#Satin Splash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluelockmaniac · 11 months ago

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SPLASH .ᐟ

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo, seishiro nagi, & meguru bachira (honourable mention) x fem!reader

synopsis. showering & bathing with your bllk husbands !

content warning. sfw !! suggestive but not really (?) but obviously lots of nakedness ノ pet names ノ mentions of menustral period, blood, & cramps in rin’s part ノ you scare the shit out of rin ノ itoshi brothers call you insults affectionately ノ you might have smacked sae’s butt ノgentleman reo ノ they’re all crazy rich men obsessed with you .

notes. 5.6k words (approx. 1k+ each) !

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“hmm, this should do it!” you mused, a pleased smile gracing your lips as you admired your reflection in the vanity mirror. you twirled left and right, the rose-gold satin robe flowing gracefully like liquid gold as you checked yourself from every angle.

the silk was a recent gift from sae, one he had brought back from spain, and its smooth fabric clung loosely to your body.

tonight would be like every other night when your husband was home— you were ready to indulge in your routine— taking a shower with sae. initially, you were never the clingy type, but that all changed early in your marriage;

you had accidentally walked in on him under the assumption he was still at football practice, only to be met with the sight of him under the shower, water streaming down his sculpted body. you were flashed. though startled at first, he recovered pretty quickly and nonchalantly asked you to join him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. after all, it wasn’t like it was the first time you’d seen him naked, right?

your eyes flickered to the digital display on your mirror, noting the time and cool temperature. an idea occurred to you, and you decided that maybe after the shower, you could suggest a quick dip in the pool. the weather was nice and it wasn’t too late, either.

excitedly, you rushed into the master bathroom and swung the door loudly. you caught sight of him standing beneath the showerhead in the large shower enclosure, the droplets trailing down his well-built chest, then to his toned thighs and calves, and then finally pooling at his feet. the elder itoshi’s gaze met yours and he sighed, unfazed by your entrance— this had become routine for him, too.

his eyes travelled over to the smooth robe you were wearing, immediately recognizing it as the one he had gifted you. “you look beautiful,” he said simply as he reached to turn off the water and slid open the glass door.

“thank you,” you smiled as you began to undress. the silky material slipped off your shoulders easily, bunching up at your feet on the tiled floor. he extended his hand out toward you, and you took it, stepping into the shower stall.

“careful, don’t slip,” he warned.

you rolled your eyes, giving him a light smack on his rear, which made him frown slightly– he was usually the one doing that to you, not the other way around. you slid the door closed and retorted with a cheeky grin, “please, who do you think i am?”

he flicked your forehead gently and turned the water back on. “you say that every time but somehow still manage to slip, stupid.”

as the cool water hit your skin, you looked up at sae with a pout. “baby, the water’s too cold. i’ve told you before, i’d love it if you warmed it up whenever i enter.”

“yeah, yeah, what a spoiled princess,” he muttered, shooting you a half-assed glare before adjusting the temperature to your liking. you couldn’t help but smirk. there’s something you and only you could know— sae loved to spoil you like crazy during your showers, and that is precisely why you allowed yourself to play the role of a spoiled brat, knowing he would not mind and rather entertain it.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him and purposely fluttering your soft lashes. he grunted, recognizing the familiar look of expectation in your serene eyes. he looked up at the shelf that held various bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

“which body wash do you want this time?” he asked, his hand hovering over the shelf, knowing you could be indecisive. “and no being picky.”

you tapped your finger against your lips, eyeing the different scents he had spoiled you with. “hmm, i want the coconut drift, pl–” before you could finish, he was already reaching for it, “actually, i want the raspberry dreamscape.”

he narrowed his teal eyes at you but complied anyway, grabbing your light blue loofah from the hook. he squirted the raspberry-scented body wash onto it, rubbing it until it lathered into a light pink foam. he sat down on the wide bench built into the wall, pulling you by the waist until you stood right between his legs.

you looked down at him with a gentle smile, sighing softly and resting your hands on his shoulders as he scrubbed from your neck down to your abdomen. he then turned you around to scrub your back.

“sae, i know you’re taking a peek,” you teased, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“yeah, no shit. i’m scrubbing your pretty ass right now,” he replied casually, being particularly gentle on your cheeks.

smiling, you turned back around and reached for your cherry dew shampoo, pumping some into your hands. you lathered it up before sae stood up, holding your waist and lowering his head slightly so your fingers could reach his wet, reddish hair.

“smells like you,” he murmured as you massaged your shampoo into his scalp.

“good, you’ll think of me while you’re training.”

“i do that regardless.”

his words caught you off-guard, making you fumble slightly as you ruffled his hair. “r-right…” you stammered before quickly changing the subject. “—oh, i almost forgot, do you want to go outside? the weather’s nice.”

sae moved aside the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin and planted a light kiss on the side of your neck. “alright,”

as you followed him out of the enclosure, your wet foot accidentally slipped on the polished floor tiles. you panicked, squeezing your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the fall, but instead of hitting the solid floor, you felt a pair of strong hands catch you. sae steadied you and then handed you a towel to dry off.

“told you you’d manage to slip this time, too,” he added, slipping on his velvety, crimson robe with a smirk that only fueled your embarrassment.

“ugh…” you groaned as you wrapped yourself in your rose-gold robe. you looked up at him, then without a word, hugged him tightly. “carry me.”

he rolled his eyes, but you found yourself pressed up against his chest in less than a moment, his arms wrapped securely around you. your arms clung around his neck, and your legs linked tightly around his waist.

“why did i marry you, again?” he asked, pinching your side lightly.

you buried your face into the crook of his neck and he could feel you grin against his skin. “because you love me.”

“. . . unfortunately.”

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

“i thought i told you to get up,” rin grumbled, looming over the bed where you were cuddled comfortably under the duvet. “you’re lucky i’m even taking time out of my day to help you.”

you burrowed yourself deeper into the bed, pulling the duvet over your head to avoid his gaze. “i don’t want to move!” you protested, and even that subtle movement sent a sharp pain through your abdomen, making you wince at your cramps’ unbearable pain. “and besides, that's the bare minim–”

unimpressed, rin rolled his eyes and yanked the blanket off your face, gently lifting you up into his arms. your legs dangled over his elbows as he held you close. “i’ve already prepared the bath.” he said softly.

you tried to resist, throwing weak punches at his chest with your fists, but it was no use. you gave up and fell limp against his chest. the pain was too much, too uncomfortable, and the idea of being spoiled by your husband, even for a little while, was pretty tempting.

still, you weren’t going to surrender completely without a fight. as you buried your face into his chest, an ominous smile tugged at your lips— a smile rin which knew all too well, one that made him visibly nervous. it was the kind of smile that meant you had something up your sleeve.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking of, but seriously, forget it,” he warned, eyeing you suspiciously. you responded by giving him an innocent kiss on the cheek, causing him to pause and narrow his turquoise eyes. “dammit.”

your husband set you down on the bathroom counter and began unbuttoning your floral pajama top, pulling it over your head. you gripped the edge of the counter for support, tipping your head back slightly as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss onto your neck.

while rin busied himself with discarding the rest of your clothes, you slyly reached out and grabbed the white, gold-rimmed bin filled up with lotions, moisturizers, essential oils, and various other bath products. pretty normal, nothing suspicious so far. you peered into it, a giggle escaping your lips as you spotted this evening’s target: a bath bomb.

but this time, its colour was red.

“stop giggling at nothing, you weirdo,” he chided, scooping you carefully into his arms. his expression softened as he noticed how tightly your fingers gripped onto him, and the way your eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. “sorry, did that hurt?”

“n-no, i’m fine,” you reassured him. rin nodded, lowering you gently into the large, pre-prepared bath. it was just the way you liked it during your painful time of the month— warm, bordering on hot, with medium-sized bubbles floating on the surface.

“i’ll bring your favourite chocolate in a bit,” he said, gently lapping the water toward you before attempting to withdraw and leave. “call my name if you need anything, i’ll be outs— shit.”

it happened too fast for him to react. before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his arm with whatever strength you had left and pulled him into the bath with you. he fell into the water with a loud splash, soaking him completely. for a hot moment, the bathroom was filled with awkward silence and the sound of water settling around you.

rin sat there, his stretchy navy shirt and black, knee-high shorts clinging to his body, drenched and dripping. he closed his eyes, one hand covering his face like a visor as he tried to calm himself. his other hand rested on the slippery surface of the tub for support.

you bit your lip, struggling to stifle a giggle as you crawled through the water towards him, pushing his knees apart so you could sit on his lap.

“i think it’s unfair that you still have your clothes on while i’m… y’know,” you pouted.

he threw you a glare, his hands gripping your waist as he tried to push you away, but you wouldn’t budge. “i fucking knew there was something wrong with your sudden obedience,” he scoffed, throwing his head back against the rim of the tub in surrender. you took the opportunity to hook your legs under his thighs and peel the shirt over his head.

“i’ll leave your shorts on…” you paused, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “—unless?”

“no.”

“yeah– thought so.”

settling against his chest, you felt his large hands move to rub berry blossom body wash into his palms. he placed both hands on your waist, sliding them up and down your sides before his fingers began tracing lazily patterns along your back.

you softly sighed and rested your chin on his upper chest, looking as blissful as ever. rin was almost tempted to lean down and kiss you until you were gasping for air, but you beat him to it. linking your arms around his neck, you slotted your mouth against his. he reciprocated, but not before pinching your side lightly, just enough to squirm in his grasp.

unbeknownst to him, however, your arm had slithered around and rummaged quietly through the white bin until it found a soft, round object. you smiled against his mouth, then subtly dropped the red bath bomb into the water with a quiet splash.

“f-fuck…” you whimpered suddenly, breaking the kiss and clutching your stomach as your face contorted—eyes squinting—in feigned pain.

rin’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he instinctively adjusted his position to grip onto your shoulders in concern. “what’s wrong? you okay?”

you didn’t respond, instead blinking up at him with half-closed eyes once, then twice, before letting your eyelids slip shut and beginning to breathe softly.

“y/—” one could say his heart practically stopped beating at that moment, his eyes widening as he watched the water around you cloud with a sweet cherry red dye. it also definitely did not help that you decided it was a good idea to fall limp onto his chest, though you were clearly breathing normally.

was your monthly bleeding supposed to be this excessive?

“w-what the fuck!” he fretted in horror as he shook your shoulders forcefully, his hand trembling as he patted your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. your eyes were bleary, yet they still had their usual shine. “is this fucking normal? are you going to bleed to death? should i call for help–??”

over the course of your marriage, you had never seen rin panic like this. in the ten-plus years of knowing him, this was the first time you’d witnessed him so completely consumed by worry for you. typically, rin kept his emotions under control, reacting subtly to any situation. but now, as the vivid colour surrounded you both, you could see the raw concern surfacing on his face.

of course, a large part of you felt guilty— wondering if maybe you’d gone a tad bit too far this time. the last thing you wanted was for him to fall ill or lose focus during his next game because of the stress you caused.

unable to hold it back any longer, you let out the laugh you’d been suppressing, and rin’s expression immediately shifted from panic to deadpan. like, literally. immediately. just that stupid giggle of yours was all it took for him to realize he had managed to fall for one of your traps yet again— this time, in the most ridiculous way possible.

he simply stood up without a word and kicked the lumpy, fizzing bath bomb away. then, with water dripping down his tight-to-skin shorts, he stepped out of the tub.

“wait, rin—” you called out from behind, your hands gripping the rim of the tub as you tried to sit up.

he glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable expression as he dried himself with a towel. you noticed the faint pink tint on his cheeks, likely from the lingering embarrassment and panic. after all, even if your bleeding had been heavy, there was no way the dye would’ve been that saturated in such a large tub.

“...i’m going to say this one more time,” he said calmly, “call me if you need anything or if you want to leave the tub so i can bathe you,” he walked slowly back to you, bending down until his face was close to yours.

“i’m sor–” you started to apologize, but he cut you off.

“and one more thing,” he added, cupping your face gently in his hands. “you scared me to death, you fool. i fucking love you. don’t do that again.”

before you could respond, he sealed his lips against yours. it was safe to say you decided then and there that you wouldn’t pull that particular prank again— at least, not without the promise that he’d shower with you as part of the deal, of course.

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

friday had finally arrived– the long-awaited end to an exhausting week. to you, it usually meant you had all the time in the world to pamper yourself and indulge in self-care. heavy emphasis on usually, because unfortunately, this wasn’t always the case when you had an extremely insufferable (but annoyingly loveable) husband.

if there was one thing kaiser excelled at— besides hurling terrifyingly creative insults at people he barely knew and dominating the football field— it was his nonstop teasing.

you stepped into your spacious master bathroom with a soft towel embroidered with delicate begonia patterns tucked snugly under your arm. your shoulders felt unbearably stiff, and your back throbbed with ache. the thought of dipping your leg into the hot, bubbly bath you had prepared earlier was quite literally the only thing keeping you upright.

finally, your body made contact with the euphoric warmth as you lowered yourself into the wide, glossy marble bathtub positioned near the window. the heat of the water instantly began to soothe your sore muscles, and you let out a content sigh, leaning back against the built-in backrest.

oh, it was going to be so relaxing. would have been, if kaiser hadn’t suddenly barged into the washroom without so much as a courtesy knock— though knowing him, you doubted he even considered such things. the sudden intrusion made you flinch and pulled you out of the comfortable state you’d just begun to enjoy.

“knock before you enter, stupid,” you snapped, shooting him a glare as you sank deeper into the frothy water until only the top half of your head peeked out.

kaiser shut the door behind him and stood there practically naked. your eyes trailed down the path of pearly beads of water that teasingly trickled down his toned chest with no shame. the white cotton towel that hung loosely around his waist threatened to unravel and reveal what’s hidden beneath with the slightest blow of the wind.

“you’re really soaking in here all by yourself after i told you i wanted to join you, prinzessin?” he rolled his eyes, but with no real irritation in his voice as he sauntered toward you. his fingers deftly unhooked the towel from his waist, nonchalantly tossing it into the hamper.

you pushed yourself back up, fingers gripping the edge of the bathtub for support before wiping your face with your palms, water droplets sliding down your cheeks. raising a brow, you asked, “mihya– are you seriously planning to get in even after you’ve clearly just showered?”

you watched as he slipped into the tub, settling in front of you. his head leaned back against the cool marble edge, arms casually draped along the sides of the bathtub.

“that was just the rinse i always take after football practice,” he explained lazily, “is it really so terrible to want to bathe with my beautiful wife?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips from his compliment– though he tended to throw that one your way frequently.

“you’re so annoying,” you laughed, slowly crawling across the slippery surface of the tub toward him. your hands settled on his broad shoulders as you guided yourself onto his bare lap. “now i don’t even have room to stretch my legs.”

his tattooed hand, adorned with the blue crown, came to rest on your waist. though, unfortunately, you were oblivious to the subtle movement of his other hand, instead nestling your head against his chest.

it felt so serene— until it wasn’t.

seriously, what could possibly go wrong while you’re comfortably straddling your husband’s lap, eyes sewn shut, head on his chest as you try to continue your weekly post-work relaxation session?

apparently, everything.

in an instant, a jolt of freezing cold water slammed onto your back, each drop hitting you like a small brick. your eyes flew open and a loud gasp was drawn from you as you shot upright, instinctively scrambling away from him. you nearly slipped on the slick surface in the process as you tried to escape the showerhead above you. who thought it was a good idea to combine a bathtub with a shower, anyway?

“michael!” you whined, seeking warmth under the foamy blanket of sea. “that was cruel…”

he grinned, reaching over to turn off the water, which had started to drench him, too.

“sorry, meine liebe,” he cooed, moving to your side and pressing a gentle, almost apologetic kiss to your trembling shoulders. “i heard cold water’s great for sore muscles.”

“you and i both know that’s not why you did it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer until your cheek pressed against his chest.

“hmm. well, you know, if i’m feeling generous, i might give you a life-changing massage or even treat you to your favourite food if y—”

“life-ending massage, you mean. you nearly crushed my bones last time– i literally felt my soul leaving my body.” you paused for emphasis before adding, “and i'm getting my food without any ‘ifs’.”

he chuckled and stood up with a smirk, the water sliding off his exposed body as he stepped out of the tub. he grabbed his simple towel and slung it over his shoulder before glancing back at you.

“fine, but i won’t order anything– i’ll cook.”

your heart sank. his cooking was nothing short of life-threatening.

“god, please, no!”

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

“sorry, sweetheart, let me just…” reo murmured, draping a silky, red fabric over your eyes, tying it securely behind your head. “there we go, baby. can you see anything?”

“no, reo,” you replied with a small shake of your head as your hand hovered uncertainly in the air, searching for his.

a soft laugh escaped his lips before reaching out to thread his fingers in your hand. you could only weakly map out every subtle turn in your mind as he led you somewhere in your mansion. finally, he came to a stop, causing you to bump into his firm back.

your toes flexed and unflexed, feeling the plush carpet beneath you. the texture was familiar, and you quickly recognized that he had brought you to the grand bathroom adjacent to the balcony on the upper level of your mansion.

“ready?” he asked, the double doors creaking softly as he opened them. he turned back to you, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you in. “i’m taking your blindfold off, sweetheart.”

as the velvety fabric slipped off and fluttered noiselessly to the carpet, your eyes widened in awe. a gasp escaped past your parted, plump lips as you took in the almost surreal sight in front of you.

“baby, you didn’t have to…”

you entered the large, steamy room and the warmth of the automatically heated floor, immediately seeped into your feet. in the corner of the washroom, the jacuzzi tub was filled to the brim with fluffy clouds of white foam, and was decorated with delicate red rose petals scattered everywhere like confetti. and to make things even more romantic, vanilla-scented candles were lit on the flat edges of the tub.

your gaze shifted to a small glass table beside the tub, where a bubble machine quietly hummed classical music and released shimmering bubbles into the air.

“do you like it?” his voice interrupted your silent admiration, and you quickly turned around, a sheepish smile spreading across your face. you locked your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“i… i love it,” you whispered. your eyes wafted back toward the jacuzzi and you moved toward it. “thank you, reo.”

he smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that reached his eyes as he rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his fingers began to work from behind, unzipping the back of your fitted dress and pulling the delicate material down. “anything for my favourite lady.”

the cool air soon kissed your bare skin; dress and undergarments neatly folded by reo and set aside in the walk-in closet adjoining the bathroom. heat rose to your cheeks as you stood there, exposed. though he had seen you naked countless times before, it had always managed to leave you flustered.

your head hung low, eyes fixed down on the marble tiles beneath you as you crossed your arms over your chest, each hand on the opposite shoulder.

he noticed your bashful demeanor and chuckled softly. his hands found their place on your waist, and he bent down slightly to press slow, sweet kisses along your collarbone. you stared down at him lovingly, hands coming up to card through his soft, amethyst hair. the feeling of his lips trailing across your skin made your breath hitch, and when planted a singular, feather-light kiss on the bottom curve of your breast, your eyes fluttered shut. he straightened up to properly look at you, a grin playing at his lips.

“what, you nervous?” he teased, ruffling your hair affectionately. “smile for me, yeah? my beautiful angel.”

you opened your eyes, looking at him shyly. “stop it… you’re embarrassing me.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, his fingers reaching up to loosen his tie when you suddenly stopped him.

“i’m going to undress you.” you stated firmly, your fingers already skillfully loosening the silky tie and sliding it over his head before beginning to work on the black buttons of his suit.

“t-that’s…” his voice faltered, and he could not suppress the rosy pink tint from spreading across his pale cheeks. the sight of your focused expression– your squinted, dreamy eyes and the way your lips tucked under your teeth as you undid his clothing left him flustered.

it made his heart swell from the overwhelming realization of how much he loved you. how had he gotten so lucky, he wondered, to be with someone as lovely and gentle as you, let alone marry you?

“there, all done!” you exclaimed with a satisfied smile as you gave his firm abs a gentle pat.

