ceceslanddd - Tumblr blog

ceceslanddd · 12 days ago

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Splash whew

‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰…‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀

babyphat. onyankopon.

𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count— 4.3K, original!blackfemalereader, original!blackpregnantreader, footballplayer!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, aggressive!onyankopom, sweet!onyankopom, dominant!onyankopon, husband!onyankopon, pregnancykink!, selfpleasure!, facetimesex!, phonesex!, pet names, dirtytalk aggressive pet names, masturbation, toy play usage, minors are not welcome! 𓊇ྀི

メモ。— hello people, teehee. just wanted to start this off with a bang, and i figured, why not use one of my favs to start ? hope you enjoy reading it again, again, + again as much as i do. i love y’all so much, see you later.

THAT SWEET WAFT OF TONKA BEAN, COCOA BUTTER AND BROWN SUGAR WAS WHAT YOU USUALLY WOKE UP TO—unfortunately, that scent had been missing on your pillow for days now. You sat up tiredly as you took a deep breath, raising your fingers over the smooth swell of your belly—you were now eight months pregnant, and your husband wasn’t home as much as you wanted him to be.

He’d been in contract with the New Orleans Saints for only a couple of months now. Becoming pregnant was an accident—but spending the rest of your life with him was something you planned the moment you’d locked eyes with him on LSU’s campus three years before. You’d traveled to every part of the state to be with him for games, had his support even as he traveled the world —a baby wasn’t too far along after.

The only unfortunate part of this situation was his absence. With him just being signed, he was around the country with press conferences, practices, essentially in the hazing part of his successes. You were happy for him as you knew this was all he wanted, but you missed him, and so did the baby growing inside your belly.

Thankfully you had the support of his mom, who was there for you as if you were her own daughter. She was there to help you with your daily routine—feeding your two large Dobermans as you couldn’t reach down to do so, going with you to your ultrasounds, and dragging you into every store she saw with infant clothes. You enjoyed your time with her—but you still missed your Onyankopon.

But it’s not like the two of you didn’t communicate at all. Texting when he wasn’t busy, phone and video calls into the night, pictures of daily activities, or all of those options emphasized in more…intimate sessions implemented your schedule. It opened up a new exploration of your relationship as you were more shy to the nastier suggestions, but as more time was spent away from each other? You’d do anything to show how much you wanted him home.

Speaking of, it was your favorite time of the day. Your daily phone call was always closer to the evening time, the sun beginning to set within the city of New Orleans. He was only a couple of hours away as they were in Mississippi, days away from preparing to play their kick off game against Ole Miss—but to you, it felt like he was across the country.

You tug the bow that ties the halter of your yellow sun dress, silver cross sat between the swell of your breasts and constantly hardened nipples due to your hormones. You were going for a more natural route with your hair, Fulani scalp braids seeping into midnight black curls, dragging all the way down your shoulders, framing your flushed and freckled cheeks.

The baby pink IMAC glows against your caramel skin, camera reflecting back onto your doll shaped face as the call rang. When it connected, you were met with the familiarity of his hotel room—it was slightly dim, the TV’s screen only being the light coating his brown skin, full lips even more delectable through the grainy camera. His durag protects his hair, goatee connected perfectly, jawline prominent under his stoic gaze. He was edible.

You wave, “Hi, baby! Can you see me?”

“I can.”

His deep timbre voice was always comforting, mused at your excitement within his southern drawl.

He greeted, “Hey, my pretty ass baby. Look at you,” His eyes flickered over your face, breasts, and your swollen belly, making your thighs press together, “How you feelin’?”

“I’m okay,” you sigh, tugging a curl of your hair through bent fingers, “You’ like my dress? ‘Bought it a couple days ago.”

Your voice was soft, more unsure in your own comfortability. You’d cried as your body changed in the earlier months.

Onyankopon smirks, shifting on the chair where his knees spread, “Pretty as fuck, Mama. Bout’ to bust that shit open with allat’ ass,” he grunts, which makes you giggle as he continues, “I’m missin’ you.”

“I miss you more, baby.”

You give another exhale, trying not to make yourself upset—you press on, “You need to come home soon. Your big ass wolves that you call dogs are scarin’ your momma.”

“Oh? Now they’ my dogs. You ain’t say allat’ when you wanted them,” he retorts, licking over his lips.

Your eyes follow the movement of his tongue as you shift on the chair. He looked handsome as ever. You can’t help but stare at his full lips, the small dimple in his cheek, and the dark hue of his eyes as he leans towards the computer desk, pulling out rolling paper as he prepares to roll a blunt. You weren’t sure why, but it was always the sexiest thing to watch.

You flutter your lashes through the screen, “They’ ain’t drug testing y’all?”

Onyankopon mumurs, “It’s preseason, Baby,” as he begins to break down the tree on the rolling paper, “Besides, all I’m doing is smokin’. That ain’t so bad.”

“Mhm,” you roll your eyes, “You better cut that ain’t so bad habit before our little Pumpkin comes.”

Your eyes run across his mouth as he licks over the joint, sealing the end, “Don’t call him that shit. That’s my son,” he grabs for his lighter, “Don’t start drawlin’ on a nigga. My lil’ man been kickin’?”

“Your lil’ football player has been punting in my damn stomach,” you blow out a breath, “‘Doctor said he’s moving down to my bladder. If he shifts anymore, imma’ need a walker.”

Your fingers grip around the cross hanging between your breasts, voice soft as you then say, “…You’re my Pumpkin too, y’know.”

A chuckle leaves Onyankopon. He brings his freshly lit joint to his lips, inhaling as he holds off the urge to laugh even more. A cloud of gray leaves his lips as he blows.

“He gon’ have my long ass legs.”

His eyes flicker up momentarily from the screen, making it fog, “You’ my pumpkin, too,” he reiterates, exhaling into the camera.

You didn’t want to interrupt as you watched him—the haze of his red eyes was already becoming apparent, and it made him even more sexy. Fuck. Your fingers absentmindedly trail along your belly once more, feeling your cheeks become warm as you bring your eyes down.

You ask softer, “How was practice?”

"We got a new offense—nigga think he somebody ‘cause he seventy feet tall— besides that, same ol'. Just drills and shit,” He rambles, shifting forward in his chair.

“You’ got a big head too, Quarterback,” you reminded, “Don’t be actin’ like you’re so humble.”

Onyankopon narrows his low eyes through the screen. He takes another slow drag of his blunt, exhaling with a smirk that makes your thighs press tighter together even more.

"Who said anything 'bout bein' humble, huh?" His deep voice rumbles as he leans closer to the camera, tattoos flexing along his neck, “I know who I am. A nigga MVP material. Just like how I know my wife sittin’ over there lookin’ all sweet, tryna’ pretend she ain’t gettin' wet watchin’ me smoke this shit."

The brown of your skin finds itself to be flushed in your cheeks, hating how he easily reads through you.

“Onyankopon.”

“Nah,” Onyankopon leans back in his chair, spreading his thick thighs wider as amusement dances in those dark eyes, “I know. You got that lil’ crease between yo’ eyebrows right now—the one you get when you’ frustrated.”

You watch him with curious eyes when he gives you a groan—the only thing you could see was his face, shoulders, chest and what you could assume to be his stomach. He wears a white long sleeve, clinging to his muscular frame. You knew all the tattoos that hid under his top. But something you missed more was seated below the table.

You give him a soft, awkward smile. You know how he got when he was high. This was your husband, yet he made you nervous like a schoolgirl.

“Oh!”

You stand as you suddenly begin to search for your purse, ass cheeks jiggling directly within the camera, “I got the ultrasound photos, baby! Wanna see?”

Your husband hums, low and deep as he says back to you, “Mhm,” You feel his lustful eyes on the screen, “‘Come show me.”

Your hands tremble as you search, excited for him to see the photos. Or maybe you were just nervous—again.

You drop the brown Telfar on the side of the desk, it only takes you three steps to be in front of the computer again, holding the black and white printout up to the screen.

You can hear a faint laugh. Onyankopon murmurs, “Bring it closer, girl.”

You fully sit down, leaning forward as you point your French tip against the sonogram, “See, that’s his little toesss, and that’s his little fingers!” you giggle, “You see?”

Onyankopon’s face breaks out into a smile as he groans slightly, “Goddamn. I lied, he got my fingers. Musta’ got your toes, Mama. Can’t see ‘em too good.”

You hum, “Guess he won’t be too good for basketball then,” you tease.

“You tryna’ be funny,” Onyankopon shakes his head, “Basketball she says— You know what? Just ‘cause you said that, he’s not playin’ no sport. Imma’ get lil’ man his own studio.”

You giggle a bit at that, “My child won’t be doing any kind of rapping. You can kill that thought.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s gon’ be a singer. Got your pretty ass voice, I know it.”

You roll your eyes, “You’ just flirting, boy. Cut it out.”

Onyankopon chuckles at that, but he doesn’t deny it. His eyes fall back to that serious gaze he had before, a soft tint of red within them.

“You got me thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

His voice, it’s almost like it’s own way of peer pressure. Your hands run over your belly anxiously as you blink, “Me?”

"Yeah,” Your husband draws out, eyes flickering up and down the screen in anticipation, “Don't play all shy.”

He expands the position of his lap to spread more, as if he’s waiting.

Here was the thing. Before he was signed, you and Onyankopon had sex almost every other day. You couldn’t get enough of each other ; it was a cupcake phase in years of being together, and without that usual release of dopamine, you yearned for one another. When your mind flashed through those memories, your thighs rubbed together. It made you want to open them and—

“Hey, mon chèri, you alright in here? I just made you a bowl of Yaki Mein—“

Your mother in law had interrupted those thoughts. She pauses, gray curls bouncing as she looks over her son on the camera. Her eyes immediately narrowed, speaking her native tongue his way, “Mwen konnen ou pi byen mete jwente sa a.”

Onyankopon groans as his mother comes into view, “Fót mwen,” he coughs, hovering a fist over his mouth. His mother was very stringent from her Haitian background, so he always stood straight when she was around. You can see some movement under the table, which you assumed was Onyankopon putting the blunt away.

“Why’ the hell do you think it’s a good time to be smoking, Onyankopon? They don’t drug test y’all?”

Oh god. You knew your mother-in-law could easily begin complaining, and you wish she’d walked in at any other time. You placed a calming palm against her arm.

“Ma’—Momma. I’m in the preseason. Ain’t got no games for a couple days, they ain’t doin’ that, they ain’t doin’ all that.”

“Preseason? The ‘hell does that mean? Are y’all playing or not? If you’re not playing, then why can't you come back home to check on your mother and your pregnant wife?”

Onyankopon groans again as he leans back in the chair, “Momma, I’m not finna’ get into it with you again. You and Baby know. You jus’ gon’ talk over me if I start speakin’ anyway.”

“Are you at least eating? Did you get the care package I sent you? I got all your soaps, and that little teddy bear you had as a baby—you never went anywhere without Mr. Snuffles—“

His eyes go a little wide, “Ou ap fè twòp…I’m good, Momma. Got yo’ care packages. Lawd. Stop with allat’…”

“Thank you for the bowl, Momma,” you give her a smile, politely trying to shoo her away, “I’m not super hungry at the moment— do you mind leavin’ it in the microwave?”

Onyankopon’s mom gives a smile back, “Of course. I’m actually gonna head back home for the night, do you need anything else, baby girl?”

You shake your head, “I’m perfect. Just gonna’ keep talking to Ony for a little while longer.”

Onyankopon sighs as his mother says her goodbyes, exiting out of the room. Now, you notice his eyes flickering up and down your curves, which makes you squirm under the spotlight.

“I miss you bad as fuck, girl. You miss me?”

You hate yourself for the emotions that produce randomly at times. The conversation between your mother-in-law and Onyankopon, the way he made you easily giggle, the imagery of his warmth surrounding you but not actually being there—it didn’t feel the best with his absence.

The dark fluff of your lash extensions flutter as you nod your head, using your knuckles to lightly swipe your watery eyes, “I miss you so much, Ony…”

Your husband’s face softens. He can tell you’ve grown emotional, knowing his absence had been difficult on you. But you always supported his dreams and wanted to build the perfect life for your baby boy, so you stuck through. It made him feel guilty.

He murmurs, “C’mon, baby. Stop allat’ cryin’. Wipe ya’ face, you know I’ll be back.“

The dim hotel room seems even more desolate compared to the comfort of your shared home. Seeing you like this made him miss you even more, his heart feeling heavy in his chest that he couldn't be there to console you.

You shakily sigh, nodding your head as you kneel your face down to let the tears fall that way, “I—I know, it’s just hard sleepin’ without you,” you sniffle, “Lil’ Pumpkin likes when you rub my stomach to sleep…”

Onyankopon sighs, “I know that, sweet girl. I love rubbin’ yo’ stomach too, baby.”

He then says, “‘Soon as I get back, we gon’ sleep for a whole week. Ain’t nobody gonna’ bother us. I’m all yours.”

Your heartbeat increases with his words—Onyankopon always had a way to make you emotional without even being near. It made you excited, giggly, a crybaby—but now? It made you horny.

“Don’t think I ain’t missin’ you like crazy. I miss yo’ voice, I miss yo’ smell. I miss yo’ pu—“

Then, he cuts himself off. The words he speaks nearly has him grunt to himself, “I just miss you.”

You watch as he brings the blunt back up to the camera, pulling another drag of smoke, the move always so efficient as if it was nothing. His eyes are back to being low—it makes you shift your legs again. He cuts on low background music to play, and a familiar song catches your ears, Make Me Proud, by Drake.

