ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ɢɪʀʟ

──── ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴ' ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚:ʜᴇʟʟᴏ! - ɪ'ᴍ ɴɪɴɪ ᴏʀ ɴɪᴀʟʟ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɪɢʜᴛ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴛᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ

→ ᴇʟɪᴊᴀʜꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ

⤷ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ

ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʙɪɢ ᴘᴀ ꜱɴᴇᴀᴋ ᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏꜰ 'ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴀꜱᴛ' ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ

ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴊᴇᴏᴘᴀʀᴅʏ ᴠɪꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀʙꜰꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴀᴍʙꜰ ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙ ᴡᴏʀᴅ

ᴀɴɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴀʀʏ

ᴘᴇʀᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ

ᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴ

ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ

ɪɴ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏᴀʀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ

ᴛᴇxᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ

ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰ ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ "ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ɢᴏɴ ᴅᴏ"

→ ᴇʟɪᴀꜱꜱᴛᴀᴄᴋᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ

⤷ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ

ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ

ʜᴇ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ᴋɴᴏᴡ

ᴘᴇʀᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ

ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀʙꜰꜱᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ʙ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ

ᴍᴇᴀɴʙꜰꜱʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ʟɪɴᴋꜱ

ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀʙꜰꜱᴛᴀᴄᴋ

→ ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴡɪᴄᴋ

⤷ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ

ᴘᴇʀᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ʟɪɴᴋꜱ

ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴡɪᴄᴋ

→ ꜰʀᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ

⤷ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰʀᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ʟɪɴᴋꜱ

→ ᴍᴀɴɴʏ ᴄᴀꜱᴛɪʟʟᴏ

⤷ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ

Pairing-Elijah*Smoke*MoorexBlack reader

Summary-you and Elijah after your wedding

A/N-i think I’m losing my touch to be fair but this is something while i work on my judge thing🌝

Warnings-second hand embarrassment(do not try this at home!!!!!)

The door of the hotel shut behind you, quieting the world outside. You, the resplendent bride, and Smoke, your dark, brooding groom, were finally alone. The air between you is thick with unspoken promises and pent-up desires, a symphony of anticipation echoing through the dimly lit room.

Smoke, a man of few words and even fewer smiles, had been your secret obsession since you first laid eyes on him. His name was no mere moniker; it was a testament to his mysterious allure, a smoldering ember hidden beneath an icy exterior, burning hot and fierce. And tonight, he was all yours.

He turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the dance of the flickering candles. His voice, a low, gravelly rumble, broke the silence, "You look...good, Mrs Moore." A smirk played on his lips, the first crack in his stoic facade. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a delicious thrill at the promise in his words.

"You're not so bad yourself, Mr Moore," you replied, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. You looked him up and down, taking in the tailored suit that hugged his muscular frame, his short cut waves, and his grown-out beard. He was a vision of rugged, tamed masculinity, and you couldn't wait to mark him as yours.

Smoke stepped closer. He stopped inches away, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached up, his calloused fingers brushing against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The simple touch sent a jolt through you, a spark igniting the kindling of your desire.

"I've waited long enough, mama," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "I want to see what's mine. Baby."

A thrill ran through you at his words, at the possessiveness in his tone. You felt your cheeks blush, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You reached up, your fingers fumbling slightly as you began to unbutton your wedding gown. Smoke's eyes followed your movements, his gaze intense, hungry.

He didn't wait for you to finish. With a growl, he stepped closer, his hands joining yours. Together, you pushed the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you standing in nothing but your lacy lingerie and heels. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the heat in Smoke's eyes, the raw, primal hunger, made you feel powerful, desired.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the first time you'd heard him use that word, and it sent a shiver down your spine. He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace bra, his knuckles brushing against your nipple. You gasped, your back arching at the contact.

Smoke smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. He knew the effect he had on you, the power he held. And he loved it. His hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him. You could feel his hard dick against you, a promise of the pleasure to come.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. His tongue in your mouth, claiming you, tasting you. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving against yours with hunger.

His hands moved to your back, unhooking your bra with ease. He broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto yours as he pulled the lace away, baring your breasts to him. He groaned, his eyes darkening with desire. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growled, his hands reaching up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples.