“i’m going to make you undress me every single time now, no complaints,” he chuckled, grabbing your hand and helping you into the jacuzzi. the two of you settled beside each other, sinking into the rose-petal-littered, bubbly water.

reo pulled you in closer to him until your bodies were nuzzled together, aligned inch-to-inch. he let out a deep, relaxed sigh, about to throw his head back when he noticed you scooping up a handful of foamy water mixed with a few rose petals, the water seeping from between the gaps of your fingers.

you gave him a cheeky grin as you hovered your hands above his head and released the blooms, letting them fall delicately onto his hair.

he laughed and plucked a petal from his head, pressing it near your collarbone until it stuck. “sorry, gorgeous, but these petals look much better on you,”

he leaned in and pecked your soft lips. one by one, he began to pick up individual petals, carefully sticking each one all over your body, as if adorning you with pretty rubies. his lips followed each placement, planting a tender kiss on every petal he laid on your skin. the whole time, he maintained eye contact with you, those half-lidded orchid eyes making the blood rush rapidly to your cheeks.

satisfied, he reached over and picked up a nearby moveable silver-rimmed mirror and handed it to you, showing you your petal-covered body.

“see? aren’t you just the prettiest?”

𝜗𝜚 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈

“sei, i’m serious— if you fall asleep one more time, i’ll leave you in the tub alone,” you warned almost seriously, patting his cheek gently to rouse him. his heavy eyelids fluttered, and you could see the sleep creeping back as he began to slip beneath the water again.

the giant of a man’s broad back was pressed firmly against your chest as your fingers worked their mystique across his fatigued muscles. you kneaded at his shoulders, and fisted at his back, pressing his muscles gently. it wasn’t that he was sore– no. this had become a habit, something he looked forward to after a draining football practice or game.

your massages were the best of the best, his personal heaven, the kind that always managed to lull him to the brink of sleep. he had tried numerous massages from professional masseuses before you two got married, but none could ever compare to the sorcery of your hands.

“noo, i’ll drownnn…” his voice was a whine slurred with sleep. he blinked his bleary eyes before lazily readjusting his position.

“then wake up! you’re heavier when you’re sleeping!” you scolded, poking at his shoulders.

“’kay…” he muttered, but you knew better. as expected, no sooner had he mumbled his agreement than his eyes clamped shut again, his head nodding forward. you grunted softly and wiggled out from under him, carefully removing his weight from your lap.

with some effort, you managed to move your husband, pulling him upright so he could be seated properly against the cool, black granite wall of the pool.

“hmph,” you huffed, shoving your hand underwater before splashing his sleepy face with a huge wave of water. he flinched awake and nearly lost his footing on the slippery pool floor, his hands shooting out to hold onto the edge to steady himself. “you asked for it, dummy.”

he groaned and rubbed his face with a grumpy expression. “y’play so unfairly, baby,” he muttered. his long arm reached out and, before you could react, grabbed your wrist, effortlessly pulling you against his chest. your hands were suddenly pressed against his sculpted abdomen. his large hands cupped your cheeks gently, tilting your head to the left, then the right, then back again as if inspecting you.

“hm, something’s different ‘bout you,” he mused, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a satisfied hum. “ah. new shampoo…?” he leaned back slightly, comically raising his head to the crystal chandelier above, as if deep in thought. “strawberry elixir?”

your eyes widened in surprise. if there was one thing that amazed you about nagi, it was his uncanny observance despite his notorious laziness. you had bought the expensive shampoo just a few days ago and only today had you used it for the first time, when you showered before entering the bath.

it may be the sort of detail people would quickly notice but perhaps that was the special privilege he granted to the person he loved. for you, he gave you the rare gift of his focused attention.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. leaning in, you pressed a long kiss to his lips, which he lazily reciprocated. “that’s not going to make me forgive you, you know,” you murmured against his mouth, though your smile betrayed the truth.

he groaned, shifting his gaze to the scented oil bottles lined along the rim of the hot tub. without much thought, he blinked slowly and shrugged, reaching for the bottle labeled lavender dream. carelessly, he poured the entire contents into the water, the strong fragrance immediately filling the bathroom.

“nagi!” you cried, eyes wide in horror. “you don’t just add oil directly to water! they won’t mix!”

he paused, staring at the tiny droplets of oil floating on the surface before glancing down at the guilty-looking empty bottle in his hands. “oh. you’re right.”

“don’t just–!”

“uh… i have an idea,” he muttered, calmly ruffling your hair. you watched as he pushed himself up and out of the hot tub (you’re amazed he took the initiative to do something himself) and walked to the controller wall, completely unbothered by the fact he was butt-naked.

at the click of one rectangular button, the jets at the bottom of the tub immediately activated and powerful streams of water began to come from underneath, kneading at your muscles.

a delightful sigh left your lips as nagi slid back beside you, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“see, baby?” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the water, feeling the water ripple over his skin. “the oil’ll disappear sooner or later, m’kay?”

you nodded your head, slightly but not fully convinced. you turned around to hug him, closing your eyes. “sure… but i’ll just use one of the guest bathrooms if it doesn’t.”

“we’ll.”

he added too quickly for a man like him. he needed your massages after all– not the jets which, while comforting, did not come close enough to the way your hands worked.

you rolled your eyes playfully and smiled, “yes, yes, together.”

just then, the large television mounted on the porcelain-tiled wall turned on, drawing your attention. you turned your head to find nagi waving the remote with a subtle grin.

“wanna watch a movie and cuddle?”

𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 and baths go so well together because they are so silly. you can always find him at the shower control panel, playing with the settings until the outline of the tub glowed in ethereal colours of topaz and quartz and emerald.

also, the bath would inevitably become a sea of yellow rubber duckies because he thinks they're cute and they match his hair! he does leave the cleanup to you, though :(

besides, this man would be so indecisive when it comes to water temperature. one minute it’s icy cold, the next it’s scorching hot, only to swing to cold again because, well, he felt like it! the two of you would end up dancing in the water like goofs, splashing and kicking at each other because no one is watching you in your private yard– but you’re sure he’d do it in front of many eyes anyway.

one of his favourite games is to try and carry you on his back as he swims around the tub. despite your repeated warnings that he’d sink under the combined weight, he’d insist on trying, each attempt failing worse than the previous.

but the best part? even though you’re both naked, baths and showers with him were about anything but sexual. he sees you naked– okay? lovely! let’s see who could hold their breath the longest underwater.

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jazziejax · 2 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Lines blur on a hot summer day when Juicy finds herself caught between what feels good, what feels right, and the one man she hasn’t figured out how to let go of—yet.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!!! Suggestive content, intense romantic tension, strong language, heavy makeout, handjob, spit, slightly emotionally vulnerable conversations

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 😛, also, this was originally going to be one chapter but I had to split it up into two, so the next chapter shouldn’t take this long. Okay, I’ve been going to multiple graduations, sorry! I hope you guys enjoy this, I love hearing from all of you and appreciate your feedback greatly. Thank you for reading and leave a comment PLEASE!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 11,854+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢

Juicy sat still as stone beneath the blazing sun, her gold-rimmed shades shielding her eyes—but not her thoughts. They were loud. Loud enough to drown out Mary’s chattering, the splashes from the pool, and whatever song was thumping low through somebody’s boombox across the yard. Her arms were folded across her chest, pushing her breasts up in a way she didn’t even realize, her glossed lips set in a tight pout, eyes glued—though she pretended not to be—to the mess unfolding across the pool. Smoke was still entertaining Anika like he had no home training and no memory of the things he said just last night. The nerve of him.

And though Juicy would never let him—or anyone else—see her bothered, she was. That same little ache was blooming in her chest again, heavy and sour, until she heard a voice smooth as satin, dipped in just enough trouble to make her heart skip.

“Well, well, well.’ Stack drawled, his skin catching the sun as he walked up, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he locked eyes with her. “And what could possibly be wrong with the princess on this fine-ass day?”

His voice was teasing, but warm and low enough to cut through all the noise clouding her mind. Juicy turned her head slightly but didn’t lift her shades. Not yet. Her lips curved into a slow, reluctant smile, the first real one she’d cracked since that little display Smoke put on. She had an idea.

“Nothing.” She said, voice soft, nearly sweet.

Stack grinned, pleased by the answer even though he knew better. He lowered himself onto the end of her lounge chair and she didn’t stop him. In fact, she sat up slowly and scooted down just enough to close the space between them. One of her legs curled behind him on the chair, the other planted on the ground beside his, practically cocooning him in her presence. Her warm cheek rested on his shoulder like a pillow, the glitter on her skin catching in the sunlight and dusting across his skin like fairy dust.

Stack blinked.

Damn. He wasn’t sure what spell she was casting, but he was more than willing to fall under it. His hand drifted to her knee, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over her skin as he tried to play it cool. “And what’s got you all touchy-feely today?” He asked, dipping his head slightly to try and catch a better view of her face. But with her shades on, she was still unreadable.

“Nothing.” She said again, but there was a softness to it this time. A little breath behind the word. Then came the quiet sigh.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, turning it just enough to rest her chin there instead, her lips mere inches from his ear. She tilted her face toward him slowly, until their eyes met through her tinted lenses. When she slid the shades up from the bridge of her nose, those big brown eyes blinked up at him, glossy and deep and full of something he hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

Longing. Need.

“It’s just that…” She whispered, trailing off before she gathered the nerve to ask, “Are we not gonna talk about last night?”

Stack’s stomach dropped at that, but in the best way.

That mouth of hers. Those eyes. The way she said it so damn softly, like he was the only person in the world who knew her secrets. The same girl who used to clown on him in front of the crew was now cuddled up next to him with her lip gloss shining like diamonds and her perfume all sweet and floral. He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t go right back to the night before. Her on top of him on her couch. Her hands on his chest. The way she looked at him when she said his name.

Stack cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the lounge chair, eyes darting to the side to make sure nobody caught on to the sudden rise in his shorts. The last thing he needed was someone’s auntie at the pool giving him the side-eye while sipping her wine cooler.

“Damn, girl.” He muttered under his breath, lips curving into a lopsided grin as he shook his head. “You tryna make a man lose all his composure in public?” He asked.

Juicy giggled, low and sweet, hiding her smile behind her fingers like she hadn’t just turned his whole damn world upside down with that soft pout on her lips. She smelled like vanilla and coconut.

“So?” She asked again, her voice lower now, just for him. “We not gonna talk about it?”

Stack tilted his head, brushing his fingers up and down her thigh in slow, lazy strokes, his touch deliberate, his eyes half-lidded. He watched the way her skin pebbled under his fingertips, goosebumps rising despite the summer heat.

“I mean…” He drawled, voice thick as honey. ‘What you wanna say? You wanna talk about how you kissed me? Or what was finna happen on the couch if Sinclair didn’t walk in?”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but her smile deepened, her cheek pressing to his shoulder again a magnet attracted to metal. She wasn’t tryna revisit Sinclair or what stopped them—she was focused on what happened before that. What almost was. “You kissed me first, Stack.” Her voice was soft but certain, like she wanted that part on record.

He chuckled, his thumb stroking circles against her skin. “Okay, but you kissed back.”

Her heart thudded loud and deep in her chest, an echo in her ears. But she didn’t shy away. “I did.” She admitted, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers now tracing slow, absentminded patterns across the muscles of his back. Her nails grazed over his skin, light as air. “And…I’d do it again.” She mumbled softly.

And she meant it.

What had started as a petty distraction—a way to keep her eyes off Smoke across the pool with that raggedy little pick-me Anika—had quickly turned into something else. She wasn’t thinking about them now. Not when she was wrapped around Stack like this, not when his scent—the heavy musk of his cologne and cocoa butter—was messing with her head.

Stack looked down at her, eyes heavy with something deeper. Her words lingered in the air between them like the humidity. His flirting made him swallow hard, caught off guard by her honesty, but he was not about to let the moment slip through his fingers. “We can do that whenever and wherever you want, darling.” He charmed, his country drawl deepening, slow and rich like molasses.

Juicy grinned at that, humming low and sweet, rubbing her hand against his bare back again, taking her time now. She liked the way he said ‘darling’, like the way he talked to her. She liked that she brought it out of him. “Okay…but first.” She teased, shifting forward until her chest pressed lightly against his thigh. “You have to let me apply this sunscreen to you.” She said as she leaned across him, her arm stretching toward her oversized straw beach bag with the bamboo handles. Her body curved against him perfectly, warm and soft. Her plump chest brushed his leg, sending a jolt of awareness through his core.

Stack groaned lightly, trying to distract himself from the feeling of her. “Baby, I’m Black, I don’t need no sunscreen.”

“Everyone needs sunscreen, Stack.” She said, pulling the bottle from her bag with a triumphant grin. “Don’t believe everything that you hear.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I can say the same for what you’re sayin’.” He stated, causing Juicy to let out a small laugh. She sat up straighter now, her glasses pushed high on her slick, honey-colored bun as she gave him a pointed look, brows arched. The glare had bite, but it only made him grin. “You just wanna rub all on me.” He accused playfully.

Juicy laughed, cracking the cap on the sunscreen bottle. “I don’t need an excuse to rub up on you.” She said, voice sliding into something velvet and slow, a little seductive. She squirted a dollop into her palm, rubbing her hands together as Stack watched, captivated. “Do I?” She asked, cocking her head as if he didn’t already know. She paused, her hands outstretched and coated in lotion, sunlight bouncing off her golden-brown skin. “You already said it.” He replied smoothly, smirking.

Stack licked his lips and leaned forward a bit, ready as she began rubbing the lotion into his back. Her touch was firm but tender, working the sunscreen in slow, deliberate circles. The heat of her hands, the closeness of her body—it was intimate in a way that felt almost too much for public, but neither of them cared. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the feel of her fingers trailing over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath her touch.

Juicy took her time, fingers sliding over his shoulders and down his spine. She didn’t miss the way he sighed quietly, or the way his body leaned into her just a little more. She was pouring all the affection she wasn’t sure how to say into her hands.

And across the pool, Smoke saw it all.

Anika had left moments ago, said something about needing another drink, or fixing her lipstick, he didn’t know. He didn’t even care, but now she was gone, and he had a clear view of Juicy and Stack.

His brother. His girl.

He didn’t feel jealous. Not exactly. This wasn’t the kind of thing that stirred that in him. But still—he couldn’t look away.

There was something about the way Juicy was taking care of Stack that got to him. The soft looks, the lingering touches, the genuine laughter. It wasn’t just flirtation—it was something deeper that he could see lingering between them. And she looked good doing it all.

Her skin shimmered under the sun, glinting with flecks of glitter from that perfume Mary had gifted her for Christmas—the one he remembered because she always saved it for days she wanted to feel extra pretty. She had her legs wrapped around Stack’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Stack looked…happy. Soft, even.

Smoke stared for a moment longer, his drink halfway to his lips, then slowly turned his attention away.

Whatever that was between them, it was unfolding whether he liked it or not.

And Juicy didn’t even notice Smoke looking. Not anymore. She was too busy rubbing lotion into the warm skin of the man holding her.

The sun hung in the sky, golden and sticky like honey, casting a soft white sheen on everything it touched. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine, grilled ribs, and the unmistakable sweetness of Juicy’s perfume that still clung to her skin like dew. Her fingers were slick with sunscreen, the coolness of the lotion stark against the warm curve of Stack’s back as she rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles. “Damn,” Stack murmured, his voice lower now, raspier. “You gon’ take your time or you tryna get me worked up on purpose?”

Juicy smiled, her lip gloss catching the sun as she leaned in closer, her lips a breath away from his ear. “What if I am?” She whispered, rubbing her palms over the dip in his spine, down to the V of his waist before gliding back up again, her movements just slow enough to make his jaw clench. “Is it working?”

Stack exhaled, his hand flexing against his thigh. “You playin’ a dangerous game, baby.”

“I’m not playin’.” She said, moving to his arms now, turning slightly so she could kneel on the chair beside him. She lifted one of his arms by the wrist and began coating his bicep in smooth strokes, fingers gliding over muscle like she was memorizing the shape of him. “You the one who wanted me to do this, remember?”

“Correction.” Stack said, watching her through hooded eyes. “You insisted. Said it was medically necessary.”

“It is.” She grinned, biting her lip as she moved to the other arm. “Skin cancer don’t give a damn about how fine you are.”

He chuckled at that, low and amused. “So I’m fine now?”

“You been fine.” She replied with a shrug, smoothing the lotion over his forearm, teasingly running her thumb along his wrist. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

Stack was already halfway gone, trying his best to sit still while her fingers trailed over his skin like a slow-burning fuse. And Juicy—Lord, Juicy was taking her time with it. When she shifted in the lounge chair in front of him, her knees brushing the outside of his thighs, he damn near forgot where he was. Her touch was slow, circular, and she moved with deliberate care because she didn’t want to rush. She wasn’t sure when she started enjoying this more than she should’ve. It was just sunscreen, she told herself. Just sunscreen. Nothing more.

But by the time she made it to his arms—one thick and relaxed against his thigh, the other resting behind him—Stack had turned his head slightly, catching her in profile. She was focused, biting her bottom lip as she rubbed the lotion into his bicep, her long nails grazing him lightly.

“Let me take you out.” He said, not even leaving room for disagreement within his demand.

Juicy’s fingers froze for a half-second, her eyes snapping up to his. “Huh?”

“Let me take you out on a date, Journee.” He said, his voice smooth and firm, calling her by her real name.

Her laugh came out soft, breathy, almost involuntary. It caught her by surprise, because everything hit her at once. The use of her real name, which felt like something sacred now, something intimate. The weight of his words. The idea of a date, like this—whatever this was between them—was turning into something real. Something intentional. All while her hands were gliding over his warm, tattooed arms, trailing over words and symbols inked into his skin. Her fingers didn’t stop moving, almost like she was trying to distract herself from what he just said. Or the way he was staring at her like she was all he could see.

She reached for more sunscreen, rubbing her palms together, readying to press them onto his chest when he caught her wrist gently.

“You not gon’ answer me?” Stack asked, low and soft, his thumb brushing slow against the inside of her wrist. Juicy stilled as the air between them thickened. She looked at him fully now, the shimmer of her body mist glinting in the sun as her lip gloss caught the light. Her voice came quieter this time, more careful. “Wait… what?” She asked. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.” He said without pause, his eyes locked on hers. They flickered between her brown eyes and her full lips, searching her, but not pushing. Juicy looked at him for a long second, trying to find a tell of some joke, some smirk, some sort of game, but there was none. His face was relaxed, his expression soft. His eyes were the kind of gentle she wasn’t used to. The kind that made you feel seen and touched without even laying a hand.

“Stack, are you serious?” She asked, her voice rising just slightly with disbelief.

“Yes.” He said again, slower this time.

“Stack.”

“What?”

“Stack?!”

“What?!”

“Oh my goodness.” Juicy giggled, her grin finally breaking wide. “Yes! Yes, I’ll go on a date with you!”

“Good.” Stack said with a quiet smirk, his grip on her wrist still light but possessive. Like he’d been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn’t want to let it pass.

Juicy’s first instinct was to hug him—throw her arms around his neck and squeal into his ear like a high school girl in love. But then she remembered the lotion. Her hands were still slick with it. “Oh.” She mumbled with a laugh, shifting back and placing her hands finally on his chest. She swallowed, biting her lip again, this time to keep from gasping, because her hands were now gliding over his pecs, smooth and warm and strong beneath her fingertips. She rubbed slowly, deeply, letting her fingers wander along the defined ridges of his abs. His tattoos stretched beneath her palms, and she traced them subconsciously as she worked the cream in, taking her sweet time now. More than necessary.

Stack leaned back on his hands, chest bare to her, letting her explore with her touch. Juicy was on her knees in the chair, leaning over him slightly, and neither of them noticed the rare glances being thrown their way across the patio—the tension between them was its own kind of gravity. It pulled every glance, every passing whisper, into silence.

But Stack only had eyes for her.

He watched her like he was studying sunlight through stained glass. Tracing her every movement, cataloging every little breath and blink. Her cheeks glowed under the heat, her curls pulled back with just a few tendrils stuck to her neck. And her lips—sticky, glossed, and irresistible—kept pulling his eyes back again and again.

She looked up once, catching him staring, and her breath caught. “What?” She whispered.

“Nothing.” He said, lips curling. “Just tryna remember this.”

“Remember what?” She asked, laughing nervously.

He tilted his head. “The moment you said yes.” He smirked. Juicy’s smile faltered into something softer, and she pressed her palm flat against his chest, her thumb brushing just under his collarbone. “You’re so smooth.” She quipped, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m serious.” He said, not smiling this time.

“I know.” She whispered.

Stack didn’t say anything after that. He just kept looking at her, the muscle in his jaw flexing slightly as her palm lingered against his chest. Her fingers, still slightly slick with sunscreen, stayed pressed against his warm skin like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. Maybe she didn’t want to. Juicy’s lips parted, and she tilted her head, her eyes skimming over his face, then down his chest again, and then back up to those low-lidded eyes watching her like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

Her heart was thudding against her ribs so loud she was sure he could hear it. The sun had started to dip a little lower now, casting soft amber light across his skin, making the edges of his tattoos glow like they were lit from within. She’d never seen a man look like that—like a damn dream, golden and real all at once.

