#sinners x reader

Smoke had known about you for years. Every time your uncle, Malcolm, talked about you, he used that distinct overprotective tone he got whenever he was talking about business or something important to him. 

“My niece doin’ real good in school.”

“I gotta go check on my niece this weekend.”

Or, when he thought one of his homeboys was asking about you just a little too much.

“Keep playin’ with my niece nigga, I’ma put you in the ICU.” 

And shortly thereafter, the man’s questions came to a cold stop.

The way he talked about you always made Smoke think you were very young for some reason. Maybe early twenties at most, somebody still figuring life out. Your uncle was deeply protective over his family, and only people who he really trusted ever got to come around them. 

When your uncle finally said, “Come by for dinner Sunday, I want you to meet her.” Smoke expected a kid. He was 38 himself, so anyone younger than 25 was a youngin to him. You can imagine his surprise when he actually met you.

That Sunday, you opened the door looking every bit of 26. You were grown and confident. Soft brown skin, a real pretty face, the kind of natural beauty that stood out in a room. You had a place of your own and a solid career with room for growth. Quickly, Smoke gathered that you were extremely intelligent. When you’d smiled at him and extended your hand to him without a trace of insecurity or shyness, something in Smoke’s chest did a two-step. And that was not something that happened often.

“So…you’re the famous niece I keep hearin’ about?” He asked, voice carefully neutral. He held on to your hand for a few seconds longer than necessary without noticing it. Then you laughed. It was soft and warm, completely unguarded.

“So I’ve been told… hopefully all good things.” 

Your uncle always spoke about you highly. In fact, now that Smoke was thinking about it— the man had never said anything negative about you at all. You were the apple of his eye. But he hadn’t said anything that prepared him for the woman standing in front of him now.

All throughout dinner Smoke couldn’t stop himself from staring. The way you talked real soft and annunciated every word. The way you listened intensely to understand before responding, all of it was so intriguing to him. He even found himself chuckling at the sharp little comments you made when joning on your uncle. You were not a kid. You were a grown woman who happened to be the most important person in his best friend’s life. The realization sat wrong and heavy in Smoke’s gut for the rest of the night.

He left early.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next week, your uncle called Smoke on Saturday morning like he had nothing better to do.

“Come help me mount this t.v. real quick. Niece already over there waitin’ on us.” 

At being volun-told at 9 a.m., Smoke nearly told Marcus where he could go and hung up before he was reminded of that nagging feeling it had. It was the kind of feeling you get when you’re about to get to the good part of a book and you’re forced to put it down. That was the feeling Smoke had been having ever since he left Sunday dinner early. Instead of declining, Smoke heard himself saying he would be there in 40.

By the time Smoke pulled up, your front door was open, and your voice was pouring through it, loud and bossy. Nothing like the soft-spoken woman he’d met just a week ago. 

“Uh-uh, make sure you got that side good! I don’t need my walls scraped up ‘cause you rushin’.”

When Smoke stepped through the threshold, you were barefoot in the living room, hair pulled away from your face and wearing little gray shorts and a white tank top. Every time you took a step, your hips rolled sensually and your breasts bounced slightly, nipples poking through the thin fabric. You were gesturing and pointing around your living room like you were directing an orchestra. 

“If y’all put it on that side the glare from the sun gon’ mess up the picture. I’m tellin’ you, it’s gotta go on this side.” Your uncle shook his head, half annoyed, half amused at his little niece bossing up. 

“You hear this? Just grown as she wanna be.”

Smoke set his keys down quietly and you turned at the sound. The smile you gave him was so easy and endearing that he found himself returning a small one and giving you a nod. And Smoke did not smile often, if at all.

“Perfect timing, Smoke. My uncle thinks he know better than the person that actually lives here.” 

“Know enough to know you too bossy for your own good.” He grumbled, shifting the stand to your requested side of the living room. Your laugh filled the room, and you dropped down, legs crossed, to start taking apart the old stand. The little shorts you wore rode up high on your thighs and your skin looked warm and smooth under the morning light. 

The next hour was quiet torture for Smoke.

Every time you bent forward to hand your uncle or Smoke a tool, the tank top pulled taught across your breasts and rose slightly, exposing the soft skin of your tummy. When you sat back and huffed in frustration while you tried to make sense of the instructions, Smoke watched the way you pushed stray pieces of your messy bun out of your face. And whenever you teased your uncle— “If it’s lopsided, I’m givin’ you a bad review on your uncle skills”— your voice remained light, teasing, never crossing any lines. Just comfortable and familiar. 

She don’t even know what she doin’ to me. Just sittin’ there laughin’, talkin’ all soft, lookin’ innocent… and I’m over here fightin’ for my life.

He barely spoke. Smoke kept his eyes on his work like that was the only thing keeping his mind from wandering. Still, his gaze kept drifting over to you. He watched the way your hips spread wide when you sat back on your heels and the way your small, manicured hands moved dramatically while you spoke. He tutted to himself quietly, so damn cute.

At one point you looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. The mischievous smile on your lips let him know you were about to get on him.

“You don’t talk much, huh?”

“Say what I need to. Just tryna make sure this thing don’t fall on nobody.” He replied simply, eyes flicking up to yours and staying there for a moment before drifting down to the soft curve of your mouth. His thoughts betrayed him,

You a damn lie. You thinkin’ ‘bout how soft them thighs look. What they’d look like wrapped around your head...Stop.

