~A~

gif cred: @punksrhea

pairing: jey uso x black fem!reader

word count: 15k+ (idek i just see him and get inspired, lowkey blacked out)

warning: smut!!! MDNI. (for the love of god)

description: when tell you jey about a potential storyline with you and the scottish warrior, he gets a little out of character…

“I think Hunter is gonna have me start doing a thing with Drew, I dunno.”

You say this nonchalantly, flippantly, as you scroll through texts from your aforementioned boss, both of you spitballing potential ideas for a future storyline involving you, five years deep into your career and in need of a refresh.

Coming off of an injury is the perfect excuse for a revamp, showing a side to your character that the audience hasn’t seen before. Perhaps there’s something to this…

“Man, what thing?”

It’s the tone in which the question is being posed that has you lifting your eyes from the screen, the dull light illuminating your glossed lips as you raise a perfectly arched brow. “Like, maybe, something along the lines of a partnership.”

Jey Uso stands before you, unimpressed frown on his face as he shakes his head. The wild curls of that infamous mullet of his flinging with a boyish charm that warms your heart.

You two have been good friends, best friends, for a few years now—really almost ever since you debuted on the Raw roster—and by this point, it was not a surprising sight to see the both of you like this, sequestered in a dark, quiet spot of whichever arena was housing the latest live show.

He was always so easy to talk to, and fun to hang with. You remember being so damn scared finally being pushed into the spotlight with the biggest names of them all and expected to compete with them, but Jey had been there since day one. His deep voice and easy grin a balm on your nerves and a battery in your back. At this point, he was rivaling your own family for being your biggest cheerleader. He was damn sure the most reliable support system at work and beyond.

Even though you’d been adamant that Jey did not, under any circumstance, come visit while you were on the mend and instead lock in at work, there was not a single day—hell, maybe even hour—that he wasn’t calling, texting, DM’ing to keep in touch with you. The recovery process was overall steady but hurt like a bitch, and even though Jey respected your wishes to stay away, his love and support as you got through it never faded.

It’s a struggle to think what this all would feel like without him…

“You and…Drew?” You nod succinctly, wondering at the disgusted pull of his face. “Man, hell naw.”

And did you dare to think that he was your biggest cheerleader just a moment ago?

It stops you up short, his surprising disapproval. A spark of fear lights up inside your chest. Jey always supported anything that was for the betterment of your career—what was this?

Dropping your hand, you stand up straighter now. Your crossed arms versus the hands on his hips. The posture screams incoming fight. Harmless bickering is one thing but you guys don’t argue.

“What? Why not?” You, more defensive than you want to be. Showing your hand too early. Just basically shoving your hurt in his face. “You don’t think I could pull it off?”

Jey shoves off your rising insecurities by shrugging, which has your chest twisting in a weird way. Your cheeks are getting warm now under your perfectly set blush. Your nose itches as you all but glare up at him through your lashes.

“Baby, it just don’t sound right—not to mention, it wouldn’t look right either.”

It’s blunt—too blunt—but Jey has never withheld his feelings with you, nor anyone. A trait of his that you always admired, and a complete opposite to the way you sat on your thoughts and feelings most times. But, of course, Jey was good at making you open up and express yourself without abandon. There was hardly anything in the world you didn't tell him.

Which is why you thought nothing of this and was confident in sharing it before it could potentially take off. But the things he’s saying don’t sit well with you at all.

Look right? What the hell?

“Now, what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jey?”

Jey barely flinches at your profanity but he’s not one to shy away from confrontation. If anything, he rises to it, a stank look in his eye. Not exactly directed at you—even through your rising irritation you can see that—but he does seem extremely annoyed overall.

“Girl,” he kisses his teeth, “Drew is a big ass Scottish muhfucka. What the hell he know about you?”

You, as in not exactly small by any means—hips wide, ass homegrown and toned legs that go on for days and definitely not Scottish. Safe to say, you and Drew McIntyre are total physical opposites. His pale skin and your milky brown complexion. Your wide chocolate eyes and his narrow icy blue ones.

So, what?

If Hunter and the rest of creative thought something could come from a duo with the Scottish Warrior, who were you not to give it a shot? Aligning with him would be one of the more interesting things you’d done since returning two months ago from your recovery off of a broken elbow.

You couldn’t believe Jey wasn’t seeing it.

“Are you serious right now?” If your face wasn’t beat right now, you’d be scrubbing it in frustration. “Are you forgetting that you had a little thing with Rhea? Yall couldn’t be more opposite!”