She looked down again, hand dragging slowly across his chest, brushing over his left pec with more care than she even realized. Her thumb traced the edge of one of his tattoos like she was memorizing it by feel alone. She didn’t know when it had turned into something so intimate, but here they were, breathing in each other’s space, heartbeats lined up and unspoken things passing between them like static.

Stack’s hand moved up and caught the curve of her waist. His fingers didn’t grip, they just rested there, his thumb brushing lazily over the bare skin just above the waistband of her low-rise shorts.

Juicy swallowed as her eyes met his again.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She asked, voice soft, flirtatious but a little breathless.

“’Cause you’re beautiful.” He said easily. “’Cause I been tryna look at you like this since I met you. And now I can.”

Juicy had no words for that. Not at first.

She just blinked, eyes lingering on his, her breath catching somewhere in her throat. A slow smile tugged at her lips, different from the giddy one earlier. This one was heavier, like she couldn’t believe how soft she felt in that moment. How seen she felt. “You gon’ kiss me or something’?” She asked with a playful tilt of her head, her voice low and thick.

Stack leaned in just a fraction, close enough that his lips were a whisper away from hers. “I told you I was takin’ you out first, didn’t I?”

Juicy laughed softly, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she leaned back slightly. “Boy, you so corny.”

“You still like it though.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes with a grin, her hand still resting against his chest, now feeling the steady thump of his heart underneath. “Yeah… I do.” She mumbled.

Stack’s thumb brushed slow over her waist again, his eyes on her lips for a beat too long. They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in that sweet, sticky tension of summer, wrapped in heat and hope and everything new. Juicy let her fingers drag down the center of his chest before finally pulling away, smirking as she reached for the sunscreen bottle again—partly to reset the moment, partly because she needed to do something with her hands before she gave in and climbed into his lap.

“I missed a spot.” She murmured.

Stack smiled, leaned back again, and let her hands find him once more. The air between them was humid and heavy, buzzing like the heat that shimmered off the concrete in waves. The lotion was nearly gone, but Juicy’s hands hadn’t stopped. They moved slow, deliberate, her fingers tracing across Stack’s skin like she was learning him by heart. Stack sat there stiff as stone, his posture and his pants, trying not to let the way she touched him show on his face, but it was no use. His jaw was tight, his breathing was low, and his eyes were glued to her like she was the last sweet thing earth had to offer.

Then, just when he thought she might keep going—maybe slide her hands even lower, maybe straddle his lap, maybe finish what she started—Juicy leaned forward, close enough for him to smell the peach gloss on her lips and the cocoa butter from her palms. She bit her bottom lip and dragged her eyes over his face like she was pulling something from him. Slowly and thoroughly, as if this was all a game and she was five moves ahead.

“I have to use the bathroom.” She said softly.

But it wasn’t the words. It was how she said it. Her gaze bounced between his lips and his eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, and Stack just… froze. Caught in the way her voice melted into the sticky summer air. Like he was under some kinda spell. She slid off the lounge chair, slow and smooth, her thighs brushing his as she stood. Then the sunglasses, those big, dark brown shades she slid on with practiced ease. She slipped her feet into her gold-and-white Baby Phat wedge flip flops and started walking, hips swaying in that hypnotic rhythm she was famous for.

Stack didn’t even register she was gone until she looked back at him, over her shoulder, over the rim of those shades. Her lips parted just enough to catch a glimmer of sun on the gloss, and her fingers flexed outward, an unspoken invitation dangling in the thick summer air.

That’s all it took.

He stood up fast, heart thudding somewhere near his throat. His long strides caught up to her quick, and when her hand reached back for his, he took it without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers like it was second nature. His eyes dropped as she led him toward the community center. He couldn’t help it. All legs and hips and that little sway she had that made his thoughts scatter.

He didn’t care where they were headed. Wherever Juicy was taking him, he was going. Happily.

But as they crossed the pavement, just a few feet from the double doors of the center, Juicy’s eyes caught someone.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the corner of the building, half in shadow, half in sunlight. A cloud of smoke curled up from his lips, the blunt burning low between his fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but sharpened the second they landed on her.

And time seemed to slow.

Stack didn’t see it. Didn’t feel the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his hand. Didn’t notice the way her spine straightened or the quick rub of her lips together like she was steadying herself. But Smoke noticed. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t double take or anything. He just watched them, his expression unreadable beneath the haze of weed and heat.

His eyes slid from Juicy’s face to her hand in Stack’s…and then back up again.

And for a split second, there was a flicker of something. It wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t anger. It was just acknowledgment that he saw her. That he saw them. And maybe he understood exactly what was happening without needing to hear a single word.

Juicy held his gaze briefly, long enough for the silence to say what neither of them would. But she continued, pulling Stack inside with her.

Whatever guilt she should’ve felt—it didn’t exist. Maybe it was because she didn’t care, at least that what she tried to tell herself. Or maybe it was because Smoke didn’t look hurt at what he saw. He didn’t have a look of shock or betrayal on his features.

He just looked… hungry.

Like maybe, if Stack hadn’t been the one she reached for, he would’ve been. And that thought sent a thrill through her chest, pooling hot and dangerous in her belly.

Stack, still unaware of the exchanged glance, followed close behind, admiring the curve of her backside, the sway of her hips, the way her skin glowed in the fluorescent hallway light. He didn’t care where she was taking him.

Juicy smiled to herself as they disappeared into the building. She didn’t stop pulling him until they reached the narrow hallway just before the bathrooms, the area cooler and quieter, nothing but the bass of the cookout music thumping faintly through the walls behind them. The air smelled like deodorant and faint traces of perfume.

Stack barely had time to blink before Juicy spun around and pushed him—hard—against the wall. His back hit the smooth brick plaster with a soft thud, knocking the wind out of him just enough for surprise to flash across his face.

“Damn, girl—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Juicy pounced like she’d been holding herself back for too long, and her mouth crashed into his with a hungry kind of urgency that made his whole system stutter. Her lips were soft but firm, glossed but not sticky, and she kissed like she meant to take something from him—like she was claiming it.

Stack’s brain stalled, but his body didn’t. Instinct took over.

His hands slid to her waist, strong palms gripping the soft and plush curve of her sides to steady her. Mostly because she was coming at him so wild and fierce, he needed to hold her close just to keep up. She moaned softly against his lips, and something about the sound shot straight through him.

He groaned low in response, right into her mouth.

That’s when he lifted her. His strong arms slid beneath her thighs, hoisting her like she weighed nothing. He never broke the kiss, not once, as he turned and walked her backwards, careful but eager, until her back hit a different stretch of wall, tucked away near the bathroom doors. Secluded enough.

Juicy clung to him, her hands buried in the back of his cornrows, fingertips rubbing at the base of his neck like she could soothe the fire she was feeding. Their kisses grew louder, messier, the wet sounds echoing softly down the hall. But they couldn’t hear it. They couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

They were completely wrapped up in the feel of each other.

She whimpered when he ground her into his crotch—his bulge pressing against the thinnest part of her bathing suit skort, right where she throbbed for him. He swallowed the sound, capturing it with his mouth, deepening the kiss as her legs tightened around his waist.

Stack’s hand slid to her ass, gave it a firm squeeze that made her center clench and her toes curl. If they weren’t careful, they were gonna cross a line. Hell, they already had. The heat between them was boiling, and the way she rocked her hips into his made it damn near impossible to stop.

But then—a pinch.

A building pressure.

Beneath the haze of lust and adrenaline, reality tapped on Juicy’s shoulder with increasing urgency. Her eyes fluttered open, lips still locked to his, but her body was waving a red flag.

She had to pee.

She broke the kiss, panting against his lips, her head falling back just enough to catch her breath. Stack, still caught in the moment, leaned forward to follow her, trailing kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“Stack…” She sighed, voice breathless, trying to gather herself.

He hummed low in response, mouth still busy at her neck, hips still grinding like he couldn’t help it. Like it was second nature that moment they got like this.

“Stack, wait.” She said, firmer this time. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to push him back a bit.

His lips paused. His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned back, eyes dazed and lips swollen from kissing. “Huh?”

“I have to pee.” Juicy said, squeezing her thighs together instinctively around his torso, her voice half serious and half laughing at the ridiculous timing of her own body.

Stack blinked, clearly trying to process through the fog of hormones. His eyes scanned her face, took in the smudged gloss, the flushed cheeks, the slightly wild look in her eyes. She looked wrecked—and it was all him.

A crooked smile curled at his lips.

“Oh, baby…” He murmured, tilting his head. “That’s not pee.”He smirked devilishly, leaning in close. “I’ll show you how to do that later, just let me—”

“No, Stack, for real!” Juicy laughed, smacking his chest, her voice breathless but serious this time. “Move! I gotta piss!”

Stack groaned like the universe was out to get him. “Damn.” He muttered, reluctantly easing her back down to the floor, hands lingering longer than they needed to.

As soon as her feet hit the tile, she was already stepping away, adjusting her skirt and heading for the girl’s room just a few feet down.

But just as she reached for the bathroom door—

Smack!

His hand connected with her ass in a sharp, playful hit that made her squeak and spin around, eyes wide.“Stack!” She hissed, glaring at him. But he just gave her that damn grin, the one that had to have the girls in Chicago ruin their lives for just a moment with him. “Damn, Juicy.” He said, eyes trailing from her backside up to her smirking mouth like he had every right to look. “You know I hate to watch you go, but I’ll gladly watch you leave.”

He backed away, slow and easy, like he had all day. And just before ducking into the men’s room, she caught a glimpse of his trunks, the clear outline of his problem straining hard and proud.

She rolled her eyes with a sift scoff but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips.

Juicy rushed into the bathroom, her knees nearly buckling as she slammed the stall door shut. Her heart was still racing, but for a whole new reason now—and not just from the way Stack had her melting into that hallway wall mere seconds before. She could barely breathe from the intensity of his kisses, his body, the way his hands gripped her thighs like he couldn’t stand to let her go. But now… she really had to pee. And it was killing the vibe.

When she was done, she took a moment at the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lip gloss was smudged, her curls slightly tousled from where Stack’s fingers had gripped the back of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes still blown from the heat of their moment. She exhaled, straightened her halter top, and smoothed down her mini skirt. With a soft laugh at herself, she pushed out the bathroom door, still warm from Stack’s touch.

But she didn’t make it far.

The hallway was quiet now, almost too quiet. As she rounded the door, the air seemed to shift into something heavy and tense.

There he was, the man himself.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the wall like he had been waiting.

Her steps slowed. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze on her when she exited the bathroom, the way it crawled up her skin like wildfire. He said nothing, but everything about him was loud and demanding. His posture, his presence, his silence. She didn’t look at him for long. After she let out a small breath at seeing him, she felt the heat rise in her throat, her arms folding defensively over her chest as she turned her face slightly, staring at the far wall like it held the answers as to why he was suddenly in her space.

He didn’t move at first, just kept looking at her. His tall frame blocked the hallway, his shadow swallowing the corner whole. Juicy could feel the way his eyes raked over her, from her lips to her legs, and the same skirt Stack had bunched around her hips not even five minutes ago.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she raised her head and met his eyes for a second, her voice dry but biting. “Can I help you?”

Smoke’s voice rolled out low and rough, like gravel over velvet. “What’s up with you, huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh, annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as he stepped forward. She didn’t flinch, but her jaw tightened. The heat of his nearness pulled at her like gravity. “Your games won’t work, Juicy.” He said.

She scoffed. “Oh, now I definitely don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned on her heel to brush past him, the tension crackling between them like static. Smoke didn’t stop her. Not physically. But his voice followed her like a shadow.

“You flirting with Stack.” He began, causing Juicy freeze mid-step, her back to him “All up on him, rubbing on him, whispering to him.“ He continued. “It’s not doing what you think it is.”

Her fist clenched, nails biting into her palm as she turned around slowly, her face sharp with fury. “And neither is you talking to Anika.”

That made him pause.

He stared at her for a long moment before a smirk curled across his lips. He laughed softly through his nose, like she was amusing. “Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Smoke.”

He stepped forward, his eyes cutting into her. “You’re jealous that I spoke to Anika.”

“I’m not jealous of a damn thing.” She snapped.

But he ignored her as he kept stepping until the distance between them was nearly gone, the scent of his cologne mixing with the sweat on her skin and whatever was left of Stack on her lips.

“You know, I didn’t even know her name before you said it.” He murmured. “I don’t give a damn about that girl. And you’d know that if you stopped reacting for two seconds and just calmed the hell down.”He snapped. Juicy opened her mouth to argue, but Smoke cut her off, voice sharper now, eyes burning into hers. “You trying to make me feel some type of way with Stack was a waste of your time. ’Cause I know how you feel about me. I see how you feel about me. And you kissing on Stack doesn’t change that. Doesn’t change how I feel about you either.” He shrugged.

Juicy’s heart thundered in her chest. He stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching as his voice dropped to a husk. “Seeing you up on my brother didn’t do nothing to me… ’cept give me a front row seat to how hot you get when you’re trying to prove a point.”

Juicy’s lips parted, her breath shaky.

“So go ahead.” He said, eyes dark and sure. “Just ‘cause you’re with him don’t mean you’re not mine. And just ‘cause you’re with me don’t mean you’re not his.”

She could only blinked, stunned.

“It’s been this way for a while, Juicy. And it’ll keep being this way. Until one of us figures out how to stop loving you.” His eyes softened, just a little. “And that ain’t happening. For a long time, not for me.”

Juicy didn’t know what to say. Her anger had drained, replaced by a strange ache in her chest. Smoke had always been intense, but this was something else. This was… raw. Emotions she’d never had to deal with, things she’d never thought he would ever say.

She was still trying to gather her thoughts when the sound of a sink shutting off echoed from behind the bathroom door. Then it creaked open, and Stack stepped out, wiping his hands on his trunks.

He stopped cold at the sight of them—Juicy cornered, Smoke towering, both of them staring at each other like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Stack’s voice cut through. “Hell goin’ on here?”

Juicy blinked fast and turned away, suddenly breathless. Her feet moved before her brain did, her wedges clicking quick down the hallway as both men watched her retreat.

Stack’s eyes followed her for a second, then turned back to his twin. “The hell did you say?”

Smoke leaned against the wall again, calm, like the storm hadn’t just passed through his chest. “Nothin’ she ain’t already know.” He said. “She just finally admitted it to herself.”

Juicy rushed out of the building, heart still pounding in her chest from whatever that moment had been. She didn’t stop to check if anyone noticed, didn’t pause to let the warm summer air cool her down. Her sandals slapped against the pavement as she beelined back to her lounge chair, a sigh slipping through her lips the moment she dropped into it, like a weight being let go.

Mary sat in the chair next to hers, legs crossed and a glossy magazine propped in her lap, the same one Juicy had been reading earlier. She looked up, immediately catching the faraway glaze in Juicy’s eyes.

“Aye, what’s up with you?” Mary asked, folding the magazine shut and turning in her chair with concern laced under her playful tone.

“Nothing.” Juicy responded flatly, sliding her gold rimmed sunglasses back down onto the bridge of her nose before lying back, her head tilted toward the bright sky. The air was thick with chlorine along with a faint scent of grilled meat floating over the pool area. But Juicy didn’t notice any of it. Not now.

Mary furrowed her brows, watching her for a second, but didn’t press. She knew Juicy well enough to know that if she didn’t wanna talk, she wouldn’t. So she turned her focus back to her magazine, flipping a page with an acrylic click.

A few minutes passed, a soft summer breeze blew through the trees, rustling the umbrellas and pool floaties. The sun had shifted slightly, casting a golden sheen over everything. From the corner of her eye, Juicy noticed two familiar shapes emerging from the building. Smoke and Stack.

They weren’t being subtle either—eyes trained directly across the pool, right at her.

Still, she kept her gaze upward, acting like she hadn’t noticed. Her whole body was tensed like a live wire though, her chest tight, lips pursed and hand fidgeting with the thin strap of her bikini top. Their area had gotten more crowded, people swarming around the life guard chair, someone trying to flirt with Megan, others leaning over the fence and their bags strewn around. It was noisy and chaotic—but not enough to drown out the presence of the twins as they made their way over.

Smoke dropped himself casually at the end of Juicy’s lounge chair, while Stack took his time, leaning coolly against the tall lifeguard chair like a king surveying his court. Juicy’s lips tightened but she didn’t say anything. She just stayed laid out, arms crossed over her chest, legs stretched long and golden in the sun, pretending the sky was more interesting than the weight of their gazes.

It wasn’t until Mary broke the silence that Juicy finally stirred. “Oh, girl, I almost forgot!” She said suddenly, closing her magazine and shifting closer. “I overheard Shante talking, and turns out, Donavan and Anika broke up because he supposedly got another girl pregnant, right?”

Juicy tilted her head slightly toward her friend, lips still tight. “Right…” She said, low and distracted.

Smoke shifted, placing her legs into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Juicy glanced down at the feeling of his palms on her skin. Warm and familiar. She didn’t say anything, but her jaw flexed. Mary noticed it too but powered on, already locked into her gossip.

“Well come to find out, that was a lie. Anika cheated on him. But guess with who.”

“Who?” Juicy and Stack asked in unison, a beat of accidental harmony. The chubby girl looked up at him, be he seemed just as engrossed as her.

Mary leaned in, voice dropping like she had government secrets. “Antwon.”

Juicy’s shades shot up as she gasped, leaning up on her elbows. “Our Antwon?” She asked, disbelief written across her face.

Mary nodded eagerly. “Yup.”

Juicy gasped again, hand to chest like her pearls had just been clutched. The twins on either side exchanged looks before focusing in on her. “What do you mean, your Antwon?” Stack asked, narrowing his eyes. His gold chain glinted in the sun as he looked down at her.

Juicy rolled onto her back again, meeting his stare with a smirk. “Not like that. Y’all know Antwon. Everybody knows Antwon. He got me and Mary into clubs, concerts, we even went on a road trip to Florida with him once. Mary, you remember that?”

Mary grinned wide, eyes sparkling with memory. “Hell yeah. That was fun as hell too. Ooo, do you remember that white boy who ate—”

“No! I don’t!” Juicy hissed, cutting her off sharply. Her eyes widened slightly as she darted them between the two men. Mary caught on to the hint and fell quiet.“Oh, yeah… me neither.” She mumbled, flipping a page in her magazine like nothing happened. “Can’t believe she cheated with Antwon.” She mumbled, bring the conversation back.

“Wait—what were you about to say?” Smoke asked, tone lighter, but his curiosity clear.

“Yeah, me either.” Juicy said quickly, waving off the moment like it didn’t matter. “I mean, I thought he was too square for her. She sort of has a type.” Her eyes drifted toward Smoke deliberately. “No offense to you or anything.” She snarked with an upturned lip in disgust. Smoke didn’t respond with words, he just smirked and tapped her leg.

“What white boy?” Stack pressed, not letting it go and he was a bit annoyed that he was begging ignored.

Mary spoke again, trying to pivot back. “I heard she only did it ‘cause Donavan cheated first. I guess this was her way of getting even. That, and for always flirting with you.”

Juicy’s head snapped toward her. “Excuse me?”

Mary blinked innocently. “Flirting with you all the time.” She repeated. “He does it right in the girl’s face. Remember when you worked at Waffle House last year? He’d be in there every damn day.”

“That’s because the auto shop was right next door. You know that’s where his brother used to hang. And you were in there every day too.”Juicy countered.

“I was there for free food. He was there to see that ass in them True Religion jeans.” Mary grinned.

“Oh, so you weren’t there for me? And is my ass my defining quality now?”

“It’s one of your best.” Mary said with a wink.

Stack chimed in at the same time, “It’s the most prominent.”

Juicy turned and gave him a full glare, but he just grinned at her, his gold tooth glinting, completely unbothered. She flipped him off with a lazy hand and turned back to Mary. “Don’t say it like that. I worked there for two weeks.”

“And you apparently couldn’t survive without me.”

“Anyways!” Mary said loudly, cutting them off. “Those two weeks you did work there, he was up in there with Anika trying to get at you.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”Juicy muttered, sliding her shades back down.

“That’s ‘cause you’re oblivious unless somebody pours it on thick. That’s why you flirt so boldly.” Mary said, eyebrow raised with precision.