You gasped, your head falling back, exposing your neck to him. He took the invitation, his lips trailing down your throat, his tongue tasting your skin. His hands moved to your ass, lifting you up, pressing you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around him, your heels digging into his back, holding on as he grinds against you, his hard dick rubbing against your aching pussy.

"Smoke," you gasped, you hold the back of his head. He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound, his teeth nipping at your skin. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his hands moving between your thighs, pushing your panties aside. "I wanna take my time with you."

He slid a finger inside you, his thumb rubbing against your clit. You moaned, your hips bucking against him, riding his hand. He added another finger, his pace steady, his thumb never relenting. You could feel the pleasure building inside your stomach, ready to release.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice a rough command. "Not until I tell you to."

You bit your lip, your nails digging into his shoulders, trying to hold back. He smirked, knowing the struggle he was putting you through. He leaned down, his thick lips kissing yours again, his tongue pushing in your mouth, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

He broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto yours. "Now," he growled, his fingers curling inside you, pressing against that spot that made your toes curl. You moaned out, your body quivering as the pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave of ecstasy coursing through you.

Smoke watched you, his eyes dark with desire, a smug smile on his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his fingers slowing, drawing out your orgasm. "But we're just getting started."

He lowered you on the bed, his hands moving to his belt. You watched, your eyes wide, as he undid his pants, freeing his hard dick. He was long, thick, and leaking. He stepped closer, his hands gripping your hips, lifting you again. You wrapped your legs around him, your eyes locked onto his as he positioned himself at your hole.

"You're mine," he growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Tell me."

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice steady, your gaze unwavering. He smirked, a challenge in his eyes. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. "Fuck me, Mr Moore," you whispered, your voice quiet and breathless.

He groaned, his hands tightening on your hips. He slowly pushed inside you, filling you, inch by inch. You gasped, your head falling back on the pillow, your nails digging into his back. He began to move, his pace steady, his thrusts deep and slow. You could feel every inch of him, stretching you, filling you, claiming you.

"Fuck, you feel good," he growled, his voice a low rumble. His hands moved to your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted you, changing the angle, going even deeper. You moaned, your body moving up as he thrust, he holds you there, making you take him deeper.

He leaned down, his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss. His tongue in your mouth, his pace never slowing, his thrusts never breaking. You could feel the pleasure building inside your lower stomach, a feeling ready to snap. You broke the kiss, your head falling back, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Smoke," you gasped, your legs quivering, your orgasm approaching. "I'm... I'm going to..."

"Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice a low command. "Come on papas dick."

His words sent you over the edge. You cried out, your body shaking as your orgasm hit you, even more intense than before. Smoke groaned, his body tensing as he followed you over the edge, his release filling you, marking you as his.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "You're incredible."

@sintizc

So how do we feel about that🌝

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗃𝖺𝗁*𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾*𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗑𝖡𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－straight nasty

𝖠／𝖭－ 𝖧𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎．．．𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾？？？？？

Video(ignore caption)

She always knew Smoke had a switch in him.

Most days, he carried himself like nothing could shake him—quiet, steady, the type of man who didn’t waste words because he didn’t have to. People listened anyway.

She usually did too.

Usually.

But tonight, something in her just wouldn’t sit still. Maybe it was the way he’d been brushing her off earlier, barely reacting to her running your mouth. Maybe she just wanted attention. Either way… she pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed.

“You act like you ain’t hear me,” she muttered, leaning against the wall with her arms folded.

“I heard you,” he said calmly from across the room, not even looking up at first.

That made it worse.

“Then why you acting like it don’t matter?”

That’s when his eyes lifted.

Slowly.

And there it was—that shift.

Not loud. Just… different.

“You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” His voice stayed even, but it carried weight now.

She rolled your eyes, like that didn’t do anything to her. Like her stomach didn’t just tighten a little.

“I said what I said.”

Silence.

Then he stood up.

The air changed.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t storm over. Just walked toward you with that same steady pace, and somehow that made it worse. Made your heartbeat pick up in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“Say it again,” he said, stopping right in front of you.

Her chin tilted up, stubborn. “You heard me the first—”

Her words cut off when his hand gripped her chin.