You hummed in acknowledgment, but you never looked away. The knowing look stayed in your eyes a second too long, and Smoke noticed.

When the stand was finally up and the tv was mounted, your uncle patted Smoke on the back and headed into the kitchen for water. You stayed in the living room, sitting on the floor with your legs stretched out while you scrolled on your phone. 

The house started to feel too quiet with just the two of you, so Smoke grabbed his keys before he said anything stupid. 

“I’ma head out”

You looked up from your phone with a small frown. 

“Already? We were just about to go out to get somethin’ to eat.”

Smoke wanted to stay. He really did. But he didn’t trust himself. So, he politely declined and said goodbye to your uncle. He gave you— and those pretty brown thighs— one more glance before he headed out and closed the door behind him. 

Later that night Smoke’s place was silent. Nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak or groan from the house settling. Smoke laid in the middle of his bed, staring at nothing in particular. He sighed in frustration and rubbed his hands down his face. He was replaying the day’s events and desperately trying to scrub the image of you from his memory to no avail. This was evident in the dull, persistent throb between his legs that he’d been trying to ignore ever since he saw you in those little shorts.

That’s his niece. Closest thing he got to a daughter. You sittin’ over here hard over a girl you ain’t even supposed to be lookin’ at. Get it the fuck together.

He sat like that for a long while before he willed himself to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Some days later, your uncle was having a cookout. The guys were playing Spades, so he told Smoke to come by. The gathering was in full swing by the time Smoke got there. Smooth R&B wrapped around the yard and the smell of charcoal and grilled meat was thick in the air. He spotted you before anyone else. You were sitting on the edge of a picnic table wearing denim shorts and a strapless top, legs swinging and a drink in hand, talking to some of your girlfriends. 

Smoke grabbed a drink and planted himself near the fence. Close enough to the traffic of the party to be polite, but far enough to keep to himself. 

Maybe it was a habit from his time being enlisted in the army, or just a habit from growing up where he did, but Smoke noticed everything and everyone. And that was why he noticed the exact moment that you caught the attention of a guy from the neighborhood. He was early 40’s, nice enough looking, but way too comfortable. Smoke watched the man’s ego draw his shoulders back in confidence before he made his way over to you. First it was “lemme get you another drink”. Then it was him hovering awkwardly just behind your shoulder while you spoke to your friends.

Smoke watched, jaw tight and plastic cup starting to give under the force of his clenching fingers. He knew he had no right to feel possessive over a woman he barely knew, but he had no say in the matter. His eyes stayed glued, making sure the man didn’t cross any overt boundaries. Your uncle saw it too. 

At first, Uncle Malcolm didn’t say anything. Just kept flipping meat, listening to the conversation around him. Every few moments, his looked over with a calm measuring look, one that surely meant he was letting a man dig his own hole. Smoke recognized the look quickly. It was the same look your uncle had given their friend who kept asking about you before he had threatened to put him in the ICU.

Then, you reflexively flinched and stepped away when the man got just a little too close from behind and his breath brushed your ear. Smoke was already moving before his brain caught up, but he was stopped by your uncle planting a firm hand on his chest.

“I got it Smoke, good lookin’ out.” 

Smoke forced himself to be still as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. Your uncle made his way over to you in three quick steps. He didn’t raise his voice or make a scene. He simply stepped between you and the man so smoothly that it almost looked friendly. 

“You gettin’ too close for my niece’s liking.”

“Oh, my bad man. I just—”

“You was just keepin’ yo hands to yo self, right?” Then your uncle looked over at you with a look that silently said, “you good?”. You nodded, already waving it off with a small smile. The man had no idea how lucky he had just gotten. You’d called your uncle off and spared the man two missing teeth. He nodded once simply and walked back to the grill like nothing had happened. The man took the hint. Visibly shaken he wandered over to the cooler for a drink. Malcolm picked up the tongs and resumed grilling, unphased. Smoke saw all of it and realized quickly that could be him.

He saw the way your uncle’s expression had become flat and cold and how fast he’d delivered the message. No yelling or scene, just quiet authority and the willingness to cause serious harm. These were traits that he himself possessed, and it was one of the reasons he had taken such a liking to your uncle. After all, birds of a feather flocked together. Smoke understood with perfect clarity that if that energy ever turned on him, there would be no explaining or second chances. 

Later, when you walked past him on the way to the cooler, your ass subtly brushed his groin. It was a brief touch and gone in a second. Smoke couldn’t figure out if it was intentional or not, that was until you looked up at him and gave him a small smile. He kept his eyes on the fence for the rest of the afternoon and didn’t look at you again. Didn’t trust himself to.

You better stay the fuck away from that girl. For real this time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later that evening, the fight was on the big screen in your uncle’s living room. The whole house smelled like wings and the blunt that was in rotation. Your uncle was in his usual spot, reclined back. Stack was in the kitchen making a plate, and Smoke sat on one end of the long couch, quiet like he always was— and far away from you. You and your girlfriend were spread out on the floor, chattering away about something that had nothing to do with the fight.

Somewhere around the third round, Smoke dropped his phone and it slid under the coffee table.

“I’ll get it.”