Jey and Rhea had your utmost support when creative got the exciting idea to try their hand at something between their characters. Two of the biggest stars in the company, beloved by the crowd. It was a no-brainer, even if it did fizzle out in the end.

But Jey clearly isn’t trying to hear you. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah but she’s Mami and I’m the Main Event,” he boasts, gesturing to himself, “it was gon’ be fire no matter what!”

And just then something hits you, with startling clarity. You are now truly, deeply offended.

“Wait—are you saying that I’m not a big enough star? Because we all know Drew is!”

The accusation is nasty but it sounds true to your ears. Still in your twenties—even though it’s late twenties now—everyone tends to treat you like the locker room little sister.

To be looked after and cooed over, even if you put your body on the line show after show. Even if you perform and entertain to the highest of standards. It’s not unappreciated by you, though, just a little irking sometimes.

Jey makes the souring mood starting to develop no better because has the nerve to laugh. “Now you know I ain’t said that,” he grins, as if you’re ridiculous. “I’m just saying I don’t see it, personally.”

“Well, maybe I do. Hunter does, and so does Drew.” You say this through clenched teeth, waving your phone in his face. “I’ve been talking with them about this for days. It’s going somewhere!”

Jey pauses, eyes dropping to the phone in your hand, the open display highlighting the blue and grey message bubbles, how long they are. Takes in the way your eyes instantly shift to the screen as the phone dings with another text.

Then he goes quiet for a while.

You scoff at him before responding to the text, trying to shake this off because even if he was pissing you off, it didn’t feel good to be doing this with him.

Just as your message goes through does Jey finally speak up again, a touch quieter. “Y’all be talking?”

And you know he means Drew, because of course you have correspondence with the boss—just about everyone does.

“I mean, yeah. This thing could really happen, not to mention he’s kinda cool. Funny, even.”

Another ding. Another lengthy grey bubble. Jey can see it, leans a bit more into your space to peer down at the phone. He can even see Drew’s contact name, how it has an actual emoji beside it.

If you weren’t replying with haste to Drew’s message, you’d be able to catch the way Jey’s entire face shifts into something dark and ugly. The way he stills at the sound of your breathy laugh.

He’s quick to fix his face when you lock your phone, still amused by whatever the fuck Drew said. But there is a heavy quiet surrounding him. One he cloaks himself in when’s trying to reign it in, keep his temper under check and controlled. Had you not been too busy with Drew, you would’ve picked up on that.

However you only sigh, lazily shifting your focus back onto him, tossing him a look through those mink lashes. A dismissal, he wonders?

“Look, Jey, I really don’t know why you giving me a hard time about this one. You’ve been so cool about literally everything else. What’s one little romance?”

Romance. You never said anything about romance.

Jey scoffs, the sound ugly even to his own ears. “Yeah aight, have fun witcho new lil’ boyfriend. Just know he be fuckin’ on half the women’s roster.”

You blink, almost cartoonishly, a few times in rapid succession as you try to take in what he said. A strange swirl of emotion hits you, then. Too confusing for you to even process. His tone. His snarl. Hell, even his stance.

What the fuck…?

You wrench your head back, hands raised because you just don’t know what to do with this. “You know what, Joshua,” and the serious use of his name—which you rarely call him—has him rearing his own head back, “I’mma just go because this is weird and something is off here. Talk to me when you wanna be my friend that has sense again.”

Before he can utter a breath in response, you’re spinning on your heels and striding down the shadowy hallway away from him. And no matter how far you go, his words still follow you, his resentment echoing in your brain.

Why the fuck would you even care about who Drew is or isn’t fucking? Why is that something he would even bring up? How was it relevant at all to what you were telling him?

You don’t have an answer to this but Rhea certainly does later and what she tells you has you all but yelling, “get the fuck outta here! Stop playing!”

She does not, in fact, stop playing. She only just stares at you with this knowing look on her face. How dare she look so certain after saying something so ridiculous?

You laugh in the midst of lacing up your boots for the night. “Rhea, sometimes I forget how funny you can be,” you snort again as you move from one boot to the other, “but, girl, you are downright hilarious. Jey is not jealous.”

“What? I’m not joking—everyone knows how he is when it comes to you. And I love my boy,” she proclaims with a solemn hand to her chest, “and I don’t wanna out him but it’s fairly obvious why he’s so mad.”

