Cam loves to hold you tightly afterwards. Nothing feels better to him than to softly caress your body. He likes to rub your back, thighs, and feet and give you the most tender massages. He’ll get a little nervous if you’re too quiet, though. His mind will spiral and think he wasn’t good enough to satisfy you.
b = 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 (favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)
He loves his arms, but only because you’re obsessed with them. He holds a strict workout routine so that he keeps his arms in shape for you. He especially likes it when you kiss his biceps as he pounds into you.
Cam adores every inch of your body, but his favorite body part of yours is obviously your titties. He loves groping them under your shirt from time to time. If y’all are watching a movie together then he’ll pull your top down to play with them. He likes to flick his tongue on your nipples to make you squirm.
c = 𝐜𝐮𝐦 (anything to do with cum, basically)
Every now and then, Cam likes to cum all over your face. It’s something about seeing you marked by him that drives him crazy. But for most of the time, he loves to cum deep inside of you. It’s a gentle reminder that he’ll always be apart of you no matter what. He’s dying to have kids one day, so he likes to keep you nice and filled.
d = 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (self explanatory)
He genuinely can’t get off without you being there with him. Nothing (and literally nothing) can make him cum whenever you aren’t around. It’s kind of sad, but deep down, he loves the fact that he’ll always need you.
Also, he keeps a pair of your underwear in his pocket sometimes. Whenever you’re gone, he sniffs them to keep your scent around.
e = 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s never felt the touch of a woman before he met you. You were his first everything. His first love, first kiss, first sexual encounter. He was an anxious mess when you finally let him touch you.
f = 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (self explanatory)
Missionary. Cam needs to look you deep in the eyes as he slowly drives himself into you. It’s his favorite position in the world since he’s able to look at the creamy, sticky mess you make around him. Those slow, tortuous strokes send butterflies up his spine.
g = 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (are they serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc)
His stomach might rumble due to the nerves and he’ll crack a few jokes about it. There might be moments where he keeps slipping out and he can’t stop laughing.
But if he’s serious then all of his focus and attention is on you. He specifically focuses on the way you clench around him while fucking you. He also hyper focuses on which angles make you squirm the most. Basically, anything that’ll give you the most pleasure is what satisfies him.
h = 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)
He’s a mess down there. He will only shave if you tell him to, but he’ll always keep his happy trail. A guilty pleasure of his is when he lets you pull at it for fun.
i = 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Slow love making sessions is Cam’s favorite thing to do with you. Most of the time, he just wants to be as close to you as possible. He makes sure that you always get your nut first at all times.
j = 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 (masturbation headcanon)
He’ll jerk off every once in a while, but nothing feels right when you’re not there with him. He’d rather have you there with him, stroking him nice and slowly.
k = 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 (one or more of their kinks)
Sensory deprivation is one of his guilty pleasures. Wearing a thick, tight blindfold makes everything tingly and sensitive for Cam.
Sparks flow throughout his body as you swirl your tongue over his tip. And best of all is when you slowly sink down on his dick. It’s pure torture since he can’t see your figure, but he feels your soft, spongy walls.
Cam likes to be choked too. He loves it when you choke the shit out of him while you’re on top. He knows you’re not gonna hurt him, but seeing you be the one with all the control just turns him on.
l = 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (favorite places to fuck)
Cam loves the fuck the shit out of you in his car. It’s something about almost getting caught that makes it more exciting for him. Nothing more sensual than steamy windows, sweaty bodies, and soft music playing in the background. The car rocking intensely as you bounce on his dick.
After the deed is done, Cam just likes to hold you as the music plays softly. Your sweaty, naked figures coming down from the intense experience.
m = 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (what turns them on/gets them going)
The most underrated thing in the world… Dry humping… The beautiful sight of your naked figure grinding on him through his sweatpants. His hard print sending shivers up your spine as it hits the perfect spot on your clit. The only problem Cam has with this is that he nuts too quick.
n = 𝐧𝐨 (something they wouldn’t do/turn off’s)
He’d never choke you… unless you beg him to. Other than that, anything involving biting or scratching is a big no.
o = 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (preference in giving or receiving, methods, techniques, etc.)
Cam is an eater. He’d eat you up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he were able to. His favorite thing ever is when you sit on his face.
Having his face between your legs is what turns him on the most. His soft tongue licking tiny circles on your clit. Eagerly moving his head up and down to taste your sweet juices. Wrapping his tongue around your clit and sucking so gently.
And he doesn’t stop until you’re practically kicking him off. He’s not stopping until he’s made you nut atleast three times.
p = 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)
Cam really enjoys taking his sweet time with you. He typically starts off with painfully slow strokes to warm you up. Just watching the way you squirm with each thrust until you start begging for him to go faster.
From that moment, he’ll pick up the pace and watch you become a quivering mess.
q = 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Cam hates them. He likes to take his time and enjoy each and every minute inside of you. But if he’s super needy, then he’ll do it.
He doesn’t care whether y’all are at a party, dinner, or an important event. He’ll quickly drag you to the bathroom and fuck you so hard. Your body bent over the sink as he fucks from behind. The two of you trying your absolute hardest not to make a sound, but you can’t help it. A moan will slip out and he’ll slap his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.
r = 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)
Hell yes. The riskier, the better. He’ll stick his thick fingers under your skirt if y’all are at a nice restaurant. He plunges his fingers so deep inside of you and watch your reaction. The way your legs clamp shut in fear as he curls his fingers. The way you try your hardest not to become a moaning mess. He wonders if you’re gonna make any noises that’ll get the both of you caught.
Other times, if he’s needy enough, he’ll fuck you while you’re on the phone. He doesn’t even care about who you’re talking to. He’ll continue to pound into you so deep until you start stuttering.
s = 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Two rounds and then Cam is completely tapped out. But you? You don’t care whether he’s worn out or half asleep. Ignoring his pathetic cries, you slowly insert his dick inside of you. He’s a whiny and twitchy mess as you ride him.
He’s not necessarily hard, but you still crave to get another nut from him. You ain’t stopping until he’s milked dry.
t = 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬 (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Cam likes vibrators and uses them as foreplay sometimes. He’ll plunge his fingers into you while holding the vibrator directly on your clit. He loves seeing you twitch, squirm, cry, and beg, but he’s never gonna let you cum.
u = 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (how much they love to tease)
Cam is kinda shy, so he’s not necessarily the one doing the teasing. He likes being teased by you, though.
v = 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not too loud during the act. Don’t get me wrong, he loves every minute of it, but he’s a little shy when it comes to moaning.
However, he does get loud whenever you give him a handjob. Your soft, dainty hands wrapped around his dick makes him so needy. The way you bring your strokes to a dangerously slow pace when you know he’s close. At this stage, Cam whimpers and begs you to let him cum.
Sometimes, you’ll be nice enough to let him cum. Other times, you completely stop right when he’s on the edge and force him to put his clothes back on. Seeing him unravel into a whiny, pathetic state is such a turn on.
w = 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 (random headcanon)
Cam likes to make sex tapes sometimes. He’ll pull his phone out to record you riding him, making sure to capture your wet, sticky juices as you bounce up and down.
You’ll take his phone to record him eating you out. His low, hooded eyes looking back up at the camera as he slowly sucks your clit.
There’s dozens of videos on his phone, but he has over 200 pictures of your naked figure in a hidden album. If you aren’t around, he’ll jerk off to some of your pictures. God forbid someone hacks his phone.
x = 𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 (another random headcanon)
He nearly nutted in his sweatpants when he saw you naked for the first time. He almost exploded when you slowly took your bra off and your plump tits spilled out so delicately. From that moment on, he’s been obsessed with every inch your body.
y = 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (how high is their sex drive?)
Cam needs you all the fucking time. He can’t function or go anywhere without touching you in some way.
