his shoulders stay level, the way his breathing stays even, the way his fingers tighten just slightly before relaxing again.
And then—
“Ryan Coogler.”
The room erupts. It’s loud. Immediate. Earned. The kind of sound that fills your chest whether you want it to or not.
Ryan exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, like he expected it and didn’t at the same time. He stands, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease, the movement smooth and automatic, something he’s done a hundred times before in rooms that didn’t matter as this one does. Hands reach for him immediately, claps on his back, firm handshakes, voices in his ear. He nods, accepts it, and moves through it without letting it settle too deeply.
But when he turns, his eyes find her. Not the cameras. Not the stage. Her. And for a second, everything else fades like it was never loud to begin with.
Justice doesn’t move right away. She just looks at him, proud, soft, grounded in a way that cuts through all of it, like she’s been waiting for this moment and already knew it would happen. Like, none of this surprises her. Her lips part slightly, breath catching in a way no one else would notice, her chest rising just a little deeper than before.
He sees it. Holds it. Let it settle somewhere under his ribs. Then he turns and walks toward the stage, each step measured, each movement intentional, the weight of the room following him without changing how he carries himself.
The speech is exactly what people expect from him, grounded, intentional, grateful without being performative. He thanks the people who matter, speaks about the work, keeps it honest, keeps it him. His voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t rush, doesn’t stretch for effect. But there’s something underneath it, something quieter, something that doesn’t belong to the room.
Because even while he’s standing there, holding the weight of that moment in his hands, he’s thinking about her, the way she looked at him just now, the way her eyes stayed on him like none of this surprised her, like she already knew who he was before the room decided to recognize it. And it slips further than it should, past the room and the lights, to the memory of her voice breaking on his name, soft and unguarded, the way her lips found his neck and stayed there, warm and certain, the way her body moved with him instead of away from him when they stopped pretending.
He steadies himself, but it’s there now, under the surface, the feel of her beneath him, the way she held on, the way she met him without hesitation, the way she let him take his time with her until time didn’t matter at all. Then he’s thinking about the way she always looks at him when he’s not trying, when he’s just himself, unguarded and unperformed. The way she knows him outside of all this, outside the titles, outside the expectations, outside the version of him the world applauds. The way she sees the man before the moment and after it.
And that matters more than the statue in his hand.
And it shows. Not in what he says, but in how he breathes when he finishes, in the way his shoulders drop just slightly as the applause rises again, like something in him has settled instead of inflated.
When he steps off the stage, it’s louder than before, people reaching for him, hands, voices, congratulations layered on top of each other, names being called, energy pulling at him from every direction. But he moves through it steadily, composed, receiving it without getting lost in it, because he already knows where he’s going.
And when he finally gets close enough again, when the space between them disappears, and the noise fades just enough, he looks at her—really looks at her, not quick, not passing, but deliberate, taking her in like the room isn’t still loud around them. And this time, there’s no distance.
“You see that?” Ryan says, voice low, controlled, but edged with something warmer underneath, something that didn’t exist before he walked on that stage.
Justice smiles, slow and sure, eyes steady on his. “I been saw it,” she says, calm and certain, like she’s not impressed by the moment as much as she is by him in it.
His mouth tightens just slightly, not quite a smile, not quite restraint. “Yeah,” he murmurs, the word sitting heavier than it should.
He doesn’t touch her. Not here. Not with cameras still flashing somewhere in the room, not with people still watching. But the way he looks at her makes it clear he’s thinking about it—already. And the way his eyes linger, just a second longer than appropriate, says something else too.
That restraint is already starting to slip, and the way he’s looking at her makes it clear he’s thinking about having his hands on her again, about how she sounds when she lets go for him, and it’s not going to last all night.
The after party is louder, looser, less polished in a way that feels more honest, even if it’s still curated down to the smallest detail. The lights are dimmed just enough to flatter, casting everything in a warm glow that softens edges and sharpens silhouettes. Music hums low but constant, bass threading through conversations and laughter, glasses clinking in uneven rhythm as people lean closer than they did in the theater, voices dropping, composure slipping by slow, intentional degrees.
Ryan moves through it as he belongs here, because he does. The space bends around him without him asking it to. People step in, reach out, pull his attention in short bursts.
“Congratulations.”
“Proud of you, man.”
“Big moment.”
He nods, receives it, and answers with that same grounded energy that carried him on stage. Professional. Measured. Present. His smile comes when it needs to. His tone stays even. His posture never breaks.
But he’s distracted, not visibly, not enough for anyone else to call it out, not enough to disrupt the version of him the room expects. Still, it’s there. Because the second she walks in, everything else becomes background noise.
The red catches first, deep and rich, not loud but intentional, the kind of red that sits against her skin like it belongs there, like it was chosen with purpose. The dress fits her like it was made to be taken off slowly.
Backless.