You ignore that, standing up and moving to your bag, fiddling with—well, you don’t even know. You just need to do something with your hands.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s everyone?”

“Me and Liv were just talking about you two.” Go figure—they talk about everyone. Still, not a big deal. “We saw you, holding hands.” Jey’s a touchy person. You, less so, but with him it’s second nature. What’s holding hands, a hug, between two people who cared for each other? “It was cute that he was holding your purse on the way in, too.”

You shrug at that, at the smirk on her face, trying to appear unaffected—this was the last thing you needed before your match—even if your stomach is starting to go haywire. Pre-matches jitters, to be sure.

“He always does that, nothing new.” Which, yeah, him carrying your bag whether it be a small handbag or one of your, in his words, big ass totebags was just a credit to him being raised to be a gentleman, obviously. “We came here together, so what?”

Rhea is relentless, though. Trying to prove some point. “That’s another thing!” she crows excitedly. “You guys travel everywhere together. You mean to tell me you never felt the tension in that tiny little Kia Soul?”

“Don’t you talk about my car, she’s small but mighty—and brand new.”

You won’t tell her who you brought along car shopping that day. Who went over all the details whether it be mechanical or financial with the dealership. Who ensured that you got exactly what you wanted, even if he hated the car itself.

Hell, you’re certain if you allowed it when he initially asked, he would’ve paid for the damn thing.

“Babe, you know how I feel and how anyone with eyes should feel about those fucking travesties.”

You mock scowl at her but forgo defending your choice of vehicle any further—haters gon’ hate. “Okay, so you’re basically telling me that you and Liv gossip over fake news and fairytales. Big deal.”

“Jimmy said as much too! His own twin!”

Which you do not find surprising in the least. “Jim is just as bad as the girls. He’s always trying to get the tea.”

“And spill it. He told us that Jey’s ex has been trying to get back in the picture and that while usually he’d be all for it, he basically told her to kick rocks,” Rhea shares wickedly.

Now this, you did not know. And Rhea can tell because when you freeze and turn to face her again, her black painted lips are stretched wide in a grin that can only be described as shiteating.

“Mina hit him up again?”

Rhea nods, still cheesing.

Oh, Mina…

Beautiful. Successful career in sports journalism. Well off. Fit. And crazy as hell.

Jey hadn’t brought her up in a while, now that you think about it, but usually that was a sign of him entertaining her again. You learned early on in your friendship that it was best not to get involved when they were on. It’s not like Jey ever listened—whether it be you or his own family. No use in beating a dead horse.

“But he’s crazy about her…”

A fact you quietly bemoaned once or twice. Jey and his damn dating life was just as entertaining as any live show, and a total train wreck. There’d be many nights when he would ask you so, I was in the wrong? (usually, yes) or text you a long ass paragraph describing Mina’s latest antics—his ass being thrown out again for whatever she deemed him guilty of doing or her cussing him out in public without shame.

You’re sort of embarrassed to know even you had been responsible for some of her blow-up’s at Jey.

Even if you felt her and Jey weren’t a match by any means, Mina had a charm to her that inspired you to try to befriend her. Each time fell flat, though. The woman just did not fuck with you, period.

“Was crazy about her. Hasn’t been for a long while, so I’ve heard. Hm, I wonder why…” Rhea trails off, lips puckered to the side. Trying to appear innocent as if she’s not just full of surprises for you tonight.

You shake your head. All of this being too much. Your phone dings with two messages simultaneously and you feel a wave of relief to not have to keep this conversation going for the split second it takes to see that one’s from Drew asking about your dinner plans for tonight and if you'd like to carry the conversation further—yes, you respond quickly, just pick the spot and i’ll come—and another is from Jey and that’s he’s so sorry and can you guys just talk?

“I bet that’s him.”

You blow out a frustrated sigh before shoving the phone into your bag and going into deep stretches in the next breath.

This is all bullshit. None of this matters because none of it is true. You know Jey better than most people, if he harbored any sort of feelings for you it wouldn’t be hard to tell.

…At least, you think.

“If you’re tryna throw me off my game so I don’t whoop yo’ ass tonight, this is a good attempt.”

Rhea laughs, getting to her feet before shouldering her gleaming championship gold. You eye it thoughtfully.

If this Drew thing took off, could it possibly mean being lined up for another title shot? Gold came into your hands twice now, once through winning in an upset against Becky and another after challenging Bianca.