You were already moving before anyone else could. You leaned forward, then dropped lower on your hands and knees to be able to reach it. The little shorts you had on pulled tight across your ass with the movement and the fabric rode up the backs of your thighs. Soft, brown skin caught the dim glow of the t.v. As you stretched further, the hem of your shorts crept higher until the lower curve of each cheek was exposed and the soft skin of your inner thighs spread a little. Smoke was frozen in place. The view hit him right between the legs with a low pulsing throb.

All he could see was that same position— except with you bent over for real. Shorts pushed to the side, back arched and thighs open. He imagined himself behind you with one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip as he sank into you slow and deep. He could almost hear the sound you’d make if he went just a little too deep too fast. He wondered if you would give him a soft, cracked moan or a high and shaky whine when he bottomed out and stayed there. His dick twitched hard in his jeans, and he shifted in his seat trying to ignore it. For a long second he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way your soft thighs looked spread open like that.

Stack’s voice cut straight through the fantasy, sharp like a blade and low and close to his ear.

“Nigga.”

Smoke blinked hard and looked away quickly as heat spread across the back of his neck. You sat up just a second later, phone in hand. You held it out to him with a smile. He made sure not to touch you unnecessarily as he took it from you. He offered a gruff, “preciate it” before turning his attention right back to the fight. 

But he was caught. Stack was still watching the scene play out, and he was totally amused. Somebody had finally tickled Smoke’s fancy. It wasn’t often that someone piqued his interest to the point where he gawked like that. A wicked grin was already making its way across his brother’s face. He waited until you had settled back into your spot and no one was watching before he spoke again.

“You realll quiet tonight, cat got yo tongue?”

Smoke’s jaw tensed and he avoided his twin's eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on the television. He already knew from the tone in his voice, he was gonna start his shit.

“I’m always quiet, ‘Lias.”

“Nah,” Stack kept his voice low and nudged his brother with his elbow, still grinning. “This different. This the type of quiet a man get when he lookin’ at somethin’ he ain’t got no business tendin’ to.” 

Smoke didn’t answer this time. He just took a slow sip of his beer. Stack chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“Y’know her uncle gon’ kill you, right?” He dragged the words out teasingly, but the warning was real. “You betta keep yo hand out that cookie jar, bruh. I’m f'real. That man don’t play about that girl.”

At this, Smoke shot Stack a warning glare that said leave it be.

“Ain’t nobody thinkin’ ‘bout that ‘lil girl.”

“She don’t look so little to me.” Stack chuckled again but raised his hands in defense when Smoke’s head snapped toward him, hot defensiveness bubbling to the surface. “Aight, I’ma leave it. Just don’t come cryin’ to me when her uncle want yo head on a silver platter. I warned you.”

Smoke didn’t answer. But for the rest of the night his brother’s words sat heavy in his chest— and so did the image of you bent over under that table.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Once night settled and everyone left, you and your best friend were sitting in your car outside your place. She turned the music down and turned to you fully, lifting a leg and tucking it under herself like she always did when she got ready to gossip. 

“Girl.”

You raised an eyebrow, ready to hear whatever off the wall thing she was gonna tell you.

“What?”

“You don’t see how your uncle’s friend been lookin’ at you?” Your eyebrows knitted in confusion; you had no idea what she was talking about. 

“Who? Smoke or Stack?”

“Smoke girl, the real quiet one, quit playin’!” You rolled your eyes immediately and laughed out loud.

“Smoke? Girl, that man is grown as hell. He ain’t lookin’ at me. Have you seen some of the girls that work in his club? It’s big booty central up in there.” Your friend was already shaking her head fervently.

“Uh-uh.  No. He was watchin’ that ass switch the whole time you was bent over gettin’ his phone. I saw him. He was lookin’ at you like he wanted to bend you over his damn self.”

The laugh died in your throat and your joking demeanor faded when you realized she was serious. 

“I’m f’real, girl. That man wants you. Bad. And he lookin’ at you like he knows he ain’t supposed to.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It was a regular Thursday and Smoke was just finishing up some business at the club when his phone rang. He answered without looking but the voice that came through the receiver stopped him cold in his tracks. 

“Hey… you busy?” You asked sheepishly. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, thinking it must be something serious for you to have called him.

“Nothin’ serious. I just… the smoke detector has been beeping all day and it’s driving me nuts. I’m trying to do something for work, and it keeps distracting me. I got the batteries, but I can’t reach the damn thing.” 

Something about the tinge of frustration in your voice and the fact that you called him—not your uncle or one of your little friends, him— tugged at his heart strings. It wasn’t just attraction this time. Now, it was the quiet, unexpected weight of being needed by you. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it sat warm and dangerous in his chest like a badge of honor.

Smoke drummed his fingers against his steering wheel, trying to talk himself out of going over to your place. When he couldn’t think of a reason good enough to turn you down, he turned the engine and headed toward your place. 

Twenty-five minutes later he was knocking on your door, ladder in hand and ready to rescue you. The door opened and there you were, wearing a little spaghetti-strap bodycon dress that hugged all your curves just right and fell gracefully around your ankles, toes perfectly manicured. Bare feet, hair pulled up messily, no makeup. So simple but it landed heavy on Smoke. His eyes dragged over exposed shoulders and down to your hips. The hungry look he gave you made your tummy flip as you stepped to the side to let him in. He couldn’t help but think how pretty a chain with his name on it would look resting against your collar bones.