The line of her spine is exposed, her brown skin smooth and glowing under the soft lighting, warm and rich in a way that catches and holds the light instead of reflecting it away. The dip of the fabric sits low enough to make it impossible not to follow the curve down with your eyes, the natural tone of her skin deepening where shadows settle along her back. Thin lace traces the edges, delicate but deliberate, soft against her skin in a way that makes you think about what it would feel like under your hands, under your mouth, how it would contrast against the warmth of her. It doesn’t try too hard. It doesn’t need to.
It clings where it should, shaping her waist, hugging her hips just enough to suggest without giving everything away. Then it loosens, falling along her legs in a way that moves when she moves, the fabric shifting with each step like it’s alive on her. It’s the kind of dress that makes you look once, then again, then longer than you meant to.
Ryan stills mid-conversation for just a second, but it’s enough. His eyes lock on her, and this time there’s no real restraint in it, not the kind he’s been holding onto all night. He hears the person in front of him, responds automatically, but his attention is gone.
On her.
The way her hair frames her face, soft and full, catching light at the edges. The way her shoulders sit relaxed, like she’s not trying to be seen but knows she will be anyway. The way the dress opens her back up like an invitation, he shouldn’t be reading in a room like this—but is. The way she moves is like she’s comfortable in her own skin, like she always is.
He moves before he thinks too hard about it, crossing the room with purpose, cutting through conversation and bodies without breaking stride. People reach for him again, try to pull him into something else, but he keeps it brief, keeps it moving, until he’s right in front of her.
Up close, it’s worse.
Better.
More dangerous.
The details hit harder, the warmth of her skin, the faint scent of her, soft and familiar, something that sits low and stays there, the way the lace edges the open back of her dress, close enough to touch.
“You look good, Justice,” Ryan says.
His voice is even, controlled, professional, the same tone he’s used all night. But his eyes don’t match it. They drag, slow and unapologetic, taking their time as they move from her face down the line of her neck, pausing where her pulse sits, then lower to the open curve of her back, tracing it without touching, memorizing it like he plans to come back to it later. Then back up again.
She notices. Of course she does.
“Thank you,” Justice says, calm and measured, her voice steady even as her breath shifts just slightly under his attention.
He steps closer, not enough to draw attention, just enough. Close enough that the space between them feels intentional. His hand settles at the small of her back, bare skin, warm, immediate. His palm fits there like it belongs, fingers spreading just slightly, his thumb pressing once, slow, like he’s confirming what he’s feeling is real and not something he imagined from across the room.
She inhales, sharp and quick, then steadies, shoulders relaxing back into his touch instead of away from it.
They stand angled away from the room, not hidden but not fully seen either, a pocket of space in the middle of everything carved out by proximity and intention, where the noise dulls just enough for something else to take over.
His head dips closer to hers, his mouth near her ear, close enough that she can feel his breath before he speaks.
“You really walked in here like that after I just won?” Ryan murmurs.
Low. Private. Different.
Her lips part slightly.
“Like what?” Justice says.
He doesn’t pull back. His voice drops further, rougher now, the edge of restraint wearing thin.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he says.
His hand shifts slightly lower on her back, not enough to cross a line but enough to make the intention clear, still controlled but not innocent.
“You got this whole room in red,” he continues, voice steady but heavier now, “and I’m supposed to stand here and act like I’m not thinking about putting my mouth on you?”
The bluntness lands, heavy and immediate, cutting through everything else.
Her breath catches before she can stop it, her body reacting faster than her composure can catch up. Her fingers tighten around the glass in her hand, condensation slick against her skin.
“You in public,” she says, quieter now, but not pulling away.
He huffs a low breath near her ear, something close to a laugh but not quite.
“Exactly,” Ryan replies. “That’s why I’m only saying it.”
His thumb drags once along her spine, slow and deliberate, a measured line of heat that starts at the base of her back and moves upward, subtle enough that no one else notices, strong enough that she feels it everywhere.
“And it’s taking everything in me not to do more than that,” he adds.
She shifts closer, barely, but enough, enough that her body lines up with his just a little more, enough that he feels the difference immediately, enough that he knows exactly what that movement means.
The room keeps moving around them, people laughing, music steady, voices overlapping, but right here everything’s already changing. The space between them is thinner, the air is heavier, and this time neither of them is pretending they don’t know exactly where it’s headed.
They don’t separate.
They should.
There are too many people, too many eyes, too much movement around them for this to be anything more than a moment that passes, something quick, something forgettable. But it doesn’t pass. It settles. It deepens.
His hand stays at her back, not shifting away, not loosening. If anything, it grows more certain, fingers spreading just slightly like he’s gotten used to the feel of her there and has no intention of letting it go yet. The warmth of her skin under his palm is steady, grounding, and it makes it harder to remember why he’s supposed to keep his distance in a room like this. His hand dips just slightly lower without permission, the movement small but intentional, hovering at the edge of where it shouldn’t go, like he’s testing himself. His fingers flex once, like he’s fighting the urge to grab her ass, to feel more of her than he should in a room full of people, and the restraint in that moment feels heavier than if he’d just done it.
Justice doesn’t step back.
That’s what changes it. Not the touch. Not the words.
