THE PICKUP.
summary; You drop your daughter off at Jey’s house before heading out for the night. But when he notices your fit, he can’t help but get jealous and territorial—leading to one of those arguments that never stay arguments for long.
warnings; 18+, heavy tension, baby mama/baby daddy dynamic, jealous/possessive Jey, cursing - use of n word. toxic, toxic TOXIC. slight manipulation? girl.. yea.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
—
You had the overnight bag slung on your shoulder, your eight-year-old skipping ahead of you with her little pink suitcase rolling behind her. Jey had left the front door cracked, so she ran straight inside yelling,
“Daddy!”
You followed in slowly, tugging at your dress to make sure it sat right. The black mini number hugged your curves, your thighs lotion’d and glowing, edges laid down perfectly. You hadn’t worn heels in months, but tonight you had a reason.
And that reason had nothing to do with Jey.
At least, it wasn’t supposed to.
You heard his laugh from the living room as he scooped your daughter up. His curls were still damp like he had just showered, grey Nike shorts hanging low on his hips with no shirt. Tattoos covered his chest and arms, and he had that damn chain on—like he was intentionally trying to test you.
He kissed your daughter’s cheek, set her down, and that’s when his eyes found you.
And stayed there.
You pretended not to notice.
“Her bag’s in the car. Lemme grab it,” you said casually, turning on your heel. The dress shifted higher up your thighs, and you knew he saw because you could feel his stare burn holes into you.
By the time you came back with the bag, he was leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, head tilted slightly.
“Where you goin’ lookin’ like that?” he asked, voice low, that little island drawl slipping through.
You rolled your eyes. “Out.”
“Out where?”
“Jey, don’t start,” you sighed, pushing past him to set the bag down by the couch.
He didn’t move. Just kept looking at you like you were walking around his house naked. His jaw flexed, lips pressed tight, eyes dragging from your heels up your thighs, over your waist, lingering way too long at your chest before finally landing back on your face.
“Ion like that dress,” he muttered.
You scoffed. “Good thing you don’t have to.”
That got him to push off the wall, stepping into your space. “Who you tryna look good for? ’Cause I know it ain’t for me.”
Your tongue clicked against your teeth as you smirked. “What if it is?”
He narrowed his eyes, like he didn’t believe you. “Nah. You tryna get some lil’ dude’s attention, huh?”
You tilted your head, lashes fluttering. “And if I am?”
That was the spark. His nostrils flared, tongue running across his teeth before he laughed in disbelief. He glanced toward the hallway where your daughter was already in her room, then back at you with that dangerous heat in his eyes.
“Y/N, stop playin’ wit’ me.” His voice dropped deeper, rougher. “You know I don’t like that shit.”
You leaned in just enough for him to smell your perfume—warm vanilla and coconut oil—before whispering, “Then what you gon’ do about it?”
You tilted your head and smirked, watching his jaw tighten. Jey hated when you pushed his buttons, but you couldn’t help it. That baby daddy attitude was exactly why you loved riling him up.
“Don’t do that,” he warned, stepping closer until your back brushed against the arm of the couch.
“Do what?” you asked, voice all sweet like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.
“That lil’ smirk. Like you proud of yourself,” he muttered, his chest brushing yours just enough to make your breath hitch. “Walkin’ in here like you single, like I ain’t put no work in.”
Your brow arched. “Jey, last time I checked, we’re not together. Remember? You made sure of that.”
That one hit him. His nostrils flared, and he dropped his gaze to the floor for a second, tongue pushing against his cheek. He hated when you reminded him of the breakup.
“I ain’t say we together,” he admitted finally, lifting his eyes back to yours. “But you still mine.”
You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Ohhh, here we go. Typical Jey shit. You don’t want me, but you don’t want nobody else to have me either. That’s not how it works, Josh.”
“Man, stop callin’ me Josh when you mad,” he snapped. “You know I don’t like that shit.”
“Too bad,” you shot back, folding your arms under your chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to wear, where to go, or who I go with. Not anymore.”
His hand dragged over his face, frustration written all over him. “You really gon’ play in my face like that? Walkin’ in here dressed like you tryna get cuffed up by some clown—”
You sucked your teeth, leaning into him just enough for your lips to nearly brush his ear. “Better me getting cuffed up by somebody else than you, huh?”