“Hey,” You exhaled. “Thanks so much for coming. I feel so dumb for calling, but it’s too high up for me. I cannot have this thing beeping incessantly in the back of my conference calls.” 

Smoke chuckled to himself quietly at your use of the word “incessant”. You could’ve just said non-stop, but you always found a way to make the simplest thing sound extraordinary. 

“It’s nothin’. I got it.” He stepped inside and instantly felt comfortable as the smell of your apartment invaded his senses. It smelled like your usual candle and whatever dessert you must have been baking. Too intimate and a little too quiet. 

You led him to your bedroom and pointed up at the fixture like it had personally offended you. Smoke opened his small ladder and climbed up. You left him alone and wandered into the kitchen. He had the batteries changed within 5 minutes, simple and easy. When he stepped down, he finally looked around. Your bed was half made like you’d pulled the sheets up in a hurry and you had a purple duvet on it. 

Damn, that’s a lot of pillows.

He thought to himself. On your dresser was a framed photo of you and your best friend, the girl he’d met on fight night. Smoke drifted closer when he noticed you had books lining your nightstand. Some of them were philosophical, titles he recognized. Others looked like dystopian novels that were half finished, indicated by random bookmarks. 

He was turning to leave when his eyes landed on it. Strewn near one of your pillows was a rose toy. Smoke swallowed hard. It was clear that you hadn’t noticed it— and that it had recently been in use. Smoke stood frozen for a moment, his thoughts betraying him. 

Instantly, a mirage appeared of you in the center of the bed, thighs spread wide and one hand between them. He pictured your pretty mouth falling open on broken moans as you arched your back and rolled your hips closer to your hand. A violent stir in Smoke’s pants snapped him out of his daydream. He shook his head as if he was trying to clear the filthy thoughts before folding his ladder and quickly exiting the room.

When he made his way back to the kitchen to tell you the job was done, you were standing near the counter scrolling on your phone. Sitting on the island in front of an empty stool was a thick slice of chocolate cake and a tall glass of ice water. You looked up and met his eyes when he entered the room. Your face lit up as you gestured to the plate.

“I just frosted it. It’s still a little warm, try it and let me know how it is? It’s a new recipe.”

Smoke couldn’t bring himself to decline. One because you just looked so damn cute with that little pleased smile on your face, and two because he’d been smelling that cake since he walked through the door. He hesitated just long enough for you to take it as a yes. You rounded the counter and patted the stool.

Smoke sat his ladder down and slowly made his way over to you. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise when he looked down at the plate.

“That’s a big ass slice of cake. You gon’ share it with me?” he asked, silently walking over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“Only if you insist.” You said excitedly, pulling a second spoon from your kitchen drawer. Smoke sat down at the counter and watched with amusement as you pulled out the spoon and some napkins. 

“So, you always this quiet or just don’t like talkin’ to me?” you asked as you settled across from him. Smoke’s fingers brushed yours as he took the spoon from you.

“I’m quiet with everybody.” He waited for you to take the first bite and found himself feeling warm and fuzzy when your eyes got wide and rolled back slightly. He followed suit and damn near had the same reaction. It was delicious. 

“Damn girl. ‘Sholl can bake.” He murmured, glancing up at you.

“Mhm.” You tilted your head in satisfaction. “My uncle talks about you like you some sort of legend. Said y’all have known each other since you were young. You always been the quiet one?” A ghost of a smile touched Smoke’s lips.

“Yeah.” He said simply.

“That’s crazy” you leaned over and took another bite of cake. “I feel like I’ve heard so much about you but I really don’t know you. You got brothers? Sisters? What you be doin’ when you not with my uncle or gettin’ drafted into smoke detector duty?”

Most people didn’t ask him questions like this. Usually, they would take one look at the unsmiling, silent— and subtly threatening— way he carried himself, and decided that he wasn’t the type you played 21 questions with. But you didn’t seem to notice, or if you did, you didn’t care. You kept going, small and fearless, like he was any regular man and not somebody half the city treaded easily around. Smoke found himself amused instead of annoyed by the tirade of questions. He never realized you talked so much.

“I got a brother. My twin, you met him.”

You hummed in agreement as you remembered. 

“He’s loud.”

That, Smoke couldn’t deny. He nodded in agreement.

“Y’all so different. He talks enough for the both of y’all”

So do you Smoke thought to himself.

“You got a girl? You be goin’ out or is the club just business? What’s your favorite food? Do you even like cake, or you one of them “I don’t really do sweets” niggas?”

The last question pulled a real, low chuckle from him before he could stop it. The sound pleasantly surprised you and your eyes lit up with amusement. 

“Ohhhh” you pointed with the spoon with a smirk. “So, he does smile.”

Smoke looked away but the corner of his mouth was still tilted upward. The smile wasn’t anything like Stack’s cocky, arrogant grin. It was quieter. Warmer. It made him look younger and softened the lines of his face in a way that made something flutter low in your stomach. He was sexy in a genuine and rare way.

He answered your questions in the order you’d asked them— all except if he was currently seeing anyone. You were still in the middle of talking and making nosey, yet funny, observations about Smoke when a smear of frosting ended up just under your bottom lip. Smoke didn’t think before he acted. He reached out and brushed his thumb under your lip, wiping the frosting away. The contact was light but intimate. You went totally still when he brought the thumb to his own lips and licked the sweetness off. 