You take a moment to recall why the song gave you such a sense of Deja Vu. But as you remember, you halt. It was a foggy night, one you’d had when first being together in college. A night of studying for exams had both of you exhausted, smoking a familiar hobby you shared before you’d gotten married. You remember the giggles from your lips as you sat against his lap, grinding your hips to the song—the way he glared at you as your body moved above him, the smacks he gave your ass for it.

But then, your brain just… resurfaces more of that night.

It takes you deeper—your moans, your whimpers. His grunts into your mouth, his voice in your ear as you whined. The song has you becoming hot and bothered, your hands trembling, your thighs quaking. You were supposed to be happy at the moment, being told of how your husband missed you. But your mind didn’t listen to your rationality, instead drifting back into those memories even further. How you would beg for him. The sound of your skin clapping together, your legs trapped over his shoulders—

You’re hit with the reality of your husband's eyes on you. Your hand had somehow made its way to your breasts, clutching your pendant again.

“Mama.”

Onyankopon murmurs this pet name, “‘Got me thinkin’ about you bad as fuck.”

Your eyes run over his large silhouette, head tilting back as he watches you. Your mind wanders again, back to that song—back to that night. Your mind can’t stop. Your head is spinning with the memories, it physically makes you whimper, tugging your pendant fully in response.

Your husband’s gaze grows into full lust. He finds your attention, “Talk to me. Whatchu’ thinkin’ about?”

The hand clutched around your pendant squeezes a bit tighter as you glance towards the camera, “The song…makes me think ‘bout a night with you…”

He hears you. A stream of clouds leaves his lips, “You missin’ that night?”

You nod your head, your entire body now fully hot. You could feel your nipples poking through your top again, aching in a way that almost becomes painful. Your thighs are so tightly together, as you adjust the seating position, you grind your clit against the material—it makes the tiniest gasp pull from your lips.

Onyankopon groans through the screen, and you can hear his voice say, “You’ in our bedroom?”

That patience he had? Was never there in these times.

"Go to it. Onna’ bed," he murmurs, "Hurry up.”

“Too far from you, Ony,” you pout, bringing your hands against your breast, giving a squeeze to them again, trying to relive how full they feel.

There's a pause before a deep exhale leaves his lips. His tone goes deep again, "Go."

The monitor seems to follow you, giving him a full view of that dress hiking up your swollen thighs—His eyes are flickering downward, watching you slide across the silk comforter against your king sized bed.

“You gon’ do what I say?”

You nod your head, lightly dragging your teeth against the pink of your puffy lips.

“Always listen to you, Ony…”

Your husband growls, “That’s right, ‘cause you good. You gon’ be good for me?”

Your hands squeeze the flesh of your breast once more, your nipples never being this sensitive before your pregnancy. You gasp in a soft tone, but the sound is heavier. You nod your head, “‘Bought somethin’ I wanna show you…”

You hear the roughness in his voice, “Yeah? Gon’ head and show me,” he murmurs, “You look so muhfuckin’ good right now, baby.”

You reach beneath your pillow—it’s pink, silicone, almost looking translucent. Big, just as big as him.

“Pretty like you, Papa…”

"Look at that.”

You hear a deep grunt escape his lips before there's a shuffling noise, you couldn't exactly make out what it was—then it was followed by another. This one you recognized; the strings of his sweatpants. His dark pink tip slaps along the sculpted muscle of his stomach, practically making your mouth water.

“You like it?” Your voice is soft, almost too soft for him.

You take the object and graze it lightly along your body, seating yourself fully along the bed. You’re at the most perfect angle to spread your legs.

“Yeah, baby,” he huffs, “Love it.”

You pull at the string of your dress, letting the halter fall over the swell of your belly, material hanging in between your stomach and hips. Your brown nipples protrude, breasts fuller than they’d ever been before—you’re whimpering, “They’re starting to fill with milk, baby… sensitive…”

You can hear a deep, deep groan echo in the screen, almost sounding frustrated, “Fuck. You’ playin’ right now. Put that shit in yo’ mouth.”

You bring the toy up to your mouth, spreading your full lips apart as you let it slide on your tongue, coating it with your saliva. At the same time, you spread your legs, showing off the glistening arousal bedaubed on your pussy. You were wet.

“Fuck, baby....” he growls in repetition, beginning to stroke the fat tip of his dick, “Pussy so pretty. I can feel that shit on my tongue. I’m just slurpin’ yo’ shit up, huh?”

His voice is rough with desire, each word punctuated by another squeeze of his own fist. He can see the way you shift, your breathing heavier than before, possibly from discomfort.

“Getchu’ a pillow for yo’ lower back, baby. ‘Know it be hurtin’ sometimes.”

You listen, pulling the satin pillow behind you for a bit of support, feeling the small ache in your back beginning to decrease.

“You’ comfortable, Mama? Use them’ words.”

You nod, “‘Comfortable, baby. Thank you.”

His sweet voice drops, grunting now, “Good. Rub that dick all over yo’ clit.”

Your eyes flutter shut. You imagine his lips dropping kisses against your clit, going from your inner thighs, teasing you. He’d watch as you’d squirm with every suckle of your skin, your entire body shuddering as his hot breath fanned over the hood covering the pink nub, being pulled up by his lips, being kissed by his tongue. You brush the toy against your clit that throbs, spreading your legs a little more as you whimper, lightly dragging the tip in circles on your upper pussy. The sound it makes, your pussy keens.

His hand begins to pick up speed as he pumps through his fist, “You like that, huh? Rubbing this big ass dick all over yo’ clit?” He rasps, his voice strained with pleasure, “Slap that shit on yo’ pussy. Get them’ pretty ass eyes rollin’ back."

He knew everything about your body. Including the way you’d spasm at this action, so you listened, slapping the heavy toy against your clit, your legs trembling in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You groan a bit, head falling back, eyes fluttering as you watch the arousal coat along your thighs, spreading your legs wider to show the gummier pink of your pussy.

The anticipation builds as you tease yourself, circling your clit with the toy, dipping it inside your folds just enough before withdrawing again. It schlucks in return.

“Why that shit so fuckin’ wet already?” His jaw clenches, dragging his fingers down the lengthy inches of himself.

Your folds wrap around the toy every millisecond as you slide the outsides of it against your opening, teasing so much that your eyes haven’t stopped rolling back since he commanded them to. Your hips roll forward with a tremble, a whine parting your lips—you pout, “Ony…”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, “Ain’t even put that shit in forreal’. Where’ my lil’ nasty bitch at? She would’ve been droolin’, dropping herself all on my dick. Just drenching my shit. Quit playin’.”

“Right here,” you whimper, nodding your head, digging your teeth back into the plump of your lips. Instead of dipping the toy in to tease yourself, you take a palm to pull one of your legs up in the air, using your other hand to drag the toy towards your opening, separating the aching stretch of your folds as you begin sinking it’s tip inside.

You’re gasping as you watch it go in through the camera— you feel every inch swelling your walls, disappearing under the sight of your large belly in a pleasured discomfort.

You mewl, “It’s in there, baby.”

"Get it all the way in, baby. Bury that shit deep," he dominates, pumping faster now, his breathing ragged. You’re dropping it in, inch by inch, your inhale deep as you pull it halfway out, toes curling as you sink it back in, an air pocket gushing as your arousal sops around the pink toy.

Your eyes are fluttering chaotically as you shudder, “Fuck, unh—“ you don’t stop, the balls of your toy brushing over your clit as you’re dropping it down into you, making it all the more stimulating.

He’s talking, "You remember when we first met? ‘Couldn’t even handle my fingers. Now look at you,” A low chuckle escapes him, "Now I got you stretchin’ that pussy out. Dick just drop, drop, droppin’ in that shit…”

His words trail off into a grunt as he quickens his strokes, “You my lil’ freaky ass bitch, huh?”

You nod again, frowning at the way your pussy cries its tears, sobbing out in waves of arousal that pool each time you pull the toy out, painting the pink silicone white. You squeal lightly as its balls slap against the outside of your pussy, the fleshy sound splattering up more of your wetness as you petulantly whine, “Yeah, Ony…”

"That's right, baby. Take that shit like a good lil' slut," he growls, voice dripping with lust as he watches you work the toy deep inside yourself, “Rubbing that pretty ass clit while you’ stuffed. Fuck, you look so damn good."

He picks up pace, stroking harder and faster as he nears his own climax, “Gonna give you all this fuckin’ nut. You want it?”

“Want it,” you tremble, in and out, the toy’s just going in you at this point, disappearing without a trace, lost in your pussy. You’re just gushing. The sound is like a mouth blowing raspberries into one’s palm, fleshy, nasty, frothing.

“Can’t cum without you,” you pout, “Need you….I need you,” you’re opening your mouth, the sob coming deep from your chest, fucking yourself even harder, one leg shaking violently as it’s held in the air, eyes possessed as they’re rotating. You loved these moments—but they were never enough. Not even for him.

“You don’t need nothin’,” He groans, his final words coming out in the way you only knew them to be, “Keep that pussy wet as fuck. I’m comin’.”

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ceceslanddd · 14 days ago

Text

My favorite

Second Chance

Synopsis - Amira lived the life that most women wanted. She was a successful business owner, married to a successful CEO of a luxury hotel chain. The two lived in a beautiful mansion in Houston with their two dogs, Pickles and Peaches. From the outside they looked like the perfect family but they were far from it. One night, after her husband stands her up, Amira decides to go to a new club that had just opened up. She ends up meeting Smoke who ultimately decides he wants her all to himself, despite the rock on her finger.

Characters - Amira, Elias ‘Stack’, Elijah ‘Smoke’, Damien, Araya

Warnings - SMUT, angst, tension, jealousy, cursing, violence, Dom Smoke, Sub OC, cheating, miscarriage.

MINORS DNI

Part 2

Amira had long forgotten of her phone that was currently blowing up and her husband that was blowing it up. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only and that was Smoke.

He gently placed her on the bed as if she was the most delicate thing he’d ever laid his hands on. His mouth moves down from her lips to her neck and to her collarbones. Pulling back, Smoke stands at his full height, eyes locked in on her. “Strip.”

She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t bother to think twice. Amira stands up and slowly removes her dress, leaving her in nothing but a black lace thong.

“Damn, baby.” Smoke admired her for a while. The way her skin glowed with the moonlight, her nipples pebbled and pierced, her legs long and inviting. He almost felt hypnotized.

It wasn’t long until he was in nothing but his boxers. Amira traced his skin, his abs and happy trail. She looked at him like she was starving and Smoke couldn’t help but feel the same. Their lips meet again in a heated kiss as he backs her onto the mattress. His body towered over her as he placed kisses on her skin. Smoke licked and bit anywhere he pleased and she just let him, squirming under his weight.

He was teasing her, making her desperate.

“Please” She whispered as he reached her thighs, continuously leaving marks, getting closer and closer to where she wanted him the most.

“Please what? Talk to me.”

Her face burned with embarrassment, she’s never been one to talk much during sex. Damien and her were pretty vanilla when it came to it. Just one and done, and maybe if he was up to it, round two.

“Smoke pleaseeee” She whimpered as he bit the skin near her pelvis. He used his teeth to latch on to her thong and pull it down her legs before separating them so that he could see everything.

He groaned as he stared at her mound, glistening and wet. Just for him.

“We don’t do that round here baby. You gon learn to speak up and tell me what you want.” He placed a kiss to her clit causing her to flinch slightly.

“Please, eat my pussy.” Her heart raced and her body shook with need. At this point she wanted him so bad, she’d bark if he asked her to.

“There we go. Keep talking to me like that.” Smoke finally attached his lips to her clit, his tongue going in circles as he sucked lightly.

“Oh fuck” Amira moaned loudly, her hands gripping his grey satin sheets as her hips moved frantically. Smoke grabbed her to stop her from moving as he continued to swallow her. His tongue traveled down her pussy, pushing into her aching hole before pulling out and sucking on her lips. He repeated the cycle a few times before attaching his mouth back to her clit.

Smoke groaned at her taste, her arousal covering his beard and dripping down to the floor.

She was so sweet.

“Fuck, you taste good.” His fingers circled her entrance as his tongue slow danced with her pussy. Amira was a moaning and whimpering mess. Her legs shook and her back arched in pleasure. “Talk to me princess. How you feel?”

“F-feels so good. Please don’t stop.” Smoke pushed his index and middle finger into her. “Smokeeeee. Oh my god.” Amira’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her hands flew to grip onto his arms. Her legs shook as he sped up, touching that spot that had her seeing stars.

“What happened? Hm? You gon cum for me?” The sounds of his fingers going in and out of her echoed throughout the room. “Shit baby. I could be here all day.”

“S-Smoke. I’m gonna cum.” Amira was panting, her back bent like a crescent moon and her mouth open wide.

“Ga head. Give it to me.” A sob escaped her lips as her body trembled in pleasure. Her arousal covered his fingers as he helped her ride her orgasm. Smoke was in a trance, moaning as he licked her up, making sure not to leave a single drop. He could already feel himself getting addicted.

Amira had her eyes closed while her body relaxed onto the bed when she felt Smoke on top of her, bringing his lips to hers. The two kissed like long lost lovers, their hands reaching to touch each others damp skin. Smoke pulled back enough to remove his boxers and then lined himself up at her entrance. Her legs were at his waist, still slightly trembling.

He watched her carefully, placing a kiss to her forehead and then one to her lips. “You good?”

She nodded. “Yea. I’m good.” Amira leaned up to kiss him, just to reassure him that she wanted this as bad as he did.

Smoke pushed in, stretching her tight hole slowly until he bottomed out. Amira gripped onto his bicep, her nails digging into his skin. Her mouth was wide open and her breathing was heavy. Tears stung her eyes from the pain that she was trying her hardest to ignore.