Her choice to stay right where she is.
Her body angled into his instead of away, her breath still not fully steady, her chest rising just a little deeper now, her eyes lifting to meet his like she’s already decided something she hasn’t said out loud, like she’s not waiting for permission.
Ryan exhales slowly through his nose, gaze dropping to her mouth for just a second too long before pulling back up to her eyes. It lingers there, in that space between what he’s thinking and what he’s willing to say out loud.
“You doing that on purpose?” Ryan says.
His voice is quieter now, less public, more him.
Justice tilts her head slightly, studying him like she’s taking her time with the answer.
“Doing what?” she asks.
But there’s a softness in it now, a knowing, something that says she’s not confused at all.
His thumb moves again, slower this time, tracing a small line along her spine before settling lower at the base of her back. The movement is unhurried, intentional, like he’s testing how far he can go without breaking the version of himself he’s been holding onto all night.
“This,” Ryan says. “Standing this close like you not feeling what I’m doing.”
She inhales, slower now, letting it out through parted lips, her body giving her away before her words do.
“I feel it,” Justice says.
Honest. No performance. No hesitation.
That does something to him. You can see it in the way his jaw shifts, the way his shoulders square just slightly, like he’s holding himself in place instead of moving the way he wants to, like restraint is becoming a choice he’s actively losing interest in.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
The word lands more heavily now.
His hand slides just a fraction lower, still controlled, still careful, but not pretending anymore. The movement is small enough to go unnoticed by anyone else, but it pulls a quiet reaction out of her anyway, her body tightening before easing back into him, her hips pressing closer, her body almost fully against his now like she’s done pretending she needs space.
She feels it instantly, that low, heavy pull settling deep in her, warmth spreading in a way that makes her breathless this time. One of her hands comes up to his chest, fingers pressing into the fabric like she needs something to hold onto, while the other drifts lower, slower, stopping at his waist, hooking lightly at his belt.
Not crossing the line.
But right there.
Close enough to say exactly what she’s thinking without saying it out loud, close enough that he feels it and doesn’t move her hand away.
“You keep looking at me like that,” Ryan says, voice low near her ear again, his breath brushing warm against her skin, “I’m not staying in this room much longer.”
Her fingers curl lightly against his chest, pressing just enough to feel him there, not pushing him away, not quite pulling him closer, just holding him like she’s deciding how far she wants to go with this right now—and already leaning toward yes.
“You got a whole room waiting on you,” she says.
He lets out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and something more impatient.
“They’ll be aight,” Ryan says.
Simple. Certain. Like, none of that matters right now.
His forehead dips closer, not touching hers, but close enough that their space is shared now, breath mixing between them, the air thinner, heavier.
“You the only thing in here that got my attention right now,” he adds.
Justice studies him for a second longer than she should, eyes moving over his face like she’s checking something, confirming something, like she needs to see if he means it the way it sounds.
Then her hand slides up slightly, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, gripping just enough to wrinkle it.
Not subtle. Not accidental.
A choice.
Ryan’s hand tightens at her back in response, just once, his control thinning in real time, his body answering hers without hesitation.
“You tryna be good tonight?” he asks.
Her eyes stay on his, steady, certain.
Then she shakes her head just slightly.
“No,” Justice says.
Soft. Clear. No hesitation behind it.
Something shifts in his expression, something darker, more focused, his mouth pulling into a slow, knowing smirk like he’s finally done pretending he’s not about to give her exactly what she’s asking for. It’s there in his eyes, clear and unapologetic, like he’s already picturing where he’s about to take her, how quick he can get her somewhere quiet, somewhere private, somewhere he can bend her over without interruption and finally stop holding back.
Like he’s ready for whatever she’s on, and ready to take it further.
His hand presses more firmly into her back, pulling her just a little closer, enough that there’s no space left between them now, enough that the intention is clear even if no one else is paying attention, enough that she can feel exactly what she’s doing to him without him saying it out loud.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to her.
Then, quieter—
“Come on.”
It’s not a question.
His hand slides from her back to take her hand, firm but not rough, guiding instead of dragging, his grip steady like he already knows she’s going to follow.
And this time, she goes without hesitation.
No pause. No second thought.
The room keeps moving behind them, loud and unaware, people laughing, music steady, conversations overlapping, but they’re already stepping out of it, already leaving behind the version of themselves that belonged to everyone else.
And neither of them looks back.
One second they’re part of the room, part of the noise, part of the movement—and the next, they’re not. It happens so clean it almost looks intentional, like a scene change nobody clocks until it’s already done.
His hand stays wrapped around hers, firm, certain, guiding her through the crowd like he’s done being patient, like he’s done pretending this night belongs to anybody else. People try to catch him on the way out, a hand on his shoulder, a voice calling his name, but he keeps it brief, nodding, half-smiling, not stopping long enough for anything to stick.
He’s already gone.
And she feels it immediately.
In the way his grip tightens just slightly when someone steps too close.
In the way his fingers flex around hers like he needs to feel her there.