Your eyes dropped to lips, and his dropped to yours. Suddenly the air in the room felt thicker and you were much more aware of the scent of his cologne. And for one dangerous, dangerous second, he almost leaned in and closed the little bit of space between the two of you.

Then, the reality of his best friend— your uncle— slammed back into him like a door shutting. Smoke straightened up quickly and reached for his keys. 

“I should go. Thank you for the cake, and the hospitality.”

Your voice was quieter than intended when it came out.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.” He was already moving toward the door before you could protest again. “I got the batteries changed. You should be good to go now.” He didn’t wait for you to walk him out. In fact, he left your place like something was chasing him.

For a full minute, Smoke sat in his truck with his hands tight on the wheel. He could still taste the frosting, and he could still see the way you’d looked at him. 

And— he could still envision you in the center of your bed, head lolled back in ecstasy as you touched yourself. 

Smoke pulled off so fast he nearly hit your trash can on his way out.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next time Smoke found himself at your place, it was because your uncle insisted on checking on you on their way back from handling some business at the club. 

“Swing by my niece spot real quick. I ain’t seen her in a couple days and I wanna check on her. Said she got plates ready for us too.”

Smoke’s hands tightened on the wheel but still, he gave a short nod and turned to make the familiar journey to your place. You opened the door, this time in little shorts and an oversized shirt that was falling off one of your shoulders. You smiled brightly at your uncle as you stepped aside to let him in. The one you gave Smoke was subtler, more private and holding the memory of your last encounter with him.

“I was just about to put on this new movie I rented, come on in.”

Your uncle kissed the top of your head as he walked past and started making himself at home. Smoke followed behind, slower. You made both their plates and made small talk as you served them. Of course, they tore it up in little time. After, it had turned into a movie night without anyone really deciding. 

You took one end of the couch, and Smoke took the other, careful to leave a respectable amount between the two of you. The movie played and flickered soft shadows over the living room. Within twenty minutes of it starting, your uncle was out like a light. 

Smoke kept trying not to look at you and failing. Every few minutes, his eyes drifted over to you. He watched the way you bit down on your bottom lip in anticipation before a jump scare came up. How your legs were crossed, accentuating the fullness of your hips. And every time he caught himself, he forced his gaze back to the t.v. 

Your uncle’s phone ringing disturbed the quiet. He jerked awake and fumbled around for it before answering with a rough voice. Whatever he heard on the other end made him sit up straighter, voice dropping into a sultry register. Most likely one of his many girlfriends.

“Aight, I’m on the way.” He stood, still half asleep and looked over at Smoke. “Can I borrow your car right quick? I gotta go see about something. I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”

Smoke’s stomach dropped. He should have said no or offered to just take your uncle himself. He should have made any excuse to keep him from being left alone with you for an indeterminate amount of time. But instead, he found himself handing over his keys. Your uncle clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him before heading out. 

“Preciate it. Look out for my niece, I’ll be back.”

The door shut behind him and the lock clicked, and suddenly Smoke had a feeling that he may have just made a terribly risky decision.

The movie played for another twenty minutes, and he stayed on his side of the couch, eyes locked on the t.v. like it was the only safe thing to look at. After a while you shifted and stretched your legs, and the soft side of your foot brushed his calf. It was a light touch, but it still sent a tingle up his leg.

“You good over there?”

“Yeah… just tryna understand this movie, I’m lost.” You smiled at him as if you heard more than he’d actually said. 

When the credits started rolling, you both reached for the remote at the same time. Your hands brushed, and instead of pulling away, Smoke slowly turned his palm upward. Waiting. You trailed your fingertips over it and his gaze stayed on your face the whole time. When you finally locked eyes with him, you were the one who leaned in.

The kiss started off hungry without testing or careful exploration. Just your mouth on his, soft and real sure. It was the type of kiss you could tell you’d both been thinking about.

A low sound rumbled from Smoke’s chest and he kissed back harder, one hand already sliding up to the back of your neck. Before he knew it, you were climbing into his lap, backs of your thighs bracketing his like you were meant to be there. He could already feel the heat coming from you through your shorts. He broke the kiss first, chest heaving.

“Yo uncle gon’ kill me and smile in the mugshot, girl. You know he don’t want nobody sniffin’ ‘round you… especially not his best friend who’s the same age as him.”

Your expression was unchanged, and you didn’t get off him. You just stared at him, eyes dark with lust and lips already a little swollen. Smoke’s hands settled comfortably on your hips and his thumbs brushed the soft skin under the hem of your shirt.

“You sure you want this? ‘Cause once we start, ain’t no takin’ it back. And once I’m inside you… I ain’t pullin’ out till it’s messy. You never been with a grown man like me before. It’s gon’ feel different.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and climbed off him. Laying back against the couch cushions, you parted your thighs for him, just enough for him to be able to tell you weren’t wearing panties.

And in that moment— Smoke’s restraint gave in. He dropped to his knees and turned you by your hips so you were facing him. Easily, he dragged your panties and those little shorts down to your ankles. He gently parted your thighs so that you were fully exposed to him and just looked for a second. Arousal was already dripping from your slightly parted lips and Smoke cooed at the sight.