Not rough.

But firm enough that it meant something.

“Smoke—”

“Come on.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a shout.

But it wasn’t a suggestion either.

Before she could decide if she was going to fight it, he was already guiding her back toward the couch. Each step felt slower than it should’ve, like her body was suddenly too aware of everything—his grip, his presence, the way he wasn’t letting go.

“Still got something to say?” he asked, sitting down and pulling her with him in one smooth motion.

She barely had time to react before she was on his lap, her knees on either side of him, her hands instinctively landing on his shoulders to steady herself.

The position alone knocked the edge off her attitude.

“You real bold over there,” he murmured, his hands settling on your hips like they belonged there. “But now you quiet.”

“I’m not quiet,” she shot back, even though her voice didn’t sound the same.

His thumbs pressed lightly into her hips, just enough pressure to ground her—just enough to remind her exactly where you were.

“Yeah?” His head tilted slightly. “Then why you breathing like that?”

she hadn’t even noticed.

Now she couldn’t ignore it.

“I’m not—” she started, but her words faltered when his grip tightened just a little, pulling her down more firmly against him.

her breath hitched.

There it was.

That reaction she didn’t want to give him.

His eyes darkened just slightly, catching it.

“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly.

She tried to push back, to hold onto whatever attitude she had left. “You doing too much.”

“Or you just not used to a nigga checking you?” he countered, calm as ever.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders, fingers curling into his shirt. She hated how steady he was. How in control he stayed while she felt like she was slipping just a little.

“I don’t need you to check me,” she muttered.

His hand slid up her side, slow, deliberate, before settling on her lower back.

“You sure about that?” he asked, leaning in just enough that his voice dropped lower, closer.

The warmth of his breath brushed her skin, and her body reacted before her pride could catch up.

She shifted slightly—just trying to get comfortable, she told herself.

His hand immediately adjusted, holding you in place.

“Don’t start moving now,” he warned softly. “You weren't moving like that a minute ago.”

Her lips pressed together.

He noticed everything.

“That mouth get real quiet when I get you like this,” he added, almost like he was thinking out loud.

“I’m not quiet,” she repeated, weaker this time.

“Then say something smart.”

She opened her mouth—

Nothing came out.

Because now all she could focus on was the way his hands were moving again. Not rushed. Not grabbing. Just slow, controlled, like he had all the time in the world to let this build.

Her breathing gave her away before she could say anything else.

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching your face closely. “That’s what I thought.”

She looked at him, really looked this time, and there was no teasing in his expression. No rush either. Just that same quiet control that made everything feel heavier than it should’ve.

“You like acting up,” he said, voice low. “But you know exactly what you doing.”

She swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly against his shoulders.

“And you know exactly how this ends,” he added.

Her attitude had slipped somewhere along the way, replaced with something softer. Something quieter.

But not weak.

Just… aware.

“I wasn’t even doing that much,” she muttered, though it barely sounded convincing now.

One of his brows lifted slightly.

“No?” His grip tightened just enough to make her breath catch again. “So this don’t got nothing to do with me?”

She didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because now the tension sitting between them wasn’t just about the argument anymore. It was something else entirely—something heavier, slower, pulling tighter the longer she stayed right there on his lap.

His gaze dropped to her  lips for a second, then back to her eyes.

“You done?” he asked quietly.

Her voice came out softer than before.

“…yeah.”

A pause.

Then his hand slid up her back again, slower this time, less about holding her in place and more about keeping you there.

“Good,” he said.

But he didn’t move her.

Didn’t let her go.

Just kept her right there, like he wasn’t in any rush to end it either.

And the worst part?

She didn’t want him to.

𝖶𝖤𝖤𝖪 𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖱

(𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗇𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗌)

"All fuckin' day, you've been pushin' buttons, mama," he says, his voice gravelly and low, laced with the edge of a man who's on his last nerve . He steps in front of her, his footsteps quiet on the carpet, closing the distance in three long steps. Before she can say something disrespectful, his rough hand wraps around her wrist, yanking her up. He bends her over his lap, her belly pressing into his thighs. Her short skirt comes up immediately, bunching around her waist and showing him her lace panties.