You’ve been on a string of matches/encounters with or against Rhea ever since coming back, and the reception to it all has been fairly positive. There’s no denying how fruitful it’s been to work with her. Perhaps it could turn into the most gratifying of fortunes?

It would be nice…

The other woman notices your focus, her trail to the door stopped short. “Uh oh, you gunning after me now? I promise not to keep teasing you about your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my—”

But the protest falls flat as she just laughs again and departs, leaving just you, the empty locker room and your muddled brain.

Like a lost little puppy, you trudge over and slump down into one of the cubby holes, blowing a stray bang out of your eyes.

Why would she even say that? You came to her to rant in confidence and hopefully have her back you up—not to have her laugh in your face and blatantly tell you that Jey was jealous.

That he, in her crazy words, has the hots for you.

Now, look, you aren’t blind.

Jey is…well, Jey.

Fine as hell. Talented. Funny. Charming. Older. A grown man unlike the “men” your age that still seemed to be catching up to you.

To be honest, you genuinely might’ve only thought about him in ways friends shouldn’t think of each other a couple of times. Moments of weakness, of desperate selfishness on nights when the hotels felt cold and lonely, the car rides long and unending, the flights nonstop and draining.

And maybe when you were in the ring sometimes. When you took a harder bump than expected and it felt like you never knew how to breathe at all, knowing he was most likely worrying. You wondered if he felt pride when you went all in on a promo and the crowd was alive and hanging onto every word, that you wanted to do good just to show him.

In a way, deep down, you know that you crave his attention. That you love when he calls you his favorite girl and always attaches himself to you whenever he can. It’s thrilling to be known as best friends because that simply means that you have some sort of ownership over him, and he with you.

But why did it feel so good to be in his proximity and him in yours?

It isn’t his star power you crave. Funnily enough, your paths barely crossed in the ring. So, it’s not like you were trying to gain favor through his fame. How far you’ve come, no matter who your support system was, has been off your own strength and willpower.

Maybe it’s just due to him being so good to you. You don't know about him having the hots for you, or whatever, but you do know that Jey cares for you.

Anything you need is addressed and handled often before you can get to it yourself. Many times you never even have to say but he tends to be attuned to your wants, needs and fanciful little whims and provided whatever it was that you desired.

Your checks hadn’t been nothing to sneeze at since making it onto the main roster but Jey didn’t care. When it comes to money, it was near useless to protest him spending his on you.

But it’s not even about the money—that is the last thing that matters as far as Jey is concerned. He understands your life. What you do, why you do it. The hunger you have to succeed. He knows the ups and downs of being a pro-wrestler all too well, and how refreshing is it to be with someone like that?

Someone that, despite his many years of experience over your still budding career, feels like an equal.

Goosebumps rise and with them a buzz along the entirety of your skin. An understanding of what this is in reach as you slowly crawl to it.

But you’re still in disbelief, and none of this will feel real until you talk to him. You’re just not sure if you want to.

—————

As promised, you do whoop Rhea’s ass and the crowd had been roaring at the chemistry between you two as you fought and scraped in the ring with each other yet again. Coming off of the win is a nice little high, just what you need to push through the rest of the night and confront whatever would unfold.

“Yo, killer, great match,” comes the praise from none other than The Tribal Chief, his fist outstretched to you in the midst of gorilla.

With an appreciative smile, you knock knuckles with him, chest still heaving with exhaustion as the adrenaline shoots throughout your sweat-slick body.

“Thanks—didn’t know you were watching.”

Roman shrugs, tall and strong, radiating silent power even just standing still. “I catch most of your stuff.”

News to you and nice to hear. You’d be slightly embarrassed to tell him just how often you studied his matches.

“What’s this I hear about you and Drew?”

The question is posed more quietly and after he nods for you to step to the side into a darker, isolated corner with him away from the hub of the blue-lit monitors and gaggle of overseers.

You’re surprised at the genuine concern in his eyes, in the furrow of his brow. He’s no stranger to you, but he’s not as close a friend like his cousins are, though there is a mutual fondness.

And, honestly, if he didn’t look so concerned you’d feel more annoyed, but then you also feel partially bad—did Jey come to him in confidence like you had Rhea? Was he upset?

“Just ideas being thrown around,” you try to come off as casually as you can, forcing yourself to not look away and meet his steady gaze. “Ways to bring in a new dynamic, I guess.”

Roman hums, eyes drifting off contemplatively, before he flat out states, “you don’t need Drew for that, though. If anything, you really don’t need anyone for that. You’re solid. If you do truly wanna go the romance route, though—and with a real star, mind you—it’s crazy creative ain’t consider Jey.”