He’ll show you all the signs that he wants to fuck. Placing his hand on your inner thigh. Rubbing tiny circles on your clothed nipple. Leaving hickies in the most noticeable spots until you finally give in.
z = 𝐳𝐳𝐳 (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He’ll get drowsy sometimes, but if you milk him dry then he’ll be knocked out.
taking care of michael, who is utterly exhausted but still wants to be ridden and touched. wc: 460
slow/sleepy sex , riding , handjob , dom!reader(?)
had this idea while laying in bed with a migraine.. tired asf.. (ooohhh maybe I’ll create a fluff fic that includes mj or reader experiencing a bad migraine👀??) anyways, enjoy !
the room was dimly lit by candles. a gentle amber glow danced against the walls and soft shadows blended into dark corners.
the bed dipped as you placed your knee closer to michael's stretched out thigh, adjusting your position so that you could lean forward while using you hand to pump his hard and lengthy dick up and down at a steady pace.
the bedroom was quiet except for the wet sound of michael's precum as you jerked him off. as well as the occasional soft, deep rooted groans and whines, and the moist sounds of lips on skin.
michael was laying down, pillows bunched up beneath his head. strands of disheveled curls sprayed across the pillows, some strands falling into his face. you sat in between michael's legs, running a hand slowly up and down his thigh in a soothing motion while using your other hand to stroke his dick.
the pace of the night was very, very slow. and perhaps it was better this way because michael was very, very tired. he had a both physically and mentally demanding day. you knew this from the way his shoulders and eyes were heavy when he came back earlier. yet despite that exhaustion, he still kissed you into the mattress and roamed his hands all over your body. that was when you had suggested taking care of him for one night.
michael let out a moan from beneath you— a small, involuntary cry that sounded closer to a whine than anything. you kept your pace steady and gentle, leaning forward to place tender kisses on his neck and chest. michael hummed softly as you did so, eyes lidded as he watched you from underneath long lashes.
you laughed softly at his expression, "sorry, baby. I know you're tired." you said, taking your hand off of his dick and moving up more to cradle him and line yourself up with him. michael places his hands on your waist, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circle similar to the way that you were rubbing his thigh.
having been prepared already, you sunk down onto his dick gently and smoothly, letting out a choked out gasp once you took him fully. michael sucked in a breath, letting out a small curse.
"..god, you feel s'good, mama." he sighed out. his eyes fluttered closed in a way that you couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or if he was genuinely falling asleep with his dick in you but you quickly begin to move. he groaned, eyes opening again just to watch you bounce up and down with growing desperation.
"fuck, you feel so good, mike.. s-so fuckin' good. ah!" you jerked, curses spilling from your lips with every inch swallowed into your wet pussy….
contains: pregnant wife!reader, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of baran's son (i gave him the name cyrus), pure fluff, this can be seen as a part two to juno.
a/n: i'm trying out a new text generator and i'm not sure if i like it yet, but i hope you all enjoy!! also please ignore the time stamps!!
Summary: You are an up-and-coming actress attending your boyfriend Garrett Graham’s Briar University hockey game for the first time, finally proving to his skeptical teammates that your relationship is real.
You adjusted the oversized sunglasses on your face, pulling the brim of your baseball cap a little lower as you stepped out of the tinted SUV. The arena parking lot buzzed with college students in Briar University colors, blue, red and white everywhere. Your heart hammered against your ribs, not from the crowd, but from the knowledge that tonight was the night Garrett’s friends finally stopped thinking he was full of shit.
For four months straight, Garrett Graham had been telling his teammates he was dating you. The upcoming actress who had just wrapped a supporting role in a major streaming series and landed a lead in an indie film making the festival circuit. A Black woman with a growing name, curves that made red carpets dangerous, and a smile that lit up screens. His boys laughed every time. Logan especially. “Bro, if you’re pulling a famous actress, I’m the starting goalie for the Rangers,” he had said last week over FaceTime while you were cuddled against Garrett’s chest in his off-campus apartment, trying not to laugh.
Garrett had just smirked, kissed your forehead, and said, “Wait till you see her at the game.”
Now here you were.
You wore a fitted Briar hockey hoodie, Garrett’s of course, with his last name and number stitched on the back, dark wash jeans that hugged your hips, and limited-edition sneakers. Your braids were pulled into a high ponytail with red ribbons threaded through them, matching the team. Minimal makeup, but enough to glow under arena lights. You wanted to look like you belonged to him, not like you were here for cameras.
Security recognized you immediately. A quiet word, a nod, and you were escorted through a side entrance toward the family and friends section near the glass. The arena was filling fast. Students chanted, music thumped through the speakers, and the scent of popcorn and ice filled the air.
You spotted them before they spotted you.
Garrett’s crew was in the front row of the friends section: Logan, Dean, Tucker, and a few other guys from the team. They were laughing about something, probably roasting Garrett again. Your man was on the ice already, warming up. Even from a distance, his broad shoulders and powerful strides made your stomach flip. Number 44. Yours.
You took a breath and walked down the steps.
Logan noticed first. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he took in the hoodie. “No fucking way.”
Dean turned. His jaw actually dropped. “Holy shit.”
Tucker blinked like he was seeing a hallucination. “Graham wasn’t lying? That’s her?”
You smiled, a little shy but mostly amused, and gave them a small wave. “Hi. I’m…”
“Baby!”
Garrett’s voice cut through the noise. He had spotted you from the ice and was skating full speed toward the boards, helmet off, dark hair messy with sweat already. The grin on his face was pure sunshine, wide, unfiltered, the kind he only wore when it was just the two of you in his bed or when he scored a goal. He reached the glass, yanked off a glove, and pressed his bare hand to it.
You mirrored him, palm to palm through the clear barrier. “Hi, superstar.”
His eyes, those gorgeous blue-green ones, drank you in. “You came. Fuck, you look good in my number.”
“Always do,” you teased.
He leaned in as close as the glass allowed. “Kiss me when I come out after warm-ups. I want everyone to see.”
You laughed softly. “Possessive much?”
“Very. Especially when my idiot friends thought I was catfishing them with Photoshop for four months.”
Behind you, Logan was still staring. “This is insane. Garrett Graham bagged a movie star. I need to reevaluate my entire life.”
You turned slightly and offered them a warmer smile. “Nice to finally meet you guys in person. Garrett talks about you constantly. Logan, Dean, Tucker, right?”
Dean recovered first, flashing his trademark charming grin. “In the flesh. And you’re really… wow. I mean, respectfully, damn.”
Tucker elbowed him. “Smooth, Di Laurentis. Real smooth.”
You chatted with them for a few minutes, light, easy banter. They asked about your latest project, the indie film premiering next month, whether the rumors about a big franchise audition were true (they were not… yet), and how the hell Garrett managed to keep you a secret for so long. You told them the truth: it was not a secret, not really. Just private. You both wanted something real before the spotlight got too bright. Four solid months of stolen weekends, late-night calls from sets, and quiet nights in his apartment had made it feel even more precious.
Then the buzzer sounded for the end of warm-ups.
Garrett came barreling off the ice like a man on a mission. He barely stopped to hand off his stick before he was through the tunnel and into the friends section, still in full gear except for the helmet and gloves. His cheeks were flushed from exertion, eyes locked on you like you were the only person in the arena.
He did not hesitate.
Garrett’s big hands cupped your face, calloused from years of hockey, and he kissed you like he had been waiting years instead of hours. Deep, hungry, a little possessive. His mouth moved against yours with that perfect mix of softness and heat that always left you breathless. One hand slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against his padded chest. The team hoodie bunched under his grip.
Catcalls erupted from his friends.
“Get a room, Graham!”
“Jesus Christ, he wasn’t lying!”
You smiled into the kiss, then pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his. “Missed you.”
“Missed you more,” he murmured. His thumb brushed your cheek. “You good? Crowd’s not too much?”
“I’m perfect. Go win the game so I can kiss you again later without all the gear in the way.”
His grin turned wicked. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
He kissed you once more, quicker this time, then turned to his stunned teammates. “Told you assholes. This is my girl. Y/N. Actress. Smart as hell. Way out of my league. Be nice or I’ll check you into the boards myself.”
Logan stepped forward first, offering a hand. “Logan. Huge fan of your work. Also, sorry for calling Garrett a delusional liar for four months.”
You shook it, laughing. “Apology accepted. He said you’re the one who can actually keep up with him on the ice.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Logan winked.
Dean introduced himself with a dramatic bow. “Dean Di Laurentis. Resident pretty boy. If Graham fucks up, you know who to call.”
Garrett shoved him. “Back off.”
You giggled. Tucker was next, more chill, genuine smile. The rest of the guys on the periphery stared like you were an alien. A couple asked for pictures “for the group chat to prove this is real,” and you obliged, laughing the whole time. No paparazzi here, just college kids and hockey players geeking out.
Garrett stayed close, arm around your shoulders even in his pads, until the coach yelled for the team to get back. He kissed your temple. “Root for me.”
“Always.”
The game was electric. Briar dominated from the first period. Garrett played like a man possessed, two assists and a gorgeous goal in the second where he deked out two defenders and sniped it top shelf. Every time he looked toward your section, he pointed his stick at you. You cheered louder than anyone, braids swinging, voice hoarse by the end of the second period.
By the final buzzer, it was 5-1. The arena erupted.
You waited with the other friends and WAGs near the locker room area. When Garrett emerged, freshly showered, hair damp, wearing a hoodie and sweats, he made a beeline straight for you again. This time the kiss was slower, sweeter, his hands sliding under your hoodie to rest on the bare skin of your lower back.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you in the stands,” he said against your lips. “Best motivator.”
His friends piled out behind him, still buzzing from the win. Someone suggested heading back to the off-campus house for beers and pizza. Garrett looked at you for confirmation.
“I’m in,” you said. “As long as no one asks me to do any celebrity impressions.”
“No promises,” Dean grinned.