His head snapped toward you, eyes blazing. “Man, stop fuckin’ playin’ with me!”
Your heart skipped, but you didn’t move. If anything, you leaned in closer. “Or what?”
Your challenge hung in the air.
Jey’s jaw flexed, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he stared you down. You didn’t flinch.
“You really tryna test me tonight, huh?” he said low, voice dipping rough and dangerous.
You folded your arms tighter, eyes cutting at him. “I’m not testing nothing. I’m just telling you what it is. You don’t get to play baby daddy and boyfriend when it’s convenient for you. You either here or you not.”
His laugh was humorless, sharp. “Oh, so I’m not here? I’m not here every other day making sure our daughter’s straight? Making sure you straight too?”
You rolled your eyes. “Straight? Please. You pop in, you play house, and then you disappear when it’s time to really act like—”
“—Like what?!” he snapped, stepping right up on you, chest to chest. “Like a husband? That what you want? You still in love with me, just say that. Stop tryna act tough.”
Your breath caught, but you didn’t back down. “Don’t flatter yourself, Josh. If I wanted you, I could’ve had you.”
That did it. His eyes narrowed, and in the next second his hand was gripping your jaw, thumb pressed to your bottom lip.
“Keep talkin’ that shit,” he muttered, voice husky, nose brushing yours. “Keep actin’ like you don’t feel this. Like your body don’t remember me every time I get close.”
You swallowed hard, heat rushing through you despite the defiance still on your face. “You got a lotta nerve…” you murmured, words muffled against his grip.
“Yeah?” His smirk was dark, slow. “And you got a smart mouth. Lemme see how long that lasts.”
Before you could fire back, he pressed you into the couch with his weight, lips crashing into yours. The kiss wasn’t sweet—it was hungry, claiming, like he was tired of pretending y’all weren’t still tangled up in each other.
You broke away just long enough to whisper, “I hate you.”
He chuckled against your neck, teeth grazing the skin. “Nah, you love me. That’s the problem.”
You squirmed under his weight, palms pushing at his chest. “Get off me, Jey. You think just ‘cause you got muscles and tattoos, you can just pin me down and I’ma fold? Nah.”
He eased back slightly, just enough to let you breathe, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “Muscles and tattoos?” he repeated with a scoff. “Girl, you wasn’t saying none of that when you was blowing up my phone last week, beggin’ me to come through.”
Your mouth fell open. “Beggin’? Don’t get it twisted. I asked you to come ‘cause your daughter missed you. Not me.”
“Cap.” He leaned in, his breath hot on your ear. “You missed me too. You think I don’t hear it in your voice? You think I don’t see it when you look at me?”
You tilted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “All I see is a headache.”
He laughed low, shaking his head. “A headache that had you screaming my name so loud last month, the neighbors was callin’ the cops.”
You gasped and smacked his chest. “Nigga why you always gotta bring that up?!”
“‘Cause you keep actin’ brand new like you don’t remember.” He shifted his hold, one hand on your thigh, gripping tight. “But your body remembers. Always does.”
Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, betraying you. “Stop tryna play with me, Jey.”
“I ain’t playin’.” His tone dropped, serious now, his hand sliding higher. “You steady actin’ like I ain’t still yours. Like another dude could even step in and handle you the way I do.”
Your lips curled into a smirk even as your pulse quickened. “Maybe I’m ready for another dude to try.”
That was it. His head snapped back like he couldn’t believe you said that. “Say it again,” he dared, voice thick with warning.
You leaned up, face inches from his, eyes locked. “Maybe. I’m. Ready.”
His nostrils flared, jaw tightening, and then his hand slid up to your throat, not harsh, but firm enough to make you gasp. His eyes burned into yours.
“Bet,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl. “Guess I’ma have to remind you why you keep comin’ back to me.”
His grip on your throat lingered, not rough, but enough to still your words. Your breath caught, chest heaving under his weight.
“Go ‘head, keep talkin’ ‘bout some other man steppin’ in,” Jey said low, his lips brushing your jaw. “You know damn well you ain’t lettin’ nobody else touch you.”
You tried to push him off, but your thighs squeezed together when his hand slid down your stomach, fingers teasing the edge of your thong. “Jey—stop—” you whispered, eyes flicking toward the stairs. “She upstairs, don’t—”
He smirked, eyes narrowing. “So you do care.” His thumb pressed into your skin. “Thought I was just a headache, huh? Headaches don’t get you wet like this.”