Two things: the way he says Drew’s name as if he thought of him in the same realm as an insect was more amusing than it had any right to be, and the unflinchingly honest opinion that Jey would be a better option.

“Oh, um…” And you really don’t know what to say to that, to the twist and turns of your gut.

Roman is highly intuitive, though, and takes the wide-eyed hesitation as permission to further state his case. “I mean, look, I know y’all are close and maybe it’d be too weird for you, but Drew is definitely not the draw.” His eyes are wide as he gestures, clearly amused by Drew, in general.

“At least with Jey you’d be working closely with someone you know, someone you trust and there’s nothing better than that, believe me.”

You don’t know why but you feel the need to debate, to ask: “What’s so bad about Drew, anyway? He seems nice.”

“Yeah, I bet he does—and don’t get me wrong I enjoyed sonning his ass time and time again but I can’t imagine what a man like him could possibly offer you. And imagine this: you and Jey do a tag thing, romance, whatever and it’s hot? Gets you into the mix with us, with the Bloodline. We could use a fresh face around…”

What an odd thing, to see Roman Reigns so impassioned over hypotheticals that involve you. You wonder if Jey thinks the same but it seems obvious. He usually believes in his cousin’s vision for anything concerning the Bloodline.

And it is slightly flattering to be considered for such a thing.

You huff a laugh through your nose. The grind truly never stops with this family. “Feels like you tryna recruit me, and here I thought you were here on account of your cousin’s feelings.”

Roman shrugs. “I mean, I kinda am but it also really ain’t my business. I know y’all are gonna be good, even if he’s looking all sad and shit.”

Sad?

You crane your neck around, involuntarily searching before you can catch yourself. “Any idea where he is?”

And you quickly realize that’s a stupid question, you look at the clock on the wall and roll your eyes—he should be approaching gorilla any second now to meet Roman before they went out for the show’s final segment.

“Nevermind—look I gotta go, got plans,” and you carefully choose not to mention your future dinner companion, “but I’ll think about what you said.”

Roman nods, watching as you move quicker than expected after taking such hard bumps from Rhea, but you are keen to get out there and just get on with your night. You’re not avoiding anyone nor are you shifting your eyes around in fear of crossing paths with anyone, either.

Before you can fully disappear into the shadows, Roman calls out to you: “Aye, you still coming to the spot after!?”

And damn, you forgot about that. Roman can tell, too, because he looks highly amused at the guilty look on your face once you turn around. “Wow…forgot my birthday, huh.”

“Of course, I didn’t.” Not technically, anyway—just in the moment. With your un-ending thoughts. You even got a gift for him, tucked away in your bag. “Happy birthday, Ro,” and it’d be bad of you to not crawl back and give him a hug, so you do.

“Totally gonna be there after dinner,” you promise, pulling back but not too far with the arm he has slung around your shoulder.

Roman peers down on you, almost like he has something he wants to ask you but refrains for your comfort. In short, he just says, “I’ll be waitin’. Now, go on,” and nods towards the exit.

Grateful, you slink from his grasp and shyly wave bye before actually leaving gorilla this time.

It makes no sense how wired up you are now. You really hadn’t planned on doing much tonight but now it’s looking like you’re all booked up. Which is good, because it affords you to pay less attention to the roar of the crowd when Roman’s music hits, knowing who's gonna be by his side as he walks out.

Thankfully, no one is around when you come back to the locker room to watch you hastily unzip your bag and anxiously grab your phone. Only an address from Drew and nothing else worth noting.

You remember you were supposed to go to Roman’s birthday party with Jey, but now that doesn’t even feel like an option. He’ll most likely be showing up with Jim and Roman himself now. But the silence is as much as addling as the idea of a response.

I don’t have time for this, you succinctly tell yourself and go through the motions of packing your shit up and getting back to tonight’s hotel.

Getting ready takes a bit longer due to your plan of going straight to the club hosting the birthday festivities rather than just back to your room. But it’s worth it because you just know you put that shit on.

Face beat and hair curled perfectly. Giuseppe heels and blood-red vintage Hervé Leger bandage dress that hugs your body just right. With a fly ass Chanel bag to boot.

Look, this is the Tribal Chief’s birthday—no way are you going to half-step.