In the way he doesn’t look back.
In the way his pace doesn’t slow, not even once.
Justice follows without hesitation, her hand fitting into his like it’s supposed to be there, her heels steady against the floor as she keeps up with him, her eyes locked on him instead of the room they’re leaving behind.
Ryan Coogler the professional fades with every step.
And what’s left is just Ryan.
Focused.
Hungry.
Locked in on her.
The doors push open and the night air hits them, cooler, quieter, the sound of the party dulling the second it’s behind them. The noise fades into something distant, irrelevant. For a moment, it’s just the two of them on the sidewalk, city lights stretching out around them, the hum of traffic in the distance, the world continuing like nothing just shifted.
But something did.
He doesn’t stop walking.
His hand is still in hers as he leads her forward, toward the line of black cars waiting along the curb, his stride steady, purposeful, like he already knows exactly where this is going and how fast he wants to get there.
His other hand comes up to his tie.
Loosening it.
Slow at first.
Then pulling it free just enough to breathe.
Then more.
Justice watches it happen, her pace matching his, a slow smile pulling at her mouth, something amused and knowing in the way her eyes follow every movement. Because she sees it—the unraveling.
The control slipping in pieces.
The discipline loosening thread by thread.
The version of him he shows the world falling away the further they get from the building.
He glances back at her once.
And that look?
It’s not subtle.
It’s not careful.
It’s not professional.
It’s hungry.
“You got me fucked up walking in there like that,” Ryan mutters under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.
His voice is rougher now.
Lower.
Less filtered.
She lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh, her head tilting just slightly.
“Do I?” Justice says.
But she already knows the answer.
He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to collect himself and failing.
“Hell Yeah,” he says, low.
His fingers move from his tie to his shirt, tugging at the top button, popping it open, then another, like he needs the space, like the fabric suddenly feels too tight against his skin, like the version of himself he had on inside is suffocating him now.
He exhales.
Sharp.
Controlled.
And then, quieter, more direct—
“Can’t wait to get back inside you.”
The words land heavy.
Sitting between them, thick and undeniable.
Justice’s steps falter for half a second before she catches herself, heat rushing through her fast and deep, her body reacting before she can control it. Her smile doesn’t drop—it deepens.
“Ryan,” she murmurs, a warning that doesn’t sound like one, her tone softer but not stopping him.
He glances back again, slower this time, taking her in like he’s got time now—even though everything about him says he doesn’t. His eyes drag over her, down her body, then back up again, like he’s reminding himself what he’s about to have his hands on.
“You started this,” he says.
There’s a smirk there now.
Low.
Certain.
Confident in a way that says he’s already decided how this ends.
She raises a brow slightly, her gaze dragging over him the same way his did to her earlier, taking in the loosened tie, the open collar, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s walking like he’s holding himself back by a thread.
“And you about to finish it?” she asks.
Soft.
Teasing.
But not innocent.
He huffs a quiet breath.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “In every way you thinking.”
His grip on her hand tightens again, not rough, but firm enough to say he’s not letting her drift anywhere else.
The suv is right there now.
Black.
Waiting.
Driver nowhere in sight.
The door almost feels like a line.
Like once they cross it, there’s no going back to restraint.
He opens the back door without breaking stride, the motion smooth, practiced, but the look he gives her right after isn’t.
It’s the same look.
Heavy.
Direct.
Unapologetic.
Like he’s already picturing exactly what he’s about to do to her the second that door closes.
“Get in,” he says.
Not harsh.
Not loud.
But final.
Justice steps forward without hesitation, sliding into the back seat, the fabric of her dress shifting against her skin, the deep red catching the dim light one more time before she disappears inside, her body already angled like she knows exactly what’s about to happen next.
Ryan follows right behind her, closing the distance just as fast as he closed the space between them inside, the door shutting with a solid, quiet finality.
And just like that—
The outside world disappears.
The noise.
The people.
The expectations.
All of it gone.
And whatever restraint he had left? Is left outside on the curb.
The door shuts.
And everything changes.
The inside of the SUV is dim, wrapped in black on black, leather seats facing each other, wide and low like they were built for more than just sitting. The divider is up, sealing them off completely, thick and solid, cutting off any chance of interruption. The tint on the windows is so dark the outside world might as well not exist. No headlights bleeding in. No movement from the street. No reminder that anything else is happening beyond this space.
Just quiet. Just them. The air feels different in here. Closer. Heavier.
Like the moment they stepped inside, everything they were holding back got left outside with the noise of the party.
Ryan doesn’t move right away. He sits there for a second, shoulders rising and falling once, slow and controlled, like he’s collecting himself even now, even after everything that just happened outside. Like he’s giving himself one last chance to hold onto discipline.
It doesn’t last. Then he looks at her. Really looks. Not quick. Not distracted. Slow. Deliberate.
Taking his time in a way that feels more intimate than touch.