“Even prettier than I thought.” He murmured. When he put his mouth on you, it was unlike anything you’d experienced before. He licked you open with the flat of his tongue and sucked your clit between his lips with steady pressure. When a surprise gasp punched from your chest, he eased in his middle and ring fingers. Stretching you slow and savoring the soft sound your pussy made as it opened up for him. The wet sounds that commenced were immediate and nasty.

Continuously, he curled his fingers against that soft ridge inside you that made your stomach jump. Your back arched hard and a high, broken sound left your throat. He didn’t ease the pressure when your thighs started trembling.

“Look so pretty spread open f’me like this.”

The vibrations from his voice involuntarily made your thighs close around his head. Soft shocked whimpers kept spilling from your lips while he ate you like he had all day and stroked his fingers deep. Spit and your cream mixed together until his lips and chin were shiny with it. He kept up that steady rhythm until your tummy clenched and a long, shaky cry tore form you. Your walls clamped down around his fingers in hard, rhythmic pulses and cream and slick trailed down his wrist. A warm rush flooded your core as the orgasm rolled through you in heavy waves. Smoke kept licking you slowly through every single one, only slowing when your thighs shook too hard and you tried to close your legs.

Only then did he kiss his way up your body, pushing up your shirt as he went. When he finally settled between your thighs, he latched his mouth to your areola. A surprised gasp escaped you and your hands flew to his shoulders. He suckled gently at your nipple while he rubbed the fat head of his dick through your folds, and the mess he’d just made of you. Your pussy clenched around nothing like it needed to be filled again from the sensation. He gave your other breast the same treatment— hot, wet, and slow, before returning to your lips.

“Breathe for me” he watched your face as he started to push past your entrance. “Pretty lil pussy ‘bout to get stuffed full. You gon’ take it for me?” His lips brushed yours before pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. You nodded and stuttered out a soft yes as he slowly stretched you, inch by inch. It was deep and overwhelming in a way that made you both want to push him away and pull him closer. When your thighs tried to close on instinct, he caught the backs of your knees and pinned them open against the couch, keeping you spread while he sank deeper.

“Uh-uh. Keep these pretty thighs open for me. Wanna feel every bit of this soft lil pussy takin’ me.”

He bottomed out with a low groan, hips flush to yours. The pressure sat heavy and deep in your stomach, and your mouth fell open on a quiet overwhelmed sound. Your walls kept fluttering around him helplessly and cream was already collecting around the base of his dick, dripping between your cheeks and down to the couch.

His strokes started off slow, letting you feel the ridge of his tip and every vein. Soft sounds kept leaving your throat every time he bottomed out, and your eyes went glassy while your fingers dug into his biceps.

He kept you pinned open for him like that and the wet sounds of your pussy taking him filled the quiet apartment. Your second orgasm built slower this time, and it was drawn out by him dragging the head of his dick over that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again.

“There it is… look how pretty you look takin’ all this dick. Already cryin' for me and creamin' down my balls. You never had it this deep before, have you?” When the coil in your belly finally snapped, your back arched hard and a loud choked cry came from you. He fucked you through every wave until you were a trembling mess under him, still stuffed full and thighs shiny with the mess he made you make. You were still shaking when the words left your mouth.

“Lemme get on my knees for you.”

Smoke went still and the image slammed into him without warning. The way you looked under the table that day reaching for his phone. Shorts lifting enough for him to make out the curve of your bare ass and soft brown thighs spread. He had pictured this exact position more times than he cared to admit. Quickly, he obliged.

He gently pulled out and turned you on your stomach before tugging your hips up. Your ass was high and your chest was flush to the couch. One hand spanned the small of your back to keep your arch deep while the other wrapped around the base of his dick. He gently nudged your clit with the thick head before pushing back in slowly.

“You sure? 'S gon’ feel real full.” 

When you only pushed back toward him, he sank into you in one slow, heavy thrust and filled you to the hilt. A high, shaky sound left your lips and it was music to Smoke’s ears. Just like he’d imagined. He let out a low, satisfied moan as his hands settled on your hips. He started stroking into you deep, angling in a way that made your stomach jump. The depth started to overwhelm you and your hips twitched forward on instinct trying to ease away. A soft, panicked whimper slipped from you. Smoke felt it immediately.

“Look at you, baby. Makin’ a mess for me already. Look so fuckin’ pretty like this….Stop runnin’ from me. This what you wanted, right?” When you didn’t answer fast enough, his hand came down in a light stinging spank across your right cheek. “Answer me when I talk to you baby”

A startled gasp left your throat and you pushed back to take him deeper.

“Y-yes. I wanted it ju-Ah! Just like this” you whimpered out helplessly. His palm gently rubbed the cheek, massaging away the sting.

“Good girl… keep that arch f’me just like that and take this dick real deep.” His other hand came up and fisted gently in your hair just enough to pull you back onto his dick. He left another spank on your ass as he buried himself deep, grinding the thick head of his dick against that swollen spot deep inside you in slow deliberate circles. A thin string of saliva left his lips and landed right where he was stretching you open. The warm sensation forced a moan from you and you arched deeper for him.

“S-so good Smoke. Thank you for fucking me like this. I love it so m-much.”

Your fingers clenched the cushions under you as he kept stroking. Smoke’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He never imagined you’d talk to him so filthy, and he loved it. He released the fist in your hair and wrapped both arms around your waist. He pulled you up and back until you were sitting fully on his thighs, spine flush against his broad sweaty chest.