“It’s okay baby. I got you. You can take it.” Smoke placed kisses around her face before digging his head into her neck, sucking on her sweet spot to help ease the discomfort. He hadn’t moved, wouldn’t dare to until he was sure Amira could handle it. “Let me know when you need me.”

They stayed like that for a little bit until he heard her whisper. “I need you.” Smoke looked into her eyes as he slowly pulled back, leaving just the tip in, and then sinking back into her abyss. Amira whimpered, loudly, her hands moving to his back where she felt each ripple of his muscles as he gave her long, slow and deep strokes.

She was choking on her own moans, her spine was permanently bent as she scratched his back to try and keep her sanity.

“D-daddyyyyy.” Amira was drunk and dizzy. His dick was hitting places she’d forgotten existed. She looked down to watch her stomach bulge every time he entered her.

He was so deep.

She felt so full.

“Look how good you taking this dick, princess.” Smoke watched as she fell apart under him, another orgasm ripping through her. Amira sobbed and shook but Smoke just kept going on. “You want more?”

She nodded dumbly, too intoxicated to even speak. Smoke raised her legs to his shoulders, his hands intertwined with hers as he slammed into her repeatedly. He was growling in her ear, completely lost in the moment. Amira cried, her moans loud enough to reach the club they’d just left. Smoke grabbed her left foot, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on her toes while his strokes got faster. “Smoke… fuck wait.”

“Daddyyyyy!” She came again, this time drenching him and his expensive sheets. He smirked in satisfaction before pulling out. “Turn around. We ain’t done yet.”

Amira whimpered as she moved, her body was weak but was craving for more. She got on her stomach, ass perched up in the air, hands stretched out in front of her. Smoke groaned, moving his face to lick her cum that was still sliding out of her pussy. This time when he filled her up, he wasn’t as gentle.

Smoke was fucking her senseless and Amira couldn’t stop crying, the pleasure being too much for her that she tried to move away. He gripped her hips to keep her in place as he continued to thrust in and out of her. “Nah. Where the fuck you think you going? Take this dick baby.”

She moaned as the whites of her eyes made an appearance. She reached an arm back to try and push him off but Smoke just grabbed it and locked it onto her back. “Bet ya husband don’t make you feel this good. Right baby?” Amira moaned in response, her mind too foggy to form a proper sentence. Smoke’s hand slammed down on her ass cheek. “Answer me.”

“Noooo daddy. No he doesn’t.” Her orgasm came before she even had time to process it. She squirted with every thrust until her body went limp and she dropped onto his bed. But Smoke didn’t stop, he followed her down, moving her right leg up and bending it so that he’d get the perfect angle to dig deeper into her.

“Pleaseeeee.” She cried but she wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or keep going.

“This my fucking pussy now, you hear me Amira?” She nodded her head, speaking incoherently, attempting to say something but failing every time his dick touched her stomach. “Look at me.”

Amira turned her head, teary eyes meeting his lustful ones. “Open ya mouth.” She listened and stuck her tongue out, watching as Smoke spit into her mouth. He moaned as he watched her swallow, she could tell he was holding back but was slowly slipping. His strokes were becoming messy and short. “Cum inside of me, please daddy.” Smoke kissed her, her words being the final straw before he spilled his seed inside of her.

He placed kisses down her back before slowly pulling out then he gently flipped her body over, his mouth immediately attaching to her nipples. Amira let out soft sighs as her hands rubbed his head and face. Smoke pecked her shoulders before moving to lay on the bed. He gave her a look before mumbling a low “Ride me.”

Amira noticed that Smoke never asked, he demanded, and so with shaky legs, she got up and crawled to him. She bent her legs as she slowly sunk into him, his head fell back and a deep groan followed as Amira took him entirely.

“Pussy so good. That’s it baby. Good girl.” Smoke praised as she moved her body up and down his length.

“Daddyyyy, it’s too much.” Amira whined as her head landed softly on his shoulder, her thighs were burning but she kept going. Smoke slapped her ass before gripping it.

“You got it. Make me proud mama.”

Amira scratched Smoke’s shoulders as she felt herself tightening up. He pulled her face to his, sliding his tongue in her mouth as he started thrusting upwards.

“S-Smokeeeee.” Amira lifted herself up slightly as she squirted all over him. Smoke rubbed her clit causing her legs to shake profusely before she dropped down on top of him.

“Turn around.”

“I- I can’t. No more daddy.” Smoke rubbed her sides and back as he gently soothed her.

“Yes you can princess. Come on. Give daddy one more.” Amira looked at him with those big dark brown eyes, her makeup was ruined, streaks of mascara going down her face and her lashes in all different directions but he still found her beautiful. He wiped the tears from under her eyes before placing soft kisses to her cheeks.

“Kiss, please.” Amira had never felt this vulnerable before. All she wanted was him, his presence, his touch. She didn’t know what he was doing to her but she didn’t want it to stop. Smoke leaned in, placing his lips on hers as gently as possible.

Amira turned around, her back to his chest as her legs sat outside of his that were bent at the knee. Her head landed on his shoulder and her face cuddled up to his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist, slowly filling her already sore pussy that somehow was still wet and needy.

Smoke thrusted into her at a steady pace as her moans became louder and louder. His hands moved to around her neck, slightly choking her as he sped up, chasing his high. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Shiiiiittt!!”

Amira’s body was sensitive from the multiple orgasms he had already given her, her mind completely gone as she practically drooled from pleasure. “Tell me this my pussy.”

“It’s yours. It’s yours. It’s all yours.” Smoke groaned as he slammed into her faster. Amira almost arched herself off of him as her juices went everywhere. He pulled her back, coming into her pussy that now twitched around his dick.

Gently laying Amira down next to him, Smoke placed kisses on her back and neck as he listened for her breathing to even out. “Don’t move.” He got out of bed and walked to his bathroom, cleaning himself off before grabbing a wash cloth for Amira that was half asleep at this point. After cleaning her up, he got her a bottle of water, making sure she drank enough off of it before moving her body to the couch so that he could change the sheets and then slipping into bed next to her and falling asleep.

“Fuck” Amira whispered as she slowly walked up to her house. She had woken up wrapped around Smoke and almost, almost, went back to sleep before she realized that she wasn’t home and Smoke wasn’t her husband and her actual husband was probably worried sick.

Smoke hadn’t even gotten the chance to make her breakfast, let alone offer to drive her home before she had gotten dressed, called an uber, gave him a goodbye kiss and left. Amira scrolled through the hundreds of notifications from Damien and her best friend, Araya.

“Your location been off all night. You better be alive, Amira or I’m gonna resurrect you and kill you my damn self.”

Amira giggled at Araya’s message, sending a quick “I’m alive” text to which she responded that Amira had some explaining to do and that she’ll be waiting.

Peaches and Pickles ran up to her as soon as she walked in the house. After some much needed love to the both of them, she slowly walked to the living room and then up the stairs. The master bedroom lights were on which meant Damien was home, she could hear the shower running and so she quickly made her way to the guest room.

After her shower, she put on the hoodie she stole burrowed from Smoke and draped it over her body. She grabbed what little makeup she had in her purse to cover the bruises on her neck and wrapped her sweated out hair into a bun.

Walking into their room, a gasp escaped her lips as her eyes land on the multiple bouquets of roses, gift bags and jewelers boxes spread out on their bed.

“Had fun?” Amira jumps at the sound of Damien’s voice.

“What are you talking about?” She rolls her eyes as she goes to gather the gifts she assumed he got her for missing their date.

“I come home to find that you wasn’t here and then you don’t answer me all fucking night.”

“Oh, just like how you do to me?” Damien snatches the Cartier bracelet out her hands. His face got close to hers before his eyes trailed down her body.

“Who’s fucking sweater is that? That shit smells like cologne.” Amira kept a poker face though her heart beat loudly in her chest.

“It’s Araya’s. I stayed with her last night, she gave me this from Joshua’s side of the closet.” Damien furrowed his eyebrows.

“You lying to me Amira?”He got closer to her, chest puffed out like he was gonna do something.

“No Damien, get out of my face .” He backed up, eyes narrowed and face stoic.

“Let me find out.”

“Find out what? You sound guilty ya damn self.” She scoffed, the tension rising in the room.

“Aight Mira. I’m going out before we both end up saying shit we don’t mean.”

“Ok.” Amira laid in bed pretending to be busy on her phone as Damien got dressed and left the house without another word.

Amira had just gotten back to her office after being with a client since the early hours of the morning, it was now 2PM and well past her lunch break. She was starving and tired but knew she had much more work to push through.

“Damn girl, you look like you’re glowing.” Monica eyed her boss, raising an eyebrow as she took in the visible light in her face compared to how drained she looked before.

Amira giggled. “Really? I haven’t even done anything different.” She stood in front of the mirror that sat by the reception desk, looking at her face that someone did look noticeably brighter. Her body and demeanor just looked more relaxed in general.

“Yessss girl. Damien must be keeping you happy, huh?” Amira almost flinched at the sound of her husband’s name. She gave Monica a fake smile and nodded.

“Yup.” She walked into her office, her mind immediately shifting towards Smoke. He had texted her to ask if she was okay but hadn’t heard from him since. Amira sighed loudly, unlocking her phone and scrolling through DoorDash to see if she could find something to eat.

The sound of her office phone ringing broke her out of the trance she had put herself in. “Yes Monica?”

“There’s a gentlemen out here, says he has an appointment with you but I don’t see it on your calendar.”

Amira looked through her notes to see if she had scheduled any meetings with anyone. “Um, I don’t think so. What’s his name?”

“Smoke.”

Amira shook her leg as she waiting for him to walk into her office and when he did her breath got caught in her throat. He had a huge bouquet of lilies and a smile covered in gold. “Hey princess.”

“Hi, oh my god.” She got up to grab the flowers from him, he wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulling her in for a hug. She tried her best to keep her composure as his scent invaded her nose. “How did you know I like lilies?” His thumb slowly moved up and down the small sliver of skin that peeked out from her blouse.

“You have a bunch of them tattooed on your back, figured that meant something.” She smiled up at him before slowly removing herself from his body.

“Do I even wanna know how you figured out where I work?” Amira sat behind her desk and watched as he looked around her baby blue office that was covered in plants, magazines, books and paintings.

“You told me your name, told me what you do for work. It wasn’t hard to find you after that, specially since you’re pretty famous.”

“I am not famous.” She rolled her eyes playfully. Smoke sat at the chair across from her. His eyes took her in.

“You’re on multiple magazine covers and got featured on Forbes 30 under 30. That’s pretty famous to me.” Amira bit her cheek, trying not to smile.

“What are you doing here?” She took the time to admire his outfit, he wore a black t-shirt, hugging his biceps just right. Baggy, denim jeans, some 1s and his gold chains. On his wrist sat a watch Amira knew all too well, audemar piquet, royal oak.

“I want you to decorate my house.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. “Wait, what?”

“I want you to come do what you do best, at my house.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Smoke watched her fidget with the papers on her desk, a smirk displayed on his plump lips.

“And why not?”

“Because… I’m married and we- you know. We shouldn’t.” Amira bit her lip as she avoided his eyes that wouldn’t dare move away from her.

“I told you. I couldn’t care less that you’re married. Ya husband got a problem, tell him to come see me bout it.”

She ignored the way her thighs clenched and her hands shook, trying her hardest to remain professional. “He doesn’t- Okay. Listen I can’t help you. You’d have to go to somebody else or I can assign one of the other ladies to help you.”

“Nah. I told you I want you and I meant that shit.”

“Smoke-”

“Whatever you charge, I’ll triple it.”

Amira’s eyes nearly popped out her eye sockets. “Triple? You bullshitting.”

“Do I look like the type of man to bullshit, baby?”

No.

He definitely does not.

“Smoke I-I can’t. Damien is already suspecting..” Smoke stands up and slowly comes around the desk. “A-and if he finds out…”

He stands in front of her, reaching down to grab her hand. “Let him.” Amira’s chest rose and fell rapidly as Smoke leaned down, lips barely touching hers. “You telling me no, princess?”

“Smoke…” She whispers, though it sounded more like a moan. Though she barely knows this man, something about him was just so enticing.

Amira pressed their lips together as Smoke lightly chuckled. They kissed like they were bound to fall in love, tongues wrapped around each other, moving in perfect sync.

“Maybe I need to convince you a little more, hm?” He gets down on his knees in between Amira’s legs.

“Smoke, no. What are you doing? What if someone walks in, are you crazy?”

“Doors locked.” He mumbled as he pressed kisses on her bare thighs that were slightly covered by the dress she wore. “You can be quiet for me, right baby?”

Amira nodded, too weak to fight him.

Smoke pulled her dress up to her waist and pulled down the pink lace thong she wore, placing it in his pocket.

“Am I getting those back?” Smoke laughed against the flesh of her thigh before separating her legs.

“Fuck” Amari moaned as his tongue dug into her already soaked pussy. She covered her mouth with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut as Smoke devoured her. He made sure to take his time tasting everything she had to offer. He kissed, suck and bit anywhere he could and all Amira could do was take it, with teary eyes and shaky legs.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her eyes roll to the back of her head as a burst of pleasure fills her body.

“Mhm” Smoke moaned as he drank her arousal like he had a thirst he needed to quench and when Amira finally came down from her high, he made sure she got a taste of her own juices.

Amira was panicking but trying not to. It had been a few days since Smoke ate her out in her office and she was already craving him. His voice, his touch, his scent. She felt like she was going crazy.