His eyes move over her like he’s memorizing her all over again, like he hasn’t seen her like this before—even though he has. The red of her dress against her brown skin looks deeper in this lighting, richer, her skin holding the low glow in a way that makes it look warm to the touch. His gaze lingers at the curve of her shoulders, the rise of her chest, the way her breathing hasn’t settled yet. Her lips are still slightly parted. Still catching up. Still reacting to him. And he sees all of it.
“You know what you got me thinking about?” Ryan says quietly, his eyes dropping to her mouth before dragging back up, voice lower, heavier. “Got me sitting here thinking about the way you’re pussy felt that first time… how it felt like home. How I ain’t been right since. Like I’m off whenever you not with me… and I’m supposed to keep it together? I need it everyday Peach.”
Justice exhales slowly, her chest rising under his gaze, her eyes holding his without hesitation, without softening what’s already there between them.
Their lips meet soft. Measured. The kind of kiss that starts like they’re still pretending they have time, like they’re still choosing patience, like this could stay controlled if they really wanted it to.
It can’t. His hand comes up to her jaw first, fingers warm against her skin, steady, grounding, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheek before sliding down to her neck, resting there just long enough to feel her pulse jump under his touch. It jumps fast. He notices. She breathes into it. Into him. The kiss deepens. Not rushed. But no longer careful.
His mouth presses firmer against hers, lips parting, breath breaking between them as the rhythm changes without either of them saying anything. It’s subtle at first, then undeniable. Her grip tightens. Pulls him closer. And that’s where it shifts. That’s where control starts slipping for real. Ryan’s hand slides from her neck down to her waist, slower now, deliberate, fingers spreading, gripping just enough to feel her there, to anchor her, to pull her closer until there’s no space left between them to pretend with.
He exhales against her mouth. Low. Unsteady. Then he moves. Not asking. Not hesitating.
The motion is fluid, seamless. Ryan’s hands grip her waist, the muscles in his arms tensing as he lifts her. There’s no awkward fumbling, no moment of uncertainty. He moves her like he’s done it a thousand times in his head, pulling her up and over until her knees sink into the leather on either side of his thighs. Her dress, already high on her legs, bunches further as she settles, the soft red fabric pooling around them. The first point of contact is electric. It’s not a question. It’s not an accident.
Her clothed pussy presses directly against the hard ridge of his dick straining against his trousers. The fabric of his pants is thin enough that she feels the heat of him, the solid, unyielding shape of his arousal, through the lace of her panties and the thin material of her dress.
A sharp, audible gasp tears from Justice’s throat, her back arching slightly at the sudden, overwhelming pressure. It’s a jolt, a circuit completing, and her body responds before her mind can catch up. Her hips rock forward, a slow, involuntary grind, seeking more of that friction, more of that perfect, agonizing pressure against her clit.
“Fuck,” Ryan groans against her mouth, the sound deep and guttural, vibrating through her. His head falls back for a second, hitting the soft leather of the seat with a soft thud, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on her waist tightens, fingers digging into her skin, holding her in place as she moves again. “You feel that, Peach? Feel what you do to me?”
She can’t answer. Words are gone, stolen by the sensation. All she can do is nod, her forehead dropping to his shoulder as she does it again. This time it’s not involuntary. It’s deliberate. A slow, circular roll of her hips that drags her pussy against his dick, sending a wave of wet heat through her. The friction is exquisite, a teasing promise of what’s to come. She can feel how wet she’s getting, can feel the dampness soaking through the lace of her panties, making the glide against the fabric of his pants smoother, slicker.
His hands move from her waist, sliding down to grip her ass, encouraging the movement. He pulls her down harder, grinding his own hips up to meet her, and the shift in angle hits so deep it pulls a sharp, blinding rush through her. The thick head of his dick presses right against her entrance, separated by two layers of fabric, and it’s almost enough to make her cum right there.
“Ryan,” she whimpers, his name a broken sound against his neck. Her hands are gripping the back of his braids, holding on for dear life as she finds a rhythm. It’s not fast, not yet. It’s a slow, torturous grind, a deep, primal dance in the dim light of the SUV. Each roll of her hips builds the tension higher, the friction building a fire low in her belly.
He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her. One of his hands leaves her ass, sliding up her back, under the fabric of her dress, his palm hot against her bare skin. He pulls her even closer, his mouth finding hers again in a messy, desperate kiss.
Their teeth clash, tongues tangling, breathing mixing in the heated space between them. He swallows her moans as she grinds against him, the movement becoming more frantic, more needy. The leather of the seat creaks softly under them, the only sound besides their ragged breaths and the wet slide of their mouths.
“Yeah, just like that,” he mutters, his voice a low growl against her lips. “Take what you need, baby. Ride my shit right here.”
His words are gasoline on a fire. Her movements become sharper, more focused, chasing the release that’s building inside her. The pressure is relentless, perfect, and she can feel him getting even harder under her, can feel the heat rising in his body too. They’re moving together, lost in it, sealed in their own private world where nothing else matters but the feeling of their bodies, the heat, and the desperate, undeniable need to have every piece of each other.