The house was loud and chaotic in the best way. Music thumped. Pizza boxes covered the coffee table. You sat on Garrett’s lap on the big couch, his arms wrapped around your waist like he still could not believe you were here. His chin rested on your shoulder as he listened to the guys retell the best plays of the game.
Logan dropped into the armchair across from you, nursing a beer. “Okay, real talk. How did this even happen? Garrett’s not exactly Hollywood material.”
Garrett flipped him off without looking away from you.
You smiled, threading your fingers through his. “We met at a charity event last summer. Some hockey foundation thing in LA. I was there because my manager made me. He was there because… well, he’s Garrett Graham. We talked all night. He did not ask for a picture or an autograph. Just wanted to know what books I was reading and if I liked hockey. Four months later and I still cannot get enough of him.”
“Corny,” Dean declared. “I love it.”
Tucker raised his beer. “To Garrett finally having taste.”
Laughter filled the room. You leaned back into Garrett’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His hand slipped under your hoodie again, tracing lazy circles on your stomach. Innocent enough for company, but the occasional squeeze promised more later.
Hours passed in easy conversation. The guys asked smart questions about acting, how you prepped for emotional scenes, what it was like working with certain directors. You asked them about hockey strategy, about their seasons, about what it was like playing for Briar. Logan and Garrett got into a heated but friendly debate about who took the better shot in the third period. You mediated with kisses to Garrett’s jaw until he melted and conceded.
Eventually the crowd thinned. People headed to bedrooms or other parties. Dean disappeared with a girl who had been eyeing him all night. Tucker and Logan stayed up a little longer, but even they tapped out around 1 a.m.
You and Garrett retreated to his room.
The second the door closed, he had you against it. Not rough, just eager. His mouth found yours, hands roaming like he had been starving for this since the kiss at the glass.
“Been wanting to do this since I saw you in my hoodie,” he murmured, voice low. He lifted you effortlessly, hockey players and their strength, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Fuck, baby. You have no idea what you do to me.”
You tugged at his hair, smiling. “Pretty sure I do. You scored that goal for me, did not you?”
“Every goal’s for you now.” He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently, crawling over you. His eyes traced your face like he was memorizing every detail. “I’m so fucking proud of you. All this success coming your way and you still showed up for my dumb college game after four months of putting up with my schedule.”
“It’s not dumb,” you whispered, pulling him down for another kiss. “It’s important to you. That makes it important to me.”
Clothes came off slowly. His hoodie first, yours technically, then his shirt. You took your time exploring the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs earned from endless practices. He worshipped every inch of your skin, murmuring how beautiful you were, how lucky he was, how he could not believe his friends finally saw you with their own eyes.
When he finally slid inside you, it was slow and deep. You gasped his name, nails digging into his back. He moved like he had all night, rolling his hips, whispering praise against your neck. “My girl. So perfect. Love you like this.”
You came first, trembling beneath him. He followed soon after, groaning your name like a prayer.
Afterward, you lay tangled together. His fingers played with your braids while you traced patterns on his chest.
“They like you,” he said softly. “Not that I doubted it. But Logan already texted me saying you’re way too good for me.”
You laughed. “Tell him I said he’s right.”
Garrett pinched your side, making you squeal. “Traitor.”
You snuggled closer. “I’m keeping you anyway. Famous actress or not, this, us, is my favorite role.”
He kissed the top of your head. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go. Not ever.”
Outside, the off-campus house settled into quiet. Inside Garrett’s room, the world felt small and perfect. Just you, your hockey player, and the future stretching out like an open script, full of possibility, love, and maybe a few more surprise appearances. said softly
venting your frustrations to your neighbor after a wellness check turns near fatal.
black!fem, plus size reader (it comes up later), plug!sukuna, they’re not together but they act like a married couple lmao, humor to angst to fluff, medical conditions, mentions of fatphobia + medical racism, arguing (he ends up apologizing ofc), reader ends up crying, comfort, happy ending, no smut in this, just some kissing and hugging (I’ll be doing a part two tho so god bless)
wc: 2.1K
I was in my feelings when I wrote this and needed a somewhat productive way to channel it. This is a tiny bit self indulgent but this is part of the lore of reader’s story. For once, I’m not horny posting so all you supposed fluff lovers complaining in the tags better run this up.
“For the love of God and everything great, Ryomen Sukuna…will you please go the fuck home?!”
“Yeah, I sure will. When I good and damn well feel like it. Now stop asking that dumb ass question before you piss me off.”
It had been the exact same tone and mood set in that apartment for three days….tense, irritable and downright miserable. A stark difference from the laughs and light, airy atmosphere that usually filled it. Those mauve colored walls and bubblegum pink decorations seemed to fade into a dull gray. Hell, it’s how the entire world seemed at the moment…just empty and void of all happiness. Hence why the two people housed inside couldn’t stop lunging at one another’s throats…
“Speaking of ass, it’s been three days since you’ve moved off of this couch. Why don’t you go wash and quit stinking up my house?”
“Yeah, it’s just ripe enough for you to kiss it. Like I said, you can stop bothering me and throwing your goddamn hissy fit. I’m not going anywhere. Seeing as how you can’t be left to your own devices.”
The words read more like an insult rather than a serious statement. But truth be told, he wasn’t joking…in fact, nothing about this entire situation was a game to him. Because just three days ago, it was a rather bleak scene taking place in this very living room…one that neither of you wanted to relive or even discuss. But it was necessary if you ever wanted to clear the air or stop feeling as though you wanted to strangle one another!
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember asking you or anyone else to concern themselves with me. I’m fine, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself—“
Just as the words left your mouth, you’d be hit with an unbearable pain in the left side of your chest and the device attached to it would begin flashing. Immediately, Ryomen would jump up from the couch and rush to your side…
“(Y/N)! What’s wrong?—“
…only to be met with rejection and a swatting hand. However, it didn’t phase him. He didn’t take any of your vitriol or anger personally. Because he knew that mentally, you were at your breaking point. As well as physically….the truth of the matter was, you were dealing with a serious heart condition that had been brought on by what could only be described as ‘years of compounding stress and unhealthy habits.’ Not so much in the sense of consuming fatty foods or caffeine. But instead, absorbing people’s bullshit…people pleasing and running yourself ragged for other people’s gain. Only to be left with the possibility of open heart surgery at the tender age of your mid twenties. Even so, if Ryomen had anything to say about it, he wasn’t going to sit here and watch you put yourself into an early grave!
“See?! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You and that stubborn ass attitude…you don’t want anyone to help you and for what?”
“Exactly. For what? For it to be thrown back in my face later on? For you to control me like I’m some impotent fucking child? I think not. I’ve fought too hard to be self-sufficient and I’m not going back..”
Once the words left your mouth, it all made a little more sense to your neighbor. He’d never been much in the way of understanding the complexities that were human emotions. If he was being completely honest, he never gave much of a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own. But somehow, after almost a year of being in your life, that sentiment had almost flipped. You gave him something worth caring about and when you managed to open up to him about your journey from leaving what sounded like nothing short of a religious cult to being in your own space, he understood why you felt the way you did ... .why you didn’t want to have to answer to anyone. Coming from a background that rewarded suffering and hyperindepence. As long as it was in service to the men and supposedly God himself. You were taught to want or ask for nothing and if a time ever came like this one, for example. Where you required medical assistance…rather than being met with kindness, empathy and grace, you were met with shame and impatience. Often being told that you were taking away from the Lord. Which was really code for ‘you’re not serving these false prophets and perverts so you’re useless.’
Truthfully, the more he learned about it, the more Ryomen began to despise God for allowing you to be in such a situation. He understood that deconstructing you from this mentality was going to require a lot of time and patience, and he was willing to give you as much space as you desired…but he couldn’t be vexed right now. Not when your very life was at stake…
“And I guess throwing it all away and dying alone in the middle of your living room would be a more dignified way to go, right? You’re a damn fool if I’ve ever heard one.”
The words stung like bees to exposed flesh and you’d release a sharp gasp, followed by a nasty scowl as you scooted away from him. But he didn’t care if it hurt your feelings. It was the truth and you needed to hear it before it was too late.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was? How helpless I felt seeing you lying on this floor, barely conscious and in pain?….(y/n), I thought you were going to die. I wasn’t thinking about whether or not I was overstepping boundaries or undermining you because the only thing on my mind was what I’d do if you were gone.”
Amidst his confession, you’d see the glare in his eyes soften. There was a lot more to the story than you’d been previously told as well…he remained right beside you from the time you exited the ambulance until the day you left the hospital, a week and a half later. He’d learn that you had been born with a congenital heart disease that had been left undiagnosed or untreated due to lack of care in that hellscape. It'd never reared its ugly head until now. Which in a way, made Ryo thankful. Because he was positive those clowns would’ve let you die. It had been exacerbated by years of worry and turmoil. Now that you were on your own, you were burdened by the everyday responsibilities of paying bills, cleaning, working two jobs and trying to pursue a formal education. Not to mention the daily chores that never end and running off of caffeine to sustain.