You let out a shaky breath, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a sound. “You cocky as hell.”
“Cocky ‘cause I know.” His mouth was on your neck now, biting lightly, and your head tipped back against the couch. “Know this mine. Always been mine. Always gon’ be.”
Your hands went to his curls, tugging hard, half trying to pull him away, half pulling him closer. Your whisper came out sharp: “Jey, if she hears—”
“She won’t,” he cut you off, his voice a husky growl against your skin. “Long as you keep that pretty mouth quiet.”
The challenge in his eyes was lethal. He slid his hand lower, tugging your thong down just enough to expose you, his palm hot against your thigh. You gasped and tried to close your legs, but he pushed them open with his knee, caging you in.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warned, his tone deep and commanding now.
“Who said I can’t finish?” you shot back, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.
That did it. He snapped, pressing you deeper into the couch cushions, one hand gripping your hip tight while the other kept your mouth covered just enough to muffle your sounds. His lips crashed onto yours, rough, messy, all the pent-up arguing and frustration spilling over.
And God help you, you kissed him back like you hated him and loved him in the same breath.
“Uh-uh,” he murmured against your lips, “you gon’ sit here and take this. Ain’t runnin’ from me no more.”
You arched against him, trying to fight him off and pull him closer all at once. “Jey, we can’t—”
“We can.” His teeth nipped your jaw. “You think I’m ‘bout to let you talk reckless, slam doors, then come down here actin’ like I ain’t still your man? Nah, I’m settin’ it straight tonight.”
You clenched your thighs when his fingers brushed where you needed him most. He chuckled low, pressing his knee wider between your legs.
“Already drippin’ f’me,” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear. “Arguin’ all week, swearin’ you don’t want me, but your body don’t lie.”
You bit your lip, trying not to give him the sound he wanted, but the way his fingers teased you had your hips rolling against his touch.
“Shhh,” he warned, sliding two fingers into you with ease, curling them slow. Your hand flew up to grip his arm tight. “She gon’ hear you if you don’t hush. Be quiet for me, baby. Be my good girl.”
Your eyes fluttered shut, head tipped back against the couch. His lips found your chest, pulling the top of your dress down with his teeth until your breast spilled free, his mouth closing around your nipple. The moan slipped out before you could stop it, and his hand snapped back up to cover your mouth again.
“I said be quiet,” he growled, dark eyes locking on yours. “Don’t make me put you on your stomach right here.”
Your whole body shivered at the threat, and he smirked, clearly feeling your walls squeeze around his fingers.
“You like that, huh? Bad as hell ‘til I remind you who daddy is.”
“Jey…” your muffled whine bled through his palm, your nails digging into his arm.
That was all he needed. He yanked his shorts down just enough, sliding into you with a deep, slow thrust that knocked the breath right out of you.
Your scream caught in your throat, muffled under his hand, your body arching up into his.
“Fuck,” he groaned, jaw tight, forehead pressed to yours. “Been wantin’ to get back in this all damn week.”
He set a steady, punishing pace, the couch creaking under you both, your legs wrapped around his waist to hold him close. Every thrust had you clutching at him, eyes rolling back, his hand never leaving your mouth.
“Keep quiet,” he breathed, sweat beading along his temple. “Don’t wake her up. Don’t you dare.”
Your muffled cries turned into whimpers, and he smirked, licking over your lips before kissing you hard, swallowing every sound.
His pace picked up, hips snapping into you harder, deeper. He pulled back just enough to whisper against your mouth, “Say you mine. Say it.”
You shook your head, stubborn even with your body betraying you. He growled, slamming into you harder, making the couch legs scrape against the floor.
“Say it,” he demanded again, the authority in his voice leaving no room for argument.
Finally, your whisper broke through the kiss: “I’m yours.”
His grin was wicked, satisfaction written all over his face as he drove into you faster, your body trembling beneath him.
“That’s right,” he rasped, his lips trailing fire down your throat. “Always mine. Ain’t no man steppin’ in. Ain’t no man doin’ what I do to you.”