Juicy turned to look at the two men next to her. Smoke was already watching her from behind her glasses while Stack raised a brow thoughtfully, then nodded in agreement.

Juicy scoffed in disbelief, dragging a hand over her face.

“I just hope Antwon knows what he signed up for,” Mary added. “I would hate to defend my good friend by laying hands upon that New York City street rat.” She hissed the insult with venom, casting a sharp glance across the pool toward Anika, who was laid out on her stomach, ass perched like a billboard ad.

Juicy followed her gaze, lips curling in disdain. The memory of Anika talking to Smoke earlier flashed across her mind like lightning. Without a word, she pulled her legs from Smoke’s lap and gently pushed him away with her feet. He let it happen, grinning like he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Before he could say anything, Stack broke the tension.

“Juicy.” He said, voice low and slow, syrup-thick and sweet as a ‘issippi drawl.

She looked at him, her head turning lazily, curiosity flickering behind her glasses. Her lips stayed in that soft pout she always had when she was trying to decide if she was irritated or not.

“Can you go get my shirt outta my car?” He asked, almost too casually. Her gaze narrowed a bit, searching his face. “Back seat, behind the passenger.” He added, eyes holding hers with a bit of challenge. “You’ll know which one.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t just a request. It was a demand with a flirtatious flair. Like an invitation wrapped in something silky but toxic.

Juicy let out a slow sigh, already halfway annoyed, halfway entertained. She pushed herself up from the cool edge of the lounge chair, brushing imaginary dust from her thighs, the hem of her skirt rising with the motion.

“You got two working legs, Stack.” She muttered.

“Yeah.” He said with a grin, eyes never leaving hers, “But I got you, too.”

Smoke let out a low chuckle, deep and rich like the rumbling of a distant engine. Mary popped her gum, watching the exchange with raised brows, eyes bouncing between them like it was her favorite TV show. Juicy didn’t say anything for a beat, just stood there, hand on her hip like she was giving him one last out before she really got mad. When Stack simply smirked, smug and warm and cocky, she huffed, holding out her hand.

Stack reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to her in one smooth motion, letting them land in her palm.

She stared at him for a moment longer, lips twitching like she might smile if she weren’t so annoyed, then turned on her heel with that signature switch in her hips—the one she didn’t even know she had.

She walked across the gravel and out the gate toward the car parked a bit out of plain sight. Only the folks at the cars could see her now, not the ones chilling by the water.

The summer heat kissed her shoulders as she reached the familiar beeper keychain, unlocking the car with a soft chirp. She opened the door and leaned into the back seat, immediately spotting the black wife pleaser folded messily behind the passenger seat. Reaching for it, her fingers brushed the fabric—cool against her warm skin.

That’s when she felt it. A hand on her lower back.

She gasped, whipping around fast and swinging without thinking. Her palm connected with someone’s chest, and a familiar laugh followed.

“Damn!” Stack chuckled, wincing a bit but still grinning like the mischievous man he is.

“What the hell, Stack!” Juicy snapped, swatting him again, this time on the arm.

“I’m sorry!” He said, still laughing, holding up both hands like he was surrendering. “Relax, girl, damn. You got a bit of a much on you”

“You had me come all the way out here just to follow me?”She asked, her voice tight with disbelief.

“Yeah.” He grinned, leaning his back against the car with his arms folded and that same soft, unreadable look in his eyes.

“For what, Stack?” She asked, arms folded now, the heat and tension settling into her bones. “To get me alone or some?”

He tilted his head slightly, dark braided curls brushing the male of his neck. “Yeah.” He repeated, the word quieter this time.

Her breath was caught at that one word. “For what, Stack?” She asked again, softer now.

“I wanna know what Smoke said to you earlier.” He said plainly.

That threw her then, and she only blinked before her eyes fell to the shirt in her hand. She sighed, voice dipping low. “It’s… complicated.” She muttered:

Stack shifted, facing her fully now. “Try me.”

She looked up at him, really looked at him. The way his eyes softened when they were just the two of them. The brightness behind them, always shining a little extra when he looked at her. It did something to her—something she wasn’t sure she had words for yet.

She let out another sigh and moved to sit on the foot panel of the car door, body half-twisted toward him, the metal hot beneath her.

Stack slid into the back seat, legs dangling out, watching her with a kind of focus that made her fingers tremble as she picked at the gems on her nails. She hesitated, her mouth opening to speak but no words coming out as her bear beat increased. Then she decided to just finally come out and say it.

“I like you, Elias.” She said, eyes moving up from her fidgeting hands to search his. Her voice was small but steady.

Stack blinked at her before a slow grin spread across his face. “Okay.”

She bit her lip, starting at him before she pressed on. “Like, a lot.” She blinked at him, her heart banging behind her ribs. “Like… I wanna be with you.” She admitted.

Stack didn’t move for a beat. Then, his large hands reached out and covered hers, stilling her fidgeting. His skin was warm, grounding. “That sounds like music to my ears, mama.” He said, voice low and smooth, like velvet to her skin. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ma have to show you a few things.” He grumbled as he leaned in. Juicy laughed softly, shy and breathless, even as his lips met hers. He kissed her slowly. Pocketed kisses that were quick but tender, like he was tasting each one before giving her the next. And in between each one, he pulled back just enough to look at her. Really look at her with her long lashes flush against her cheeks.

Juicy kissed him back, nerves fluttering in her stomach like summer fireflies. But the next part—the next part tangled her up. “I also feel the same way for Elijah.” She mumbled, barely audible.

Stack blinked. His face didn’t fall, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He just sat there, quiet.

“I’d understand if you don’t—”

“I don’t care.” He cut in.

She looked up, startled. “What?” She asked, brows furrowing.

“I said I don’t care.” He repeated. “I mean… I don’t mind that you feel the way you do about Smoke. As long as you feel how you do about me like you said. That’s what matters to me.”His voice was steady. But instead of relief, Juicy felt the ache in her chest grow.

“I thought that would help.” She whispered, “but it only makes things worse.” She whined, placing her hands over her face.

Stack leaned forward, amusement clear on his face as his hand slid along her back, fingers trailing over skin exposed by her halter top. “Aw, and why’s that, mama?” He murmured, lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

“Because now I gotta choose.” She said softly, eyes glossy. “And that’s something I never wanted to do.”She said as she leaned forward and placed her cheek against his thigh, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a hug.

Stack stroked her back in long, gentle circles, quiet for a moment.

“You don’t have to choose.” He said finally.

Juicy lifted her head slowly, eyes full of question.

“What?”

He smiled down at her, soft and unguarded. “I mean it. I ain’t askin’ you to pick. I’m askin’ you to be real. With me. With him. With yourself.” He stated.

She stared at him, heart thudding hard.

“I already know how I feel about you. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Juicy’s throat tightened, her fingers curling in his lap. The world around them faded into the hum of summer—the distant pool splashes, the low drone of 112’s “Cupid” playing from someone’s speaker. But in that moment, all she could hear was her heart and his voice, intertwining like a melody she never wanted to end.

She lifted her head from Stack’s lap slowly, brown eyes glimmering with uncertainty, the same way they always did when she tried to guard her heart but didn’t really want to. “What?”

Stack smiled down at her, easy and entirely unbothered. It wasn’t the cocky kind of smile he usually wore. It was soft and honest. Vulnerable, even.“I mean it.” He said, his voice low and steady, like it had been rehearsed in his chest for weeks. “I ain’t askin’ you to pick when I already know I got you.”

Juicy’s heart thudded so loud in her chest, she swore Stack could hear it. She just stared at him, her lips parted like she wanted to say something but forgot how to speak. His words hit somewhere deep—somewhere behind her ribcage, tucked under all that sassy-girl bravado she wore.

“I already know how I feel about you.” He continued, brushing a knuckle down her jawline. “And I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby. So, if you don’t mind it… I sure as hell don’t.”

That last part melted something in her. Something tight and tangled in her chest. Her fingers curled in his lap, picking at the edge of her acrylics like she could fidget the feelings away. The moment thickened around them, time slowing to a crawl. The world outside—Smoke, Mary, the pool, the music, all of it—faded into a muffled hush.

“Really?” She whispered.

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed over the curve of her cheekbone, soft as breath. “I meant what I said. I don’t care about the rest. I care about you.”

“You don’t mind?” She asked again, still trying to wrap her head around it. Her voice was higher now, tinged with disbelief. As if love that easy—love that open—was too good to be true.

Stack chuckled, and it was low and warm, wrapping around her like a hug. “No, baby, I don’t.”

And something in her broke open.

“Oh, Stack.” She breathed, her whole body softening as she looked at him like he’d just handed her the moon. And before she could talk herself out of it, she moved. Pounced on him again like she had earlier in the hallway—only this time it wasn’t playful. This time, it was desperate.

Her lips crashed onto his with heat, hunger, and the kind of reckless passion that made her forget they were in the back of his car and not in some steamy and searing dream. She pushed him into the leather seat cushions, and the car creaked softly beneath their bodies.

Stack let out a surprised grunt, caught off guard for all of two seconds before instinct kicked in. His hands gripped her like he’d been waiting to, one large palm immediately claiming her bottom while the other slid up her spine, pulling her closer. Juicy kissed him like she was starving, like he was the only thing that could satisfy her craving, and Stack responded by letting his mouth part just enough for her tongue to taste him.

When she finally pulled back, both of them panting lightly, her hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Her eyes were wild and soft all at once, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. She looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was real. “I could just eat you.” She groaned hungrily, breathless, before diving back in, lips finding his again like she was scared they’d disappear if she stopped.

Stack moaned into her mouth, a deep, possessive sound as his hands roamed, mapping every curve of her like he already knew them by heart. Her thighs straddled his lap fully now, riding the heat between them as his fingertips slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the small of her back. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“I been wantin’ this.” He muttered between kisses, his voice husky. “You don’t even know, baby. Every time you walk past me with those damn hips swingin’, or when you laugh with that hand over your mouth like you shy—”

“I am shy.”She whispered against his lips, smiling, her hips slowly rocking against his lap.

“Not with me.” He grinned, dragging his mouth along her jaw to kiss at her neck. “Never with me, baby.”

She whimpered at that, fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth worked a slow, open kiss beneath her ear. Her body arched against him, her back curving like she was offering herself up, and Lord, if Stack didn’t look like he was about to pass out from how sweet she felt on top of him.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” She whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, breath shaky. “I’m tryna be good but you make it so damn hard, Elias.” She whined.

Stack smirked, dragging her lip between his teeth before letting go. “Don’t be good then.”

That broke her.

She kissed him again—messier this time, much needier. Her arms looped around his shoulders as if holding him tighter could erase the confusion, the guilt, the ache in her chest about Elijah. But for now, there was only this. Only him.

Stack's mouth was a trail of fire on her skin, his lips and tongue leaving a path of goosebumps as they explored her collarbone, her neck, her shoulders. Juicy's breath hitched, her pulse racing like a wild animal as she arched into him, her body crying out for more. The heat between them was a living thing, an inferno that licked at their nerves and made their limbs tingle with anticipation.

She rolled her hips against him, feeling his hardness press against her center, and a soft moan escaped her lips, a sound that was part plea, part invitation.

"You feel too good to be real, baby…" Stack growled against her throat, his voice a gravelly rumble that sent shockwaves through her as his hands gripped the flesh of her ass.

Juicy's nails dragged lightly across the nape of his neck, eliciting another groan from him, a sound that was pure, unadulterated longing as his hips bucked into her, his hard never pressing against her clothed clit, inciting a sharp moan from her. He was her tormentor and her savior all in one, and she was utterly at his mercy.

As his hand dipped further beneath the waistband of her shorts, she froze, her breath catching in her throat like a bird trapped in a cage. She placed a soft but firm hand on his chest, stilling his movements, her heart pounding wildly.

"Wait.” She whispered. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw the surprise flicker in his gaze, but no annoyance, only a hint of curiosity and a world of unspoken questions. Stack blinked, pulling back slightly, his lips still grazing her collarbone, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. "What is it, Juicy?" He asked, his voice a low, concerned murmur, laced with a hint of confusion. "You okay?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "I—I don’t wanna go all the way yet.” She admitted, her voice soft but certain. "Not till we’ve had our first date. I want it to mean something. Not just the heat of the moment and hormones. I want it to be real, Stack. I want you to want me for more than just this."

He sat up more, the tension in the car shifting as he processed her words, his eyes never leaving hers.

A slow, boyish grin spread across his face, a grin that held a thousand promises and a touch of mischief. "You mean to tell me this ain’t real?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something more profound, something that made her stomach do a series of flips. Juicy narrowed her eyes playfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "Stack, you know what I mean.” She said, brushing a stray curl out of her face, her hand trembling slightly. "I just... I want to take our time. I want to build something real." She admitted.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, his eyes never leaving hers. "Alright, I get it. You're killing me, though, ma. First the couch yesterday, then the hallway, and now this. You're killing me, you know that?" He said, his grin never wavering, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, something that looked a lot like affection.

Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. "Well, said I wanted to wait on sex.” She whispered. “Didn’t say I couldn’t help you in other ways.” She says, her voice a sultry promise, a tantalizing tease. Stack went still, his eyes darkening with surprise and interest, his breath hitching slightly. "Didn’t you just say wait?" He asked, his voice creeping on amusement.

"I did.” She confirmed, her smile innocent but her tone anything but. "But not for everything."

He blinked slowly, licking his lips as if he needed a moment to process the weight of her words. The look he gave her was intense, a look that promised a world of pleasure and one that made her heart race and her body ache with longing. "You sure about this, Juicy?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire and need.

She nodded, her eyes smoldering with want. "If you’re okay with it.” She said, her voice a soft.

A tense pause lingered between them, thick with desire and anticipation. The air was electric, charged with a tension that was almost painful, almost unbearable. Stack exhaled deeply.

"Damn right I’m okay with it.”He muttered, his voice low and reverent.

Juicy just smiled. She took her time, savoring the moment and the look in his eyes. The feel of his body beneath hers and the sound of his ragged breaths. Her fingers danced along the waistband of his sweats, a teasing, tantalizing promise of things to come. The music outside shifted to something even slower and more sensual, another old-school groove made for moments like this.

She could feel the anticipation building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his sweats, feeling him spring free, hard and ready, a testament to his desire and his longing for her. Her mouth practically watered at the sight of him, hushed dick thick throbbing in need. She took in a sharp breath as a rush of liquid dotted the center of her bikini, she could feel it. Just the sight of him set things off in him.

Stack's breath hitched, a sharp sound. His eyes never left hers, even when hers moved. He never wavered, never broke contact, as if he was afraid she would disappear. That this was all a dream, a fantasy, a figment of his imagination. "Juicy.” He whispered, her name a prayer on his lips, a plea.

She leaned forward a bit as her eyes made their way back to his, looking up at him through her lashes with her head still angled down. And he watched as her mouth opened slightly and a trial of clear saliva dribbled out.

He took in another breath, closing his eyes briefly at the feeling of her spit hitting his dick. He opened them again, just in time to see Juicy lick her lips, her eyes still trained on his face. She took his member in to hand, her grip firm, and she began to move her hand slowly, a torturously slow pace that was designed to drive him wild as she worked her slick around him. A smirk played on her lips as she felt him respond to her touch, as she felt his body tense and watched his muscles coil under his bare chest.

She was in control, and she loved it. This dynamic and sense of power was new to her and she loved it. The look in his eyes, loved the feel of him in her hand, loved the way he reacted to her touch.

"Like that?" She whispered, her voice low and sultry as she tightened her grip on him a bit. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of innocence and mischief, a dangerous combination that was guaranteed to drive him wild.

Stack could only nod, his throat tight with anticipation and need as his adman apple bobbed. "Yeah, just like that.” He managed to rasp out, his voice a low in a desperate sound. His hips lifted slightly to meet her strokes, a silent plea for more, for something faster, something harder. He hummed as the feeling of release built up in his core, and Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin and her voice a low, sultry murmur. "I want you to feel good.” She said, her words a declaration of her intentions, of her desires and needs. "I to make you feel good. Want you to know how much I want you, even if we're taking this slow. I want you to know that I care about you." She continued.

Stack's hand found her other one, his fingers lacing through hers on his lap, his grip tight, almost desperate. His other one found her wrist and he guided her, showed her exactly what he liked, exactly what he needed, exactly what he wanted. He clearly just wanted to hold onto her, to ground himself as he felt his pleasure build. Their combined touch in a symphony of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

The increasing pace, the ragged breaths, the desperate moans, the world outside fading away, the car becoming a place of pleasure and ecstasy.

"Juicy," Stack groaned, his voice a low, desperate sound as he struggled for control of his desperate need for release. "You're driving me crazy. You feel so good, baby. Mmm, fuck, I can't get enough.” He groaned.

Juicy smiled against his neck, her lips soft and warm as she placed gentle, reverent kisses on his skin, her hand never stopping its delicious torture, never wavering, never slowing, never stopping. She could feel his pleasure building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps and his heart pounding wildly against her hand, his body begging for release.

Stack's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, his body tensing. "I'm close.” He warned, his voice hoarse with need. "I’m so close, baby. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop." He pleaded desperately in between the wet kisses he placed upon her lips.

Juicy increased her pace, not taking her mouth away from his as she hummed in pleasure, her strokes sure and steady. "Let go, baby.” She whispered, pulling back to place her forehead against his. “Let go for me.” Her voice a soft, commanding but pleading, as she held his eyes, their face mere inches apart.

With a final, shuddering groan, Stack did just that. His back arched off the seat, his muscles tensing and his mouth open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Juicy held him tightly, her hand never stopping, while her other hand gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh.

She felt it, the hot, pulsing release, the evidence of his pleasure spilling into her hand, coating her fingers. It was a testament to his ecstasy, a symbol of their connection. She slowed her movements, gentling her touch and soothing him as he came down from his high, her eyes never leaving his. Her gaze was soft, her expression tender and her heart full.

Stack's chest heaved, his body slick with a thin sheen of sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at her, his eyes still blown and dark with pleasure. He then smiled, a slow, lazy, satisfied smile that made her heart flutter.

"Oh, Juicy.” He murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. "That was... incredible, baby.” He sighed. “You are... incredible."

She smiled back at him, her heart swelling with content, though there was an air of mischief still there in her smirk. She held his eyes as she brought her hand up to her lips, and slowly licked her fingers clean, tasting his essence. Savoring him and committing the moment to memory.

Stack's eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he watched her, his body responding to the erotic sight as he dick twitched against his stomach and a soft groan escaped his lips. "Fuck, Juicy.” He whispered, her name a reverent of his admiration.

She smiled, a slow and seductive before she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a soft, gentle, tender kiss. Stack kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his release, his heart pounding, his soul soaring.

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thematthewmmurdock · 2 months ago

Text

little luxuries [j.a.]

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Smut (18+). Fingering. Unprotected Sex. Banter. My own special brand of prose, fragments, and italicization. A/N: First full length fic I've written in a hot minute. Just can't get the image of slow morning sex with Jack Abbot out of my mind.

Oh, you’re a sight for sore eyes this morning. Tangled in his sheets, hair all in disarray against the satin pillowcase. The shirt you’ve stolen from him rides up over your hips, exposing lavender cotton panties with daisies splashed across them. Cute.

The sight turns him on instantly. More than it should. He can’t help it. Something about you at ease in his space. Completely twisted up in his home, in his bed. In his life.

Coming home to someone wouldn’t have been a possibility 5 years ago. Seeing you after a long shift, like an oasis after a long trek in a desert, is a luxury he’s still getting used to. And one must take advantage of, and savor, little luxuries whenever they can.

Perhaps he should feel a little bad for wanting to wake you up so early, when even Phoebus Apollo still hasn’t fully roused himself from sleep, and the Pittsburgh towers stand in black silhouettes against the indigo sky.

Perhaps he should feel guilty for peeling back the twisted sheets to get an eyeful of your prone body. Eyes trailing up your legs, snagging on the curves of your thighs, the supple bend of your ass.

Maybe he should feel apologetic for reaching out and grabbing a handful. Hand running under the hem of the stolen shirt and up your tummy to cup your breast. For rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching it gently.

But after the night he’s had, he can’t even muster a smidgen of regret. And the sound you make, and the way you arch your back into his touch strikes any trace of repentance from his mind. And when you slowly blink yourself awake and beam at him like he hung the stars in the sky by hand, he can’t help the way his heart skips violently in his chest and all the blood in his body pools straight to his cock.