As you lay nearly comatose for two days, sedated on medication…he washed you off, styled your hair with the help of a nurse, kept your room clean and tidy and even questioned the nurses on what he could do to help you once you came home. Hell, he even risked getting banned and arrested after a PA implied that this condition was the result of you being overweight and that you may have even been faking it in hopes of getting medication because that’s what “they” all did. All but catching the guy leaving the parking lot after work and threatening to beat him into a permanent slumber if he ever spoke about you in such a manner again.
Even when you awoke, he was there…spoon feeding you meals and doing everything in his power to make you comfortable. You’d notice that his eyes had been puffy and bloodshot. From a combination of insufficient sleep and excess crying…something he’d never let you know in a million years! Nonetheless, he showed up for you without any ulterior motive or agenda. He just wanted you to heal and be healthy.
“I don’t give a damn if you push, kick or slap me away. I’m not going to leave you to suffer alone. You’ve done that far long enough…
That very sentence caused your entire mind to spin. Your now widened gaze met his and he’d reach over to grasp your hands, hoping that you believed him.
“…and there isn’t a single thing I want to take. Not your independence, not your place or this life you’ve built for yourself. If anything, I salute you on how hard you’ve worked. I just want to do everything I can to make it easier. Even if it sounds like bullshit and every man before has hooked you on some false sense of hope. You don’t have to believe a word I say…but I will not let you waste away just for you to feel vindicated.”
In that moment, it was as if something inside of you just broke. You’d been so blinded by your need to prove people wrong and make it of your own accord, that you didn’t realize that you still needed community. You still needed people around and all Ryo wanted was to be a safe space. Someone you could depend on anytime. All of the things he’d done for you thus far never came with a condition. Which in his position and line of work, could be made possible very easily. Just then, your harsh gaze melted into a pout and eventually a well of tears.
“Don’t cry—look, I’m sorry—“
But there wasn’t anything he needed to apologize for. It was you that had been unreasonable this entire time…
“No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry…I’ve just been working so hard not to fail. Not to have to go back home and face the shame of not being able to make it on my own that I didn’t realize I was neglecting myself. And I pushed you away like a fucking idiot because I thought you’d be just like all the others…I hope you can forgive me, Ryo. I’ve been really stupid.”
Little did you know, he couldn’t stay mad at you even if you set his car on fire and robbed him blind. At this point, he was so madly in love, you could do no wrong in his eyes…all he wanted was to care for you in a way that may have felt foreign now but would soon become so familiar, you won’t remember a thing about the past. Reaching over as you both sat on the floor, he’d extend those long, toned, tattooed arms and cradle you in an embrace.
“Shut up…I couldn’t do anything less than love you…even if sometimes you give me the urge to bite through the drywall.” Playfully teasing you. Alas though, he meant every word.
“But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’ll protect you no matter what and anything you need, I’ll make it happen. Just promise me you’ll stop being a brat and let me be that for you..”
“Of course I will…I love you and I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done.”
With the quarrel coming to an end and the two of you making amends, it would seem that everything was going to be just fine. You’d have to learn to navigate life with this new diagnosis but fortunately, you didn’t need to struggle by your lonesome. You had the best support a girl could ask for.
Cupping those plush cheeks into his much larger palms, Ryo placed a kiss atop your forehead before moving to your mouth, where he’d allow your tongues to clash. Turning the tender moment into a steamy makeout session.
“Y’know, I think I have a good way to help alleviate that heart problem of yours…it’ll knock that stress right out.”
“I think you mean it’ll spike my heart rate.”
Immediately breaking into a smirk, he’d merely stand to his feet and scoop you into his grasp right after. His ability to make you feel absolutely weightless in his arms was not only a testament to his strength but his affection for you as well. A perfect analogy to how he’d always uplift you even when everything felt heavy.
“Eh..let’s call it cardio. We can get a good workout.”
You’ve known each other since diapers—best friends for as long as either of you can remember. But now?
The signs are starting to show. They're there, light and sweet, innocent like an angel and clear as a crystal ball, but did either of you step up to say anything about it? No, not really.
If anything y'all just let it fester and fester and fester....until one day, San stopped pretending.
It started with unwavering eye contact, steady and unbothered, eyes bright with admiration he didn't bother hiding. Shamelessly, he wasn't afraid to check you out, assuring you a dozen times a day that you look beautiful despite your doubts and insecurities.
When you drift off in thought, he’d gently grip your chin to bring you back to him, waiting until your eyes meet his before giving you that small, dimpled smirk that always make your stomach twist.
Small ministrations like flicking a lash from your cheek. Wiping the excess gloss from the corner of your lip. Rubbing at your knee. Buying things that catch your eye. Cooking for you. Taking care of you without any of it being unwarranted made you realize just how attentive he really was.
But physically? He's touch starved king. He doesn't mean to be, but with you? It's kinda hard not.
Light brushes along your fingertips turned into holding hands. Holding hands turned into you looping your arm through his in crowded or unknown places. From wrapping his arm around your shoulder with you curled into him then came the hand at your lower back, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin.
At some point, keeping you close led to him holding you possessively, loving the warmth he radiates through your soul.
Late night texts became late night calls. Calls that became him wanting to see your face, hearing your voice, falling asleep to the sound of you breathing. “I wish you were here” became code for cuddles… and maybe a few soft, stolen kisses.
All those small things built into something undeniable, eventually made his feelings slip out naturally—nothing grand, just him asking hypothetical questions that were a little too specific, a little too revealing, all of them rooted in the quiet wants he’d been carrying.
And when he paused to think about your answers, you nudged him with your shoulder and teased, “So… are you gonna ask me out properly or what?”
San smirked, eyes flicking to you. “I don’t know… I have to think about it.”
You stared at him, offended and confused. “What? What do you mean you have to think about it? You ask me all these questions just to say you have to think about it?”
He only laughed, finishing his ice cream cone. After brushing the dust off his hands, he leans back on them. His legs swung lazily off the ledge as he stared off into the distance, city lights shimmering across the way.
“Saaaan~” you whined, impatience creeping in. “Just say it already.”
This time, when he looks at you, the teasing drops. His voice softens and his eyes are sincere.
“Will you go out with me? For real this time?"
“Of course I will.” you answer truthfully.
Silence settled between you for a moment before you asked, quieter, “Why'd it take you so long to say anything?”
He thought about it, then shrugged lightly. “I wanted the timing to feel right. I didn’t want to rush it or make it weird. I wanted it to be… smooth.”
You smiled at his consideration, understanding completely the more you pondered on it. Reaching up, you gently pinched at his cheek. “You’re so sweet, Sannie.” You then leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.
When you pulled back, he was all shy smiles, head ducked, grinning like a high school boy who finally confessed to his crush.
“Yeah,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “I know.”
Description: ( unedited af ) You and Stack have been in love for what feels like forever, but neither of you has had the courage to speak up. Stack is convinced that your heart belongs to Smoke, and as for Smoke? He’s exhausted from trying to show you both that the love you seek is right in front of you.
Word count.: 3,852
A/n: this was originally one part, but I thought it’s a break it up into two because when I tell you, it’s getting a longer and longer 😭 I don’t wanna rush the way I want it to end but the way I’m craving these Sinners fic and I know some of y’all are too. I thought it would be nice to drop it now. Couldn’t contain my own excitement 😂
Part 2 - What I Should’ve Said
Enjoy ! 🩷
As soon as you stepped off the train, a smile broke across your face. The familiar sights and sounds of home wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You were excited to finally be back, but a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach at the thought of seeing your sister for the first time in ages. Yes, you guys had written to each other, and she had tore your ass a new one in a few of them letters back home bout to running off with the twins without a word. Nevertheless, you knew regardless of how upset she may be with you, she’d always welcome you home with open arms. You missed your sister. You also missed the twins, who you were eager to reunite with. It had been almost a year since you’d all been together, and just thinkin' about Stack made your pulse quicken.
Steppin' aside so other boarding the train would have access to the front door, you made your way toward the center of the station, your eyes scanning the crowd. You were sure Stack knew you was comin' at this time, so you had a feelin' he’d be lurkin' around here somewhere. Just then, you heard it—a voice that sent a thrill of nostalgia through you. You turned around, curiosity piqued, and there he was, front and center.
But your heart sank a little when you noticed the woman standin’ in front of him. Fair-skinned and confident, she had that undeniable charm—Mary. Of course she would find him, you thought bitterly.
You watched as Stack’s gaze followed her, a solemn look crossing his face as she walked away. You should’ve known he’d seek her out the moment he arrived. You’d bet money he could find her in a crowed room, without fail.
You loathed Mary.