She twists, trying to wriggle free, but his other arm comes across her lower back , pinning her in place. He grunts as he slides you up a bit. "Think you can mouth off to me? Acting like a nigga won´t put you in your place?" He says, making her feel hot all over. He rubs her ass , taunting her or getting her ready, then his hand comes down, smacking her on her ass. It stings, making her yelp, her fingers digging into the couch cushion.

He doesn't give her time to recover. Another slap lands on the left, harder, the impact making her ass turn red. "That's for the attitude at breakfast," he says,  each word coming with a smack—smack, smack—alternating sides. Her thighs press together instinctively, but the growing ache between them betrays her, a slick warmth starting to pool between her thighs. She bites her lip, stifling a whimper, but he hears it anyway "you like that, hm? Ms nasty  gettin' wet from a spankin'?"

By the fifth hit, her ass is red, each new slap  burns her eyes watering. She buck against him, half protest, half plea, but he just tightens his grip on her hip, holding her steady as he delivers two—smack, smack—right where her thighs meet her ass. The pain twists into something hotter, needier, her pussy clenching around nothing as she soaks through her lace panties. "Pa, please—" she whimpers, voice cracking, but he silences her with a firmer swat, his fingers splaying wide to cover more area, his hands rough against her tender skin.

"Please what? You gon apologize for bein' a bad girl hm?" He asks, tilting his head, his hand rubbing slow, circles over her red ass, kneading the soreness in a way that makes her arch into it despite yourself. But mercy's not his style tonight. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulls  them down her legs, the lace catching her knees before coming down to her ankles. She's fully exposed, her wet pussy glistening in the low light, ass cheeks marked with his handprints.

He exhales a low curse, his fingers tracing the evidence of his work before dipping lower. "Fuck, look at this pussy. Drippin' for big pa." His fingers part her  lips, sliding through her wetness to circle her swollen clit with agonizing slowness.  She whines,her ass pushing back against his hamd  for more, but he pulls away just as she  starts to grind against his hand. He slapped her inner thigh. Making her yelp "Not yet, baby. You gotta earn it." He manhandles her then, flipping her onto her back, her head on the arm of the couch. Her  legs spread open as he kneels between them on the floor, shoving her skirt higher until it's out his way. His hands grip her thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he forces them apart, exposing her pussy to his hungry gaze. His grills showing as he smirks,he leaning close enough for her to feel his nose on her clit.

"Beg for it. Tell me you're sorry for runnin' that mouth." His tongue licks her clit, flat and broad, licking a long stripe from her slit to her clit to her hole. His tongue makes her hips buck,but he pins her hips down with his large hand. "Words, mama'. Don't make pa ask twice."

"I'm sorry, pa," she whimpered, the words tumbling out as his tongue flicks  again, his lips sealing around her clit and sucking with just enough pressure to make her toes curl. Pleasure coils tight in her belly, but he nibbles at her sensitive clit, a sharp reminder of his control, before flicking his tongue inside her. He fucks her with it,  curling it to the right angle,  his free hand squeezed her ass.

She rides his face, her hands holding his head, gripping tightly as she moans his name. He growls against her pussy, the vibration humming on her pussy, he adds a finger—then two—stretching her  walls as he sucks at her clit. She can feel the tightness in her belly, her breaths coming in ragged pants. "Fuck, pa... please, I need—"

He pulls away quickly, licking his lips, his eyes filled  with lust and anger. "You need to remember who owns this pussy," he says, his voice  rough as he unties his sweatpants. The sweats drop, and he shoves his boxers to his knees, his dick hitting his stomach —thick, veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. He wraps a fist around it, stroking once, twice, watching her squirm. "Spread wider. Show me how bad you want pa dick."

She listened, hooking her knees over the couch cushions, baring herself completely. He rubbed his fat head against her hole, teasing her clit with slow rubs before pushing into her slowly. He stretches her, her pussy clenching around his fat dick as he bottoms out, balls pressed against her ass. "That's it—take it like the good girl you can be," he grunts, pulling back only to thrust  in again, harder, the couch moving slightly due to his thrust.