The new position kept him buried deep inside you. You kept fluttering around his length as he bullied himself into your swollen, oversensitive walls. Your thighs were trembling on either side of his and the sweat made everything slippery and hot. Soft, shaky whimpers kept spilling out of you as he stayed deep.

One large hand splayed low on your belly, pressing gently and increasing the pressure in your tummy so you could feel every inch of him. The other hand came up and his fingers wrapped lightly, but possessively, around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, just held you there. Owning. His thumb rested against your pulse, keeping your head tipped back against his shoulder while he rolled his hips in a deep, slow grind. Soft kisses pressed against the side of your face while he murmured in your ear.

“Finally stopped all that runnin’, now you takin’ this dick just like you wanted it.” He kissed you messy and open mouthed, claiming your lips and swallowing your little moans. When he pulled away, you let out a breathless little laugh that turned into another moan.

“This… this the most you ever talked to me.” You managed, voice real shaky. “I—I like your voice.”

Smoke made a low, pleased sound against your ear. He took your wrist gently and guided your hand between your thighs, pressing your fingers against your clit. He moved them in slow steady circles, showing you the exact rhythm he wanted you to use. Then he left your hand there. 

“Keep touchin’ this pretty lil pussy just like that, and I’ll keep talkin’ for you, baby.”

You obeyed, fingers moving in the same slow circles he’d just shown you. The dual sensation of your own touch combined with the thick length of him grinding deep made your body shake harder in his arms. Soft, dazed moans left you and your eyes fluttered as the mixture of your arousal and his pre-cum slicked your fingers. Smoke’s lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“I kept catchin' you lookin’, y’know.” his voice was soft but the words were filthy. “Every time I was sittin’ with my legs spread wide…you’d stare. Thought I didn’t notice? I saw the way them pretty eyes kept droppin’ to my lap.”

He ground deeper and the hand on your throat tightened just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded, in a good way. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto your shoulder.

“This what you was thinkin' 'bout’?” he asked, voice gravelly. “Me holdin’ you real close like this… dick all the way inside this lil pussy…” he nudged just a little deeper on the last word. “Makin’ you take it nice and slow while you shakin’ and creamin’ on me? That what you kept you starin’ at me for?”

When you whimpered in response, he nipped lightly at your earlobe.

“Answer me, mama.”

“Y-yes” you managed. Smoke grunted before trailing the flat of his tongue slowly along the outer curve of your ear. The sensation made your eyes roll back hard and another helpless sound spilled out. A thin string of drool slipped from the corner of your lips.

“Just like that” he murmured. “Keep them lil fingers movin’ like I told you to. Pretty pussy stuffed so full and you just sittin’ here takin’ it and droolin’. And here I thought you was so innocent.”

He rolled his hips again, slow and mean, keeping you locked against his chest as your fingers worked your clit, soft sounds kept leaving your throat. He drew the next orgasm out just as carefully—voice real low and filthy against your ear, until your whole body shook in his lap and a long, trembling cry left you. 

“Keep cummin’ for me, just like that. Told you this grown man dick was different, baby.”

Your walls fluttered and pulsed around him in heavy waves. More cream spilled out around his dick again, making the wet sound even filthier. He held you through every second of it. Hand still possessive on your throat, the other firm on your belly, murmuring praise against your skin while you came. Sweat and spit and cream made everything between you slick and messy. 

The second your body started to soften, Smoke’s rhythm broke. He kept you locked against his chest, head tipped back on his shoulder so you could see the side of his face. His hips stuttered, grinding deep one last time before he barely pulled out. Just enough that the thick, swollen head of his dick slipped free and rested heavy against your soft folds. His hand left your belly only long enough to wrap around himself, stroking fast and tight right against your pussy.

A sound tore out of him that you’d never heard before.

Low, rough, almost wounded, like it had been dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest. His head tipped back, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut for a second before they opened again and locked on yours. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot out across your lower belly and the soft lips of your pussy in messy, heavy stripes. Each pulse made that same raw sound catch in his throat, quieter the second time, then again as another thick spurt landed on your skin.

He kept stroking himself through it, head of his dick dragging through the mess he’d just made on you and hips twitching every time another wave hit. His hand on your throat never loosened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you so you had no choice but to watch him fall apart against you.

When the last weak pulse left him, he stayed there breathing hard, forehead pressed to the side of your face, dick still resting against your messy pussy, and cum cooling on your belly. The only sound in the room for a long second was both of you trying to catch your breath.

“…Fuck” he finally muttered, voice wrecked in a way you’d never heard from him before.

When the last tremors finally faded, he laid your trembling frame on the couch. Still in between your legs, he leaned in and pressed soft, wet kisses to your swollen lips while your pussy clenched around nothing, missing him already.

Eventually, he pushed himself up off the couch, still breathing a little hard. He disappeared down the hallway and came back a moment later with a warm, damp washcloth. You were still stretched out where he’d left you, thighs parted slightly and chest rising and falling.

He sat on the edge of the cushion and started cleaning you softly like you were fragile. The cloth was hot and gentle against your skin as he ran it over the soft inside of your thighs. He wiped away the slick and the faint marks his hands had left. Then he moved between your legs, careful and thorough, making your stomach involuntarily jump. Lastly, he wiped the cloth across your tummy, erasing the thick stripes of his cum from your soft brown skin.