It wasn’t a secret. You couldn’t stand her presence and that gnawed at you deep down. It wasn’t just jealousy; it was that gut-wrenching belief that Stack cared for her more than he did for you. He looked out for her in a way that was different from how he looked out for you. The attention he gave her was the kind you had secretly longed for, and judging by the way he stood there, it seemed nothin' had changed.
Oh, how wrong you were.
“Old habits die hard, huh, Stack?” you snarked from behind him, the playful edge in your voice barely masking the hurt you felt.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes in resignation. He knew he was caught.
He didn’t even have to turn around to know it was you. Stack could tell by the sound of your voice that you was pissed, especially with the faux sugary sweet smile you wore when he finally faced you. That, and when you were at him, it was the only time you called him Stack and not Elias.
Turning around to face you he could barely contain the smile that wanted to break out.
It had been a year since the two of you had seen each other, but for him, it felt like a lifetime. For six years, y’all had traveled the world together. You had taken care of him and Smoke, watchin' their backs, makin' sure he stayed outta trouble. You had put up with his antics for so long, and he’d never understood why you stuck by his side. That was until you decided it was time to carve out your own path, to prove you could stand on your own.
So you left them. You left him. You promised to return within a year or come runnin' if he called.
But Stack didn’t call.
He figured you didn’t want him to. Not really. A part of him was upset with you for abandoning him. He knew Smoke had written to you a few times, and he tried not to let the green-eyed monster show. Smoke would tell him when he received a letter, sometimes even havin' one for him too. Stack never wrote back, but he always read the ones you sent for him. Several times in fact. He wanted to know how you were, what you had been up to, even if he fronted like he didn’t care. You were miles away and all he wanted was you near..
And now you were back, standing right in front of him, looking as breathtaking as ever. The sun-kissed brown skin of yours practically glowed in the light. The apples of your cheeks rounded as you smiled, dimples showing, and the curves of your hips called out to him as he admired your frame in the flowy yellow dress you wore. It reminded him of your favorite flower, magnolias, and coincidentally, yellow was his favorite color on you too.
You were home for him, and you didn’t even know it.
“It wasn’t even like that, Bam,” he said, tryin' to brush off the tension and butter you up with the nickname he gave you.
“It never is, is it, Stack?” you shot back, crossin' your arms, though a smile tugged at your lips.
“Come on now, after all this time, that’s the mood you wanna get off on?” He hand taken a few steps toward you and grabbed your hand.
“A brotha can’t get no love first?” He flashed you a smile he knew you couldn’t resist.
Despite yourself, your smile grew bigger as you felt the warmth of his presence pulling you in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sinking into the comfort of his embrace.
“I missed you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you melted against him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied, his words a gentle way of sayin', 'I missed you too.'
“Who’s this?” you asked, eyeing the guitar-totin' boy standin' next to them after you two finally pulled apart.
“The boy,” Stack replied, nodding in his direction.
“The boy—Little Sammie, is that you?!” you exclaimed, shocked.
“Miss Y/n?” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.
You laughed, pulling him into a warm hug. God, he was all grown up. You used to help his ma look after him and his siblings sometimes, and you even sang in his daddy’s church for a while. That was until you started hangin' out with Smoke and Stack more and stopped goin' to church. You didn’t want to hear no sermons about how the devil had his hands on you and how you needed to come back to the Lord.
It was a bittersweet feeling, thinking about how much you missed them and how much Sammie had grown. You could see he still had to get his head on straight, but it warmed your heart that he was still playing the guitar Stack had given him.
“Well then, there will be plenty of time to catch up later. You boys finish up here. I’ll be in the car,” you announced a beat after pullin' away. You knew they was up to no good.
“Little Sammie, help Stack with my bags, will ya?” You pinched one of his cheeks playfully before giving the other a quick kiss, treating him like the youngin' he still was in your eyes.
“Oh and drop the ‘Miss’.” He stared after you, bewildered, as you walked past Stack, givin' him a wink while you patted his chest slowly, draggin' your hand away.
“That’s really Y/n,” Sammie said, still in disbelief, causing Stack to chuckle.
He hadn’t seen you since he was a boy, and he couldn’t believe how different you were now. You were just a teen girl girl in his eyes back then, but now you were a grown woman—an extremely attractive one, at that.
“She’s—”
“Way too much woman for you to handle, lil nigga,” Stack stated matter-of-factly, a smirk playin' on his lips.
Not too much for me, though, he thought to himself, wordlessly pickin' up both suitcases and handing his little cousin one. You would probably fit real pretty in the front seat of his ride right about now, knowin' you and those pretty pick pocketing hands of yours had already snatched the keys from his coat pocket.
“Well, are you?” Sammie quizzed.
“Am I what?” Stack frowned slightly.
“Handling it?” The corner of Preacher Boy’s mouth twitched just a little, and Stack knew the younger man could tell you were vexed with him, and he wasn’t handling shit.
“Bring yo ass on, smart ass.”
As a result of those endless hours of travel, you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep on the train, not wantin' to doze off around strange white folks. Your father had raised you and your sister to always be aware of your surroundings. After hearin' Delta’s wild stories about the men he knew from the side of the road, you needed a moment to decompress. So, you let the sounds of Sammie’s guitar and the rhythm of the car rockin' gently lull you into a well-deserved rest.
You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but soon you felt somethin' soft brush against the side of your face.
“Bam,” you heard softly as you began to stir.
“Bam.” This time you felt a poke to your cheek.
With a soft groan, you opened your eyes to see Stack standin' outside of the car, looking at you with that soft smile that always made your heart race.
“There’s my girl.” He smiled down at you.
“What you want, Elias?” You tried not to blush at his words.
“We made it. Come on.” He extended his hand for you to take.
You took it, pullin' yourself up to stand. Prepared to jump over, he surprised you by lifting you up in the air out of the back of the car.
You squealed, caught off guard as he held you slightly above him. You looked down at him for a minute, and he slowly set you back down, your body sliding against his.
“Thank you,” you said bashfully, pretendin' to fix your hair in the mirror.
He stood directly behind you, just close enough for you to catch a glimpse of his smirk in the car mirror.
“Anytime.”
“I—” you began, but were cut off by another car pullin' ahead. Once you noticed it was the truck Stack had said Smoke was in, you started walking quickly toward it. Stack told you the two of them had to split the work and that Smoke had a few stops and you knew it wouldn’t be anywhere else, but to see Annie. It was one thing for Smoke to be gone; of course then, he and Annie couldn’t be together. But while he was home, he wouldnt go anywhere without her.
“Annie!” You called as soon as your older sister came into view.
“Y/n?” Annie couldn’t believe her eyes as you ran toward her the biggest smile on your face.
“Surprise.” You spoke tearfully, as you slowed down taking the last few steps before crashing' into your big sister. You embraced her tightly, the two of you holding onto one another as if the other would disappear if you let go.
“Look at you.” She ran her hand up and around your face, cuppin' it affectionately.
“Look at you.” You repeated, mesmerized by your sister’s loving eyes.
Eyes that always looked at you with understanding, compassion, love, and support. Annie didn’t always agree with the choices you made, but she always supported you in choosin' your own destiny.
“Don’t you ever leave me like that again,” she fussed, swattin' lightly at your butt.
“Stop, girl, I’m grown,” you laughed, spinning around in a circle to dodge her playful swats.
“Girl, I don’t give a damn.” Annie fixed you with a stern look. “You’re still my baby sister. You don’t just run off and leave me without notice like that. You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry, Annie. It’s not that I wanted to; I just—” you paused, searchin' for the right words.
After a moment, you realized you didn’t need to say much. Annie would understand.
“Mine doesn’t have a mojo bag; he just has me,” you said, your voice wavering, knowin' she would know you was referring to the more reckless twin.
She smiled and nodded in understanding. You stood there for a little while longer, embracing each other, tryin' to wipe the tears from each other’s eyes, gigglin' like school girls as you did so.
“We’ll take more later ya hear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Pullin' away, you angled your body a little more to the left to finally get a good look at Smoke.
“My girl!” he said with a small smile of his own, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hey Smoke.” The two of you wrapped your arms around one another.
You missed the way Stack’s jaw clenched as you embraced Smoke. The latter didn’t as he grinned at his twin. It was an asshole thing to do, but he couldn’t help it. He had been watching the two of you pine after one another for years. If Smoke had a dime for every time he tried to convince his brother that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you—or to get Stack to confess his feelings for you—boy, he’d be rich.
It was your last night in town, and the three of you went out. You were currently dancin' with some random nigga from round the way. Stack watched you like a hawk, grillin' the hell outta the man who had your attention. Smoke couldn’t do anything but laugh at his brother’s expense.
“Nigga you got it bad,” he said with a chuckle.
“Shut up, bitch. You got it just as bad for her sister,” Stack shot back.