He sets a fast pace,  his hips snapping forward as he plunges himself in her. Each thrust hits deep, his dick dragging against her walls, his fat tip hitting that perfect spot inside. she cries out, her nails digging in his back, leaving red welts  on his chocolate,inked skin. He holds her face with his hand, looking into her eyes as he fuck her, his weight pressing her into the leather. "Say it—tell me this pussy mine. No more actin' up."

"Yours! I'm yours, Pa—oh my goodness" She silently screams as he angles his hips, pounding harder, his free hand sliding between their bodies rubbing her swollen clit. Sweat slicks her skin where they connect, the wet sounds of him fucking her filling the room alongside his groans and her moans. He lets her face go to grab herthroat—not choking, just holding, thumb stroking your pulse as he watches her face twist every time he thrust into her .

The pressure builds, her orgasm comes hard, her pussy fluttering and squeezing him in rhythmic pulses. She screams his name, back arching off the couch as her eyes roll back. He doesn't stop, pushing  her through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own nut. "Gonna fill you up—mark my pussy so you know who it is," he snarls, bottoming out inside her deep one last time. His dick throbs, hot cum flooding her pussy spilling out of  him as he grinds against her oversensitive pussy.

Finally done, he lays on top of her his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. He pulls out slowly, watching his nut drip from her pussy with a satisfied smirk, then pulls her against his chest. His arms wrap around her, one hand gently massaging the lingering ache in your ass while he presses a kiss to her neck. "That's my girl. No more bullshit tomorrow, hm?" His voice softens just a bit, the edge of dominance giving way to that rare tenderness he saves for you.

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗑 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－Smoke and the reader love each other very much, but time shows that they are trapped in an agonizing cycle. The reader holds on as long as she can; Smoke knows he can’t keep giving. They say their goodbyes while still caring for each other, understanding that not all love is meant to be.

𝖠／𝖭－ 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖻𝗁

You loved Smoke like it was a sickness.

Like something that lived in your bloodstream, something you needed even when it burned on the way down. Every time he pulled you close, every time he kissed your forehead like he didn’t know how else to love you, it felt dangerous and perfect all at once.

“Like I was on dope for us, baby.”

You were addicted to the way he said your name when nobody else was around. To the nights where the city was loud but his room was quiet, just the two of you breathing the same air.

You chased it.

That feeling.

That version of him.

“Chasin’ after a high that I’ll never get back again.”

At the beginning, it was easy. Laughter came naturally. Smoke smiled more back then—real smiles, not the tired half-smirks he wore later. He’d make you laugh until your sides hurt, until you forgot the world he came from.

You thought you’d found forever.

But time doesn’t ask permission when it takes things from you.

𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗏

I didn’t mean to love you like that.

Didn’t plan on it, didn’t see it coming. One minute you were just there—laughing too loud, looking at me like I wasn’t already halfway gone—and the next you were in my bloodstream.

“Like I was on dope for us, baby.”

That’s what it felt like.

A hit I kept chasing even after I knew it wouldn’t ever feel the same again.

You made me feel clean for a minute. Like the mess I carried didn’t matter when you were curled into my side, tracing old scars you never asked about. I kept trying to get back to that feeling.

“Chasin’ after a high that I’ll never get back again.”

At the start, it was easy. You laughed at my dumb jokes, called me out when I got too quiet. You saw something in me I didn’t see in myself, and that scared the hell out of me.

I should’ve let you go then.

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗃𝖺𝗁*𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾* 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗑 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－𝖺 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗑 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌－𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉

𝖠／𝖭－𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨'𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍

𝖵𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈

Smoke fists your shirt, knuckles white, chest heaving like he’s barely holding himself back. His eyes drag over you slow and deliberate, dark and assessing—like he’s deciding how far he’s about to take this.

Then he sits back on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs, undoing his belt with one sharp tug. The sound of the buckle hits the room loud.

“Come here,” he says, jerking his chin toward his lap.

You pause—not because you don’t want to, but because you know exactly what that look means.

He catches it instantly.

A crooked smirk pulls at his mouth.

“What?” he murmurs. “You nervous now? Thought you said you was grown.”

Before you can answer, his hands are on your waist, hauling you onto him like you weigh nothing. You settle against his thighs, and he’s already hard—thick, hot, pressing heavy against your stomach.