Damien couldn’t understand why Amira was all of sudden so irritable around him, if he even breathed too loudly she was getting annoyed. The two had been arguing more than usual, it reached a point where he went ahead and scheduled another session with Dr. Miranda. As much as Amira pissed him off, he didn’t want to loose his wife and so he was determined to do anything to fix their issues. He could tell she was pulling away from him, her attention was on anything else but their relationship and he didn’t like that. He felt like he was loosing control of the situation and wanted to find a way to set them back on track.

Amira on the other hand, didn’t seem to care how Damien felt. She barely spoke during their session and barely even looked at him when they had gotten home.

Straightening the last strand of her hair, Amira quickly ran her fingers through it before tucking one side behind her ear. She exited the bathroom and headed straight to her walk in closer, ignoring Damien who shot daggers at the back of her head. They were supposed to be staying in that night and watch movies but Amira decided last minute she wanted to go out.

She grabbed her black and gold Giuseppe heels to match her mini strapless dress and black monogram LV purse.

“Where you going?” Damien watched her spray perfume on her skin, taking one last look in the full body mirror before walking towards the door.

“Out with Araya. Goodnight.”

“Bitch I been waiting to hear this one.” Amira laughs as Araya folds her hands under her chin, giving her undivided attention.

The two were sitting in a booth at a sushi bar that was always open late. They loved going there when they just needed good food, drinks and to gossip.

Araya and Amira had been friends since high school, the two met in the cheerleading team, Amira being captain and Araya co-captain. They had went their separate ways during college. Araya following her high school sweetheart who went on to become an NFL player and Amira following her passions.

“I… I think I fucked up…”

Araya raised an eyebrow. “Did you kill Damien?”

“What? Bitch no.”

“Did you stab him? Cut his dick off? Better yet, divorce him?” Amira rolled her eyes and sighed loudly.

“No.”

“Shit, then what the did you do?”

“I… Had sex with another man…”

Araya stayed quiet, staring at Amira.

“And then he came to my office and ate me out…”

Araya blinked and then smile. “HALLELUJAH!” Customers in the restaurant turned their heads towards the two women.

“Oh my fucking God, Araya stop. Shut up please.”

“AY, AY WAITRESS! BRING ME A BOTTE OF YA BEST LIQUOR ,WE CELEBRATING TONIGHT!”

Amira covered her face in embarrassment as the waitress brought out a bottle with a sparkler.

“What are we celebrating ladies?” She opened a bottle Amira had never seen before, pouring some into two cups.

Araya smiled with all 32 as she raised her glass in the air. “Infidelity.”

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ceceslanddd · 17 days ago

Text

ELIAS STACK MOORE

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ceceslanddd · 19 days ago

Text

Don’t Talk To Me 😤

“And when we get back to this house,” he shouted, voice sharp enough to cut through bone, “don’t ask me to do a damn thing.”

Your hand flew up in a sharp dismissive wave as you twisted away from him in the passenger seat, the car jerking slightly as Smoke’s grip tightened around the wheel. “That’s fine! I don’t need you for a fucking thing ANYWAYS!”

The words sliced through the thick tension that had been hanging over the two of you like a thundercloud for the past two damn days. A silent war with no winners and a whole lot of heat. It all started because the barista down at Morning Bloom Coffee smiled a little too long when handing you your oat milk vanilla latte. The barista gave you a simple smile trying to be polite. Maybe he did it a second too long. Maybe not. But either way, Smoke saw red like he always did when it came to you and anyone who wasn’t him.

Without hesitation, he’d socked the man in the mouth so damn fast your drink hit the floor before you could blink. And now two full days later you both were still in a petty, fiery, jealous bender.

Day one of your argument you stayed strong and moved through the house like a queen in a castle that had been overrun by a jealous beast.

Your skincare routine? Luxurious.

Your work calls? On point.

Your outfit? A soft two-piece lounge set that hugged every curve like it missed you.

When dinner came, you threw yourself into it like you were being judged on Top Chef. You marinated lamb chops for hours. Cooked up homemade honey butter biscuits with a dash of cayenne in the butter… just the way… he… liked it. But you made it very clear: that plate was yours and yours alone.

As you cooked, Smoke lingered around the kitchen and his massive frame leaned against the fridge while watching you plate your meal like a hawk. His nostrils flared as his eyes burned holes into your skin. He couldn’t believe his woman wasn’t offering him a plate of food, but he also wasn’t a man who would beg.

While completely ignoring his existence, you sat at the dining table with your legs crossed, lips glistening with lamb jus and smirking between each bite like you were daring him to say something. He didn’t. But oh, the look he gave you… Girl run

When Saturday rolled in the silence started to feel dangerous. This was the one day out of the week when Smoke would usually hit the gym with Stack, run errands he couldn’t get to during the week and any other ‘man shit’ that you didn’t care to know about. But not today. Today, that man made it a point to stay his ass at home. All. Damn. Day. And worse? He did it wearing only grey sweatpants and no shirt.

Every inch of Smoke was carved out of marble by God. Smooth brown skin stretched over thick muscle and broad shoulders. His gold chains swung low, catching the light every time he reached for something. And those damn sweatpants? They hung low. Way too damn low while leaving nothing to the imagination.

You were sitting on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but your eyes kept sliding up catching every stretch, every shift, and every flex Smoke would make.

When he purposefully reached his arm up to stretch, that’s when he caught you. “Fuck you staring at?” His voice was deep and sharp. His lips curled into a smirk even as his eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what you were doing.

Your mouth went dry but you sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes before firing back just as sharp. “Ain’t nobody looking at you, nigga.” You turned your head fast, placed a nearby throw blanket onto your lap, and squeezed your thighs shut like you weren’t damn near vibrating with need.

Smoke let out a scoff and dropped onto the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, one hand rubbing the scruff along his jaw, the other dragging down his thigh like he didn’t know what that did to you. But he knew. Of course he knew. Because he’s a SLUT. Smoke was a man born with sin in his bloodstream and you were his favorite outlet.

“You real bold when your pussy hungry,” he goaded without looking at you, just low enough to make your stomach flip. “Real fuckin’ bold.”

You didn’t respond. Your throat tightened and your fingers curled into the blanket as heat spread between your thighs like wildfire. You hated how your body betrayed you. How your nipples perked beneath your tank top just from hearing his voice like that. How your lower belly tightened at the memory of his mouth, his hands, his— Stop. You weren’t going to fold. Not this time. No. This time you had a point to prove… So you stayed quiet.

Smoke leaned forward then, his forearms braced on his knees, honey brown eyes finally locking with yours. He was so beautiful it made your chest hurt. That hard jaw. That slow burn in his stare. The way his gold tooth caught the light when he smirked.

“You gon’ act like you don’t hear me? I said…” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “… you real bold when your pussy hungry.”

You tossed the blanket off your lap like a challenge and stood up, storming past him toward the kitchen. But before you could make it, his hand snatched your wrist. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

“I ain’t touchin’ you,” he said coolly, pulling you gently, slow and patient, until you were standing right between his legs. “I’m remindin’ you. That mouth? That attitude? That little fake-ass silent treatment you think you givin’? That shit don’t work on me, pretty girl.”

He looked up at you like you were the last good thing in a ruined world. And then his eyes dropped trailing slowly down your body, soaking in every soft curve, every part of you he knew like scripture. “Go on. Keep walkin’ away,” he muttered, voice like hardened steel. “But I know damn well you miss how it feel when I grab the back of that neck and tell you to hush while I—”

“Don’t.” You said it too fast. Too breathless.

He grinned. That arrogant grin that made your knees weak and your pride falter. “You really mad?” he asked quietly, now wrapping a hand around your thigh and easing you a fraction closer. “Or you just don’t wanna admit that I had a reason to knock that pretty boy barista out his damn shoes?”

You sarcastically laughed at Smoke’s audacity. “That man smiled. That’s it. You almost went to jail over a smile.”

“Don’t care.” He leaned forward, nose brushing against your lower belly, breath warm through the cotton of your tank. “Anyone smile at you like that again, I’ll put him in the dirt.”

You stared down at him, your fingers twitching by your sides. “You’re a damn lunatic.”

“Yup.” His eyes lifted, black and unrepentant. “Your lunatic.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream and bite and ride and cry and maybe all at once. But instead, you turned your head, stared at the wall, and whispered, “Don’t talk to me.”

Smoke scoffed and his grip tightened before he kissed the inside of your thigh, right on that special spot that always makes you forget how to think straight. The kiss was gentle… dangerous… knowing “Aight, baby,” his voice muffled against your skin. “I won’t say a word.” But the fire in those orbs told a different story.

When you finally pulled away, storming back into the kitchen to cool down, you could feel his stare trailing behind you like a shadow with claws. You stood next to the kitchen island hoping for a moment of peace but instead your heart rattled like a stray bullet in your chest. The room felt too hot, too still… way too still, like the moment right before a thunderstorm when all the air gets sucked out of the sky and the ground doesn’t know whether to shake or stay still.

You ran your hands through your hair and let out a frustrated sigh. After 24 hours of being strong, you couldn’t let yourself fold from a little thigh kiss. You weren’t even hungry, but your hands moved on autopilot, opening the fridge, grabbing things, pretending like your body wasn’t still humming from the feel of his mouth on your thigh.

Smoke wasn’t slick and you weren’t safe. Not from him and not from the heat building up under your skin like it was trying to boil you alive. Behind you, the sound of the armchair creaking and his footsteps thumping across the hardwood made you hold your breath. You didn’t bother turning, you already knew the look on his face was smug and cocky like he was just biding time until your pride finally tapped out.

“You heavy-footed on purpose?” you muttered without looking at him. “Or you tryna make sure I know you comin’ so I don’t swing a skillet at your head?”

Smoke didn’t say a word but you heard the slow grind of his teeth and a slight click when his tongue hit the back of them. Then, the fridge door beside you opened. His arm brushed yours with intent and his skin was as hot as a stovetop. He reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a long, long drink like he had been parched since war-time.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Instead you stopped fiddling with the random assortment of ingredients and crossed your arms under your chest so tightly your hands started going numb. But none of that mattered. Smoke was standing so close now with his presence wrapping around you like a weighted blanket made of lustful desire, silently daring you to keep dismissing him.

“You really don’t want me talkin’ to you?” he asked finally with his tone full of challenge. “Even though your thighs damn near gave up and invited me in just now?”

You turned your head and squinted your eyes at him. “You punched an innocent man for smiling at me!”

“And I said a barista don’t need to be starin’ at what’s mine like he got a fuckin’ chance!”

“You don’t own me, Elijah,” you mumbled.

That was the first time you’d said his real name in days. And you had the nerve to use it while telling him that he doesn’t own you.

Smoke’s jaw ticked. His nostrils flared. And then he laughed like he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with you right now. “I don’t own you?” he repeated, stepping in now, cornering you against the counter. “You right… You right, you grown, huh? Real grown. Is that why you been sittin’ in this house clenching your lil thighs every time I so much as stretch?”

“Back up,” you whispered. It didn’t sound as strong as you wanted it to. Not when your back hit the cold of the cabinet and your front was all warm-blooded temptation and hard muscle.

Smoke leaned in like a snake slithering across grass before striking its prey. His lips brushed your ear, and his voice dropped to a place that made your belly twist. “Tell me to back up one more time, baby,” he taunted, “and mean it.”

You swallowed thickly, chest rising fast beneath your thin top.

His hand settled on the counter beside your hip, the other drifting ever so gently down the side of your arm, brushing like a warning. “Say it,” he taunted again. “Or let me remind you why you don’t ever sleep right unless I’m wrapped around you.”

Now it was your turn to clench your jaw but your breath betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together again, heat rushing back like a tidal wave. “Why you always gotta be like this?” you breathed, voice barely holding on.

He chuckled darkly. “Because I know what’s mine.” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the dip of your waist. “And I know when she lyin’… putting on a front.” He kissed your neck just once to test the waters. It was soft but full of possession.

And when you didn’t stop him, when you didn’t shove him away, he nipped your collarbone and muttered, “You gon’ keep fightin’ me or you gon’ let Daddy fix this?”

“I’m still mad at you,” you said, even as your fingers gripped his sweatpants.

“Stay mad then,” he growled, lifting you up onto the counter like you weighed nothing. “But don’t pretend you don’t need me.”

It took all your might to not whimper when his hand slid between your thighs, the heat of his palm making your eyes roll back. “I told… you not… to talk to me,” you gasped.

Smoke smirked against your throat. “Then put that pretty lil pussy in my face and shut me up.”

Your eyes squinted into a glare and heat rushed up your neck as your lips parted in disbelief. Your body wanted him. Badly. But your mind… that damn stubborn, bratty, prideful-ass mind was not about to let him win this round so easily.

And so… you did what any unhinged woman dating Elijah Moore would do and shoved a hand into his perfect face… and mushed him. What color roses do you want at your funeral? You pushed his cocky expression away like you were slapping a mosquito. The suddenness made him take a step back, just long enough for you to hop down from the counter in one quick motion and scurry away like a rabbit setting itself free from a snare.

“I said don’t talk to me, nigga!” you yelled, snatching your composure back like a silk robe off the floor.

You stormed out the kitchen, and tossed a middle finger over your shoulder. “And put some damn clothes on! Walkin’ ‘round this house like I could buy you for the night with two dollars and a half-stick of gum!”

Smoke stood still like a statue and for a second he didn't know if he was dreaming or if his woman was truly out of her damn mind. Then that low, dangerous laugh rolled from his chest like thunder over wet concrete. It was a sound that did nothing but pour gasoline on the flames already licking between your thighs. He loved when you got like this, wild-eyed, stubborn-lipped, and sass pouring from your throat like it was made of honey and broken glass.