The whole time he barely said anything. He was back to his usual quiet self. His eyes kept drifting up to your face, taking in the soft, blissed-out look in your eyes, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the gentle bounce of your breasts with every still-uneven breath as your body tried to calm down. Something quiet and tender rested in his expression while he worked.

When he finished, he set the cloth aside and finally met your eyes.

“So what now?” you asked, voice soft and a little raw.

Smoke’s gaze flicked up to yours again and he shifted, settling his larger frame next to you on the couch and pulling you carefully into his chest. One heavy arm wrapped around the small of your back. The other found your hand and gently intertwined your fingers with his.

“Ima get my black ass decent before yo uncle comes in here…” he murmured, thumb stroking slow over your knuckles. “And then...it’s up to you.”

You were quiet for a second. Your cheek rested against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart. When you spoke again it was almost a whisper.

“I like you. Wanna see you again.”

Smoke didn’t answer right away. He just pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, lips warm against your skin as he let the words settle between you.

“We gon’ figure it out,” he said finally, voice low and sure. “You worth the trouble, baby.”

And that was enough for now.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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Everything posted here is written

by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to Al tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.

He loved it when you squirmed, became fidgety, started edging him not out of malice or intention but out of fascination, awe, and your own greed. For a man of his nature, the longer you played with him and the more worked up you got him, the sounds that came out of his mouth became increasingly and surprisingly high-pitched. You'd called him pathetic once, earning a growl that faded into more huffing and puffing as his brows quirked upward and he gritted his teeth. You knew just how to work him right.

Remmick smirked down at you as these thoughts of his beautiful torture passed through your mind. He reached down with his free hand, turning an open palm so you pressed your cheek to it before his fingers curled around the nape of your neck and he yanked at a fistful of your hair, causing your spine to arch like a kitten's while you whimpered and crawled forward, up the length of his body.

"Now, now, I know how to work ya nice and good, too," Remmick murmured, dilated pupils darkening his gaze and his smirk widening, revealing the jaggedness of his teeth. They were hardly human, even when he hid behind the mask of a man. You merely whimpered at the warning, angling your hips over his cock and grinding them downward so your swollen lips pressed against the sides. You both gasped as the sensitive contact, each curve of your pelvis making his tip graze your clit gentle enough it sent your head spinning. Remmick squeezed his fist again, so you lowered your face toward his and met him in an eager kiss, leading him to cradle your skull--releasing your hair--and slip his tongue between your teeth.

Your hands planted above his shoulders and your knees pressing into his sides, the next time you curved your back and rubbed down into his erection, shivering at the way the mix of your saliva and the drool of your pussy's natural lubrication made his cock slip easily between your folds, you did so so that his head stretched the musculature of your entrance and your walls became filled with the first inch, then two, then three of him before you stopped, already panting.

Remmick had pulled his arm from behind his head. His thumb tracing your nipple, pinching it before squeezing one of your breasts and cupping the side of your rib cage, he kissed you rougher, muffling the beginnings of his more desperate noises, until your lungs burned and you opened your mouth to catch some air. You could feel the movement of him inside you with each flinch of his hips as he fought the urge to slam up into you, knowing you'd need a few more moments to adjust. But you wanted to feel that sweet ache, the sting of his intrusiveness. So you fell all the way down, sitting into his lap with a wince and the straightening of your spine. Remmick seemingly coughed, then lengthened his throat with a strained moan, his hands falling to your hips at the same time, a string of curses fell from his agape mouth. You kept them coming by rolling forward, planting your fingers splayed across his pecs and bouncing yourself on him with the squeeze of your thighs and pushing of your knees, clawing at his skin and causing red to bloom in the wake of your touch.

As soon as he was able to find a way to form words again, Remmick huffed, "mm-fuh-fuck, w-well, damn," his words choppy from the rythmn you fucked him. His hands only helped pull you back down as they kneaded the supple meat and he allowed you to not just fuck him but to fuck yourself on him, use his body to work out anything you needed to. Your face scrunched, your eyes rolling back, brows pulled together in concentration, he didn't have to read your mind or think too hard on it to know you had thoughts going on that needed distraction from. The only thing he corrected was, "look at me, darlin,' if you're gon' use me, look at me," all in his thick accent that swept over you and drew your eyes back to his. "That's it," he praised, "look at what y'do to me," smiling and moaning and giving you a convincing show--because nobody needed convincing. You felt it so deep inside you each time he knocked up into the cushion of your cervix that he was close, his ribs flaring and abdomen tensing, breath becoming more strained, his whimpers, whining, and moaning all becoming pitched higher and mixed together once he stopped trying to fight it. "You-gh-s'fuckin' pretty when y'using-me, all greedy, usin' me up, ah-fuck-fuck! that's, yeah, oh-yeah, that's good, that's so good--"

When he came, he shut his eyes and held you down on him, gritting his teeth and holding his breath, accidentally bucking you up with jagged kicks of his hips before a growl tore from the quivering tension in his body and his warmth leaked from you thick and sticky. His arms then slumped lax at his sides while he tried to catch his breath, all the while you carefully reached down between your legs where he slowly went soft inside you and scooped up a glob of his cum with your fingers.