“You did this,” he mutters, stroking himself once, slow and deliberate. The tip slides through your slick and your breath stutters.

“Now you gonna sit on it.”

“Smoke—”

He grips your chin, firm, unforgiving.

“Don’t.”

The single word shuts you up.

You lift yourself carefully, lining him up, but his hand snaps down against your thigh—not enough to hurt, just enough to warn.

“Easy,” he says low. “I want you feelin’ every inch while I stretch you open.”

So you lower yourself down, inch by inch. The burn makes your nails dig into his shoulders, your breath breaking as he fills you slow and deep. Smoke leaned his head back, jaw tight, a rough groan tearing out of him.

“Yeah… fuck.”

His hands lock on your hips.

“That’s it. Take it. All of it.”

When you finally sink all the way down, he yanks you forward by your shirt until your chest is pressed to his. His mouth brushes your ear.

“Now move.”

You try—but he slams you back down suddenly, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat.

“Nah,” he snaps. “Not sloppy. You work for it.”

He guides your hips, forcing you into a slow, grinding rhythm. Every drag of him inside you hits deep, deliberate, stealing your breath.

“Smoke, I—”

“You can,” he cuts in, voice steady and commanding.

“Bounce.”

You lift yourself and drop back down. The sound echoes. Again—harder. His grip tightens, thumbs digging in.

“That’s my girl,” he growls. “Show me.”

Your thighs start to shake, heat pooling low and heavy. Smoke watches you like prey, eyes dark, hungry, focused on every movement.

When you falter, his hand cracks against your ass—sharp, loud.

“Don’t stop.”

Your moan slips out before you can swallow it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I hear you. Do it again.”

You ride him harder, chasing the pressure building inside you. He grips the back of your neck, pulling your mouth close.

“You wanted it?” he whispers. “Then take it.”

You rode him harder, pleasure exploding, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“Louder,” he orders. “Let me hear it.”

You cry out, body shaking, right on the edge—until he locks your hips in place, holding you still with him buried deep.

“Look at me.”

You do.

“Come on my dick.”

The words alone break you. Your body collapses against his, trembling, clenching around him as he groans into your neck, holding you there while you ride it out.

When you finally go slack, breath wrecked—

Smoke lifts your chin with one finger, eyes still dark.

“We ain’t done,” he says with a slow, dangerous smile.

“You gotta give me mines now.”

Thank you sm queen

I don’t usually disappear this long… but here I am. Thank you all for 1,000 followers 😝I’ll give you a little surprise after I finish the thing I’m working on.

I’m gonna have y’all vote before I start back writing

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗑 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍－𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌

𝖠／𝖭 － 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍

You’re already burning before he even walks through the door.

Laying in his bed—his sheets, the ones that still smell like his expensive cologne dior—you’ve got nothing on but a white T-shirt and panties, thighs glistening since you’ve been thinking about him all night.

Your body’s hot, heartbeat in your ears, soaked through the lace between your legs.

Every time you close your eyes, you picture the way Smoke touches you—slow, deliberate, like he owns every inch and you better not forget it.

You’re breathing heavy, fingers under the waistband, trying to take the edge off, but the moment his name slips past your lips—

The front door clicks.

Heavy footsteps.

Deep voice.

That low, annoyed grunt he always makes when he’s tired and pissed off but coming home to you.

Smoke stops in the doorway when he sees you on his bed, legs open, shirt riding up, skin shining under the lamp.

“Damn…” he mutters, jaw flexing, eyes dragging over you like he’s starving. “This what you do when I’m gone? Make a mess in my bed?”

You bite your lip, thighs inching wider. “I was thinkin’ bout you.”

He steps closer, slow and predatory, shruggingoff his jacket, his chain clinking as he leans over you.

One hand grabs your jaw, tilting your face up so you look up at him.

“You open wide for me like that, baby?” he murmurs, thumb sliding across your lower lip.

“And you expect me to stay calm?”

Your breath catches as he drags your panties down, tossing them aside.

“Look at you,” he coos, settling between your legs, his breath hot on your inner thigh. “Soaking f’ me… drippin’ everywhere. Didn’t even wait.”