“Mornin’, honey.” He gives you a breathtaking smile of his own, fingers still lazily playing with your nipple.

“You’re back.” You bite the words out around a yawn. You roll onto your back, nudging a foot into his lap.

“In the flesh.” He switches to your other breast, showing it the same attention.

“Sun’s not even in the sky, and you’re already feeling me up,” you tease, toes brushing over his hard cock.

“Sorry.” Jack shrugs with a sheepish grin. “Couldn’t help myself when you look like this.”

You raise your eyebrows. “When I look like a sleepy mess?”

Jack shakes his head. “When you look like you’re mine. Wearing my shirt, in my bed. A man can only be so strong for so long.”

“Something tells me that apology’s not genuine.” You try to be coy in your response, but there’s a small tremor in your voice from his words.

Mine. Oh don’t you love being Jack’s.

His hand glides down to the crux of your thigh. “Somethin tells me you don’t really mind.” Jack rubs at the growing damp between your legs. “Barely touched you, honey.”

You spread your legs lazily. “I missed you.”

“That right?” He tugs at the waistband.

You nod, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “Really missed you.”

“Well, shame on me for leaving you all alone. Ought to apologize for my actions.” His thumb nudges your clit. “Why don’t you come over here and show me how much you missed me, darling, and I can show you how sorry I am.”

The words barely finish leaving his lips before you’re already moving towards him, much too turned on to bother with the facade of apathy.

You crawl into his lap, lips hungrily seeking his own. Jack slings an arm low around your waist, fingers already digging into the curve of your ass. He squeezes hard, molding your pliant body against his own.

Not that you give him much choice, almost knocking him back with the force of your kiss. Your fingers twine through his grey curls, tugging sharply just as your teeth rake over his bottom lip. Jack hisses, equal parts pleasure and pain. And it’s not long before he’s grabbing a handful of your own hair, angling your mouth so he can push his tongue between your lips. Easily dominating you with one gesture.

Your hips rock against his slowly, languidly. He slaps your ass sharply, urging your stilted rhythm. You’re greedy this morning. Rubbing your clit down on the rough fabric of his jeans. Taking your pleasure with hungry moans pressed against tongue and teeth.

“Poor baby,” Jack groans against your lips. “Was only gone for 12 hours.” He slides his hand between your legs once more.

Your hips buck, chasing the sweet pressure of his thumb on your clit. “Too long.” You tilt your head back, a whimper choked in your throat.

“I can see that.” He mouths at your pulse. “Can’t even do my job without you jumping on me as soon as I get home.” His middle and forefinger push your panties to the side to play with your cunt.

“You started it,” you pant, angling your hips so his fingers slip into you shallowly.

“Hm, did I?” He nips at your throat. “Not how I remember it.” With a crook of his wrist, Jack’s fingers fill you. A poor substitute for the real thing, but you can’t find it in your heart to care. “See, I’m just a tired old man, comin’ home from a grueling 12 hour shift. And you seduced me, wearing my shirt and that underwear I love. Sleeping in my bed. Then you climbed in my lap and started kissing me.”

You mumble something under your breath, half moan, half breathless whisper.

“What was that, honey?” He asks, fingers still playing with you, ratcheting up the intense storm inside of you.

“You’re bein’ mean.” You clench around his fingers.

Jack’s arm locks around your waist, stopping your frantic hips. “Oh?” He asks with raised eyebrows. “Am I?” Mischief dances in his green eyes.

You nod, against your better judgement.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know mean. If I was being mean, I wouldn’t let you come. But I’m a gentleman, honey.” His fingers fuck into you, a hard pace that leaves your body boneless. “So I’m gonna make you come with my fingers, and then you’re gonna ride my cock until you come again.”

Jack holds you in place, wanting you to save your energy for later. His deft fingers play the chords of your body. Curling and angling just right. Each thrust of his fingers devastating in its accuracy. Filling your body with the golden light of ecstasy. Your head swims with it. And when he adds his thumb back into the mix, nudging your clit with each pass of his fingers, you’re a goner.

Your legs try to close on his fingers, but he keeps them open as he works you through your orgasm.

“Just like that, baby,” Jack’s voice is a husky whisper in your ear. “So pretty when you come.” He slides his fingers from your cunt, groaning at the wetness that coats his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” His tongue laps at the digits.

You watch his movement, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Want a taste?” Jack asks. His cock throbs painfully when you nod and stick your tongue out. He pushes his fingers deep into your mouth, only stopping when you gag. “Now was that mean?” He pops the buttons on his jeans.

“No,” you admit reluctantly.

“Gonna ride my cock? Make yourself come again?” He lifts you slightly so he can free his aching dick from his pants. He rubs his spit-slicked hand over himself, taking the edge off slightly.

You nod, tongue curling over your lips, tasting the remnants of yourself.

“Say it.” Jack’s eyes burn into yours.

You wrap your hand around his, stroking him slowly in tandem. “I’m gonna ride your cock,” you whisper, eyes still locked on his. “And I’m gonna make myself come. Like a good girl,” you add, just to watch his lust filled pupils blow wider.

“My good girl,” he corrects, nudging his nose against your own.

“Your good girl,” you amend, knocking his hand away to line his cock up.

Jack busies himself by removing your shirt. His hands find your tits immediately, his lips follow soon after. Tongue laving at the sweat beading on your chest. He presses reverent kisses to the side of your breasts, before mouthing at your nipple.

He looks up at you, mouth still pressed on your skin. “C’mon, honey. What are you waitin’ for?”

You hook your panties to the side, rub your slick cunt over his cock. Jack lets out a huff of impatience. His hand comes down on your ass harshly, quickly rubbing the sting away.

“Darling,” he says through gritted teeth.

You hum, still rocking against him.

“Now who’s being mean?”

“Am I?” You look down at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Yes. Why?”

“Cuz it’s fun.” You shrug. “Payback’s a bitch, baby.” You press a light kiss to his lips, pulling back with a smirk before he can deepen it.

He groans. “You gonna make me beg?”

You nod, lips dancing across his jaw. “How badly do you want me?” Your teeth rake against the shell of his ear.

Jack shudders, warmth rushing across his face. “You know how bad,” he mumbles, hips rocking his hard cock up against you.

“Wanna hear you say it.” You nip his earlobe. “Tell me.”

Jack cups your jaw, fingers rubbing absentmindedly at your cheek. “Want you bad, baby.” His voice is a low, husky whisper. “So bad it hurts. Need to be inside your sweet pussy to take the pain away.”

“Yeah?” You slip the tip of his cock inside of you and Jack groans.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice muffled by your breast. “Please, honey.” He presses an open mouthed kiss to the skin, and then the gentle skate of teeth as he bites teasingly.

You feign deep consideration for a moment, balanced above him. Hips rocking shallowly to coat him with your warmth. Jack’s breath comes out in labored pants against your collarbone. It must be killing him to be patient. To not take control, grab your hips and yank you down on top of him. Put you on your back and fuck into you.

You might as well reward him.

“Relax, baby. Let me take care of you,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair to cup the back of his neck. “Take care of my old man after his grueling 12-hour shift.”

Jack looks up at you, a smile on his face. A smile that morphs into a slack-jawed mask of ecstasy as you slide down onto his cock. His groan so full of relief, it’s almost painful. Bubbling up inside of him until it rumbles out of his throat into the quiet room.

He holds your gaze, whispering quiet praises as you move your hips forward slowly. Savoring the fullness of him within you, the subtle stretch and tightness with every roll back and forth. It’s good. So achingly good.

“Shit, baby. You feel fucking amazing,” Jack whispers. “Feel like home.”

You bite your bottom lip, a moan on your tongue. “Want me to move faster?”

“Nah, honey. Take your time. Just wanna feel you.” One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other splays across your back, holding you close to him.

So close, your body slides against him with every undulation of your hips. So close he can feel your heart beating in your chest, keeping time with the frantic pace of his own. So close your breaths mingle and twine. Honeyed moans and adulations dripping from your tongues. So full of love, full of worship, they fill his chest with light and warmth. Building and building. Until he’s so close to that wonderful edge he could burst.

And in any other case he might feel embarrassed to last so briefly. In any other bed, in any other place, he might put it off as long as he could. Fight through it. But not here. Not in this safe space, this home that you’ve both created. Where connection and pleasure is the goal. Where the little death is one to be savored, and not staved off. This hedonistic dance that leads to more and more.

A different pace. One he’s still getting used to.

And so when the sensation of your warm cunt grows to be too much. When the waves of pleasure slam against the dam of self-control and it starts to crack and crumble. He comes without warning. A firecracker in the dark early dawn. Filling you until he’s spent and boneless.

Jack collapses on the bed in sweaty rapture. That bright smile on his face once more mirrors your own.

You lean over him, fingers tracing the lines of his face. Nails playing in the stubble that lines his jaw. “Doing okay?”

He gives you a thumbs up in answer. “Never better.”

“Just checking. I know heart attacks are common for men in your age bracket. Especially after such vigorous activity–”

Jack silences your teasing by rolling you swiftly onto your side, and you laugh sharply in surprise. “Honey, I’m healthy as a horse.” He wraps your leg around his waist. “In fact, since I still owe you one.” His thumb nudges your clit, and your body arches into his. “Let me show you.”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot fanfic #the pitt fanfic #shawn hatosy #jack abbot #jack abbott #rion writes

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rafesteddy · 3 months ago

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+18 -> smut | Rafe comes home from jail.

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: ownership, pet names, brief degradation, drinking, heavy praise, size difference, unprotected p in v + *cross-posted on my nhl account*

1.8k

You were pacing in front of the door, heart racing as you waited for Rafe. The apartment smelled like the strawberries you’d dropped into the flutes, like the faint hint of your perfume warmed by nervous excitement. You smoothed your silk robe, the cool slide of it over bare skin doing absolutely nothing to calm your anticipation.

Rafe had served his time. Six long months, countless lonely nights; counting down the days ‘til he’d be home again, and the day was finally here. You were buzzing with excitement and need. He deserved to be worshiped, and you were gonna do just that.

The keys jingled outside the door, and your breath caught. You grabbed the bottle of champagne, thumb pressed against the loosened cork.

He stepped in, his cheeks flushed from the cold, his smile soft and proud—until he saw you. You grinned, eyes gleaming. “WELCOME HOME, BABY!” You cheered, cracking the cork with a loud pop.

Champagne erupted, a fizzy stream catching the light as it splashed and glittered to the floor. You laughed, careless and radiant, holding the bottle aloft like a trophy.

His eyes dropped slowly, lingering on the robe slipping off your shoulder, to the lace peeking through the part in the silk. That boyish grin of his twisted turned darker, hungrier even, because how the hell was he supposed to think about anything but you?

He chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. You hadn’t forgotten how horny he was on the phone last night, how he talked shamelessly on the recorded line about all the things he wanted to do to you before the timed phone call got cut short. You hadn’t forgotten all the promises he made to take care of you tonight.

His eyes roamed slowly, drinking you in like every inch of you was a prize he’d earned. Rafe’s stride was lazy, full of that natural swagger. Your eyes drifted higher the closer he got, the man towering over you, even as you stood in heels. Your heart hammered in your chest, your stomach fluttering, pussy throbbing because you were finally his to handle.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. His hand brushed your waist, fingers curling around the satin tie. Rafe played with it for a second, teasingly twirling his fingers through it; letting his thumb drag under the knot. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby,” you whisper, watching as the corners of his pretty lips curl into a smirk.

“You really know how to work me, don’t you? You still know the shit I like. Damn, you look good.”

And in one soft tug from him, the robe opened, slipping down your body, pooling around your heels. He stepped forward, arms wrapping around you in one smooth motion, lifting you, those big hands gripping your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

Your body molded to his, soft against the hard lines of muscles. Rafe leaned in, and you didn’t wait, claiming his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he started walking straight to the bedroom. You giggle teasingly against his lips, your nose brushing his as he carries you down the hall. “That was fast—”

“You knew exactly what you were doin’,” he hums, his voice sweet and thick like honey. You grin, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m a free man,” he continues, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. “You got all pretty for me… Now we’re gonna celebrate all night long.”

“Is that so?” you ask, capturing his bottom lip between yours, sucking off nice and slow.

“Mhmm,” he groans, the sound vibrating against your mouth. “You’re gonna ride me.” You giggle again, making him grin at the sound, his grip on you tightening just a little. “Such a slut for me, baby. I knew you’d love that.”

Rafe kicks the door shut with a loud slam, the sound echoing through the room as he strides straight to the bed with you still clinging to him.

He tosses you down and you bounce slightly on the mattress, hair splayed, laughter bubbling from your lips as you look up at him. Rafe yanks off his shirt, muscles flexing, eyes locked on you. He reaches for the bottle of champagne and takes a sip, drinking in every inch of skin.

His boxers are the only thing left, his long, thick cock pushing against the fabric, stressed from the stretch. He moves to the mattress, landing on you, crushing you beneath him, your body trapped under only a fraction of his weight.

You gasped as he rolled you onto his lap, his big hands settling on your hips as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush mattress on either side. You reached behind your back, fingers finding the clasp of your bra, undoing it, lowering the straps teasingly, before letting the lace fall away completely.

Your breasts bounce free, nipples hard, body bare, nothing but a pair of crotchless panties and garter belt cinched around your waist, hugging the fullness of your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice gravelly and thick as his eyes fell low. “These new? They are, aren’t they—Holy shit, baby,” he mumbles as his hands find the waistband of his boxers, his eyes devouring you like you were already stuffed full of his dick, riding him like he’s been dreaming about since his first night behind bars. Having you like he’s been craving you for months.

Rafe sat up and pulled you into a deep, claiming kiss as his big hands came up to cup your tits, fingers spreading wide.

“I missed you, baby. Fuck, you look good,” you praised, soft and sultry, scratching your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He let out a dark, smug laugh.

“Yeah? You look good, pretty. So fuckin’ good.”

He leaned back slightly, grabbed the chilled champagne off the nightstand, and took a long, satisfied sip before handing it to you. You tipped it back a little too fast, and some of the bubbly liquid spilled over, slipping from your lips and trickling down your neck, over your tits.

“So fuckin’ messy,” he murmured, dipping his head and dragging his tongue along your skin, licking up the trail of champagne on the swell of your breast. Rafe grabbed the bottle out of your hands, dribbling just a little more onto one nipple, watching the way it beaded cold before he wrapped his lips around you, moaning as he sucked, his hot tongue circling slowly.

He kissed and licked his way back up, following the curve of your neck until his mouth met yours again.

Your hand slid between your bodies, wrapping around his thick, throbbing cock. He moaned against your lips as you squeezed, his dick hot and heavy in your grip, pulsing with every beat of his heart.

He let out a shuddering breath, hips twitching as you stroked him slowly, letting your thumb brush over the slick bead of pre-cum.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his voice strained as his eyes fluttered shut for just a second. You pressed your hand to his broad chest, pushing him to the mattress. His back hit with a soft thud, eyes flickering to yours as he smiled as you pinned him beneath your palm. Rafe could easily overpower you in any situation, but this is exactly what he wanted.

His hand tightened on your hip as he held his cock steady, thick and twitching, guiding you closer. You swirl your hips, teasing the fat tip of his cock with your soaked pussy.

“C’mon, baby. Let me have it, huh? Didn’t you miss me?”

“Is that even a question?” You whisper as you lower yourself slightly, already feeling the stretch.

“Guess not… Not with how soaked you are. Mpfhh, shit–You always this wet, or just for me?” He smiled, his hooded eyes twinkling as he looked up at you.

“Only for you.”

Rafe grabs your hips, lowering you the rest of the way, inch by delicious inch. Letting you feel every curve and throbbing vein as your body swallows him up.

His eyes glued to the spot where your bodies met. “Ugh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Feels so good. So tight. So fucking deep,” he mumbled as he pressed his hand against your lower stomach, letting his thumb rub soothing circles on your clit. You started to move and grind, making his eyes roll back, feeling the way your pussy clenched around him.

His grip tightened with desperation hand wrapped around your neck, fisting your hair to guide you down, pulling you into a deep kiss. “You’re unreal,” he whispered against your lips. “Look at what you’re doin’ to me.” His breathing was quick against yours, the man driving his heels into the mattress, fucking up into your drenched core for a moment before giving you back control.

“You know how lucky I am? I’ve got it all. I’ve got you. Right here. In my bed. On my cock. You’re everything, baby.” His head dropped back with a growl, his hands flying to your hips, gripping tight as his entire body arched under you. “Ride me again. Let me have it—”

You moaned through a smile, pushing off his strong chest to sit up again, bouncing, skin slapping against skin. “Fuck, just like that. Just like that, baby. Feels so good… Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop—”

He reaches up, guiding you up and down, the wet clap of skin getting louder with his added muscle.

You lean back slightly, hands braced on his strong thighs as he fills you over and over again. His praises pour from his lips between gritted teeth. “God, look at this view,” he groans.

You feel your orgasm building, sharp and fast, the pressure coiling in your stomach, and he feels it, too. Rafe sits up, wrapping his arm tight around your waist, the other twisting in your hair again as your body trembles uncontrollably. You gasp, swiveling your hips, grinding down as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, breathing heavy.

“Cum for me, baby. Let go. Show me how perfect you are, huh? Show me what I’ve been missin’.”

Your whole body clenches, back arching as you cry out, pulsing hard around him, your orgasm triggering his own. He growls your name, hips jerking as he buries himself deep, cumming hard, holding you so close.

He lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, pulling back just enough to find your lips for a tender kiss. “You’re amazing,” he breathes. “So good to me. You know that?” He whispers as his hands hold your cheeks, forehead resting against yours. “So perfect for me.”

You nod, still dazed, lips brushing his. “You’re perfect for me too.”

He grins, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he pulls you closer, his voice a husky whisper against your lips. “Nothin’ like coming home to you.”

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #mob!rafe #mobboss!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #my library ᝰ.ᐟ #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut

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innerfare · 8 months ago

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Nightmares - Part 2

Summary: What sorts of nightmares do they have about losing you?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Smoker

Genre: Angst

CW: SFW // that being said, caution- contains mentions of death and suffering

———

Shanks:

It’s all fun and games as he chases you down the beach under the full moon, both of you splashing in the shallows, the mugginess of the summer night somehow refreshing after a few too many drinks. He doesn’t run very fast at first, giving you the head start he always does, the one you complain about, but when he does decide he wants you in his arms, he picks up his pace, only to realize you’re much further down the beach than you should be. He runs faster and faster, and with each step, you seem to get three more away from him, until the outline of you is rapidly disappearing. His throat begins closing up as he realizes he’ll never catch you. And when he wakes on deck, a half-empty booze bottle in his hands, he sets it aside and searches the ship for you, not catching his breath until he finds you sleeping in his bed, right where you belong.

Beckman:

You’re in the clutches of the marines. Beckman had a past before Shanks, a past that involved deserting the marines and going on the run from the World Government, and there’s a small part of him that never did overcome the fear of that past catching up to him. Worse still, he has a fear of that past catching up to you, and that fear comes to life in his dreams, when you’re thrown into Impel Down for his crimes and he’s forced to watch them dunk you in boiling water over and over again. He wakes with you asleep on his chest, the same as every night, and the skin to skin contact calms him down, but not enough for him to go back to sleep.

Mihawk:

He sent you away for your own good. He had a premonition the Navy would be coming for him, and with them, a slew of bounty hunters that would have no qualms about using you against him. And yet, you remained in his dreams, though the hot and heavy ones he once had were replaced by cold fear. Every time he went to sleep, a different scenario, though the crux of it the same: you were being used as a pawn to get to him, a pawn in a lot of pain. And every time he woke up, the same: your side of the bed was empty, the shape of your body tangled in those satin sheets now but a memory. For your own good, he kept reminding himself, though he believed it less every time.

Crocodile:

You betray him. Of course you do. He would betray you in an instant, and not even for a whole lot. A business deal, or perhaps the freedom of one of his more valuable people. From the look on your face, it’s not difficult for you, either. In fact, you seem to relish the pain on his as you inform him you’ve taken a deal with one of his enemies- a lucrative one, at that. And all you had to do was set him up. He wakes with a start, sitting up on the sofa in his office he often crashes on when he doesn’t feel like dragging himself to bed. You’re nowhere to be seen, and that’s what he needs for the next few days. He only stops giving you the cold shoulder when he figures out a way to approach the topic of betrayal without telling you how pathetically heartbroken he would be if you ever did turn on him.