He knew you’d fold. And when you did… he’d be the one to catch you.

The rest of the day you avoided Smoke like the floor was lava and he was the devil waiting at the bottom. You locked yourself in your shared bedroom and buried yourself in the sheets like they could protect you from the walking sin on the other side of the door. You distracted yourself for hours. Scrolled through your phone. Scrolled again. Played lo-fi beats. Switched to gospel. Thought about cooking. Decided not to because that would involve you leaving your sanctuary. Thought about apologizing. Decided not to because it would be a cold day in hell before you apologize to him. Thought about touching yourself… Absolutely did not… yet.

Eventually, your body gave in to exhaustion. The softness of the pillows, the hum of the AC in the background and the scent of Smoke lingering on the sheets rocked you into a tense, twitchy sleep. And then your mind betrayed you.

Of course your unconscious mind decided to betray you as you went off into dreamland. Dream-Smoke had his mouth everywhere on your body. On your neck. Down your chest. Between your thighs. This version of Smoke was utterly ruthless. He said your name like it was a threat and a prayer. His hands gripped your legs like he was holding onto the only thing that made sense in this godforsaken world.

“Open up, baby. Yeah, just like that…”

Your body arched in your sleep, your mouth parted, a soft moan fluttering against the dark. And right when you were about to reach that shimmering edge, Dream-Smoke pulled back and taunted in your ear, “Shouldn’t’ve told me not to talk, huh?”

You gasped yourself awake and the bedroom was cloaked in darkness, only a soft sliver of moonlight slipped between the curtains. Your chest heaved and your pajama shorts were damn near soaked through. The cotton stuck to your core like it had a vendetta. A frown pulled at your lips and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it.

You turned your head to look at the blinking alarm clock through wet eyes and frowned again. It was currently 2:03 AM and you couldn’t believe you somehow slept the entire the day away.

Peaking over your shoulder you let out a disgruntled sigh. Smoke was laid out like he didn’t have a care in the world. One arm slung behind his head, chest rising and falling with calm, heavy breaths. That same damn pair of grey sweatpants still clung to his hips. He looked peaceful. Angelic even. You wanted to punch him and make him suffer for what Dream-Smoke started but didn’t finish. But since you already got away with mushing him in the face you didn’t want to test your luck and simply whined.

A shaky, bratty, needy whimper left your throat as you wiped your still falling tears and leaned over, gently nudging Smoke's shoulder. He grunted and cracked one eye open. “What, baby?” His voice was sleep-worn and you tried not to focus on what hearing it was doing to your already wounded up body.

You pouted in the dark, nose wrinkled, lips trembling. “This is ALL your fault.”

Raising your voice early in the morning got Smoke’s full attention and he blinked slowly, as the remnants of sleep cleared from his face like a curtain lifting. His eyes found you in the moonlit darkness. You looked so adorable to him, pouty-lipped, flushed cheeks, and thighs pressed tightly together under the covers.

“The fuck you yellin’ at me for and cryin’ this early in the morning?” he asked, now fully awake, his tone clipped with concern and confusion.

You sniffled. “I… I need… I want… I want… to touch myself,” you admitted, lip quivering dramatically. “And since I’m still mad at you… I need you to leave the bed.”

Smoke blinked once at you and then again into the darkness like he was on an episode of The Office. He didn’t expect to be so entertained by your antics today and he started to chuckle to himself. This wasn’t a typical ‘I love how bratty my girl is acting’ type of laugh. No, this was a dark, ‘this girl done lost her fuckin’ mind’ laugh.

“You woke me up,” he said slowly, to make sure he got all the details correct, “to tell me that you’re horny… and I need to leave our bed… so you can touch what belongs to me?”

Your throat tightened. When Smoke repeated everything out loud it did sound kind of insane but that was besides the point. “You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin and pointing it to the door. “Now go.”

Smoke let out a final chuckle and didn’t move. He leaned back on one elbow, eyes gleaming in the dark like he could see the mess you’d become under those covers. “You really out here throwin’ tantrums at two in the morning ‘cause you can’t handle how badly you want me to fuck that attitude out of you?” he teased.

“I am handling it,” you bit back. “I’m asking you to leave. Like a grown woman.”

His tongue slid along the inside of his cheek. Then he reached down, adjusted himself in those sweats just slightly, and let out a hum that made your thighs twitch. “You sure?” he asked gently, like he was talking to a skittish wild animal about to bolt. “You sure you want me to leave, baby?”

“Yes,” you whispered, even as your legs squirmed beneath the blanket. “I don’t need you. I can do it myself.”

“Mhm… is that right...”

Smoke sat up slowly before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He stood to his full height and then without saying another word he discarded his sweatpants, letting the moonlight shine on his intimidating half-hard manhood. You sat in complete shock, unsure what to say or what to do. Your mouth stayed agape and you could’ve sworn you didn’t breathe for 2 minutes, Your whole body burned with need and you hated this feeling.

And he spoke again in a cruel velvet-slick tone, “Go on then.” He climbed back in bed and laid on his back with his hands behind his head like he didn’t just take his pants off. “Show me how you don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was so thick it felt like smoke itself. It crackled with the weight of what you wanted to do and what your pride wouldn’t allow. Your fingers trembled under the blanket. You hated him, yet you wanted him. And you hated how badly you wanted him. All of this only made the leaking faucet between your thighs turn into a full blown fire hose.

He bit his bottom lip before antagonizing you. “Might help if you stop cryin’, baby. You can’t see your lil fingers down there with all them tears foggin’ up your eyesight.”

Your fists balled with annoyance but your thighs began to slightly part. Smoke didn’t move or touch you. He didn’t even acknowledge the way he could smell your sweet aroma in the room. He just gave you a look that said, ‘You can play this game all night, pretty girl… I’ll be here when you break.’

And you were so, so close to shattering. You stared at him like he’d summoned a demon into the room and dared you to dance with it.

Smoke stretched his long body across the bed like he was on display. Like he wasn’t a man who just dropped his pants in the middle of a silent standoff and dared you to stay proud. With his arms folded beneath his head, the swell of his chest rose and fell as if he weren’t aware of the war going on inside your body. The tension. The hunger. The absolute need that clawed at your insides like a caged animal. His dick sat heavy between his thighs, thick and idle, like it had time to wait. Like it knew it would be fed eventually.

“You got five seconds before I close my eyes and go back to sleep,” he grumbled without looking at you. “So go ahead. Get to rubbin’. Let me hear how good you make yourself feel without my help.”

Your lip trembled. You weren’t crying anymore, not from frustration anyway. But your thighs were sticky, your panties were soaked through, and every nerve ending in your body was throbbing like you’d been edgewalking through purgatory. Still… you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of begging. So you huffed in a loud and obnoxious manner before wiping your cheeks like a toddler who just got scolded. You then yanked the covers off your body and laid flat on your back beside him, arms stiff at your sides.

Smoke turned his head slightly, one brow arched. “Thought you said you didn’t need me,” he said, tone sharp and mocking.

“I don’t,” you snapped. “I just need space.”

He smirked. “You sound stupid.”

You glared at the ceiling. “You look stupid.”

Another beat of silence. Then your hand slowly dragged beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, and your breath hitched. You weren’t even doing anything yet, and your whole body tensed like you were about to commit a crime.

Smoke didn’t move but he watched from the corner of his eye. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, heavy and loaded. Like if he blinked, he might miss the exact moment you broke. Your fingers brushed against your panties and found them soaked, the cotton clinging to your folds like it was trying to apologize for being in the way. You let out a shaky breath and your fingers twitched as you slid them beneath the fabric and gently grazed your clit.

The behemoth of a man next to you exhaled through his nose but he didn’t say a word as he continued to observe. You rubbed slow circles, small and hesitant, still stubborn as hell and still trying to prove a point you were seconds from losing as a soft and breathy moan slipped out.

Smoke turned his head toward you fully now, his gaze dark and unreadable. “You always make yourself sound so pretty,” he said, voice lower now, rough and molten. “But it don’t hit the same, do it?”

You didn’t answer him but your hips rolled in response to his question. Your hand moved faster. Your breath stuttered. Your back arched. Still—not a word. You didn’t plead or cry for help. To prove your point you used your own hand and held back the silent scream in your throat. Then you finally felt it… that build. It climbed your spine and tingled through your limbs, coiling low and tight in your belly like lightning trapped behind your navel. But just as your toes curled and your moans grew louder… Smoke’s hand slammed down on your wrist and you yelped.

He was above you now, face inches from yours, his chest heaving, lips parted. “That’s enough,” he growled. “This little show? Over.”

“Wha—? I didn’t even—” you started, but he cut you.

“You really gon’ make yourself cum when I’m layin’ right here?” he snapped, pressing your wrist into the mattress with one hand while the other dragged your shorts down in one brutal yank. “Tryna act like you in control of somethin’ when this pussy don’t even belong to you no more?”

You whimpered as his mouth crashed into yours, all heat and dominance, devouring your lips like he was punishing you for breathing without permission. His tongue pushed into your mouth while his hips settled between your thighs, and you could feel all of him, heavy and hot, grinding against your bare heat.

“You should’ve just asked,” he murmured against your mouth, voice trembling with restraint.

You blinked up at him, dazed and breathless. “Asked… what?”

“If I was done bein’ mad,” he answered, dragging his tip along your soaked entrance, teasing but never pushing in. “Cause I wasn’t. Not yet.” And with that he slid in excruciatingly slow. So slow you nearly blacked out.

“Now,” he growled, gripping your throat just enough to make your heart flutter, “you don’t talk to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he filled you inch by inch, until all nine inches of his rock hard flesh stretched you out causing your back arch off the bed. Once he was completely sheathed inside of your warm gummy walls Smoke didn’t move. Not yet. He held himself still with his hand still resting on your throat—not choking, just a firm reminder of who was in control. Of whose name was stitched into the folds of your body like ownership. Like scripture.

Your lashes fluttered as a soft, broken whimper escaped your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed, watching your face intently. “That’s what I thought.”

The weight of him, the heat, the way his body caged yours like a storm rolling over weak land, every bit of it made your spine tremble. He didn’t have to say it, didn’t need to ask… he already knew. This wasn’t about sex anymore. This was about submission. About surrender. About you thinking you could ignore him, silence him, deny him, and still sleep soundly next to him every night.

His hips rolled meticulously and grinded so deep you swore you saw stars behind your eyes. His pace was punishing in its patience. Purposeful and steady. Like he wanted you to feel the agony he felt every second you ignored him. Every breath you wasted pretending you didn’t need him.

“You really thought you was gon’ touch yourself in this bed?” he grunted, lips ghosting over your jaw as he rocked into you again. “While I laid next to you? Like I ain’t the one that got this pussy cryin’ in the first place?”

You couldn’t even respond. Your mouth opened but no sound came out, just a sharp inhale, a choked moan, and the clenching of your legs around his hips.

He groaned low like he felt your apology in the way your walls pulled him in tighter.

“This one… if for every time you rolled your eyes at me,” THRUST.

“This one… is for every time you walked away from me,” THRUST.

“Fuck… and THIS one is for every time you told me not to talk to you,” SLAM.

You whimpered beneath him, nails digging into his arms as your pride cracked wide open and your body begged to be ruined. You couldn’t handle this torturous unhurried fuck session. You needed your walls plowed to smithereens and you needed it to happen right now. “I hate you,” you gasped.

“Shut up. You love me,” he corrected with a smirk, snapping his hips against yours harder now. “You love me when I got you stuffed full and dumb off my name.”

Your moans turned shameless… so soft, high, and desperate. Each slow thrust had you melting further, your bratty resolve unraveling like a ribbon. And Smoke? He watched the transformation like it was art. “There she go…” he whispered. “There’s my girl. Ain’t no talkin’ now, huh? Just that lil mouth open like you got somethin’ to say… but still don’t know how to say sorry.”

You finally met his gaze, eyes wide and glassy with need. “I’m—” you tried.

He pressed his fingers against your lips. “Nope.” Another thrust. Brutal. Deep. You cried out. “Don’t say shit else to me... Just take it.”

He dipped his head, kissed the corner of your mouth with an intimacy that contrasted the way he was owning you from the inside out. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, hips rising to meet him while chasing the edge of pleasure like you’d die if you didn’t reach it soon.

“I got you,” he whispered, his breath warm and ragged against your ear. “Go on, baby. Let go. Let me take it.”

Your orgasm crept up your spine like a threat, your whole body tightening under him. “Smoke—” you breathed, one hand tangling in the bedsheets beneath you, the other clutching his shoulder like a lifeline.

“I know, I know. Shhh, baby,” he cooed. “Come on. I got you.” And when you finally shattered—mouth open, legs shaking, eyes rolling—he never let up. He kept fucking you through it, hips grinding, mouth pressing kisses to your throat and chest, whispering your name like prayer and punishment all at once.

You went limp beneath him and he pulled back just enough to look you in the face, brushing a lone tear from your cheek. “You still mad?”

You blinked up at him, dazed and ruined. He smirked again. That same crooked, devilish thing that started it all. “Yeah… you look like you still got a fuckin’ attitude.”

Your chest rose and fell in shallow waves with your skin covered in sweat as you lay there boneless and ruined beneath him.

Smoke hovered above you like a storm cloud that refused to pass. His body didn’t press down; he just hovered, solid and still, like a hunter watching his prey breathe after the first strike. His arms caged you on either side, head tilted slightly as his gold chain swung gently from his neck and tapped your collarbone. Your legs still trembled from the aftershock and your thighs involuntarily locked around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

But Smoke didn’t move, he was so deep inside of you that you could barely think. And instead of chasing his own pleasure like any other man might, he just stared and studied you like you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. You felt the subtle twitch of him inside you, ready, but not rushing. Not desperate. Because Smoke wasn’t a man ruled by impulse. He was ruled by control. And he wielded it like a blade.