The frantic energy between them shifts, a gear changing from desperate to deliberate. Ryan’s hands, which had been gripping her ass with a possessive force, slow their roll. He breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy, his forehead resting against hers for a moment.
“Wait,” he murmurs, the word a low command. “Lay back, Peach.”
His hands guide her, strong and sure, helping her maneuver in the confined space. She moves with him, trusting the direction as he shifts, turning her so her back presses against the long leather seat. He follows her over, his body hovering, one hand braced on the seat back beside her head, the other still on her hip. He looks down at her, his eyes dark, the city lights outside catching in them for a second before his gaze drops, tracing the lines of her body.
His mouth trails along her neck, slower than she expects, like he’s taking his time on purpose. He starts at her pulse point, a soft, open-mouthed kiss that makes her shiver. He lingers there, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin before moving down, a path of heat along her collarbone
Her breath breaks as his hands move with more certainty, learning what makes her respond. One hand stays on her hip, a grounding weight, while the other slides up her side, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast through the fabric of her dress. She arches into the touch, a silent plea for more.
He doesn’t rush. He worships. His mouth continues its journey, down the valley between her breasts, his hands gathering the red fabric of her dress, slowly pulling it up. The air hits her exposed skin, cool against the heat blooming there. He pushes the dress past her hips, revealing the delicate black lace of her panties. He pauses, his eyes fixed on the sight, his breathing getting a little rougher.
“You feel how long I’ve been holding back?” he murmurs against her stomach, his lips brushing her skin. He’s not asking her. He’s telling her, reminding her of the control he’s exercising.
Her fingers tighten, pulling him closer instead of slowing him down. One hand slides into his hair again, the other grips his shoulder, her nails digging into the fabric of his jacket.
His attention is singular now. He hooks his fingers into the sides of her panties, the lace flimsy against his calloused skin. He pulls them down, slowly, inch by inch, his eyes following the path of the fabric as it reveals her. He lifts her legs one at a time to pull the panties off completely, discarding them onto the floor of the SUV without a second thought.
And then he settles between her thighs.
He doesn’t dive in. He looks. His gaze is intense, possessive, like he’s studying a masterpiece he owns. He spreads her legs wider, his hands gripping her thighs, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there.
“Look at you,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble. He’s not talking to her. He’s talking to her pussy. “Been thinking about this all night. All week. This pretty little thing right here.”
He leans in, and the first touch of his tongue is a shock. A slow, deliberate swipe from her entrance to her clit. It’s not a tease. It’s a statement. He groans against her, the sound vibrating through her core, a deep, appreciative noise of a man who’s been starving and just found his feast.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by her flesh. “Taste so fucking good. My favorite meal.”
He eats her like he’s making love to her with his mouth. There’s no rush, no frantic energy. It’s a slow, methodical, torturous pleasure. He uses the flat of his tongue to lap at her, broad strokes that cover every inch of her. He explores her folds, tasting her, learning her all over again. He finds her clit and circles it, slowly, softly, just enough to make her hips jerk, to make a whimper catch in her throat.
“Missed this taste,” he says, his lips brushing against her. “Knew I’d be back for it. This pussy always knows how to welcome me home, don’t it?”
He doesn’t use his fingers. He doesn’t need to. His mouth is his instrument, and he’s a master. He alternates between long, slow licks and focused, gentle sucks on her clit. He builds her up, higher and higher, a coil of tension tightening in her belly. Her hands are in his hair, her hips moving against his face, grinding, seeking more of that perfect, devastating pleasure.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my face,” he encourages, his voice a low growl. “Take it. It’s yours. All fucking yours.”
The praise, the dirty talk, the relentless, skilled movements of his tongue—it’s all too much. The coil inside her snaps. A cry tears from her lips as her orgasm crashes through her, sharp and overwhelming. Her thighs clamp around his head, her body arching off the seat as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. And then it happens. A gush of wetness, a release so intense it steals her breath. She squirts, soaking his face, and he doesn’t pull away.
He groans, a deep, guttural sound of pure satisfaction that’s swallowed by her flesh. He presses his face deeper, his tongue flattening against her to catch every drop. “There it is,” he growls, his voice muffled, thick with her essence. “That’s what I was waiting for. Give it to me, baby. All of it.”
He doesn’t just let it happen; he demands more. His tongue becomes more insistent, a firm, broad pressure against her pulsing clit as she shakes. “Fuck yeah, just like that,” he praises, his words vibrating through her overstimulated core. “Don’t hold back. I want to taste all of you. This is my reward. This is my fucking pussy gifting me what I earned.”
Her body is trembling, the aftershocks making her jerk against his mouth, but he holds her steady, his hands gripping her thighs, keeping her spread open for him. He laps at her, slow and deliberate now, cleaning her with his tongue, savoring the taste.
“Taste so fucking sweet when you cum for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, possessive rumble. “Like heaven. My own personal fountain. You hear that? That’s the sound of a pussy that’s happy to see me. That’s the sound of my pussy, showing out for her man.”