“Sho’ll fuck do. Don’t give a fuck who knows either.” Smoke shrugged blowing a cloud in Stack’s direction.
“Yeah, whatever.” Stack muttered, takin' a sip of his beer.
“Mmhmm, whatever shit, nigga. Could be you out there dancin' with her, tryna cop a feel. Instead, you’re here,” Smoke teased.
“It ain’t like that with us, Smoke.” He denied.
For the life of him, Smoke couldn’t understand why Stack was in denial about you. It was like he was purposely standing in his own way, unwilling to accept a good thing.
“Have I ever been wrong about a woman tryna throw her pussy at you?”
“Nah,” Stack grumbled, his defenses slowly crumbling.
“Aight then, nigga. Listen for once.” Smoke said, playfully mushing the side of Stack’s head as he stood up to head to the bar.
“Aye, watch out.”
“Girl follows you around the world, and you still questionin' shit,” Smoke called over his shoulder.
He could only shake his head at the memory. Smoke swore dealin' with y’all shit was gonna put him in an early grave.
Once the two of you released one another from the hug, you walked back toward your sibling, and Smoke did the same.
“You good, man?” Smoke asked, knowing full well he wasn’t. He just wanted to see if he was ready to be honest with himself.
“Yeah, uh, I’m good.” Stack cleared his throat before repeatin', “I’m good.”
“Good.” He patted his brother on the back. “Now let’s get to work.”
Now, you knew you was comin' to work, but you ain't expectin' to be put through the wringer! As much as y’all got on each other’s last nerves during the setup, it was all part of the charm. Smoke being the bossy one, always puffin’ up his chest like everybody ain’t already know he ran the place; Cornbread, with his big ass, ain’t stop complainin' 'bout how heavy them boxes was; Delta always droppin' “back in my day” stories like they was gospel every five minutes. And Stack? He was slick, finessin' Preacher Boy into doin' part of his work in the name of “respectin' your elders.”
Not to mention you, Grace, and Annie, makin' one little complaint 'bout the heat, which led to Bo shakin’ up a bottle of beer and lettin' it spray all over y’all like a makeshift sprinkler system to “cool y’all off.” But this? This was the stuff you cherished. These were the moments you missed. After hours of busting your backs, the grand opening was here, and the party was in full swing.
You found yourself wrapped up in Stack’s arms, your back pressed against his solid front. The sweet sound of southern blues wrapped around you like a warm embrace. Ain’t nothing like live music from home, and tonight, the air was thick with rhythm. Effortlessly, your body flowed with the beat, swayin' in a circle until you found yourself once again meetin' Stack's chest. One of his arms hung loosely around your waist, his fingers barely grazing your skin, followin' the pace of your movements like it was second nature.
“So, this is new,” you teased, glancing back at him.
“What’s that?” Stack’s voice was low, his eyes glued to the way your hips moved, like he was tryin' to memorize every curve.
Stack thought you was downright gorgeous, and it drove him crazy. He wished he could tell you every single day how beautiful you were. Your body? It made his heart race. Big hips, thick thighs, and those legs that seemed to go on for days. That dress you wore? It gave him a perfect view of your curves, and he found himself lost in thoughts he shouldn’t be havin’.
“You dancin' with me,” you said louder, breakin' him outta his daydream.
“I’ve danced with you before,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone.
You leaned your head back further, givin' him a smirk. “Not like this.”
Stack’s grip around your waist tightened, the two of you still swayin’ to the music. “What’s this?” His breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine that you tried your best to ignore.
“Like you tryna work your way into my drawls,” you shot back, playful but with a hint of seriousness.
“And if I am?” he shot back, spinning you around so you faced him, his gaze intense.
You were momentarily stunned, your eyes searchin’ his for any signs of this bein' a joke, you arms now loosely around his shoulders.
“Smoke told you.” you said, his words heavy like a weight on your chest, but it felt more like a statement than a question.
You knew Smoke couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it came to his brother. Stack had ditched you and Smoke for the night to run off with some floozy and you were hurting bad. Especially after the way he had been flirting with you day after day. After an attempt at drowning your feeling in a bottle of whiskey, you had confessed your undying love for Elias Moore to his other half after the world became a bit too blurry. The truth came spillin' out like vomit, then afterwards, literal vomit. You could curse the ground Smoke walked on for lettin' it slip.
Stack watched as the gears turned in your head, his eyes dropping to your bottom lip, which you had pulled between your teeth. He chuckled softly, still swayin' with you, but the tension was thick.
“Smoke been tryna tell me for years,” he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.
He wasn’t sure if he was talkin' 'bout Smoke tryin' to get him to accept his own feelings or the ones you held for him.
It was the way you cared for him. In every way. You checked on his well being constantly. The effects of the war on smoke were clear. He had his issues and one of them Stack always took care of. Rolling his cigarettes, making certain shit easier for Smoke every chance he got. Stack was the suffer in silence type. No I didn’t know the trauma he had suffered. He preferred everybody think he was OK. But you saw right through him. You seem to be able to tell every time something took him back there the lifeline you’d reach out of your hand, holding his gentle caresses to the top of his hand, which is the tiniest of squeezes that will bring him back and remind him that he was here and safe and with you. Stack was the type to suffer in silence, keepin' his struggles close to his chest. But you? You saw right through him. You could tell when something haunted him, and each time, you’d reach out, holdin' his hand, givin' him that gentle squeeze to remind him he was safe with you.
You were everything to Stack.
The air between you two shifted, thickening with unspoken words and feelings.
“When did it click?” Your heart raced, the world around you fading away.
Y’all had stopped movin’, probably the only two still in the crowd of people dancing and signing having a time.
“The one you left.” Stack admitted, feeling a bit guilty for only realizing how deep his feelings and love for you really were.
Speechless you pulled away from him completely, mouth opening and closing as you stuttered trying to find the right words to say. Overwhelmed with emotion and not quite sure what to do with yourself you turned around to scurry away when he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on now. Why you runnin'?” He was holding you again, bobbing his head around trying to catch you eye as you avoided his.
“Elias, you drunk,” you said, your voice shaky.
“Baby, I ain’t had a sip of liquor,” he replied, his grip on your chin gentle, forcing you to look at him.
Big brown eyes searched yours, filled with a truth that made your heart swell with love.
“Y/n,” he started, but just then—
“Stack!” Smoke’s voice cut through the moment like a hot knife through butter.
You two pulled apart at the sound of his brother calling.
“Let me holla at you for a minute,” Smoke beckoned, clearly oblivious to the tension hangin' in the air.
You could see Stack was ready to protest, but you stopped him, gently cupping the side of his face in your hands. Stack might not have been running off liquid courage, but you had dug deep for some courage and found enough bravery to push through.
You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his cheek, and then another right next to the corner of his mouth, lettin' your lips linger just a moment longer.
“Go. We’ll talk later,” you assured him, pulling away with a grin as you turned to find a seat at the bar y’all had been swayin’ next to.
It wasn’t long before Stack's arms wrapped around you from behind.
“Count on it,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck, sending warmth flooding through you.
You flushed at the feeling of his lips on your skin, that deep baritone voice igniting a fire you didn’t know you had.
You couldn’t wait until later. But unfortunately, later never came.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 .ೃ࿐ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, you get entangled in an affair with your best friend just one week before your wedding.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 .ೃ࿐ friends to lovers (fastburn), cheatinggg, fiancé slander, Cameron being petty, yearning, obsession, drunken love confessions, oral (fem receiving), drama drama drama. 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .ೃ࿐ don’t let ur bf stop you from finding your husband. JK, I do not condone cheating in any way, but it’s so fun to write lmao. [ 𝐖𝐂 : ̗̀➛ 𝟒.𝟏𝐤 ]
- - ——— ꒰ 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐣𝐮𝐥 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 ꒱
𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 for you. At least that’s what you told yourself. From an outside perspective, it seemed like you had it all. A successful business, a wonderful stream of income, and you've somehow managed to take one of the most eligible bachelors off the market.
You had the luxurious life that any girl could ever dream of. But there was this ever-lasting void in your heart that you tried so hard to push away. Deep down, you know there was something else that was missing from your life.
Your fiancé was good. He was safe, but it's been a while since you've felt the rush of butterflies in your stomach. It's been a while since you've smiled so hard that your cheeks stung. It's been a while since you've felt seen.
Cameron made you happy, though. Nothing made your heart swell more than the fact that your best friend of nine years was helping you plan your wedding.
You never had to lift a finger when it came to him. Catering, booking fees, cake design, and even your wedding dress... Cameron paid for it all. You were so grateful that Cameron eased all of your stress and anxiety since the wedding was only one week away.
"How's my beautiful bride doing today?" Cameron's large arms wrapped around you from behind. He was never shy of showing physical affection toward you.
"Cam, stop! Put me down." A loud shriek emerged as you felt him lift you off the ground with ease.