“You done squeezing my dick?” he asked quietly, voice low and relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be but right here. “Or you need a minute to remember where you at?”

You blinked slowly, lips still tingling from where he kissed you, still too blissed out to string a proper sentence together. But he waited—patient, immovable—as your brows knit together, that ache you just got rid of was already building again and you finally realized… he wasn’t finished. He still hadn’t moved. And now, you were too aware of it. Too aware of the way he filled you like he’d been carved just for you. Too aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest. Of how warm and thick and ready he still felt inside you.

“Smoke,” you whined, voice hoarse and fragile.

He cocked a brow, his gold tooth glinting in the dark. “Yeah, baby?”

Your thighs flexed around him again, a needy little roll of your hips that made you whimper even as you tried to hold your pride in place. His hand slid slowly up the side of your throat, fingers curling around the hinge of your jaw to tilt your face up toward his.

“You feel that?” he murmured.

You nodded weakly, lips parting.

“I been sittin’ still. Holdin’ back,” he whispered, each word slipping into your mouth like honey and heat. “You been cryin’, whinin’, beggin’ me to leave. But I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby.”

He leaned down, forehead nearly touching yours. “I stay when you bratty. Stay when you act like you don’t want me. Stay when you try to punish me with silence.”

A soft, broken sound spilled from your lips.

“I stay… ‘cause you mine.” Then finally… he moved again. Just a slow roll of his hips. Barely there. Just enough to make you feel the stretch again. Just enough to remind your body that your first orgasm was nothing but the beginning. Your nails found his back again, dragging lightly over the skin of his shoulders as your breath caught.

“You thought I was gon’ break first,” he said, dragging himself out slowly before sinking back into you. “Didn’t you?”

You moaned, head tipping back, throat arching beneath his palm.

“You thought that lil attitude was enough to make me lose my cool.” Another thrust. Deep and slow. The kind that made your vision blur.

“But you forgot who you dealin’ with,” he grunted as his lips brushed your ear. “I can fuck this perfect pussy slow like this for hours and still not cum.”

You whimpered again, your hips twitching, your body betraying you as your heat reignited. He kissed the curve of your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

“You don’t get quick fucks when you act like you don’t need me.” His hand slid between your bodies, fingers slipping down until they found that tender, swollen bundle of nerves. “You get discipline.”And as his fingers began to move in calculated devastating circles, his hips continued their cruel rhythm and your body began to shake again.

You could barely breathe. Every inch of your body was coated in sweat, your skin fever-hot, while your senses flooded with overstimulation. Smoke hadn’t let up and he hadn’t sped up either. That was the worst part… or maybe the best. He moved with purpose and mastery. Every grind of his hips was deep, as he poured himself into you like he was trying to combine your souls into one. And his fingers… God. The pads of them circled your clit with such devastating precision, you swore you were unraveling on a molecular level. Like you were coming apart from the inside out.

You gripped at his shoulders, his back, his biceps, wherever you could reach… but you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t change the pace. Couldn’t make him move faster no matter how much your legs shook or your voice cracked. “P-please,” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. Release? Mercy? More?

Smoke leaned down, brushing his lips against your cheek with a smug grin carved into his face. “Oh… You beggin’ now?” he asked. “Wasn’t too long ago you was flippin’ me off and actin’ like I was walkin’ around here like a cheap thrill.”

His voice vibrated against your neck, dragging goosebumps down your spine. “You wanna cum again, pretty girl?” he murmured, fingers pressing down just slightly harder, swirling against your clit like he was drawing a map to your breakdown. “Is that what all them little tears are for?”

You whined, nodding frantically, your thighs beginning to quake again. Smoke didn’t speed up. He didn’t need to. Your body was desperate for him and would greedily take whatever was given. He knew you so well he could fuck you out of a meltdown without ever changing rhythm.

“You don’t deserve to cum yet,” he said lowly, pulling his mouth back to hover just above yours. “But I’m gon’ let you anyway. Just so you remember who got you moaning so loud our neighbors might file a noise complaint tomorrow.”

He moved in again with one solid and controlled stroke that made your eyes roll and your nails dig so deep into his back you swore you could feel muscle give. Your body started to quiver. “No—no, wait—” you whimpered, because you felt it building too fast, the peak rising like a wave with nowhere to go.

“Shhh,” he whispered, voice laced with hunger now, though his pace never changed. “That’s it. Go on. Cum on my dick.”

He kissed you and swallowed your cries as your walls constricted around him and you came again, harder than before. Your body jerked beneath him as your second orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave smashing through a dam. You sobbed into his mouth, a mix of bliss and frustration and pure, helpless surrender. Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your nails dug into his flesh like he was the only thing keeping you from drifting away.

Smoke pulled back just enough to look at your face that was flushed and tear-streaked, while your mouth hung open in silent shock as you rode the aftershocks. “I don’t think that attitude is gone yet” he rasped, still deep inside you, still hard as stone. “You need another reminder. Don’t you, baby?”

You nodded weakly unable to form words.

Smoke slid his hand up your ribcage, slow and reverent, until he cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, tugging it gently. “I ain’t even started your real punishment yet.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Two days you gave me attitude,” he murmured, kissing your chin. “Two days you walked around this house actin’ like you forgot what my name felt like between your thighs… I'm nowhere near done with you yet.”

You gasped, your fingers twitched around his arms, already worn down and so full of him. You didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes or lifetimes that passed with him moving inside you like that—slow, deliberate, dominant. Your body felt swollen with sensation, soaked in the aftermath of two back-to-back orgasms that had left your breath scattered like glass shards across the mattress.

Your skin was hot to the touch, your muscles limp, your mind foggy with a heady mix of defiance and surrender. And through it all, Smoke hadn’t broken his rhythm. His stamina was inhuman, like he fed off control, fed off the way your body twitched and sobbed under his. The way you needed more and hated that it had to come from him.

But then… Something shifted. His eyes… those dark, obsidian things dragged across your face. He licked his lips, slow and thoughtful. Then he pulled back again. All the way out. You cried at the loss of fullness and rose your hips involuntarily trying to chase him. Smoke grinned but it wasn’t a playful or kind grin. Without a word, he grabbed your hips, flipped you over onto your stomach, and yanked your ass up until you were on your knees, chest pressed to the mattress. He spread your legs with his own and ran a hand down your back.

“You said I looked like I could be bought for two dollars and some gum,” he growled, dragging himself against your folds, wet and swollen and already twitching from anticipation.

You swallowed, face buried in the sheets. You remembered and silently cursed to yourself.

He leaned down, mouth grazing your ear as he lined himself up behind you. “Good thing for you, I don’t charge. But I do collect.”

And then he slammed into you. No warning. No patience. The thrust knocked the wind out of your lungs. “E-ELIJAHHHH! F-FUCKKK!” you cried, hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

Smoke’s pace was nothing like before. All that held-back heat, all that restraint? Gone. His hips snapped against you with vicious precision, his grip digging into your hips as your ass slapped against him, over and over, filling the room with the sound of skin meeting skin and your broken cries.

“This what you wanted?” he grunted, every word punched out between thrusts. “All that mouth, all that attitude… This what you needed to calm down?”

You couldn’t even answer. Couldn’t form a thought. Your voice was raw with whimpers and your tears stained the pillow as you arched back into him on instinct, chasing every brutal, perfect stroke.

He reached around and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back just enough to whisper against your jaw. “You talk big,” he hissed, thrusting deep, “but this pussy always tell the truth.”

You sobbed out a yes. Or maybe his name. Or maybe just a noise—because that’s all you were now. A body molded to his pace. A vessel of heat and ache and want. And then… He slowed again. But this time, his strokes were hard and measured. That had your eyes rolling and your teeth sinking into the pillow to stop yourself from screaming his name like a confession.

“You feel how deep I am?” he groaned, voice thick and low behind you. “You gon’ run your mouth next time a man so much as smiles at you?”

You shook your head quickly, biting down on your bottom lip as you wavered between reality and subspace.

“Use your words,” he demanded before landing hard smacks on your ass that turned your ebony skin bright red.

“No—no, Smo- Daddy! I won’t, I swear—” you gasped, voice choked and high.

“Damn right you won’t.”

He dragged you up by your waist, pulling your back against his chest, one arm wrapping across your ribs, the other snaking down to rub your clit in slow, punishing circles again.

“Let another nigga smile at you again in public and I’ma bend you over right then and there,” he whispered, biting your shoulder. “Make sure everybody knows who you belong to.”

You cried out again, the pleasure building faster than your body could handle. It was too much but you loved every second of it. And Smoke? He was relentless. Focused. Determined to etch his name into your skin, your bones, your fucking soul.

“You gon’ cum one more time for me,” he ordered, fingers working faster now. “And then I’ll think about lettin’ myself nut.”

You couldn’t even reply because your body was already shaking. Your walls were already spasming around his brutal rod. You felt your mind spiral into that place that only he could take you. The place where pride didn’t exist and control was something you gave him freely.

“Go on, baby,” he ordered. “Make my dick shiny. Cum for me.”

And you did. Harder than you’ve ever climaxed before. This orgasm felt spiritual like your soul kissed the feet of God before asking for forgiveness and traveling back into your human vessel. You screamed his name into the pillow like a secret finally confessed, your body convulsed, your legs collapsed beneath you as he held you upright, grunting through clenched teeth.

Smoke held you there, both of you trembling in the twinkling moonlight shining through the bedroom. Your back was slick against his chest, your breath short and stuttering. His arm was still banded tight across your stomach, the other gripping your thigh with bruising intensity, like he didn’t trust his body not to break you if he let it go free. You felt every inch of him—still deep, still pulsing, still holding on with that impossible restraint that made you ache in places words couldn’t touch.

“Fuck… Fuck… Don’t move,” he moaned, his voice cracking down the middle—low, rasped, and dangerous. “Don’t.”

You didn’t dare disobey your man. You were already trembling too hard, barely tethered to your body. Your face was damp with tears, your thighs quaking, your walls still fluttering in waves around him.

“Shit, baby…” he growled, his voice buried somewhere between awe and agony. “You tryin’ to milk me dry, huh?”

You whimpered. Not out of pain. But because you felt it—felt that slow-building quake start to rattle through him. The way his grip tightened. The way his hips stilled just for a beat too long. You felt the flex in his abdomen, the tension coiling at the base of his spine like a spring being wound to the brink of snapping.

Your last orgasm clenched down onto his dick perfectly and now he was close trying to fight against it. You turned your face slightly from the pillow, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Why’re you holdin’ it in?”

Smoke gritted his teeth tightly. “‘Cause once I let go…” he hissed, “you ain’t gon’ be able to walk, let alone keep talkin’ shit like you ain’t mine.”

You shivered under him. “But I am yours,” you whispered, the confession slipping out with a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

That broke him. Smoke let out a low, raw groan as his grip shifted. He grabbed your hips with both hands, holding you still as his restraint finally began to splinter.

“Say it again.”

“Smoke—”

“Say. It. Again.”

Your voice caught in your throat, but you gave it to him, every word thick with truth and heat. “I’m yours,” you breathed. “I’ve always been yours.”

He let out something between a moan and a curse as he started to move again. Each thrust was rough with purpose, his rhythm tight and controlled even as his body fought against itself for release. “I should’ve made you say that two days ago,” he murmured into your neck. “Could’ve saved us both a whole lot of trouble.”

You could feel him on edge now. His hands were shaking. His thighs flexed with every grind forward. His jaw locked. “Fuck, baby… you feel too good,” he rasped. “Too fucking good.”

You whimpered, barely holding yourself up as he rutted into you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

“Where you want it?” he choked out, voice frayed and thick with hunger. His hand fisted the meat of your ass, keeping your hips tilted perfectly, helplessly open for him.

“Tell me. Right here?” he ground into you deeper—deeper—and your whole body jolted like he’d struck a nerve that reached your soul.

“Want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” he growled, hips snapping forward again, rough, rhythmic, merciless. “You want me to cum so deep you leak for days, huh? So every time you open your legs, you remember who the fuck owns it?”

You tried to answer, but your voice cracked around the sound of your own moan.

Your body was done. Shaking, oversensitive, strung out from back-to-back orgasms—but still hungry for him. Still desperate to take all of him, to feel the final blow. The one he’d been holding back since the minute he put his hands on you.

Smoke’s thrusts became heavier and it became obvious he was losing the reins. His grip on your hips turned bruising, and a deep, guttural snarl ripped out of him like it came from the base of his spine. “Answer me, baby! Where. You. Want. It?”

“Inside,” you cried, head buried in the sheets, hips bucking against him. “Please, Smoke, fill me up.”

Smoke roared before grabbing you by the back of your neck and forcing your chest flush to the mattress. His other hand yanked your ass back into him, hard enough to make your eyes roll. His body collapsed over yours, hot and massive and trembling as he began to pound into you like a man possessed. No more teasing. No more patience. Just raw, primal need.

“You fuckin’ take it,” he growled in your ear. “You take every drop. That’s mine. You hear me? Mine. This pussy… this whole fuckin’ body… you think I’m lettin’ it walk around untouched, unclaimed? Nah. Nah, baby. I’m leavin’ my fuckin’ mark.”

His thrusts were devastating now. Every stroke came with the full weight of his body. His hips snapped forward like punishment, his chest slick against your back, his voice a broken, dirty prayer in your ear.

“I can’t—” you gasped, sobbing against the sheets.