He places one last, soft kiss right on her clit, a gentle, almost reverent touch that makes her whimper. He pulls back just enough to look at her, his face shining, his lips swollen and glistening. His eyes are dark, feral, filled with a primal pride that makes her stomach clench all over again.
“Look at this mess you made,” he says, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, but his eyes never leave hers. “Marked my territory. Now every time you sit in the backseat of a car, you’re gonna remember how I had you shaking, how I made this pretty little pussy cry for me. That’s my juice, Peach. All mine.”
He doesn’t give her a moment to recover. He’s on his knees, grabbing her hips and flipping her over with effortless strength.
“On your knees,” he commands, his voice rough, thick with need.
She complies, her hands bracing against the leather seat, her ass in the air. He’s behind her in an instant, one knee planted on the seat, the other foot on the floor of the SUV for leverage. The sound of his belt buckle, the rasp of his zipper, is the only warning she gets before the blunt, hot head of his dick is nudging against her entrance.
He pushes in, slow at first, letting her feel every thick inch of him stretching her, filling her completely. They both groan at the sensation, the perfect, familiar fit.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he grunts, his hands gripping her hips. “Missed this tight little pussy.”
He starts to move, and the pace is immediately deep, powerful. He’s not holding back anymore. Each stroke is long, deliberate, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her vision blur. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the quiet SUV, a lewd, rhythmic beat.
“This my pussy, Justice?” he growls, his voice raw as he drives into her. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“It’s yours!” she cries out, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “It’s your pussy, Ryan!”
“Damn right,” he snarls, his rhythm picking up, becoming more forceful. “You better not ever think about giving my shit away. I’ll lose my fucking mind, you hear me? This pussy is mine. I’ll kill somebody over this pussy.”
The filthy, possessive words only turn her on more, making her wetter, making her take him deeper. She can feel another orgasm building, this one different, more intense. Just as she’s about to tip over the edge, he pulls out.
She whimpers at the loss, but he’s already flipping her over again, onto her back. He’s between her legs in a second, hooking them over his arms, spreading her wide. He slides back into her in one smooth, deep stroke.
He looks down at her, his face a mask of intense concentration and raw desire. And then he starts to move.
This isn’t the deep, steady rhythm from before. This is a pile drive. He fucks her hard, fast, relentless. The SUV is rocking with the force of his thrusts, the leather creaking in protest. He’s pounding into her, his hips snapping, his dick hitting her cervix with every powerful stroke.
“Say it again,” he demands, his voice a harsh pant. “Tell me it’s mine.”
“It’s yours!” she screams, her hands gripping his arms, her nails digging in. “Oh god, it’s yours! I’ll never give it away!”
“Who’s the king of this pussy?” he grunts, his rhythm never faltering, his body a machine built for her pleasure.
“You!” she moans, her eyes rolling back in her head. “You’re the king! You’re the king of my pussy!”
That’s it. That’s the trigger.
Her calling him his king sends him into a frenzy. A raw, guttural sound tears from his throat, and he fucks her harder than ever, a blur of motion and raw power. He’s chasing his own release now, his control completely shattered. He slams into her one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go, and his whole body tenses.
“Fuck!” he moans, the sound deep and broken as he buries his face in her neck. He cums hard, a hot, thick flood inside her, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
The feeling of him pulsing inside her, his deep moan in her ear, is what sends her over the edge. Her orgasm rips through her, even more intense than the first. Her body convulses, her pussy clamping down around him, milking him for every last drop as she screams his name.
They collapse together, a tangled, sweaty, breathless mess
The city moves outside like nothing happened. Lights streak past the tinted windows in soft blurs of gold and white, stretching and bending with the motion of the car, distant and muted, like it all belongs to a different world than the one they’re in. The hum of traffic is barely there, softened by the glass, by the distance, by the way everything outside feels irrelevant now.
Inside the SUV, everything is slower, quieter, heavier in a different way. Breath still uneven, but settling into something softer, something shared.
Ryan leans back against the leather, his body finally giving into the weight of the moment, one arm draped behind her, the other resting along her thigh. His hand moves in slow, absent circles, thumb brushing her skin like it’s second nature, like he’s not even thinking about it, like he just needs to feel her there to stay grounded.
Justice is tucked into him, her head resting against his shoulder, her body still warm, still loose, still carrying the aftershocks of everything that just passed between them. Her breathing is slower now, deeper, her chest rising and falling against him in a rhythm that’s starting to match his.
Her fingers trace along his chest lazily, following the open line of his shirt, brushing against his skin, then back again. It’s soft, unhurried, exploratory in a way that isn’t about heat anymore, but about staying close.
Neither of them rushes to speak. They don’t need to. The silence isn’t empty. It’s full—full of everything they just did, full of everything they didn’t have to say out loud, full of the understanding settling between them in a way that feels natural instead of new.
He shifts slightly, just enough to get more comfortable, his chin brushing the top of her head, his breath warm against her hair. His arm tightens around her just a little, a subtle pull that keeps her closer without making it a thing.
“You good?” Ryan asks.