"Why are you hiding in here? I'm seriously 'bout to start opening all your gifts."
Truth be told, you had no idea why you were even stalling in the first place. A bridal shower was supposed to be a fun, memorable event and you were hiding away in your suite.
"I'm not hiding, Cam. I'm mentally preparing to socialize."
"Well... your fiancé is waiting for you." All the humor in his voice disappeared immediately.
You paused from applying your eyeliner and squinted at him. "Okay... what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"N-nothing. Forget it." He quickly looked away from your burning gaze and started to fidget with his rings. "You hungry?"
"No, don't change the subject! Seriously, what's your problem with him?" You recalled all the times that Cameron made slick remarks about your fiancé. Honestly, you were getting sick of it since Cameron could never atleast pretend to be nice to him.
It was odd since he's always been so soft and kind to others, even when they pissed him off. But for some reason, Cameron never respected your fiancé... not even when they first met.
"He's just... he's boring as fuck! No one likes his ass." He fidgeted with his rings even more and kept his eyes glued to the carpet.
You knew Cameron better than you knew yourself and he couldn't lie for shit. "Could you at least try to be nice to him? Try to strike a conversation or something?"
He groaned loudly. "Hell no! The fuck do I even say to him?"
In a swift motion, you got up from the chair and made your way over to him. It was time for you to set some boundaries. This wedding was incredibly important to you and it wasn't going to be ruined by petty fights.
You needed to make sure that everything remained perfect. That even included making Cameron play nice with your fiancé for the first time in his life.
"I need you to do this for me, okay? I love him." You looked up at him but his eyes were concentrated on the door. While taking his hand in yours, he finally looked at you. "Be nice to him, okay?"
It took a minute for him to respond. He just stood there, staring down at you like he was frozen in time. You just assumed that he was spacing out, so you flicked his forehead.
"Ow!"
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"Yeah, play nice and kiss his ass... whatever," Cameron groaned, rolling his eyes.
You sighed in defeat as you knew that was all you were gonna get at this point. "You know what? Forget it!"
"Fine! I'll be nice to him, I promise." He stopped you before you were able to make your way out the door. As he engulfed you in a hug, you felt a soft kiss on your forehead.
This didn't surprise you. Cameron always made sure to give you a bear hug and plant a simple forehead kiss to make you forgive him. It worked every single time. Cameron’s hugs always made everything better for you as well. There was something about his touch that just made you relax with ease.
"Thank you!" you squealed in excitement before daintily sticking your hand out. "Shall we?"
Cameron rolled his eyes before he planted a kiss on your hand and led you out the door. "You drive me crazy, girl," he silently said to himself as he watched you walk ahead.
The blazing sun burned the back of your neck as you walked. You groaned in agony as you mentally prepared for the event. There was nothing you wanted more than to crawl into bed and rot in it for the rest of the day. The rest of the month, actually. Unfortunately, being a bride-to-be was considered a full time job. There was absolutely no time for rest.
You felt Cameron’s hand rest on your back as he led you over to the food section. Finally, a hot meal to ease the anxiety before you get to open all of your gifts.
“Now who the hell brought this dry ass food?” Cameron whispered to you as he looked at everything on the table.
You giggled and shoved him a little bit. “You’re so rude, Cameron.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” He grabbed a spoonful of macaroni and noticed how it got stuck to his plate. “See? Dry as fuck.”
The eruption of giggles between you two quickly died down as your fiancé approached. He immediately grabbed you in his arms and gave you a messy kiss. “Haven’t seen you all day.”
Cameron nearly gagged at your fiancé’s behavior. He stood there awkwardly as he watched him whisper sweet nothings into your ear. A painful feeling emerged in his chest the longer he stared. His chest tightened from the way your fiancé was touching you. The way you leaned to him and smiled as he whispered things to you.
He tried his hardest to respect you and your fiancé. But the fact that you were only a week away from being married nearly killed him inside.
Eventually, you pulled away from his hold. “Uh babe, you remember Cameron, right?” you asked, hoping to kill the awkward silence
“Yeah! How you doing man?”
Cameron examined the man with a bored expression and turned back to his plate.
You spoke up to try to ease the heavy tension. “Babe, Cameron was just talking about the food and wanted to know who brought it.”
Cameron gave you a tiny glare for trying to involve him in the conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was pretend to be interested in anything your fiancé had to say.
Your fiancé chimed in. “Oh yeah, I helped my mom with that. Tryna practice more in the kitchen, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess…” Cameron said with a nonchalant expression as he put the macaroni back in the tray.
Next thing you know, an intense staring competition occurred between you and your fiancé. You don’t even know why you expected Cameron to play nice with him. Every encounter you forced him to make either ended with pure silence or just backhanded compliments. You couldn’t win and you didn’t want to waste anymore time with this.
“You know what? I think I’m ready to open my gifts!” you said excitedly.
Without another word, you made your way over to where everyone else was gathered. Your eyes widened in surprise at the overwhelming number of presents. Over a dozen gift bags, boxes, and envelopes were placed a few inches in front of your chair. The sun was only getting hotter by the second and you wanted to make this as quick as possible.
One by one, you opened everyone's gifts. It was nothing you haven't seen before. Wine bottles, gift cards, shoes… It was all boring. It was like no one even put in the effort to get you something you actually liked. They just got you what was convenient for themselves.
"Uh, thank you so much guys! These were so beautiful. I think I’m gonna head bac—"
"You missed one!" Your mother's voice nearly made you roll your eyes.
A large, black jewelry box sat on the table. Honestly, you were way too out of it to even fake a smile anymore. You lazily grabbed the box and opened it with ease. Your body froze when you looked at the contents inside. It was a rose gold pendant necklace staring back at you with a note attached to it. You quietly read the contents of the note to yourself.
‘To the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. No one will ever compare to you in my eyes.’ – Cam
"Oh my god! Who's it from, baby?" Your mother asked.
You quickly closed the box before she could get any closer. "Uh, it doesn't say."
The warmth of his stare paraded your body after you said that. You finally turned to look at Cameron and he never once looked away. An odd feeling emerged the longer you stared at him. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but quickly changed his mind.
"Gotta save the best one for last!" A wet, sloppy kiss was planted on the side of your head. Your fiancé appeared from behind as he gifted you an odd looking box.
You quickly ripped your gaze away from Cameron before you could get sunken into his blue-green orbs. His eyes were so beautiful. They were so beady and gentle that it felt like you could get lost in them for hours.
Before you knew it, Cameron stood up, grabbed a drink, and made his way back to the retreat. You almost called out for him until your fiancé waved the box in your face, pushing you to open it. Sighing in defeat, you ripped it open and a thousand curse words flew through your head.
Pink furry handcuffs…
You slammed the box shut in pure fear and embarrassment.
"I know you've been dying to get those, babe." His hard, calloused hands grazed your shoulders as he flashed his smile to your family. Awkward, forced laughs could be heard at his painful attempt to be funny.
"T-thank you, baby." Your nails dug into your palms to keep from lashing out.
"Alright, let's uh… dinner's on me tonight, everyone!" Your fiancé loudly clapped his hands to try to break the awkward silence.
Nothing had prepared you for the sheer embarrassment of today.
It’s been almost fourteen hours since you’ve seen a bed. For the entire day, you've been dragged around to do exhausting tasks and suffer in small talk. And now your day got even worse because your fiancé decided to dine out at a resturant fartherst away from the retreat.
Your feet were sore, your back was on fire, and your migraine was only getting worse. It took everything in you not to get up and walk the fuck out, but you didn't want your mother criticizing you for it.
An eruption of giggles made you crank your neck up from your resting place. You narrowed your eyes at your fiancé across the table as he held his hand on a waitress's back. Due to pure exhaustion, you just rolled your eyes and glanced at your food.
Something was missing at this table. There weren't any dirty inside jokes being whispered in your ear. No tiny glasses of tequila being shared under the table.
Cameron was missing…
You couldn't explain it, but having Cameron around made your life so much easier and relaxing. As much as he irritated you most of the time due to his reckless behavior, you couldn't stand another second without him.
You could feel your mother's stare burning into the side of your head. It was like she could tell that you needed Cameron here in order to socialize properly. For whatever reason, your mother couldn't stand him. She couldn't stand the fact that you spent more time with him than with your own fiancé. She couldn't stand how easily Cameron distracted you from your own life.
"Sit your ass up," your mother quietly scolded you as she fixed her hair. "You should be enjoying the night with your fiancé."
"He's busy," You said lazily as you continued to pick at your food.
For a split second, you looked up and saw that he was still talking to the waitress. This time, he was whispering in her ear about something.
"Don't be rude! They're probably talking about dessert."
You almost clapped back at her insensitive comment until the chair next to you creaked loudly. Cameron plopped himself down and groaned loudly.