You gasp when his tongue touches you—slow at first, just a tease, just enough to make your hips jerk.

Then he gets mean with it.

Smoke opens your legs wider, tongue flicking, tasting everything.

You grab his head, but he slaps your hand away.

“Don’t you touch,” he says, voice thick and dark. “You wanted this—now you take it.”

Your back arches, heat flooding your stomach, his tongue working you until you’re shaking.

He groans against you, like your taste is something he’s addicted to.

“So good…” you breathe, voice breaking, “Im gonna cum.”

He lifts his head, mouth wet, eyes dangerous.

“Yeah,” he smirks, dragging two fingers through your slit before pushing them inside you slow and teasingly. “I see that.”

You whimper, clutching the sheets.

Smoke sits up, lips brushing your ear as his fingers curl exactly where you need them.

“Now finish what you started,” he whispers.

“Give it to me.”

And he doesn’t let up—not once—until you’re trembling against him, breathless, undone.

Smoke holds you down by the back of your neck, not hard, just firm—possessive—keeping you exactly where he wants you. Your body is still trembling from the last orgasm he dragged out of you, your thighs slick and shaking, your breathing uneven.

He looked at you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb stroking the side of your throat. “Body still twitchin’… pussy still grabbin’ at nothin’ like it’s beggin’ for me.”

You whimper into the sheets, hips shifting instinctively, chasing him.

Smoke presses a heavy palm to your lower back, forcing your arch deeper, tilting your hips up until you feel stretched open, exposed, aching.

“Stop runnin’,” he warns quietly. “You gon’ take this.”

He slides the tip of his dick back through your wet folds—slow, lazy, knowing exactly what it does to you. He rubs himself against you, teasing your hole, not pushing in yet.

You try to rock your hips back, desperate, needy.

Smoke slaps your ass—sharp, loud.

“Uh-uh. I said slow.”

Your breath stutters.

He aligns himself, the thick head nudging against you, and leans down so his chest brushes your back, his breath hot on your ear.

“Open up f’ me.”

He pushes in.

Deep.

Slow.

So slow it hurts.

You gasp—your whole body stretching around him, your fingers curling into the sheets.

“Shhh…” he whispers, voice thick with control. “Feel it.”

He sinks in inch by inch, giving you all of him with agonizing patience, his hand sliding under your stomach to hold you steady while your body struggles to take him.

When he’s fully buried inside you—heavy, throbbing, deep enough to steal your breath—Smoke lets out a quiet groan.

“God… you’re tight every damn time.”

You tremble.

He doesn’t move.

Not yet.

He holds your hips still, keeping you pinned with his dick deep inside you, making you feel all of him until it’s overwhelming.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks softly, almost mocking.

“Yes… please—”

“No,” he cuts in. “You ain’t gettin’ that. Not yet.”

He pulls almost all the way out—

—and slides back in slow, so slow you feel every ridge, every vein, every burn of the stretch.

Your legs shake uncontrollably.

“Sm—Smoke—”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs. “Say my name while I’m deep inside you.”

He does it again.

Out…

In…

Deep…

Slow…

His hands grip your hips, holding them open, guiding your body exactly how he wants it.

“You laid in my bed in that little shirt,” he growls, burying himself deeper, “soakin’ through your panties like you needed me…”

His hips grind into you, slow and heavy.

“This what you were waitin’ for?”

You nod frantically.

His fingers wrap around the back of your neck again, gentle but firm, pulling your head up so you hear him clearly.

“Nah,” he whispers. “Use your words.”

“…yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Smoke… I needed you.”

His breath catches for a second—just a second—before he shoves back into you, deep enough you cry out.

“There she go,” he mutters, thrusting slow and punishing. “Tell the truth.”

The pace stays steady—deep, slow strokes that drag pleasure up your spine, make your toes curl, make you gasp into the sheets.

It’s intimate.

It’s dirty.

It’s mean.

And Smoke doesn’t rush once.

He kisses your shoulder, lips brushing your skin as he fills you again.

“You’re gonna cum slow this time,” he whispers.

“Right around my dick.”

His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit with the same cruel slowness.