“Yes, you… can,” he growled, his voice deep and guttural, hips pounding harder now. “You will. You gon’ take every drop I give you… then lay here… and thank me for it like a good girl. Understand?”

You felt the tremor roll through his body as his thighs tensed, his back flexed, and the ragged stutter of his breath grew as he chased his own breaking point. He was close. So close. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice sharp as a razor. “Say you’re mine while I paint these walls. Say it with my dick buried in this pussy.”

You cried out, clawing at the sheets, tears streaking your face. “I’m yours, Smoke! I’m yours, please—cum inside me!”

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself so deep you screamed, and then he moaned your name like it was the last word he’d ever say.

You were on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness when you felt Smoke’s hot and heavy load spilling into you in thick waves as his body seized behind you, every muscle locked in place. His nails dug into your hips as he held you there, stuffed full, claimed and ruined. His head dropped into your neck, his moan drawn-out, ragged, the sound of a man breaking as he finally gave in.

He stayed like that. Still pulsing inside you and panting. His lips grazed your skin, open-mouthed, breath hot. Then, after a long, heavy silence—he exhaled and murmured low, almost reverent: “Mine.”

And this time, you didn’t argue. Because your body? It agreed.

Authors Note: This was just a one shot to get all the horn horn energy out before I finish my series🥴🙂‍↕️ I understand mean Smoke isn’t for everyone but… HE IS VERY GORGEOUS TO MEEEE!!!

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ceceslanddd · 23 days ago

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youtubers for the girlies 222 🪽

this time i combined the makeup & hair girlies because i added skincare into the mix so i juts made it one section

girly diaries 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

KOOCAT_ ⊹܀˙ Jaila abriana ⊹܀˙ isa sung ⊹܀˙ nidal kabashi ⊹܀˙ julyssa rose ⊹܀˙ kenna marie ⊹܀˙ daiz ⊹܀˙ katshia antonio ⊹܀˙ Diana Eneje ⊹܀˙ journi carr ⊹܀˙ maya love ⊹܀˙ airi.i ⊹܀˙ YooJin’s Life ⊹܀˙ hali jama ⊹܀˙ princess lyssi ⊹܀˙klumbiaaa ⊹܀˙ aniyah ⊹܀˙ jordan anais ⊹܀˙ amaya monaè ⊹܀˙ tiana kun ⊹܀˙ emi's spellbook ⊹܀˙

beauty girlies (skincare, natural hair gworls, makeup) ˙⋆✮

leeskin ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ earvee cruz ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ jaiden michelle ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ kaayla dee ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ xara beqele ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ marina josy ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ sacheu ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Cherisse Sonita ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ nikki bruner ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Hair_obseSSed ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ shann bailey ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ taylor anise ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ mani jean ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ indybindy ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ari nam ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ gie ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

studyblr ⋆˙⟡

focusvz 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ celine 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ ttmik 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ fayefilms 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ jessica lau 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ t6hrus 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ hayeon_01 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ tani study 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ sunnii. 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ 디니 Deeni 🪽 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.ᐟ

mental health and spirituality 🦢ྀི

linda sun ꨄ︎ genesisg ꨄ︎ michi ꨄ︎ denée ꨄ︎ dream with joy ꨄ︎ jeffrey sun ꨄ︎

fitness ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

miranda rox ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 에이핏 afit ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ mish choi ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ fromlumi ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ den ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ boho beautiful yoga ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ emi wong ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ womensbest ᝰ‧₊ ᵎᵎ growwithjo

overstimulated ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

teak and thyme 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ o-hari 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ kamjappang 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ Laylalebleu 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ michi 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ ania nisa 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ aqualogyy 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ Eleeni 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ 나징NAJING 🎐 ⊹₊ ⋆~ nao

entertainment ʚɞ

코지 COSY 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ alana lintao 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ not even emily 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ [햄지]Hamzy 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ r3trohs 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖kennie jd 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ravon 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ gabi belle 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ duncanyounot

artful n ambitious ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

julyssa rose ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 stealthespotlight ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 lilith marie ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 jounail ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 shuninail ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 nebokgom ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 lilhoneybear

pretty n informed ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

orange ༝༚༝༚ sonya danielle ༝༚༝༚ chatswithbeth ༝༚༝༚ ashley viola ༝༚༝༚ madisyn brown ༝༚༝༚ kendall ༝༚༝༚ Laura Jane atelier

thanks to everyone who gave suggestions, if you don't see yours its because i didn't resonate with the person but i still appreciated the thought so thank you again. if you want a part 3 let me know (i'll probably make on in the future anyway). for any other suggestions or requests- don't be shy, let me know and follow @urdreamgirlangel 444 more! love u bye.

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ceceslanddd · 28 days ago

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Blushing

ꨄ Making smoke blush

Smoke had no idea where it came from, his eyes focused on the road hands comfortably resting on the wheel. His other hands softly gripping your hand.

Then boom

“Baby?” She said in a humming tone, shrugging his brows and looking at you.

“Your so beautiful, Elias. Especially your eyes.” She said it so soft, so sweet, he wanted to melt.

He loved when she spoke to him so softly, her voice sent a wave of something new through his abdomen.

He did melt right then and there as she grabbed his resting hand in hers.

He really did try to keep his best poker face, but he couldn’t. The pain in his cheeks as he tried to suppress it but then it let it out.

He gave the biggest kiddish smile ever

“Oh baby” she cooed

“Aye!” He tried to bark back but she couldn’t take him seriously with the goofy grin.

She loved his smile, how plump and soft his lips were. His gorgeous teeth that shined as bright as hers to him.

He couldn’t wipe his smile off face, and boy was he trying.

“Not you blushing- oh bae” she dragged mid sentence as she looked down and saw the bulge in his pants.

The light turns green

“We gon see how funny it is when we get home.” He said driving the car again.

Then and only then, does the smile on your face slightly disappear

#smoke moore #elijah smoke moore #smoke moore x oc #smoke moore x reader #elijah smokes x black!oc #elijah moore x reader

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ceceslanddd · 1 month ago

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You’re mine

Synopsis: Jasmine and Elias had been dating for about 5 years before he finally popped the question and asked her to marry him. But things unfortunately go downhill after a huge misunderstanding and the engagement is called off. Now Elias is doing anything he can to remind Jasmine that there’s no such thing as breaking up in his book. She’s his forever.

Characters: Jasmine ‘Jas’, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore, Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore, Annie Moore, Mary, Sammie and Pearline

Warnings: TOXIC ASF, cursing, violence, SMUT, use of the ‘n’ word, guns. (Idk I think that’s all of it.)

Authors note: This might be a cute little 2 or 3 part series. Just had this in mind and had to get it out. It’s supposed to be light hearted (somewhat lol) just something quick to throw out while I work on ‘Back where you belong’

PART 1

It seemed like everybody in Compton or better yet, the whole of Los Angeles, knew that Jasmine belonged to Stack.

He wasn’t shy about letting people know he had a woman and showing everybody exactly who she was.

Every party, club event, or even if he was just chilling on the block. She was there. Looking pretty on his lap or standing next to him.

From the moment they met he’d been hooked on her. He didn’t know what it was and for a while he swore that Annie had did some hoodoo magic on him to fall in love because she was tired of him bringing random girls to every outing they had.

She kept telling him that she wouldn’t dare waste her precious herbs on his ‘stupid ass’ but that she was glad he finally found somebody to settle his ass down.

Stacked laughed loudly. “Settle down? Girl I ain’t settling down. This just some stupid little crush. Shit’ll pass”

Anyways …

5 years later and they were still conjoined at the hip. Stack made sure to take Jasmine everywhere. He spoiled her. Trips every month, allowance every week, ‘just cause you’re pretty’ money everyday and sex. Lots of it.

He also made sure to bring her around his family, constantly. His momma loved her and his cousins did too.

So when they heard that the two got engaged everybody was elated.

Annie, Mary and Pearline immediately started looking for wedding dresses before Jasmine could even get the words out.

At some point, three months after getting engaged, Jasmine started being distant. It wasn’t on purpose though. She worked as a NICU nurse and it was stressing her out, on top of other things that were going through her mind that she wanted to speak to Stack about but wasn’t sure how he was going to take it.

She wanted to find the right time to sit him down and have a conversation but with her work schedule and Stack doing… whatever it is he does when he’s out on the streets. They just couldn’t find the time.

And the distance only got worse.

One day Stack finally cracked.

They were laying in bed, backs facing each other. Jasmine was half asleep scrolling through tik-tok and Stack was up. Thoughts too loud and disruptive to even bother with his phone.

Finally he turned around, tapping Jasmine on her shoulder. “Jas. Turn around real quick.”

A soft ‘mmm’ leaves her mouth as she turns around. He was met with pouty lips and droopy eyes. Stack thought she looked so cute and for a second, he almost forgot what he was going to say.

“What’s been going with you? I barely hear from you. We barely speak, hang out, see each other or even have sex. You been pulling away from me. What’s going on?”

Jasmine tried her hardest to focus on what her man was trying to communicate but she had been up since 4 in the morning to start work at 5:30AM and didn’t end up leaving until about 8:30PM.

“I’m sorry baby. I hear you but I’m just so tired right now. Can we have this conversation in the morning? There’s … something I need to talk to you about, okay? But not right now. Please?”

Before Stack could even say anything, she had fell asleep and the next morning she was rushing out the house. It was supposed to be her off day but the hospital called her and asked if she could cover because two of the other nurses got sick and they were currently understaffed.

She placed a kiss on Stacks forehead before leaving. Making sure to text him that they’ll talk when she gets home.

But Stack didn’t wanna hear any of that. He was fed up. Tired. And something about Jasmines behavior triggered him. It reminded him of what he used to do to the women he dated.

So in some twisted way, he convinced himself Jasmine was cheating on him and that this was his karma for what he’s done.

That same day he booked a trip to Miami for him and Smoke. Told him they had business to handle out there.

Which was true but he also wanted to get revenge. He figured, if that was the type of timing Jasmine was on, then it was time he’d get his lick back.

He didn’t tell her he was leaving. Jasmine came home to an empty apartment. She didn’t think too much of it since he was always out doing something and then would come back to make sure they’d fall asleep together.

But the next day came and still… No Stack.

“What do you mean they’re in Miami?” Jasmine paced around the apartment, listening to Annie explain what Smoke had told her.

“He said they had business to handle and were gonna be gone for a few days. Told me I might not hear from him since they’re gonna be dealing with some dangerous people and they don’t want nothing following them back home…. You sure Stack ain’t speak to you about this?”

“No. He just up and left.”

“That’s weird. Were yall arguing or something?”

“No… I mean. I told him we had something to talk about but … We weren’t arguing. We’ve just been having a bit of a rough patch.” Jasmine bit her nails as she felt her heart threatening to jump out her chest.

“Okay… just relax. I’m sure he’ll explain when he gets back.”

6 days.

Six days of Jasmine not hearing from Stack. Messages flooded his phone and every single one went ignored. She had tried to reach out to Smoke but he wasn’t answering either.

On the night before they had to leave, the boys went out to celebrate another successful and smooth ‘business endeavor’. Stack was already halfway drunk before they even reached the club.

They sat down in a section in the back and ordered themselves two bottles of Don Julio. At some point during the night, Stack goes off to the dance floor and grabs on the first girl he saw that looked like she’d be ready for anything.

Smoke furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Stack rub his hands all over the girls body. Before he could go any further, Smoke grabbed him by the back of his white, fresh T shirt and dragged him back to where they were.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Dancing. What does it look like?”

“It looked to me like you was tryna fuck that bitch in the middle of the dance floor.”

With a roll of his eyes, Stack downed the rest of his drink before shrugging. “And if I was?”

“Nigga did you hit your head and suddenly get dementia or sum?”

“Nah. Did you? Should I be worried?” A chuckle slips past his lips as he reaches forward to pour himself another drink.

Smoke grabs the bottle before he can. “You tryna cheat on Jasmine?”

“Who’s to say she’s not cheating on me?”

A beat passes. Smoke was frozen in his seat.

He blinks.

“Is she?”

Stack shrugs. “Looks like it.”

“What you mean looks like it? Is she or is she not?”

“I don’t know Elijah. She been distant. Real fucking distant. For weeks. Then suddenly tells me she got something she gotta talk to me about. Tuh” He throws his hands in the air and then looks at Smoke as if he got the answers to the universe. “What that shit sound like to you? Like she probably getting her back blown out by some other nigga.”

A laugh escapes his lips before he shakes his head. “She better hope I don’t find out who it is. Cause I’ll blow his fucking brains out.”

Smoke stares at his brother like the man officially lost his mind. “Are you stupid?”

Stack sucks his teeth. “Whatever. You wouldn’t get it. You and Annie been together since kids. You don’t gotta deal with this shit.”

“Nigga you don’t even know what you dealing with. You assuming shit without speaking to her first. What you gon do when you find out she not cheating on you? Then what?”

With a clenched jaw, Stack slumped back against the booth. “I don’t know man. This shit starting to sound like-”

“Like nothing. You scared and I get that cause I was scared too when Annie and I were about to get married. You know, you was there. It’s a big step you taking and you scaring yourself. Sabotaging shit before you even get the chance to see it through. Just relax and talk to ya girl man.”

Smoke sighs deeply before pouring the two of them a drink. “You was five seconds away from fucking up the only good thing in ya life besides me.”

A smirk appears on Stacks face before he slowly grabs the drink. “Whatever nigga.”

The next day. Elias finally turned his phone back on, reading the hundreds of texts from Jasmine.

Some worried

Some angry

Most of them angry

He grabbed his spare key and walked into her apartment.

Jasmine was in the kitchen when she heard him come in.