Doflamingo:

The angry mob gets you. That same mob that went after his family, that same mob that went after him. They’re after you, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s not a warlord, not even a pirate, hasn’t eaten his devil fruit or met Trebol, hasn’t done anything to make himself powerful enough to protect you. You’re supposed to be his, but the mob is determined you’re theirs, and what is he supposed to do about it? He wakes in a cold sweat, leaning forward in his chair with his chest heaving. He takes a moment to massage his temples before climbing to his feet and stalking out of the room in search of you, determined to lay eyes on you (and probably to increase your security detail, too).

Corazon:

His brother has you tied up like a piñata for the executives to beat. Everyone in the family is there, even Law, and Corazon cries out, but he really is mute, completely unable to protest your treatment. He can’t move, either, can’t do anything but watch as everyone takes hits at you, from his brother to his son. He wakes in a fit of desperation, calling out for you. It’s the sound of his own voice- hoarse and frantic- that finally calms him down, though ultimately, he doesn’t take another calm breath until you appear at his side, your brow furrowed, asking him what’s wrong. He knows it’s crazy, but he just has to check you over for marks.

Smoker:

He comes home after months at the sea and finds your home wicked, windows shattered and furniture overturned. He approaches the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Just as he rounds the corner, he wakes up, but laying there in bed, he knows what he saw, knows what a crew of vengeful pirates did to his beloved. Though he had been firm on not telling anyone about you or your relationship for fear the wrong person would find out and your life would be in danger, he makes the decision to put in a call to an old friend and ask them to drop in on you every week or so to be certain you’re safe. He also installs a new, state of the art security system at your place as soon as he gets leave.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece angst #one piece x reader #shanks x reader #beckman x reader #Benn Beckman x reader #mihawk x reader #crocodile x reader #Doflamingo x reader #corazon x reader #rosinante x reader #smoker x reader

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forlix · 1 year ago

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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・0.6k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・lee know x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship. lazy kisses & mutual obsession. / 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・for my @rachalixie: you've done well today (♡´ ˘ `)⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

𝟭𝟴:𝟮𝟮 — There’s a certain novelty to experiencing something for the first time.

Sure, the magic lives on as your love for the thing grows, but no sensation will quite beat out the first time the opening riff of your favorite song hits your ears, the flavor of your favorite fruit splashing onto your tongue, the climax of your favorite film rendering you a sobbing mess in a public theater.

But you walk into your room one Saturday afternoon to glance at the man lying face-up on the bed you share, scrolling absentmindedly with a mackerel tabby curled into his side. Cordate, coral lips that you know by now feel like satin and taste like home, catlike eyes framed by thick lashes that could run makeup conglomerates into ruin; perfect, prim nose and chiseled, angular jaw, strong and sharp enough to draw blood should you run your finger along the pretty perimeters.

You clamber onto the mattress as delicately as you can. Not delicately enough, by Dori’s standards. The cat tosses you a disgruntled look before landing noiselessly onto the hardwood, departing from the room in search of his less disruptive siblings.

Moments later, Minho’s phone is face-down somewhere out of reach; you are straddling his waist and leaning over him, your hands cradling his face so tenderly they’re barely there. You come close enough for wisps of your hair to catch onto the delicate curves of his lashes, for the tip of your nose to bump against his like a greeting from a butterfly.

His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips like a breath of your own. “What’s the matter with you?”

He threw the curtains aside and cracked the windows open earlier, letting into the room a shower of late-afternoon sun. It now dyes his skin a dewy caramel, lightens his eyes to pools of molten amber. For some time, you are unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that he holds.

Eventually, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, dip down, rid of the distance between you with a soft seal of your mouth his. He doesn’t move until he’s overcome his surprise, but then he brings one hand to your waist, slipping beneath the sheer fabric of your top to press your hips down onto his, and wraps the other around the base of your neck, the pad of his thumb settling over your jugular like a gossamer wing.

You sigh in pleasure and part your lips; he pursues this opening with a fervor, pliant tongue keeping your mouth ajar, head tilting to one side to better savor you, your teeth knocking and limbs entwining in this passionate fray.

By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. You’re underneath him now, his hands positioned on either side of your head. His eyes are no longer amber but obsidian, his mouth ravaged and raw in the aftermath of colliding time and time again with yours. The sun has largely vanished beneath the skyline.

You collect yourself just enough to procure an answer to his question.

“Every time I look at you feels like the first,” you whisper.

Minho doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe in spite of how you’d just kissed the air straight from his lungs, doesn’t believe his ears. For that is the exact way he feels about you, always has been and always will, though you have always been the one to first verbalize the feelings that he doesn’t have the words for.

For some time, he is unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that you hold.

Eventually, he combs a hand through his hair, dips down, rids of the distance between you with a hard crash of his mouth upon yours, and there the two of you will remain until it’s no longer light from the sun that sets your room aglow, but that of the moon and a hundred thousand stars.

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mikaylathenerd5 · 5 days ago

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Collide | R. R. Smut

You Already Do Masterlist ৹ Main Masterlist ৹ Join My Taglist

❤️ Pairing: Roman Reigns × Shiloh Lucero (Black OC)

🎧 Song Inspo: Collide by Justine Skye

📌 Summary: Shiloh didn’t expect forever to start with a key. What begins as a quiet overnight stay unfolds into something far deeper—slow kisses in the kitchen, whispered truths under candlelight, and the kind of first time that feels like a vow. Roman isn’t like the ones before. He listens. He waits. And when he finally touches her, it’s not just with his hands—it’s with devotion. This isn’t just sex. It’s softness. Safety. The kind of intimacy that ruins you for anything less. Tonight, their bodies meet. But their hearts have been colliding for weeks.

⚠️ Content Warning: This one-shot contains explicit sexual content intended for readers 18+. It features soft but explicit smut, including praise kink, size kink, dirty talk, and emotionally intimate first-time sex. There are strong themes of healing through intimacy, gentle aftercare, and reverent touch, as well as references to past toxic and one-sided sexual experiences. The narrative is grounded in emotional vulnerability, sensory detail, and the tenderness of being fully seen, held, and chosen. Reader discretion is advised.

🗨️ A/N: So I might of got carried away with this one but thank you to the lovely anon for requesting this one shot. As always thank you for all the support and make sure to check out the masterlist loves or join the taglist for more.

📝 Word Count: ~6.5k

I wanna feel your hands learn me slow. Like you’ve got forever. Like I’m not just yours tonight—but always.

Shiloh stood at the edge of her bed, fingers curled around the zipper of her overnight bag like it might bite.

It was already mostly packed. Her makeup bag nestled in one side pocket, her favorite satin bonnet folded beside her charger, and a rolled-up Nike hoodie lying neatly on top. Roman’s hoodie. The one he’d left at her place after a late-night call and hadn’t asked for back. The one she still hadn’t taken off.

But even with everything in place, she hesitated.

“You’ve been staring at that zipper for five minutes,” Jaida said from the foot of the bed, sipping wine like it was tea. “Blink twice if you need emotional support or tequila.”

“She needs both,” Rhea called out from the floor, cross-legged with a throw blanket over her lap and her own glass tipped lazily in her hand. “Also, is that lace?”

Shiloh’s head snapped up.

Rhea pointed her finger, but not at her; Rhea was pointing at the tiny splash of maroon barely peeking out from the corner of the bag. Thin straps. Delicate floral lace. Feminine and sheer and folded too neatly not to be intentional.

Shiloh groaned, moving to nudge it deeper beneath the hoodie. “You guys weren’t even supposed to see that.”

“Uh-huh.” Jaida leaned forward with a smirk. “You wearing that under his hoodie? Girl. Pack extra panties.”

Rhea nodded solemnly. “That man looks like he got a curved dick and an attitude. You’re not coming back the same.”

Shiloh dropped her face into her hands. “Please stop talking.”

“We’re not judging,” Jaida said quickly, her voice softening. “We’re hyping you up. This is a big step.”

Shiloh let out a slow breath and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She looked down at her hands—nails freshly done, palms still slightly damp from her last-minute body oil. Everything about tonight felt… big. Bigger than her usual firsts. Bigger than just sex.

“I’m just nervous,” she said quietly. “Like… the kind of nervous that sits in your stomach for days.”

“Because you like him,” Rhea said, gentler now. “Because it matters.”

Shiloh nodded. “I’ve never had anyone treat me like this before. He’s… different. It’s not just about how he looks. It’s the way he listens. The way he pays attention.”

Jaida raised an eyebrow. “Roman definitely pays attention. Man could find your pulse with his thumb.”

“I’m serious.”

They both quieted. Shiloh tucked her legs under herself and rested her hand on the closed bag.

“My exes were… fast. Thoughtless. They made sex feel like something I owed. But Roman—he’s patient. He waits for me to catch up. Even when I don’t say anything.”

Rhea’s expression softened. “That sounds like someone worth trusting.”

Shiloh hesitated. “What if I mess it up?”

“You won’t.” Jaida reached over and zipped the bag in one smooth motion. Zzt. “And even if you wobble, he’ll hold you steady. That’s what it sounds like.”

Shiloh gave a shaky laugh and stood, grabbing Roman’s hoodie off the bed and slipping it over her head. The familiar weight grounded her immediately. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Roman ❤️: Can’t wait to see you. Use your key.

She stared at the screen for a moment, heat blooming across her chest. He didn’t smother. He didn’t push. But he always reached for her, in small and steady ways that were just enough to remind her she wasn’t alone. Her thumb hovered over the reply button, and for a breathless moment, her mind drifted back to the night he gave her the key.

It was late after a taping—quiet, cool, the smell of lingering arena smoke still clinging to their clothes. Roman hadn’t said much as they walked to his rental car, their hands linked between them. But when they reached the driver’s side, he turned to her and pressed something cold and metallic into her palm. A key. Silver. Smooth. Her name etched in cursive on the handle.

“You don’t have to use it unless you want to,” he’d said. “But it’s yours.”

He’d looked away when he said it, like it was too vulnerable to meet her eyes.

But she’d stared at that key all the way home.

Shiloh slipped her phone into the bag, grabbed her car keys, and took one last look around the room.

Everything about this was new. Maybe even a little scary.

But for once, the flutter in her chest didn’t feel like fear.

It felt like something blooming.

By the time Roman stepped off the elevator, his whole body ached.

Media day had drained him. Another string of interviews, cameras shoved in his face, the usual rehearsed questions. Smile. Nod. Say something safe. The public-facing version of himself was second nature by now, but it still left his jaw tight and his head buzzing by the end of the day. All he wanted was to stop performing. To sink into silence and not be seen for a while.

He scanned his fob at the condo door and stepped inside, keys in hand. He barely had time to close it behind him before something in his chest unspooled.

The smell hit him first. Garlic and butter, layered with something citrusy and warm. Jazz played low from the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. Not his playlist. The light was dim, all the overheads off except for the kitchen lamp and the warm flicker of a candle glowing from the center island. The air was thick with something that didn’t feel like routine.

It felt like home.

Then he saw her. A sight he swore he could never get tired of. And suddenly the ache in his body was replaced with something quieter, something that made the room feel like it was holding its breath.

Shiloh stood barefoot in the kitchen, her back to him, gently swaying as she stirred something in a pan. She wore one of his hoodies — sleeves bunched at her elbows, hem brushing the tops of her thighs. Her hair was pinned up in a loose twist. She was humming to herself, moving like she belonged there.

Not like a visitor.

Like someone who had always been part of the space.

Roman just stood there for a moment, not saying a word, letting the silence hold him still. His eyes scanned the space as his heart caught up. The couch had a folded throw blanket he didn’t remember owning. A half-read book lay on the coffee table beside her favorite water bottle. The vase on the dining table held tulips she brought home last week, already starting to open. And taped to the fridge, held by a small silver magnet, were two Polaroids.

One was of her cat, Kairo — orange, smug, curled on Roman’s armchair like he paid rent. The other was of the two of them after one of his matches. His hair was a mess, his skin still damp with sweat, and his arms wrapped around her waist. She was on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. His eyes were closed in the photo, mouth barely tilted in a smile. Unposed. Raw. Honest.

She turned her head slightly, as if sensing him.

Roman finally found his voice.

"You look like you belong here."

Shiloh jumped, turning toward him with a smile. “Hey,” she said, eyes bright. “You’re home.”

He was, and for the first time all day, it felt like a good thing.

Roman dropped his keys into the bowl near the door and walked over slowly. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn’t.” Her voice was warm, steady. She reached to turn down the burner, then set the spoon aside. “Dinner’s almost done. I was just trying not to burn the garlic.”

Roman stepped in behind her, slipped his arms around her waist, and pressed his face to her neck. She was warm, soft, and smelled like vanilla, butter, and something else he couldn’t name but craved all the time. His entire body eased just from having her close.

“I wasn’t sure what I’d walk into,” he murmured against her skin.

“Hopefully not smoke or a ruined pan.”

He smiled against her. “Nah. Just this. Just you.”

She leaned into his chest and let out a little laugh, one hand resting lightly over his.

“You cooked in my hoodie just to ruin me, didn’t you?” he asked, letting his lips brush under her jaw.

“It’s cozy. And it smells like you. Kind of a win-win.”

He kissed her there, soft and slow, and let himself breathe her in like it was the first clean breath he’d had all day.

They ate at the island, side by side, still in sweats. Shiloh had picked up bread from the market he liked and poured them each a glass of wine. Everything was easy. Unforced. It didn’t feel like something special. It felt like something that had been theirs for a while.

Between bites, she launched into a story about Jaida and Rhea that had him choking on a sip of wine halfway through.

“So we’re in Target, right? Just supposed to be grabbing hand soap and a mop refill. That’s all. But Rhea finds this rogue cart abandoned near the front. And Jaida, of course, gets this look in her eye like she’s about to commit a felony. She dares Rhea to race down the aisle — the candle aisle, Roman. Those two acted like they were at the Daytona 500.”

He blinked at her, half-chewing. “What kind of dare is that?”

“The kind that ends in destruction.”

She grinned, barely getting the words out between her laughter. “Rhea cuts the corner too sharp and clips one of those metal end caps. Candles go flying. It’s like a damn fireworks show, but with eucalyptus and sea salt. Jaida screams, runs the other way. Rhea crashes into a decorative gnome, and I have to pretend I don’t know either of them while security comes over.”

Roman stared at her, a slow smile creeping in. “You’re joking.”

“I wish. The worst part? Rhea had the nerve to grab a bag of popcorn on the way out, like she wasn’t just the reason we’re banned from that store.”

He laughed — really laughed. The kind that shook his shoulders and echoed across the kitchen.

“You’re all menaces.”

“And yet, here I am,” she said, lifting her glass with a tilt of her head. “In your hoodie. In your kitchen.”

Roman gave her a look, feigning annoyance. “Don’t forget your water bottle, your playlist, and half my closet.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“It’s the best problem I’ve ever had.”

They lingered after the meal, plates pushed to the side. The jazz looped into something slower. Roman leaned on one elbow, watching her swirl the last of her wine. The room had gone still in the way only peace can do. No distractions. No noise. Just the sound of her breath and the steady hum of existing beside her.

“This is the first time in weeks I haven’t felt like I’m performing,” he said quietly.

Shiloh looked at him, expression soft. “Good. You don’t have to perform here.” She reached across the counter and laced their fingers together. “Not unless I ask nicely.”

He smiled, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift. It dropped deeper. Settled into something rooted.

He watched her — the way she looked at him without flinching, the curve of her mouth when she was trying not to laugh, the comfort in her silence. She’d slipped into his life without asking. Left pieces of herself everywhere. Not loud. Not demanding. Just… present.

And it hit him. This was it. This was what forever felt like.

He didn’t say it. The words were there, full and heavy in his mouth, but he wasn’t ready to let them out. Not yet. Not when everything was already so good.

So instead, he squeezed her hand and let his thumb drag softly over her knuckles. She didn’t ask what he was thinking. She just smiled again and leaned in, resting her chin in her palm, looking at him like he was already hers.

He squeezed her hand again.

And in his chest, where the ache used to be, there was only her.

The plates were rinsed and stacked, the wine bottle left uncorked beside the sink. The jazz had faded into silence, replaced by the low, familiar rhythm of Abbott Elementary playing from the TV. The screen flickered, but their attention had long drifted elsewhere—drawn into a moment that felt more real than anything on screen.

Shiloh was curled into Roman’s side on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, her wine glass loose in one hand. She was still in his hoodie, sleeves swallowed over her knuckles, with her face pressed against the stretch of his chest like she belonged there. A cozy blanket draped over them both, the lighting low and intimate.

Roman’s arm rested heavy across her shoulders, fingertips tracing lazy circles over her upper arm. He hadn’t said much since dinner. He didn’t need to. Everything he’d meant to say had been sitting in the way he held her. A soft breath when she laughed. The pause before he leaned in closer. The way his thumb never quite stopped moving against her skin. They’d never had a night this quiet. And yet, it didn’t feel like silence. It felt like something else. Something whole and grounding. Like a new chapter that didn’t need to announce itself.

Shiloh shifted, nudging her nose gently against his collarbone. “You okay?” she asked, voice low.

Roman tilted his head toward her, his thumb brushing along her arm again. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.”

She looked up at him, her eyes steady. Soft. Familiar.

“You sure?” she murmured.

He nodded, then gave a small shrug. “You ever notice how loud the world is? Like… even when you’re alone, it’s never really quiet.”

She nodded slowly. “All the time.”

Roman’s voice dropped a little. “This is the first time in a while I haven’t felt like I have to be someone. Haven’t had to wear the voice, or the walk, or the name. I don’t have to flex anything with you.”

Shiloh didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She just shifted her weight and pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. Roman swallowed, jaw tight. She could feel his breath change.

“Everything feels different with you,” he murmured after a beat. “It always has.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Different how?”

Roman looked down at her, eyes hooded, raw. “I’ve always felt alone. Even when I wasn’t. Even in locker rooms. On flights. At family dinners. Around people who say they know me.”

Shiloh’s fingers slid beneath the hem of his t-shirt, resting on his stomach. “And now?”

He leaned down, pressed his forehead to hers.

“Now I feel… still."

Shiloh’s breath caught, emotion swelling in her chest. She hadn’t expected this kind of honesty, not tonight. But the way he opened himself to her—quietly, vulnerably—wrapped around her like something sacred. She shifted closer, her cheek brushing his shoulder, grounding herself in his warmth. He didn’t say it outright, but she heard it anyway. That quiet truth. That ache. That love. It pulsed between them like a heartbeat neither of them had noticed until now.

The show played on, background noise to a moment far louder in meaning. All that existed was the space between their lips, the electric hush of touch, and the comfort of knowing neither needed to fill the silence.

Shiloh smiled—quietly, shyly—shifting onto her knees, leaning just enough to kiss his jaw. Her lips brushed against his.

Roman blinked, a little stunned. “What was that for?”

Shiloh smiled again, smaller this time. “You looked like you needed it.”

He was about to respond, but then she stretched her arms overhead, yawning softly. As the hoodie rose with the movement, his gaze dropped—and stopped.

Just beneath the hem of the sweatshirt, he caught it. His breath hitched, chest tightening with a raw kind of wonder. For a split second, the air felt suspended, thick with heat and reverence.

Maroon lace. The barest glimpse of a strap across her ribcage, disappearing under soft brown skin. He blinked once, then again, mouth parting slightly. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The sight of her—soft skin, delicate lace—sent a rush through him that left every nerve lit and humming. Time seemed to narrow to that one image.

“Wait,” he said, voice raspier than he meant it to be. His hand stilled on her thigh, breath catching like the air had thickened in his lungs. “Are you…”

Shiloh looked down, her heart thudding with a quiet kind of courage. Then she looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes steady and open, hoping he saw all the trust she was offering.

“Wearing a set?” she finished for him.

Roman nodded slowly. He stilled. Reverence flooded his expression.

“You wore this for me?”

Shiloh’s smile deepened, her voice soft but steady. “Wanted to surprise you. You make it easy to feel good in my skin.”

Roman’s throat bobbed. His whole expression shifted—reverent, starving.

“You don’t even know what you do to me, baby.”

There was a pause. Only a second, but it stretched like a thread between them, pulling tighter with every breath.

Roman sat up straighter, his hand sliding along her thigh, up the hoodie, then stopping just above the curve of her hip.

“I thought we were taking it slow.”

Shiloh leaned in, brushing her lips against his jaw, her voice a soft thread of truth. “We are. But slow doesn’t mean scared. I’m ready to take the next step with you. Because it feels right.”