Your breath breaks—

And he presses inside you deeper, grinding his hips, voice a low growl in your ear:

“Cum for me.”

You cum hard—slow, tight, rolling through your whole body—your walls clenching around him as he groans into your neck.

Smoke keeps moving, slow and deep, fucking you through it, making sure you feel every ounce of him while you fall apart under him.

And when you finally collapse, shaking, breathless, boneless—

He stays inside you, chest pressed to your back, whispering into your ear:

“Good girl…

you’re not done ‘til I fill you.”

Your whole body still trembling, collapsing against the sheets, but Smoke doesn’t give you a chance to breathe.

His hand slides up your back, curling around the back of your neck as he pulls your hips up again, forcing you to stay open for him.

“Uh-uh,” he mutters, voice low and annoyed. “Don’t start shuttin’ down on me now. You made this mess. You finish it.”

Your hips jerk, overstimulated, and he smirks like he enjoys every second of watching you fall apart.

He drags his thumb over your clit—slow, deliberate, mean.

Your breath stutters.

“Smoke, I—”

“What?” he snaps quietly, leaning in close. “You thought them little nuts was gonna be enough? After you laid your pretty ass out in my bed like a damn invitation?”

“Don’t fall yet,” he mutters, voice low, rough from restraint.

“I’m not done inside you.”

You feel the thick head of his dick dragging through your wet slit again, but this time there’s no rush, no impatience—just that dangerous, steady control he always keeps right before he breaks.

He pushes back in slow, the kind of slow that makes your eyes roll back, the kind that makes your walls tighten around him because he’s too big and too deep and he knows it.

Smoke groans under his breath as your walls squeeze around him.

“Yeah… that’s it,” he whispers, his voice gravel and heat.

“Take all of me. Take it slow.”

He bottoms out, holding himself there, filling you completely, his pelvis pressed flush against your ass. The pressure is overwhelming—full, stretching, perfect.

You try to move, but his grip tightens on your neck.

“Mm-mm. Stay still,” he warns, his breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“You don’t move until I say.”

Your body trembles, clenching around him involuntarily, and Smoke’s growl vibrates down your spine.

“You keep squeezin’ me like that, I’m gonna fuck you harder than I planned.”

His hand slides from your neck down your back, holding your hips steady as he slowly pulls out about halfway.

And then pushes back in…

Deeper.

Slower.

The kind of slow stroke that punches breath out of your lungs.

You whimper—quiet, broken—and his lips brush your shoulder, the gentlest place on his whole body.

“Feel that?” he murmurs.

“That’s me in your guts. Deep as I can go.”

He moves again—another deep, slow thrust that makes your knees buckle.

But he doesn’t let you fall.

Smoke wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you up until your back is against his chest, his dick still buried inside you, the stretch even more intense from this angle.

You choke on a moan.

“Oh, you feel everything now, huh?” he taunts softly, kissing the side of your neck.

“This that grown-man pace. Slow enough you remember it tomorrow.”

His hand slides down your stomach, stopping right above where you’re stretched around him.

“You feel me here?”

He presses lightly, and you gasp.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “I knew you could.”

He starts thrusting again—slow, deep, steady—each one hitting the same devastating spot inside you, each one sending sparks through your whole body.

Your breath turns frantic.

Your hand reaches back to grip him, but he catches your wrist and pins it to your stomach.

“You’re gonna come,” he murmurs into your ear, voice thick and serious.

“Nice and slow. Same pace I’m fuckin’ you.”

You shake your head, overwhelmed. “Smoke… I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

He thrusts deeper, his voice dropping even lower.

“I’m fillin’ you. You’re gonna take it.”

Your body tightens around him.

“There it is…” he whispers. “Let go.”

You come with a broken cry, your body clenching around him so hard he growls and presses his forehead to your shoulder, breathing heavy.

Smoke slows his thrusts even more, dragging you through the orgasm, filling you with every inch he has.

“Good girl,” he breathes, holding you close.

Then, with one final slow, punishingly deep push, he groans—low, guttural—and you feel him spill warm inside you, filling you until it drips down your thighs.

He doesn’t pull out.

He just holds you there, his weight heavy against your back, his breath hot on your neck.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, voice thick and satisfied.