His voice is lower now, not rough, not demanding, just checking, just making sure.
She smiles against him before she answers, the expression small but real, her eyes still half-lidded, her body relaxed in a way it wasn’t earlier, in a way that says she’s not holding anything back anymore.
“Yeah,” Justice says softly.
And she means it.
A pause settles between them, easy, unforced, stretching without pressure, without expectation—the kind that only comes when nothing feels uncertain anymore.
His hand slides a little higher along her thigh, slow and unhurried, his thumb tracing lazy patterns against her skin, like he’s memorizing the feel of her even though he already knows it.
“Worth the wait?” he murmurs.
There’s something quieter in that question. Not doubt. Not insecurity. Just truth looking for confirmation, just him asking her to meet him in it.
She lifts her head slightly, turning just enough to look at him—really look.
At the loosened tie still hanging around his neck. At the open collar of his shirt. At the way his skin still carries a sheen of heat. At the way his eyes are softer now, but still locked on her like she’s the only thing that matters in the space they’re in.
“You already know,” she says.
Her voice is steady, certain, no teasing in it this time, no deflection. Just fact. Just truth.
He holds her gaze for a second longer after she says it, something settling deeper in his expression, something quieter but just as real as everything that came before.
Then he exhales, a slow release of something heavier than breath, his hand sliding from her thigh to her back, pulling her closer into him, tucking her in like he’s not done with her yet.
Like he’s not planning to be.
Like this isn’t just a moment.
Outside, the city keeps moving, lights passing, time going forward, everything continuing like normal.
Inside, they stay right where they are, held in something slower, something heavier, something chosen.
And neither of them is thinking about leaving anytime soon.
AN: i hope y’all enjoy this bc i have been wanting to write something like this for a while. happy reading🫦
the air smelled faintly of pastries and coffee that was definitely scorched. bell chiming loudly whenever someone pushed in with too much purpose. in the back corner sat annie. same as always at midday on wednesdays. too late for morning classes and too early to be considered night.
today she was working on a two- day late assignment. she heavily debated staying in her dorm today but her body couldn’t rest. humming with the need to escape the four walls of her tiny dorm that she shared with a girl she didn’t really like.
here in her favorite nook of her favorite cafe, she found solace. all of the knowledge and words she had been storing was able to escape. from the confinement of her mind and onto the blank document.
annie was almost done, revising the final line of the analytical essay before hitting submit. instead of the immediate relief she usually felt, a pull weighed in her stomach. something rooted- deep and old. not a feeling of dread but of waiting. as if she could see the imaginary shoe waiting to drop. she had no patience for the unknown.
she slouches down, head resting on her forearms and takes a measured breath. the pull stretching over her whole body. setting her on edge, want overtaking her being. wanting to know what was ahead and how to prepare.
elijah wasn’t someone you could prepare for. his presence a synonym for commotion. not the loud kind. the kind that silently forces you to make room for it, whether you want to or not.
annie was about to unknowingly welcome it with open arms.
smoke saunters into the cafe casually. out of place since he usually frequents on tuesday. he had been on go since he woke up this morning. tingles traveling down his spine at 5:00 am football workouts.
stomach turning during his lectures. the unease was finally settling as he walks through the door of his favorite spot on campus. he orders his coffee black and tucks into the right corner.
breath hitching as he scans the room. eyes finding annie immediately. he’s seen her around before. rushing through the dining hall, nike slides slapping the floor like she was always in a rush. or quietly in the far side of the library, studying so late at night it should be illegal.
his heart speeds up the same way it does whenever he notices her from afar. palms getting sweaty. knees buckling. stack would have a field day if he could see him now. especially since elias has been told him to stop watching like a weirdo and make a move before annie peeps and files a report.
elijah wasn’t that smooth though. he had been silently pining and yearning. wishing he could know the girl who moved like she didn’t have enough time.
without thinking much longer, he moved across the store. sneakers tapping lightly against the slightly sticky tiled floor.
annie paused her quiet panic when she felt the chair that was previously brushing her knees move. she glanced up and felt the weight in her abdomen release.
across from her sat the boy she had felt watching her as she navigated through college. during her quiet nights spent in the library. eyes pressing into the back of her skull during her monday morning lecture.
she had been waiting, kinda impatiently if she was honest for him to approach. seeing him walk across the quad and on the flyers posted on bulletin boards were not doing him justice.
brown skin glowing even under the cheap florescent lights. fade freshly lined and waves crisp. just the way annie liked. her palms growing clammier the longer she stared deeply into his face.
“hi” she whispered, watching his lips twitch upwards. she hadn’t even said anything worth remembering yet, but smoke was already pocketing the moment in his heart.
“hey” the words came out a little shakier than he meant for them too. the nerves were getting the best of him again.
“i been waiting for you to come say something” annie smirked, confidence oozing out naturally. she could internally freak out later. she had to loop him in first.
“maybe i just needed the right moment” he smiled at her shyly.
they both knew exactly why their bodies had went haywire that morning. thank God for campus coffee shops.
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