Roman didn’t say anything. Not at first. He just looked at her like she’d cracked something open in him. His heart thudded once, heavy and sharp.

I don’t deserve her. The thought came unbidden, but it didn’t linger like it used to. Instead, it was eclipsed by something gentler, stronger. But I want to. I want to try.

He leaned in, cupping her cheek.

The kiss started out slow. Gentle.

Their lips brushed once, then again—tentative, exploratory. But then her fingers slipped into his hair, and his hand moved to the small of her back, and everything deepened in an instant. The kiss turned hungry, full of the tension they’d both been holding back for weeks. Her lips parted, inviting him in, and he took it—his tongue sliding against hers in a rhythm that made her whimper softly into his mouth.

She climbed into his lap without breaking the kiss.

The hoodie rose higher as she moved, revealing more skin, more warmth. Roman’s hand paused briefly, eyes darkening as he traced the edge of lace with his thumb, his breath shallow like the moment was asking him to be gentle with it. Her bare thighs straddled him, skin warm against his, grounding him completely.

Roman’s breath caught as she shifted in his lap, his hands tightening instinctively around her waist, a low breath escaping him—ragged and reverent, like her touch undid something deep in him. Shiloh leaned in, their chests brushing, and kissed his cheek, then his lips—slowly, deeply. Roman groaned softly, hands flexing at her waist. As she rolled her hips, his breath caught.

"Shiloh," he whispered, voice low and reverent. His fingers flexed against her waist, and his jaw tightened as she pressed closer, her nails grazing his neck. He trembled slightly beneath her, not from uncertainty, but from the overwhelming force of feeling. The air between them felt charged, their bodies drawn together by something unspoken and sacred.

The room felt smaller. Hotter. Their wine glasses were forgotten on the coffee table. The dim light played across their bodies as he kissed her like he needed to memorize every inch of her mouth. She tugged at the back of his shirt, breathless now, her whole body flushed and buzzing.

Their foreheads rested together for a beat, lips swollen, breathing uneven. The air between them was thick with want and reverence. Roman looked at her like he didn’t want to rush this, even though he wanted her more than anything. A soft groan rumbled in his throat, his thumb brushing beneath her jaw like he needed to ground himself in the reality of her.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

Shiloh nodded, fingertips brushing along the edge of his jaw. Her heart felt like it was pulsing right in her throat, but not from nerves—from certainty. “I’ve never been more sure.”

And Roman kissed her like he finally understood what it meant to be home.

Shiloh melted into his embrace, her heart swelling with something deeper than desire—something like certainty. In his arms, she felt a belonging she'd never known. She wasn’t just held. She was seen. Wanted. Loved.

Her eyes fluttered shut as warmth settled in her chest. The world had gone quiet—finally—and all that remained was this: him, her, and the steady rhythm of something that felt a lot like forever. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t question if she was too much or not enough. In his arms, with his kiss pressed to her skin like a vow, she knew she was exactly right.

Roman carried her into the bedroom with a tenderness that belied the strength in his arms. The lights were low, the air quiet but thick with everything unspoken. Shiloh's arms looped around his neck as he set her down gently on the edge of the bed, like something fragile and precious. Her maroon lace lingerie caught the warm light, hugging her curves in a way that made his breath stutter.

They undressed slowly. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just reverent.

Roman kissed along her shoulder, her collarbone, down the slope of her ribs. Every inch he touched was kissed with patience, his mouth mapping her body like it was scripture. He pressed his lips to the soft skin beneath her breast, then trailed lower—down her stomach, the inside of her thigh, right to the edge of her lace panties.

Just as he hooked his fingers beneath the band to pull them down, she stopped him with a hand to his wrist. Her voice was small, but steady.

"I’ve never had... good experiences. It’s always been rushed. One-sided. I was just... there."

Roman stilled immediately. His hand reached up to cradle her face, thumb brushing her cheek with exquisite gentleness.

"That ends tonight," he murmured, voice deep and steady. "You deserve more. We’ll take it slow. We’ll take our time."

He kissed her again—her temple, her jaw, the space just below her navel—before finally removing the lace that had taunted him all evening. He settled between her thighs, spreading them gently, reverently.

It started with a slow, teasing kiss to her inner thigh. Then another. And another. He breathed her in like she was the first real thing he'd tasted in a lifetime. When his mouth finally met her center, he groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating against her soaked skin.

Shiloh gasped, head falling back, a tremble rippling through her. Her heart was racing so fast she could hardly breathe. She wasn't used to this—being seen, being worshipped.

Her mind scrambled for air, for balance. But Roman didn’t give her time to think. His tongue moved with filthy reverence—broad, wet strokes that licked into her like he needed her to survive. He flattened his tongue and dragged it through her folds with aching precision, then circled her clit in slow, rhythmic pulses. Each movement felt deliberate, devastating.

She could barely process the way he kissed her there—open-mouthed, hungry, like the taste of her was addicting. Like he meant to break her apart with his mouth alone.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, hips jolting. “Roman—fuck—please, don’t stop.”

She didn’t even realize she was saying the words aloud. Her hand shot into his curls, gripping tight. Her thighs tried to close around him, overwhelmed by how good it felt—but Roman caught them, strong and steady, holding her open so he could keep devouring her.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I want all of it.”

His tongue flicked. Lapped. Swirled. He groaned like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, the sound rumbling through her. He kissed her clit, slow and wet, then dragged the flat of his tongue across it again.

This wasn’t like before. This wasn’t selfish or rushed. It wasn’t careless fingers and eyes that didn’t care if she finished. This was hunger. This was obsession. This was someone who wanted to taste every inch of her until she forgot what silence ever felt like.

He’s going to ruin me. He already has.

Roman’s mind spun with need—I could spend the rest of my life right here.

He growled against her, sucking her clit into his mouth, just hard enough to make her cry out.

“Fuck, Roman—”

Her back arched, muscles locking. She was spiraling. Her body was trembling. She couldn’t stop moaning. She couldn't remember her name. All she knew was his mouth—how it built pressure so achingly slow, only to undo her with the next pass of his tongue. Every flick, every groan against her, wound her tighter. He was dragging her to the edge and keeping her there, like he wanted to own the moment she came apart.

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped. “This pussy’s mine now, you hear me?”

He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with her as he moaned against her clit, tongue relentless.

“Look at me, baby,” he said, voice ragged. “Look at me while I make you come.”

Shiloh cried out, overwhelmed by how full she felt even without him inside her. His mouth alone felt like too much and not enough all at once.

No one had ever made her feel like this. Like she was precious. Like she was pleasure incarnate.

His voice came rough, scorching against her soaked heat. "That’s it, baby. Let go for me. Don’t hold back. Let me feel it."

She shattered.

Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave of heat and stars. Her legs shook violently. She sobbed through the pleasure, thighs quaking as Roman held her down, licking through it, chasing every aftershock until she was crying out and gasping his name.

“Roman—Roman, I—I can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. Not right away. He slowed only when her legs were trembling beyond control, and she was boneless beneath him. He pressed one final, worshipful kiss to her clit, then the inside of her thigh, before resting his cheek there.

“You taste like heaven. I’m never letting you go.”

She collapsed, breath shattered, chest heaving, fingers still knotted in his hair.

Roman lifted his head. His lips were shiny, beard soaked, eyes wild with reverence. He kissed the inside of her thigh and rested his cheek there, hand brushing softly over her knee.

“You okay?”

Shiloh blinked through the haze, lips parted, heart racing. She nodded, and one tear slipped down her cheek.

Roman kissed it away.

“That was just the beginning,” he whispered.

And the look in his eyes told her he meant it.

The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of their breath, skin already slick with sweat and anticipation. Roman hovered above her, jaw tight, chest rising fast like he was holding back a storm.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “If you need me to stop, I stop. You hear me?”

Shiloh nodded, heart thundering beneath her ribs. “I want you,” she whispered. “Just… go slow. Please.”

Roman kissed her once—soft, anchoring—then again, before shifting lower. One hand curled beneath her thigh, the other pressed into the mattress beside her head. He guided himself to her entrance, dragging the thick head of his cock through the slick mess he’d made with his mouth. Her breath hitched.

Oh my God. He was thick—thicker than anyone she’d ever been with. Just the weight of him at her entrance made her legs tremble.

Her eyes flicked down—and froze. Oh… His cock was thick, long, and glistening from where he’d dragged it through her slick. The sight alone made her toes curl. No one’s ever— Her mouth parted on instinct. How the hell was all that going inside her?

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

The first push stole her breath. Her body stretched, clung, fluttered around the intrusion. Oh God. Nothing had ever felt like this—every inch of him dragged sensation from places she didn’t know existed. She could feel the imprint of his thickness along every wall, nerves lit up like wildfire. None of her exes ever filled her like this. None ever made her feel cracked open and claimed. This was different. This was him. Wetness coated them both, the sounds obscene, slick, constant.

“You okay?” His voice was tight, reverent.

“Keep going,” she whispered, gripping his wrist.

Roman exhaled like he'd been punched. Inch by inch, he eased in, her body taking him with trembling resistance. Her inner walls clenched around him, soaked and pulsing.

It’s too much. It’s everything. Her mind spiraled with sensation. No one’s ever made me feel this full. This wanted. This… loved.

“Fuuuuck,” Roman groaned, holding himself still once he bottomed out. “You feel that? You’re so fucking tight, baby. So good for me.”

He kissed her jaw, then her throat, breathing her in as her body adjusted. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the space between them.

“Talk to me,” he murmured. “Tell me what you need.”

Shiloh whimpered, voice trembling. “You. Just you. I’ve never felt like this before.”

He started to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that dragged every nerve in her body closer to the edge. Each roll of his hips pulled a soft cry from her lips.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he breathed, his voice a low rasp, thick with reverence and want. His eyes stayed on her face, watching every flutter of her lashes, every gasp she made.

“This was it. This was the kind of connection he didn’t know he needed—raw, emotional, earth-shaking.” He kissed her shoulder. “Stretchin’ around me like you were made for this dick. For me. No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

Her legs tightened around his waist. Her body arched, offering more.

“More,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re so wet, baby. You hear that?”

The filthy slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, a rhythm of sin and surrender. He shifted her legs, folding them to her chest, and drove in deeper.

She sobbed. “Right there—Roman, oh my God—”

“That’s it,” he groaned, sweat slicking his chest. “Let me give it to you. Let me ruin you sweet.”

His dirty talk was relentless, filth-laced worship.

“You take every inch like this pussy was made for me. That’s my girl—take it. Take all of me. Let me hear those pretty sounds, baby. You’re fuckin’ mine.”

Her orgasm built fast and violent, a crescendo of heat and pressure that started low in her belly and surged through her like a breaking wave. Each thrust, each whispered praise, pulled her tighter to the edge.

Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks, legs quivering with overstimulation as the echoes of her first orgasm lingered deep inside her.

Roman was still buried inside her—deep, grounded, savoring every pulse of her walls around him, as if memorizing how it felt to be home. Shiloh couldn’t even speak. Her legs trembled around his hips, her breath short and uneven as she tried to make sense of the way he filled her. Like she’d been made to feel him like this.

He hadn’t slowed down.

He kissed her, slow and grounding, leaning back just enough to grab behind her thighs and press her knees to her chest—folding her open in one practiced, possessive motion.

“Roman, wait—”

“I’ve got you,” he breathed. “Let me give you everything.”

The stretch went from overwhelming to unreal. Her head dropped back against the pillow with a soft, broken moan. Her thighs shook in his grip as he thrust again—deep and heavy, with no mercy.

The stretch stole her breath mid-sentence.

“There you go,” he murmured, sweat slick across his chest. “Feel that?”

“This is what you do to me, baby.”

“You take every single inch of me so fuckin’ good.”

The sound of him moving inside her was slick. Filthy. Constant. His pace turned rougher—hips slamming into hers, jaw clenched, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing tethering him to earth. Shiloh whimpered, fingernails dragging down his arms.

“Too much?” he asked lowly, but he didn’t stop. His voice was rough, reverent. “Or just right, baby?”

She shook her head, but her words tangled in her throat. She could hear the wet, filthy sound of him inside her, could feel the sweat between their bodies, could taste the moment like salt on her tongue. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? she thought, her mind unraveling with every grind of his hips. Not just taken—but cherished, split open, and worshipped.

“Roman—fuck—I’m coming—”

He didn’t slow. He fucked her through it, thrusts deep, possessive, reverent. His body trembled, muscles quaking as she clenched around him.

“You feel that?” he groaned, voice wild now. “Right there, baby? You’re still so fuckin’ wet for me—so full of me. So perfect like this, stretched out and mine.”

Her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her thighs trembled against his sides. Her body, still trembling from the intense climax he’d drawn from her, now quivered again—anew heat blooming low in her belly, her core already tightening in desperate anticipation.

“Roman—fuck, I—”

“You gonna give me one more?” he whispered roughly, lips brushing her ear. “Let me fuck you through another. I know you can.”

Shiloh's voice was already a mess of moans, choked gasps tumbling past her lips as she tried to form words. “Roman—too much, it’s too good—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, low and full of need. “You’re takin’ all of me, baby. This pussy was made to take all this dick. Say it.”

“I—fuck—I’m trying,” she cried out, her voice raw with pleasure, head thrashing as the sensations overwhelmed her.

“Say it, Shiloh. Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours—Roman, it’s yours—” she gasped, the words pouring out between cries as her body trembled beneath him.

He slowed for a breath—just long enough to pin her gaze again. His hands cradled her face, his eyes raw. “I need to see you,” he rasped. “Right now. I need to see the face you make when I fucking come.”

“Shiloh—shit—I’m close.” His breath caught. “Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside,” she gasped. “I’m on the pill—please, I want all of it.”

Roman groaned her name like a prayer. Thrusted once—twice—then broke.

His release hit hard, hips jerking as he spilled into her, gasping, shaking.

“Fuuuck, baby—so good. So fucking good.”

He buried himself deep, arms shaking, his breath ragged and warm against her cheek, the scent of sex thick between them. Sweat dripped from his brow, their bodies slick, hearts pounding in tandem. The air buzzed with the wet sound of him still moving inside her, like her body was trying to keep him there forever.

Roman had never come that hard in his life. Not like this. Not with his chest cracked open and something tender clawing up his throat. She’d undone him. And he didn’t want to be put back together.

His forehead stayed pressed to hers, lost in the high of it. Her body soaked up every drop like she never wanted to let go.

“You got me,” he murmured, voice broken, forehead pressed to hers. “You fuckin’ got me.”

They stayed like that—his chest pressed to hers, both of them trembling. His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“I’ve never…” she whispered, voice shaky. “No one’s ever made me feel like that.”

Roman looked at her, hand cradling her jaw.

“That’s how you deserve to be felt,” he said. “Every single time.”

And in his head, Roman wasn’t just thinking about this time. He was thinking about the next time. And the next. And the next.

He pulled out gently, like he never wanted to hurt her, like she was something sacred. He kissed her inner thighs, soft and reverent, then disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, she felt the warmth of a damp cloth between her legs—gentle, slow, tender.

“You okay?” he asked, voice husky but sweet as he cleaned her up.

Shiloh nodded, eyes heavy-lidded and full of something she didn’t have the words for yet. “More than okay.”

When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and climbed back into bed, wrapping her up in his arms like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. They lay there, tangled skin to skin, her cheek pressed to his chest, their legs entwined beneath the sheets. His heartbeat thumped beneath her ear—steady, strong, hers.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You did so good for me, baby.”

“I feel like I’m floating,” she whispered, drowsy and dazed.

Roman chuckled. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

They drifted off like that—bodies sore, limbs tangled, sleep tugging at them both.

Shiloh woke to sunlight spilling across the bed, Roman’s arm slung heavy around her waist. She was still tucked into him, her back to his chest, his breath soft against her shoulder. Her phone buzzed somewhere near the edge of the nightstand. She stretched an arm out without moving too much and grabbed it, blinking at the screen.

Jaida [8:12 AM]: Sooo… you alive? Or paralyzed from the d?

Shiloh snorted, laughter bubbling up from her chest before she could stop it. Roman groaned behind her, his voice a gravelly mumble.

“Tell her both.”

She turned slightly, grinning. “You heard that?”

“Could feel you laughing. And I know your friends by now.”

Shiloh typed back a quick response:

Shiloh [8:13 AM]: Alive. Barely. You and Rhea are banned from shopping cart racing for a month.

Another buzz came instantly.

Jaida [8:13 AM]: Lmaoooo worth it. Did he fold you like laundry or what?? 😭🔥

Shiloh buried her face in Roman’s chest, blushing hard.

“She says hi,” she mumbled.

Roman laughed low in his throat. “I bet she does.”

Shiloh curled closer, her fingers tracing lazy shapes on his chest. There was a peaceful silence, the kind that only existed in moments like this—soft, sleepy, content.

“I’m exactly where I wanna be,” she whispered.

Roman’s arm tightened around her waist. He nuzzled the side of her face with his nose, lips brushing her temple.

“Then stay.”

His voice was thick with sleep but steady, like a promise he meant with his whole chest.

She looked up at him, eyes soft, and whispered, “I think I will.”

And with that, she let herself sink back into his warmth, heart steady, safe, and exactly where it belonged.

#roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns smut #roman reigns #black oc #black reader #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe x black oc #roman reigns fanfic #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #you already do series #shiloh and roman #kayla's random universe

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secretl1fe0fm3 · 6 months ago

Text

maroon ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

“the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks so scarlet, it was maroon.”

warnings: smut, oral, fingering, strap (r!receiving), dirty talk, dom!billie, sub!reader, alcohol consumption (both reader and billie are of age)

18+ minors dni!!!

2k words

part two

Your head leans on the car window as you watch the lights from the city shimmer on the wet pavement, leaving a glow illuminating the streets. You sigh lightly as your phone lit up in your lap, glancing down you noticed your friend had texted you, asking if you were on your way yet. Typing away a quick response to confirm her question, you set your phone back down.

You were currently in the back of a cab, on the way to an event at a high end bar your friend had invited you to, as her plus one. She didn't really give you many details, other than the fact that it was formal. Per her request, you chose to wear a short tight white satin slip dress, adorned with lace trimming. You paired it with your favorite red heels, and gold accessories. It definitely wasn't an outfit in your comfort zone, but your friend had mentioned some celebrities had been invited. You wanted to look your best, not knowing who you could possibly run into.

As your car pulls up, nerves suddenly flood your head, unsure if this was truly a good idea or not. There were some photographers standing in front of the building, looking like they were waiting for someone specific to show. Glancing away from them, you look up and see your friend standing next to the doors, waving at you. A smile fell over your lips, relieved to see her waiting for your arrival. You step out of the car, thanking your driver briefly before walking over to her.

She squeals excitedly as she pulls you into a tight hug, "Its so good to see you!" You grin as you hugged her back, realizing how long it had been since you've seen her last.

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Ive never been to one of these private events before." You laugh out nervously, playing with the rings on your fingers. She smiles at you, laughing with you, noting your nerves.

"Of course! You're going to have so much fun, I promise you. Cmon, let's go inside." She grabs your hand, leading you inside. As soon as she opened the door, the deafening sound of music and loud conversations filled your ears. You followed closely behind her as she pulled you through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. She ordered the both of you a glass of red wine. As you waited with her, you glance around, noticing some familiar faces that you've seen before.

"Here you go!" Your friend hands you your glass, breaking you out of your daze. You take the glass from her, taking a sip quickly, hoping to gain some liquid courage soon. You felt out of place, not knowing what to do as you glance around, watching everyone converse.

She nudges you, and you focus your eyes back on hers. "Lets go sit somewhere and catch up, yeah?" Before you can even respond, she pulls you over to a dark lit booth in the corner of the room. You both sit down and continue to sip on your wine, sharing stories of childhood memories, and years of friendship.

An hour passes, and you and your friend are both flushed pink, now on your third glass of wine together. You continue to laugh obnoxiously with her, until you realize your glass is almost empty. Giggling, you excuse yourself, and grab your glass of wine, heading in the direction of the bar.

You look back at your friend and smile to yourself, not paying attention to where you're walking, immediately bumping into someone. Your feet falter as your wine glass gets pushed towards your chest, ultimately staining the upper half of your white dress a deep burgundy color. "Fuck-" You curse loudly, not realizing who you even ran into in the commotion. Glancing up, your green eyes meet ocean blue, the words dying on your tongue.