You clawed at his back, toes curling as the heat built inside you, your body clenching around him. His hand clamped back over your mouth just in time as you came undone beneath him, your muffled scream vibrating against his palm.
He followed close behind, his hips stuttering, burying himself deep with a guttural groan against your ear.
For a moment, the room was nothing but heavy breathing, his body still pinning you down.
Then he kissed your cheek, soft this time, pulling his hand away and brushing your messy hair back. “Told you stop playin’ with me, baby.”
You gave him a breathless side-eye, lips swollen, chest heaving. “You still get on my damn nerves.”
But the way you curled into him as he shifted back onto the couch told him everything he needed to know.
The house was quiet again, the kind of silence that let you know your daughter had finally drifted off into deep sleep. You slipped past her door, peeking in just to make sure, and smiled at the sight of her sprawled out under her princess comforter.
The second you closed the door, though, a hand wrapped around your waist, tugging you back against a hard chest.
“Where you think you goin’?” Jey’s voice was low, husky in your ear.
“Home, and to bed,” you whispered, rolling your eyes even as your body melted back against him. “Where you should be.”
“Bed?” He chuckled darkly, lips grazing your neck. “Yeah, I’ma take you to bed alright.”
By the time you made it to the bedroom, he’d already kicked the door shut with his foot. The couch round was fast, desperate, but now? He wasn’t rushing. He wanted you slow. He wanted you remembering.
He laid you back against the pillows, crawling over you, his beard brushing your skin as he kissed down your throat. His hands slid under your dress, tugging it over your head in one smooth motion.
“You had a lot to say earlier,” he murmured, kissing the curve of your breast. “Real mouthy. Now you quiet.”
“Jey…” you sighed, arching up into his touch.
“Nah, keep that same energy, baby,” he teased, sliding his tongue over your nipple, sucking until your back arched. “Don’t start actin’ shy now.”
You tried to come back with something slick, but all that left your mouth was a broken whine when his hand trailed down your stomach, dipping between your thighs.
He smirked against your skin. “Mhm. That’s what I thought.”
He touched you slow, leaving kisses everywhere his hands wandered, until you were bare under him, flushed and restless. He slid down the bed, spreading your thighs wide, his eyes dark as he licked his lips.
“You already know what time it is,” he muttered, then lowered his head.
Your hand flew to his curls the second his tongue met you, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. He took his time, dragging it out, teasing you with soft, shallow licks until you were tugging at his hair, begging for more.
“You gon’ stop playin’ with me now?” he asked between strokes, grinning up at you.
“Yes—ah, fuck—yes,” you gasped, head tipping back into the pillows.
“Good,” he growled, sucking deep, his fingers sliding into you to match the rhythm of his tongue. The heat built until your body arched up, cries muffled against your hand as you came hard against his mouth.
He licked you through it, not giving you a chance to come down before he slid up the bed, pressing himself against you. His shorts were gone, again, and the weight of him made your stomach flutter all over again.
“Round two, baby,” he whispered, lining himself up. “And this time, I’ma take my time with you.”
The first thrust was slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as he filled you completely. He kissed you deep, one hand laced with yours against the sheets, the other gripping your thigh to keep you spread open for him.
Every roll of his hips was controlled, slow but deep enough to make your toes curl. He wasn’t letting you hide this time — he wanted every whimper, every moan, every plea.
Your nails raked down his back, leaving trails across his skin as his pace gradually picked up, dragging out your pleasure until you were shaking under him, chanting his name.
“That’s it,” he groaned, kissing along your jaw. “Say it again.”
“Jey…” your voice cracked, tears pricking your eyes from how good it felt.
“That’s mine,” he whispered, hips snapping harder, burying himself deep. “Always mine.”
You couldn’t even answer — your climax ripped through you, body convulsing beneath him, the sheets twisting in your fists. He followed right after, a guttural moan muffled against your neck as he spilled into you, holding you tight against him.
The room went quiet again, save for your heavy breathing. He kissed your temple, pulling the blanket up over both of you as he stayed buried inside you, unwilling to let go yet.
“See?” he murmured, brushing your damp hair back. “Told you quit talkin’ crazy. Daddy still run this.”
You swatted at his chest weakly, laughing breathlessly. “Shut up.”
But when you curled into him, leg hooked over his hip, he just smirked, pressing another kiss to your lips.
“Love you too, mama.”