He slowly walked up to her, analyzing the look on her face.

If looks could kill…

“Let me ex-”

“No! I don’t wanna hear shit from you. FUCK YOU!”

She grabbed her ring and threw it at him. Stomping past him to grab the bags of his clothes that she had previously packed and threw it out the door. “Get the fuck out. I don’t wanna hear or see you ever again!”

Stack was completely unaware of the fact that Jasmine’s friends so happened to be in Miami at the same time and at the same club her man was at. They took pictures of him rubbing up on the random girl and sent it to her.

“Girl. Ain’t dis yo fiancé? 👀”

Jasmine had been feeling sick waiting for him to return home. At first she was going to demand an explanation but then she decided she didn’t care to know.

She wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

“Jas. Hold up. Let me talk.”

“NO! GET OUT. IM DONE. WE’RE DONE. FUCK THIS AND FUCK YOU!”

She stomped upstairs and slammed the door shut, locking herself in the bedroom before letting the tears flow.

Sounds of the front door opening and closing caused a loud sob to echo in the room.

They were done. Officially.

Stack went back to his apartment that hadn’t seen him in some time since he was always with Jasmine.

He was upset yeah, but he wasn’t letting her go that easily.

Jasmine was still his woman whether she wanted to admit it or not.

With that thought in mind, he showered and got ready for bed.

Two months later and Jasmine was making sure everyone knew that she was single.

She started taking time off of work and was going out with her girls, posting thirst traps for attention and walking around with the skimpiest outfits.

The men wanted her but were too scared to approach her knowing that Stack wasn’t too far behind.

Some couldn’t help but want to take the risk. She just looked too good.

Jasmine is a 5’5, browskin goddess with thick thighs and an even thicker ass. She had her full right sleeve tatted along with both of her hands and was slowly working on her left. Her entire back was covered too and a small ‘Angel’ tattoo, written in scripture, sat on her lower back right in between her dimple piercings.

On her left asscheek she had Elias’s name tatted and further up she had her nipples and both belly piercings.

Her hair, nails, toes and lashes were always done. She’s educated, intelligent, a hard worker and independent when she needs to be.

A kind hearted, extroverted soul that got along with everyone.

She was special in ways you couldn’t describe and that’s why Stack was so obsessed with her.

He knew she was rare and couldn’t replace her even if he tried.

“Work been dragging me down lately, I can’t wait to finally get some drinks in my system.” Jasmine complained as she threw herself on Annie’s couch.

Sammie was having his annual summer BBQ tomorrow night. The girls had been planning their looks for months since the whole of Compton was going to be there.

Pearline sat across from her on the love seat and Mary was in the kitchen preparing smoothies.

“Girl I’m saying. You found anything to wear yet?” Pearline asked as she reached for one of the smoothies Mary sat on the coffee table.

“Yup. Ass out. Titties out. Back out. Ready to find me some dick to bounce on.”

Annie, Mary and Pearline glare at Jasmine, already knowing how the night was going to go.

“What?”

“Jas please. You know Stack will skin alive anybody who even looks at you.” Mary gives her a pointed look.

“Fuck that nigga.”

Annie laughs and shakes her head. “Is he still trying to talk to you?”

“Girl yes. He keeps finding ways to text and call me. It doesn’t matter how many times I block him.”

Pearline giggles. “That man will never leave you alone. He still sending you money?”

“Yes!!! I don’t know how! I block his number and still someway somehow I wake up with money in my account.”

The girls laugh as Jasmine rubs her forehead in frustration.

“Well good luck tomorrow. You’re gonna need it.” Mary commented with a giggle.

Jasmine laid on her bed after getting home from Annie’s house. After a quick shower and eating dinner, she was finally able to relax.

That was until she heard the front door to her apartment open.

A loud groan escapes her lips as she gets up and heads down the stairs. She already knew who it was.

“What are you doing here?”

Stack stood in the living room, leaning against the doorframe as he trailed his eyes up and down Jasmine’s body. She had on a white tank top with no bra and pink juicy couture panties on with some fluffy hello kitty slippers.

“I came to see my kid Jas. Just cause you claim we’re broken up don’t mean you can keep him from me.”

“What fucking kid Elias???”

“Poncho.”

As soon as the name left his lips, the blonde dachshund ran up to him, licking and clawing at his ankles.

“You’re unbelievable. Get tf out of my house.” She raised her voice a little bit, watching as Stack ignores her and picks up the dog.

“Your house? The one I pay rent in?”

“You’re only paying rent because you and Smoke threatened my landlord into only taking rent money from you and not me! I’m lucky she didn’t fucking kick me out!”

“She knows better than to do some dumb shit like that, unless she wants to burry her kids.” He laughs as he pets Poncho one last time before setting him down and taking a step closer to her.

“Can you get out?” She sighs as she backs up.

Stack smirks, backing her up against the wall. “Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“I do mean it. I want you out and I’m changing the locks.” His fingers reach out to play with the waistband of her underwear and shivers run through her body at his touch.

Jasmine hears a deep humorless chuckle. It was the kind of laugh he did when wasn’t shit funny but he couldn’t help himself.

“Whatever you say baby.” His hands move from her waist to her hips and down to her ass. Rubbing it in circles. “Mmm you so fucking soft.”

Her breath catches in her throat as she tries her hardest to stand firm but the pool forming in her panties were telling a different story.

“Move Elias.” She grabs his hands and moves them. Lightly shoving them back into his space.

“You don’t miss me ?” With a slight tilt of his head, his eyes trail her body once more. His palm suddenly itching to touch her, to bend her over and make her regret ever ending things with him.

“No. Now get out. Please.” Jasmine sounded breathless. Her mind playing reruns of the last time they had sex. How he made her cum eight times in one night. Wringing her body of all its energy.

“Mm. Aight. Keep frontin’ I’ll be here when you ready.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to her neck, then her jaw and lastly her cheek before turning around and walking out.

Jasmine lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. She didn’t know how much longer she could continue to act like she wasn’t craving him. Like she didn’t miss his presence, his kisses, his touch, scent, all of it. She’d crawl to that man if that’s what he wanted but she knew better. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Not now at least. She was still hurting.

The next day went by in a blur and now Jasmine was getting out of an uber and walking to Sammies backyard. She was fashionably late, walking in with a bottle of patron in one hand and her Louis Vuitton purse in the other.

As soon as she made it to the back, it was like Stack had sensed her. He quickly turned his head toward the entrance and immediately his jaw tightened.

“God dayum.” Sammie whispered as his eyes followed Stacks.

Jasmine walked in wearing a denim open back romper that was a little too short for Stacks liking but that hugged her body tight, her ass spilling out the bottom and her boobs were sitting up and at attention. She had on brown Louis Vuitton kitten heels that matched her purse and her curls spilled down her back, cascading a honey blonde glow.

Her skin was shiny with body oil and glitter and her face was beat to perfection. From her smile you could see the gold grills that sat on her teeth, along with her smiley and snake eyes piercing.

Her lashes were a fresh, wispy cat eye set and her nails were short and French, matching her toes. Her rings, earrings and necklaces were all gold and if you looked down at her feet, her anklet that had her initials on it, was gold as well.

She looked good and she knew it too.

Stack punches Sammie on his arm. “Watch ya mouth.”

“My fault bro, damn.” He rubs his arm in annoyance and Smoke tries his hardest not to laugh.

All eyes were on Jasmine as she walked through the crowd and towards her friends. As soon as they saw her, shots and drinks were being downed left and right.

Now tipsy, Jasmine and the girls made their way to where everybody was dancing. ‘Ring Finger’ by Lady Lava started playing and Jasmine lost it.

“AYYY!” She screamed as she whined her waist. She shook her ass as a man got behind her, gripping her like she was his.

Stack narrowed his eyes as he watched the scene unfold, his blood starting to boil.

The man lightly tapped Jasmine’s ass as she continued to dance on him and that was the final straw for Elias.

“Aight” He mumbled as he reached for his gun.

“Ay, you ain’t gotta do that. You ain’t gotta do that.” Sammie stood, trying to hold the brute back. Smoke quickly followed, attempting to take the gun from his brother.

“Relax man. Relax.”

Stack felt his whole body shake in anger as he gripped the gun tightly in his hand.

“Ima go talk to her man. Chill out. Sammie, watch him.”

Sammie gulps as his eyes shift from the woman who was completely oblivious to the massacre she’s about to cause, back to the man who looked like he was 0.2 seconds away from showing just how good he is with a gun.

“Yo. Let me talk to you.” Smoke gripped Jasmine’s arm and pulled her away from the confused and almost dead man.

“Whaaaattt?” She whined in annoyance.

“Let me ask you sum. You tryna be responsible for the reason someone dies tonight?”

With furrowed eyebrows, Jasmine shifted on her legs, her heels slightly digging into her feet. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stack was about to become real trigger happy.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I don’t know why, we’re not together anymore.”

Smoke sucked his teeth. “You know how he is about you Jas, don’t act like that.”

“I don’t care. He should’ve never-”

“Never what? Cause if you’re insinuating he did anything in Miami, I can tell you right now he didn’t and you know I don’t lie. I don’t care to spare anyone’s feelings.”

Jasmine looked down at her toes, sighing slowly as she turns her head slightly to look at Stack who was currently sat watching her. Leg shaking, gun placed on his lap, hands crossed on his stomach and a blunt hanging loosely in between his lips.

“Now. I actually want to enjoy myself tonight so please don’t make me have to choose my brother’s side and shoot some random nigga. Okay ? Okay.” He walked away from her and Jasmine groaned slightly before doing the walk of shame back to her girls who had gone back to their little section.

“Bitch did you just get scolded by Smoke?” Mary snorted and Annie tried to hide her laugh behind her hand.

“Ha. Ha. So funny. I fucking hate the both of them.” Jasmine poured herself a shot and quickly downed it, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“Aw babe, I’m sure Smoke was just trying to-” Annies words get cut short as Stack walks up to Jasmine. The anger clearly radiating off of his body.

He tapped her shoulder once. “Come on.”

“Why would I go anywhere with you?” Pearline sucked in a breath as she watched the two. She had figured this was going to happen. All the girls did. Stack didn’t care about anything else when it came to Jasmine.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time…” He stepped close enough to where his chest touched her arm. “I said. Come on.”

Jasmine knew she wasn’t going to win this battle, so with another roll of her eyes, she followed after Stack.

The two of them sat in Stacks car that was parked behind the house, they were close enough to where they could hear the music but tucked away in the dark where nobody could see them.

Jasmine looked out the tinted window even though she couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black outside.

Stack stared at her.

Neither of them had said a word.

That was until.

“Do I play with you Jasmine?”

Full use of her first name meant that he clearly wasn’t fucking with her. Her stomach dropped as she saw the look on his face.

On one hand she felt like maybe she might’ve pushed him a little too far, she knew that she was doing, she knew he was watching. On the other hand was the picture her friends sent her of him and the girl in Miami.

And that hand, always won.

“Stack please don’t st-”

“Jasmine, do I play with you?”

“We’re fully broken u-”

“Answer my question.”

“I don’t have to ans-”

“Do. I. Fucking. Play. With. You.” Jasmine nervously played with her fingers, he was pissed. His breathing was loud and heavy like he was trying to calm himself down but wasn’t succeeding.

“No.” She replied softly.

“So why tf are you acting like I do?” Her heart beat loudly in her chest. She felt anxious and yet a familiar heat spread through her body. As much as she hates to admit it, she liked seeing him like this.

“What? You mute now?” He leaned in closer to her, so close that she could smell the musk of his cologne. It was intoxicating. She felt dizzy.

It didn’t help that the liquor was kicking in and in full force. She wasn’t drunk.

She was tipsy, which somehow was worse.

“It was just a dance Elias.”

“It could’ve been a fucking handshake for all I care. Nobody and I mean nobody, touches what’s mine like that. You hear me?”

Unfortunately Jasmine had heard him, loud and clear and unfortunately because she was blessed with the gift of hearing, the throbbing in between her legs was getting worse by the second.

“Do you know how close I was to killing that nigga? Hm? You almost got somebody sent home in a bodybag baby.” He teased as he ran the pads of his fingers up and down her exposed thigh.

“I’m not yours anymore. You know this so I don’t know why you’re acting crazy.”

Stack smirks and shakes his head, gently gripping her thigh. “Let’s act like we got some sense Jasmine, okay?”

“You’re fucking insane. I’m sick of this shit.” She went to go open the car door but was pulled back as Stack grabbed her full body and sat her on his lap.

“Chill tf out.”

“Let me go” She tried to off of him but Stack grabbed her hands and put them behind her back, holding them there so that she wouldn’t move.

“You know what I think is so funny Jasmine? Is how you think I don’t know you.” He leaned in placing a kiss to her neck. His warm tongue sticks out of his mouth as he trails it down to her collarbone.

“You sitting here all pretty, tryna act like you sick of my shit. Like you don’t want me.” Stack maneuvers so that he could grip her arms with one hand while the other trailed up her back, slowly.

“But I think you’re forgetting that I know you like the back of my hand baby and I know for a fucking fact that me acting crazy over you got that fat pussy nice and wet for me.”

Jasmine’s breath hitched and a shiver runs down her spine as Stack slowly moves his free hand to wrap around her neck. He pulled her so that their lips were barely touching and a small whimper is heard throughout the car.

Elias slightly chuckles, “Yeah, I know princess. You just want daddy to take care of you.” He bites her bottom lip before letting it go. “Isn’t that right baby?”

Jasmine was loosing it. Her mind foggy from lust. She was horny. So horny she couldn’t think straight, let alone clearly.

“Yes daddy.” She whined.

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