"Oh shit, Im sorry! I didn't even see you." The woman rushes out as you gape at her. You couldn't even begin to be convinced that Billie Eilish was standing in front of you, her eyes full of concern. "Oh my god, your dress, Im so sorry." Billie says apologetically as she grabs onto your arm gently.

Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet color, similar to the unfortunate color now adorning your white dress. You lose the ability to speak at first, unsure if your tipsy state is making you hallucinate. Her eyes stare into yours until you finally find the words.

"Its okay, I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going." You breathe out, reassuring her. Your heart rate seemed to be going a mile a minute. Looking down at your dress, you sigh softly to yourself, realizing the stain is worse than you thought. Billie's grip falls from your arm, noticing your disappointed expression. She continues to look at you, biting her lip, until a smile falls on her face.

"Here," She quickly shrugs off her suit jacket, holding it out to you. "Take this, please."

You hesitantly take the jacket out of her hands, staring at her with furrowed brows. "Are you sure? It's not that bad, really, I'll probably be leaving soon anyways."

Billie shakes her head, dismissing your comment. "It's the least I can do. Plus, I feel awful for ruining your pretty dress." She cracks a smile, her eyes glancing up and down your body quickly before returning to yours.

"Thank you." You smile back at her, your cheeks heating up again. You put her jacket on, making sure to cover the stain. Her grin gets impossibly bigger at the sight of you in her jacket.

"I'm Billie, by the way." She added quickly, and you let out a small laugh, exchanging your name with her as well. Billie grinned at you, her eyes studying you.

You didn't know why, but you felt nervous under her gaze. "Thank you again, I should really get going though." You rushed out, glancing back at your friend, then back at Billie. She takes note of your nervousness and smirks.

"Let me at least get you a new glass, yeah?" She offers, motioning towards your now empty glass. Your cheeks flush an even deeper color.

Nodding, you follow her as she makes her way towards the bar, ordering you a new glass of wine. You stand beside her, silently admiring her features. She’s wearing a white button down with a black tie, and baggy black jeans.

Before you know it, a new glass of wine is shoved into your hands. “Wanna go sit and chat for a bit?” She asked, grabbing herself a glass as well, looking you up and down.

You glance back at your friend, noticing she wasn’t in the booth anymore, not sure of where she went. Looking back at Billie, you nod. “Yeah sure, I’d love that.” Billie grins at your response and grabs onto your hand gently, pulling you towards a dimly lit corner.

“You look great in my jacket, by the way.” She added, as you both sat down at a small table. You sip on your wine, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You joke, licking the wine off your lips, setting your glass down. Billie lets out a laugh, her eyes twinkling in the soft ambient lighting.

“And would that be a bad thing?” Billie questions, sitting back in her chair. Her legs spreading slightly, eyes flicking up to yours then down to your lips.

The familiar shade of crimson spreads across your face. You couldn’t tell if it was your lowered inhibitions from the wine, but the way she was holding your gaze made a heat start to form in your lower stomach. Biting your lip, you down the rest of your wine. As you finish, you noticed shes only taken a few sips of hers. Her eyes are still trained on you, watching you intently.

You both continue to stare at each other, your eyes speaking what you are too afraid to say. She takes notice and smirks. “Let’s get out of here, yeah? You can come back to mine?” She reaches out for your hand, rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. You nod quickly, biting your lip even harder.

She smiles at your swift agreement, standing up with you. Billie wraps her arm around your back, her hand landing on your waist, guiding you out of the bar. You both exit through the back door, and get into her car quickly, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.

Sitting in her passenger seat, you shoot your friend a quick text, thanking her for inviting you. Deciding to make an excuse, you add on that you decided to uber home because you didn’t feel well. Setting your phone down, you glance over at Billie. She smiles at you and pulls out of the dimly lit parking lot, resting her hand on your thigh.

The drive seemed much longer than it actually was. The warmth between your legs spread as she gripped onto your thigh, her rings shining under the street lamps. You needed her now, and you couldn’t deny it any longer.

She pulls up to her house, putting her car in park. You both stepped out and walked up to her front door. You gripped onto her arm as she turned the key to unlock it, pushing open the door. She stepped in, opening the door for you.

Before you could process her locking the door, she pushed you gently up against the wall, her breath slightly ragged.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Billie whispers, her eyes falling onto your lips, closing the gap between your bodies. Her lips crash into yours, kissing you with pure desperation and fever. Your lips mold with hers, hands falling onto her shoulders, pulling her closer.

You can feel her knee move in between your legs, her hands roaming your body. You throw your head back and whine at the sudden sensation, grinding down on her leg softly.

“Fuck, thats it baby, use me to get off, yeah?” She grunts out, her lips moving to your exposed neck, sucking and biting gently.

Letting out an even louder whine than before, you continue to move your hips against her leg. “Billie, please..” You whimper out as her mouth attacks your neck.

She pulls away momentarily, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you towards her room. You stumble after her, grinning and biting your lip. Excited to finally be getting what you secretly wanted the whole night.

You both make your way into her room, shutting the door behind yourselves. Billie locks it, walking back over to you. “This is okay with you, right?” She breathes out, her lips red and wet, walking you closer to her bed. The back of your knees hit the bed and you sit down, staring up at her with big eyes.

You grab onto her tie, pulling her body onto yours. “Please..” You plead softly, nodding, as she crawls on top of you. That was the green light she had been waiting for.

Smirking, she trailed kisses down your chest. Her hands roamed under your dress, pushing it up to expose your red lace thong. She grinned as she noticed the wet spot on your underwear.

“That affected by me, huh? You’re so wet for me baby. Such a good girl.” She praises you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button. Her hands grazing against your wet heat.

You buck your hips up at the minimal contact, throwing your head back against her bed. She pushes your hips back down against the bed, slowly pulling your underwear down and off. Billie tosses them to the side and climbs off of you briefly, undressing everything but her button up and tie. She helps you out of her jacket and your dress, admiring your naked body. Her pupils blown wide.

You sit up slightly, resting back on your elbows, watching her. She moves to her dresser, opening the drawer. You watch her as she pulls out a purple strap, your legs instinctively clenching together.

Billie makes her way back over to the bed, “Want me to fuck you pretty girl? Hm?”

You nod absentmindedly, the heat in your stomach growing even more. Billie grabs onto your hips, pulling you closer to her. She leans down and attaches her lips onto your clit, sucking. You let out a loud moan, gripping onto her sheets.

She continues to suck and lap at your wet heat, burying her face into your cunt. She brought up a finger, slowly circling the tight muscle.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Billie mumbles against you, her finger sliding in next to her tongue. You gasp out, your back arching off the bed.

She adds another finger as she feels you relax around her first one, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Her eyes watching you as you writhe in pleasure.

“Look at me.” She curls her fingers perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. Your eyes flutter shut before opening again, looking down at her.

“Good girl.” Billie praises as your eyes meet hers. She pulls her fingers out slowly, spreading your wetness onto her strap. Climbing on top of you, she positions herself at your entrance.

You bite your lip, moaning softly, “Please fuck me Billie, I need you so bad.” You grab onto her tie again, wrapping it around your hand, pulling her impossibly close.

She smirks, “Whatever you want, pretty girl.” She thrusts forward, her strap entering you in one quick motion. You let out an obscenely loud whine, yanking on her tie.

She fucks into you fast, watching your face as you throw your head back in pleasure again. “Taking me so fucking well baby.” She whispers out, as her free hand finds your clit, rubbing small, fast circles.

You moan loudly, feeling her strap hit all the right places. Her thrusts never falter, continuously fucking into you. Your eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed with pure lust and pleasure.

“Fuck, feels so g-good..” You stutter out, unable to form a coherent sentence. She grins down at you, her thrusts getting even quicker.

“Open your mouth.” Billie demanded, and you instinctively opened your mouth. She smirked at your obedience, spitting directly onto your tongue. Her hand left your clit, moving her fingers towards your mouth, pushing her pointer finger inside against your tongue.

“Next time, you’re gonna use this pretty mouth to eat me out, yeah?” She continues to thrust in and out of your cunt at a rapid pace. Her breathing was heavy, quiet grunts falling off her lips. You nodded, sucking on her finger gently, swallowing around it. You felt a heat building up inside you, your own climax quickly approaching.

Her hips faltered slightly, the strap rubbing up against her own clit with each thrust. Gripping onto her tie still, you let out a loud moan, “Fuck, Im gonna come.” You mumble out around her finger.

“Thats it, come for me, come all over my dick baby.” She begs breathlessly. You let out a final high pitched whine as your back arches off the bed. You clench down around her, gasping out as you ride out your orgasm.

Billie watches you come undone underneath her, her own orgasm washing over her quickly. She grunts out as she grips onto your hips, slowing down her thrusts.

You both pant together as you lay there, her strap still inside of you. She falls on top of your body gently, looking into your eyes. Billie smiles down at you, a blissed out expression on her face. A blush creeps onto your cheeks again, the dark maroon color returning for the final time that evening.

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ohimsummer · 1 year ago

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JUST LONELY, BUT SO FREAKY ft. SUGURU GETO

— minors dni, suguru x fem! reader, slight religious talk, established rs, satoru cameo, spanking, dryhumping, lots of kissing, fingering, take a shot every time I say ‘ass’

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ sequel to LOWKEY, SHE’S SO SWEET

wc 2.3k

One peck. A second. Then another, and another. Geto can’t help the grin that forms under your barrage of affection, kisses peppered all over his jaw, cheeks, and nose. His hands rub over your plump waist, pull you closer into him as you giggle at the red tint starting to wash over his cheeks. You readjust, elbow sinking into his mattress, to sit up for a slightly better angle of attack, another low, mischievous laugh flowing between your teeth.

“Enjoying yourself?,” he asks, closes his eyes as you plant a kiss to his forehead.

“Someone definitely is.,” you tease and throw a leg over his hip, shuffling closer to destroy any spare inches between you two. “But yes, I suppose I do like kissing a pretty face.”

“You and me both.” And Geto presses soft lips to your own. He lingers for a second to stare into the hues of your eyes, narrowed beneath the upturn of your smile, before layering the corners of your mouth in a quick succession of kisses. A small wave of giggles bubbles up at his affections, ones that mix with quiet moans as Geto soon trails lower, down to your neck and collarbone.

“Suguru, that tickles.,” you pant into his hair, angling your neck for more. “Silly.”

He only hums in return, nibbles on an especially sensitive part of your neck and you feel him smile as you squirm next to him. Your whine of ‘Suguru!’ goes unanswered, only prompting him to grab you by the hips to straddle him. His hair splays out in a halo on satin pillows, giving Geto a heavenly look akin to a god—your god—alluring eyes never leaving your own.

“This is a pretty precarious position for you, isn’t it?,” you lower yourself to lay on his chest. Playful fingers thread through the dark locks of his hair.

“Hm? How so?” His eyes never leave yours, a game of chicken.

“Ohh, I don’t knoww.”

Suguru seems unbothered when you grind your pelvis against his; even through his sweats, you can feel the thick outline of his cock under your pussy, which is only growing wetter by the second. The splash of red on Suguru’s cheeks spreads further when you lean forward to plant another kiss on his chin, rubbing your body up and down his own. Your hands are eager to touch him, ducking underneath the hem of his sweats to rub at his v-line, teasing the edge of his boxers before you’re trailing them up and over his toned torso again. You feel your boyfriend tense as you give a cheeky jiggle of your ass, but before you can tease further, he lands a resounding smack! on your rear.

Jaw going slack, you sit up immediately, pressing yourself into his lap and mildly registering the faint hardness beneath you. “Naughty!”

“Behave.,” he says, eyeing the incoming pout on your face. Both brows shoot up as you give another small, tentative wiggle, and Geto raises a hand to hover over your behind. “You want another one?”

The fact that you don’t reply immediately, and instead turn to study the threatening hand above your ass pushes Geto to question you. “You gotta think about it, love? Don’t tell me this is turning you on.”

You finally snap around to look at him. “Wha–? It is no—!” Another smack forces a surprised moan from your lips, and Suguru rubs over the sore spot of your flesh. “You’re so mea–“ A squeeze, which prompts your yelp. “Suguru!”

He thinks this might be his hardest battle yet, fighting back the grin tugging at his lips. One hand kneads at the globe of your ass, the other moving to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. Geto gives you another brief peck on the mouth, shortly taking in the sight of your plump lips before guiding them to his, eager tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You make a show of denying access for him and Geto gives a low grunt, a warning as he nips at you again.

This time, you part your mouth further to let him aside, allowing Geto to slip his tongue into the warm bay of your mouth, massaging it against your own. He feels so good, you feel so good, the way he can feel your stiff nipples poking at his bare chest through the fabric of your (his) shirt, your slow, leisurely ruts against the bulge in his briefs.

“Feel good, darling?” He breaks away to murmur teasingly against your lips. A low snort from him in reply to your absentminded ‘mhm’. “Yeah, I can tell, you’re soaking straight through to my dick.”

Your eyes snap open at that comment, brows raised and you pull away, but not too far. “You liar! I am not.”

“Oh?” His fingers dart below the hem of your shorts, brushing your bare pussy since apparently you’re not wearing any panties beneath. “Dirty girl. Let’s see then.”

You sit upright again to watch Geto’s hand disappear beneath your bottoms, hole involuntarily clenching as his fingers slip between your folds. Fingers run along the expanse of your pussy, coating his digits in wetness as he prods at your entrance before brushing a finger against your clit. He watches, waits, stalls and you decide to take matters into your own hands when you press down onto his idle finger.

“Needy.,” Geto chuckles. “Must be going too slow for you, doll. Couldn’t wait, hm?”

“No.,” and you brace hands atop his chest, descending until noses are brushing and you’re lost in a calm storm of purple. “Please touch me, Sugu, please. Stuff your fingers in your pussy, I want it.”

And he wants to edge you a little longer—you’re so cute with a river of tears down your cheeks and a wrenching grip on his shoulders, like you want to tear straight through him if he keeps toying with you any further. But Suguru’s dick also strains against his pants at your dirty words. You know just what to do and say to get him riled up, fluttering your lashes at him so sweetly, grazing your lips on his in such a tantalizing way as you’re begging him to fuck your pussy up—you might as well be the apple in the Garden.

You pull away just as Geto leans in for a kiss, but your little fun is short-lived as he gives a pinch to your clit, forcing a sharp whine out of you. His fingers are languid on the swollen nub, circling it and drawing sloppy, obscene noises from your soaking pussy. He engulfs your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans and hand keeping pace with the grind of your hips. ‘Suguru…feels s’good’ you mewl into his mouth, pressing closer to him and nails leaving angry marks on his broad shoulders.

Geto relaxes into your hand, one you’ve moved to cup his cheek, and loves the gentle caress of your thumb on his skin. He places a kiss on your wrist, any skin his adoration may reach. His palm knocks against your aching bud, fishing out whines from the depths of your throat. Suguru chases your lips whenever you break away to whimper his name— it’s like a prayer in the clouds, an exposure of your desire.

The kiss is magnetizing, but you barely find it in you to catch your breath, blinks slow and heart pounding beneath your heaving chest. Geto’s tongue darts over his lips, fingers still circling your clit to draw pretty little sounds from you that make his head spin. ‘Oh…f–fuck..!’ Your head tilts back, still fucking into the palm of his hand. Frustration and arousal boil in the pit of your stomach, because you want more. Your boyfriend’s an expert with his fingers, but you wish he’d put them inside you already, get rid of this empty feeling in your cunt. Geto can clearly tell what you want by the adorable frown on your lips, but he’s given you enough mercy for today, and he wants to hear you say it.

“Suguru, ah!” He runs a hand up to tweak your nipple, prompting a loud moan from you. “D-don’t, G–od! Again, again!”

“Not so loud, love.,” he chuckles, but makes no move to stifle the lustful sounds, nor stop his assault on your pussy. “You want to wake them up?”

Them being his roommates, but honestly, you really can’t find it in you to care, not with the way he’s still massaging your clit. His fingers grow restless, gripping at your tit before running to sink into the fatty flesh of your ass again. The sentence goes straight through one ear and out the other, barely registering a single word besides ‘want’ and you can’t wait any longer, you beg for him.

“Please put your fingers inside me, Sugu, fuck, fuck—!” Your eyes roll back, lids clenching shut.

The heavy hand on your behind controls the rut of your hips. His dick aches beneath his sweats, the only relief being the grinding pressure of your ass against his drooling length that stains his pants. Geto slides a finger lower, replacing his index with his thumb, teasing over your slick entrance, coaxing a finger inside. Your movements slow, and your mouth falls open. A choked whine escapes you, and your walls squeeze around Geto’s intruding finger, inviting him inside with intent to keep him there. ‘Oh, Suguru!’, you moan out. He gives your ass another smack, squeezing your cheeks. Head growing foggy at the desperate thought of your walls milking his cock.

Geto doesn’t give you time to adjust, stuffing another finger in, and another until you’re stretched out on three, large digits, forcing their way amidst your wet, cushiony walls to rub at that spongy spot — the one that makes stars burst behind your eyes and flashes of white cross your vision. His bruising grip on your ass doesn’t let up unless it’s to layer another smack on the sore skin. The mixture of pain and pleasure has you clutching, spasming around him, whining Suguru’s name as your legs grow tired. You lean back to rub at his hardened dick, and he hisses as you jerk him off through his pants.

“Ah, fuck, good girl, just—, shit, just like that.,” he praises you as his own release approaches.

You squeeze his tip and, with loud gasps, you’re both cumming together. Cum gushes out around Suguru’s fingers, into his palm, his own seed tainting the fabric of his boxers and seeping straight through to his sweats. With stuttered breaths, you collapse on top of him, and Geto gives your ass one last squeeze before wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you tight. He drags his fingers out of you, panting as he eyes your orgasm dripping between his fingers, and he raises the hand in the air. Your eyes jolt open at the pain of a hard slap to your ass, sending ripples through the flesh, but you’re so tired all you can do is half-heartedly pound a fist on his chest.

“Asshole.” The insult comes out a breathy huff. “You play so much.”

He gives you a smile, one that could never allow you to be truly annoyed with him. “See, if I was really an asshole, I wouldn’t be about to get up and start a shower for us.”

“You’re still an asshole for leaving me here to be cold.,” you fire back.

“Even if it’s just a few minutes?”

“Minutes, years, it all feels the same when I’m suffering from lack of your presence.”

You let Suguru slip out of your grasp, with much hesitation, and he quietly goes out the door. “I’ll be back, ya sappy lil’ drama queen. Try not to suffer too much without me, yeah?”

He grins at the sassy poke out of your tongue, treading quietly down the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. It’s dark, save for a small glow of light beneath the door of the room nearest his, Satoru’s bedroom. As he passes, he spots his best friend on the bed, transfixed on a movie displayed on his laptop. He leaves him be, continuing down a few more feet until he’s in the bathroom, and adjusts the water before making his way back to you.

“You still alive in here?,” Geto whispers to the lump beneath his sheets.

“Barely.” Your voice is muffled, hand flailing out until you find Suguru’s warm one and interlace your fingers. “Carry me, please?”

“Of course, darling.”

Morning arrives and, surprisingly, Gojo is first to step foot outside his room. He’s usually second to wake up, third if Shoko hasn’t spent the night drinking. It’s a little lonely, being by himself with only the noise of milk and cereal being poured into a porcelain bowl. That is, until someone else arrives.

“Suguru!,” he rasps a greeting to the other man, who’s shirtless and sporting scratch marks all over his arms and back. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Like a rock.” Or maybe a pebble, Geto had a tendency to awake once or twice in the night. But after the…activities you and him had gotten up to last night, he slept a little better in your arms.

“Must have been nice.” Gojo muffles out a sentence through bites of cereal. “I barely got any sleep, you and your company were making so much noise.” Suguru narrows his eyes, leaning against the table as Gojo continues. “Where is she anyway, don’t tell me your one night stand left before you even woke up?”

Before Suguru can respond, an insult on the tip of his tongue, there’s a small shuffling that catches his ear. As it grows louder, Gojo notices as well, and both men’s eyes widen when you come stumbling into view, using a fist to rub sleep from your eyes.

Suguru’s shirt still hangs loose on your frame. “Are you an asshole in your dreams, too? Just 24/7, Gojo?”

He watches, mouth agape, as you scoot over to Suguru, teetering against his shoulder and letting out a big yawn. Geto stabilizes you with an arm around your waist, embracing you in a side hug and resting a chin on the crown of your head. Suguru looks back to Gojo, whose spoonful of cereal hovers over the bowl.

“Nope. She’s right here.”

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