"Where the hell were you? I've been lookin—" You pause as you take in his appearance. His movements were sloppy and lazy, his shirt was buttoned in all the wrong places… and he had sweatpants on. He looked crazy.
"Are you fucking drunk?"
"N-no…" He shook his head almost too quickly.
"Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?"
His fingers reached toward your neck and all the air had been knocked out of you. Slowly, he grazed his fingers along your collarbone before he finally got to the pendant.
"It looks so beautiful on you," Cameron said, slurring his words.
You were about to scold him for his drunken appearance until you saw your fiancé stand up. He began to clink his glass. "Everyone, I just got a few things to say."
Cameron sucked his teeth and sank into his chair. "Here we fuckin' go…"
Your face twisted in confusion from his attitude, but you brushed it off and assumed he was just tired from today.
"I just wanted to say how grateful I am to have this amazing woman in my life. Honestly, I wouldn't even be the man I am today without her."
The weight of everyone's stare haunted you as you took in his words. You tried to feel something. Love, warmth, desire… but nothing came up. You began to feel more uncomfortable in your chair the longer everyone stared.
“There's no one in this world that I love more than yo—"
A loud, obnoxious yawn came from Cameron and everyone's attention was on him. He took another swig of his drink as if nothing ever happened. Whatever his problem was, you couldn't even be bothered to care at this point. You just silently prayed that he wouldn't break his promise by starting something with your fiancé.
"Anyway… I love you so much and I'm prepared to spend the rest of my life with you."
Nothing came up. You tried to search for butterflies or a spark in your body, but there was absolutely nothing. Maybe it was normal not to feel sparks or excitement towards your fiancé. Maybe it was normal not to get flustered around him. You've felt sparks from planning all the details of your wedding, but not for your own fiancé.
A gentle touch to your collarbone interrupted your thoughts. You flinched in surprise when you saw Cameron reach for your necklace again.
"Do you like it?"
His awful attempt at whispering made you even more irritated. You tried to refocus your attention on your fiancé, but Cameron tapped your shoulder harder. "Do you like the necklace?"
"Yes!" You whispered harshly, praying that he wouldn't embarrass you with his drunken and sloppy actions any further.
"It took me so long to find this one. It haad to be this one." His voice got even louder and you tried to ignore him until his thumb brushed your cheek. "I love it on you."
"Uh, excuse me!" Your fiancé shouted, glaring at Cameron.
"Ain't nobody talking to you!" Cameron jabbed back before turning to you again. "This necklace means so much—"
The chair creaked loudly as you stood up in anger. Your blood was boiling and you were beyond embarrassed by Cameron's behavior. Everything was planned out beyond perfection and Cameron ruined it by showing up drunk.
Taking his arm in yours, you decided to bring him outside for a little chat. You flashed a painfully forced smile to everyone at the table. "We'll be back."
Your lungs screamed for air as you tried to help Cameron back to his room. He tripped over his feet and put nearly all of his weight onto you. By the time you finally reached his room, you were beyond exhausted. You've never seen him so drunk before. You've never seen him be so rude and condescending before, either. This whole night had been confusing and completely overstimulating.
"Weee gotta get some ice creammm,'' Cameron rambled as he lazily took his shoes off.
"Cameron!"
His smile quickly vanished as he took in your angered expression. He knew he fucked up since you were never the type to be quick to anger. "Oh, fuck! I-I'm so sorryy"
In a quick movement, you shoved him harshly but he didn't even budge. All your pent-up anger exploded on Cameron and you were unable to stop yourself. You kept hitting and banging his chest and he just sat there and took it. "You fucking asshole!"
He remained silent as you blew up at him. His drunken, beady eyes never left you for a split second.
"You fucking embarrassed me in there! You walk in there like an idiot and embarrass me in front of my husband!"
Your husband?!" Cameron snapped, squinting his eyes at you.
"Yes, my fucking husband! He's the most important person in my life and you're not gonna ruin this!"
Cameron scoffed in amusement. "So I'm not important to you now?! Does your fuckin' "husband" even appreciate you like he's supposed to?"
He was getting on your last nerve, but you knew that he was right in a sense. You can't remember the last time you felt cherished or prioritized by your fiancé. Everything had always been about him and his wants, but never yours. Everything was always something to show off when it came to him.
"You're not even happy with him," Cameron pointed out as he stepped even closer to you.
You didn't know what to say. You were damn sure not proving him right, so you decided to remain quiet. Maybe he'll change the subject if you stop talking about him.
You began to make your way out of the room until he spoke up again. "Do you know… how much it hurts me to see you with him?"
Your heart dropped to your stomach as your fingers hovered over the doorknob. "Don't—"
"I can't pretend that I'm not in love with you. I can't do that shit anymore."
"…What?" you whispered, finally turning around to face him.
Cameron let out a long sigh before dragging a hand down his face. "I really tried to be happy for you, but I fucking can't. I see you with him and I get sick to my stomach because I know that you'll never be mine. And… and you deserve to know this because you mean the world to me!"
Your chest felt tight. It felt like it was getting harder to breathe as time passed. You made it your mission to avoid eye contact with Cameron. "You can't… say this."
Cameron stepped even closer to you and it seemed like the walls started closing in on the two of you.
"I'm so in love with you," he said, looking deeply into your eyes.
"Cameron, we can't— you can't say this to me right now," you pleaded. Your pulse spiked as you took in his every word. This couldn't happen. "I'm not even supposed to be here with you—"
It all happened so fast that you could barely even register it. Cameron reached his hands to your face before giving you the softest kiss. You sank into his lips like a known reflex.
His lips felt familiar. His touch felt right. This felt right. You melted into him even more, kissing him back with desperation and a sense of desire that you've spent so many years searching for.
You were in an endless trance. Every part of your mind was telling you to pull away, but instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
It was all so unreal and your stomach swirled with butterflies. Tiny bits of guilt crept up, eating away at your conscience. However, Cameron's hands touching every inch of your body made you lose every ounce of control.
Cameron guided you to the edge of his bed and looked down at you with a lustful gaze. Your body ached as you watched him stand there in his sweats that did very little to hide his print. In a flash, he ripped his shirt off and climbed on top of you. You welcomed him with open arms as he planted kisses from your lips, to your jaw and down to your neck.
As soon as his lips connected to your neck, you flinched from the ticklish sensation. He let out a soft laugh before leaning back in and giving you a deep kiss. Your fingers slipped down to the waistband of his sweatpants and you eagerly pulled them down.
You couldn't ignore the rush of excitement anymore. Quickly, you sat up and pulled your shirt off. Cameron’s movements paused as he took in your body. He dipped his head lower to take one of your nipples in his mouth while keeping a firm grip on the other. Throwing your head back in immense pleasure, you let out a moan from the way his tongue felt on your chest.
“Cam,” your voice was just above a whisper, begging for him to keep his soft lips on you.
Cameron’s hands trailed down the sides of your body as he pressed kisses along your stomach, eventually making his way to your inner thighs. He paused, looking up to meet your eyes. You nodded too quickly, permitting him to continue. He gently pulled on your underwear, sliding it off your body and noticed the wet, sticky mess of your pussy.
He felt his mouth watering at the sight of you. “Been waiting to taste you.”
You repositioned yourself so that his face could be perfectly in between your legs. As his head dipped down and you felt his tongue glide along your wet folds, a moan escaped your mouth from the unfamiliar feeling. The painful memory of your fiancé popped up while recalling the time he attempted to eat you out. Many unsatisfying nights occurred since he could never find the perfect spot on your clit. Cameron, however, got it on the very first try.
Cameron squeezed your thighs where they rested in his grip, letting your intoxicating scent and taste wash over him. He couldn’t get enough of you as he instantly grew eager for more.
You felt his tongue moving faster on your clit and immediately covered your mouth. “Fuck,” you whispered in a shaky voice.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, you felt his lips wrap around your clit. “C-cam, wait.” You tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, but Cameron’s arms locked your thighs in place.
Your chest heaved as you drew closer to the edge, a small reminder of how long it's been since you’ve felt such immense pleasure. Since someone has taken the time to really appreciate and cherish your body. Your thighs clenched around Cameron’s head as you felt your orgasm approach. He inserted his fingers into your wetness, which drew a louder moan from you. A curl of his fingers pulled the sweetest moan from your mouth.
“You look so pretty like this,” he said lowly, curling his fingers even harder.
Tears pooled in your eyes as you felt your stomach tighten. You came with a sharp cry, your orgasm so intense that your nails dug into his shoulders. Cameron loosened his grip on your thighs as he lapped up all of your juices. The sweet taste of your juices forever implanted in his brain. A gentle kiss was planted on your inner thigh as you came undone.
Cameron hovered over you before pulling you close into his arms. Your head nestled into the soft crook in his neck. You remained in that spot for a while. Silence took over the room for a short while, giving you the time to take in all just happened.