Dinner with Drew goes by pretty quick and pleasantly. He’s funny with that Scottish charm and nice to talk to. He doesn’t pressure you into deciding if you truly want to try the new angle with him but has many ideas to share that you expand upon yourself. He even picks up the entire tab with not a single thought and asks if you’re going to the party, whether you’d wanna ride together.

You utimately decide against that—Jey’s stupid, irrevlevant he be fuckin on the half the women’s roster in the back of your brain—but say yes to trailing his car through the city streets and walking in together, because why not?

The club is one of the more up-scale clubs you’ve ever stepped foot in and Drew makes a show of whistling at the grandeur of the place, how it’s all decked out for Roman Reigns.

It’s not surprising that basically the entire roster and crew is here. Say what you want about the character he portrays, Roman is loved by the company and respected by its workers.

“This place is crazy,” Drew scoffs, shaking his head. “Anything for the Tribal Chief, eh?”

You wonder at the underlying bitter in his tone, why he even actually came. From Jey to Roman, it doesn’t seem like there’s much fondness between any of them.

You shrug, gift in hand. “He’s earned it. Speaking of him, I gotta find him and give him this,” you shake the ribbon-wrapped box at the Scotsman, yelling over the pounding music as you step further into the lights, “I’ll find you later!”

Drew nods, eyes trailing you as you envelop yourself into the party. Immediately, you’re accosted by all sorts of shouts and hugs, trying to move deeper into the club.

“I thought you weren’t coming!” Bayley, as she scoops you into a crushing hug.

“Nooo, she was. She just had to finish her dinner date with Drewww. See, they even came in together and he’s watching her.” Liv, grinning evilly with a straw between her teeth.

“Ohhh shit, sis, I ain’t know you got down with the milk!” Je’von, his eyes shifting back and forth before hugging you next. For his comment, you poke him hard with your nails in his side, to which he cries out, “my bad, my bad, my bad!”

“Uce bouta be hella mad...” Montez, sharing looks with Rhea and Angelo.

You suck your teeth, pushing past them to scan for the man of the hour. Unsurprisingly, you find him sequestered with his cousins, and more cousins, in a dark section some feet away. Inwardly, you snort as you think about how this is his night and he’s barely interacting with the people here for him.

“Can y’all shut up and move out the damn way?”

Montez raises his hands up as in surrender and steps to the side. When you stalk by, Rhea says nothing but her eyes say too much as she looks between you and the section.

You’re too sober for this shit, which you don’t realize you say out loud but you must’ve because immediately Liv is yelling for shots! and, magically, Dom appears with a tray of foreboding shot glasses, filled to the brim.

“Let’s goooo!”

You take another look at the section, who’s in it, before happily accepting a glass as Dom brandishes the tray towards you. “Tequila?”

“The only way!” Dirty Dom shouts, grinning in that mischievous way of his. “You gonna need two, girl—get another!”

You start to protest but then they start chanting—double shot, double shot—and it’s, like, well…mama ain’t raise no bitch.

The first shot goes down nice and smooth, everyone around joining you and whooping crazy after. But then you’re alone for the second, eyeing the glass between your fingertips warily. Just as you think you’ll have to take it alone, Drew reappears, his huge body sliding just a little too close behind you as he plucks a glass off the tray, but you like him enough so it’s fine.

“What are we cheers’ing to?” He asks you specifically, and it doesn’t take long for you to shout almost as loud as the bass, “to the OTC!”

Everyone cheers and laughs as you and Drew throw back the shots and you pull a face at doing two back-to-back. Dom disappears into the crowd, probably returning the tray and glasses, making way for Becky to slide into the small little circle that’s been made.

Immediately, she’s smiling, her eyes wide as she notices you and you're just as delighted to return the hug she’s wrapping you up in. Becky’s cool—you’ve always liked working with and talking to her.

“Oh my gosh, girl, you look stunnin’!” Her accent is more pronounced and when you pull back, you notice that glassy look in her eye as she gives you the once-over. But you’re starting to feel warm yourself and less nervous than before, so you repay the compliment loudly. “Oh pssshhh, everyone here looks like chopped liver next to ya—this dress is perfect on you!”

“And I had the pleasure of sharing dinner with such a fine lady this evening,” Drew brags, looking high and mighty.

Becky makes a sound of affront. “Ya lucky bastard—Uce’s gonna have you for that!”

You frown while everyone laughs, all of them in on some joke that you aren’t. Did they all share the same opinion as Rhea?

“I’ll take Jey down,” Drew boasts jokingly—you think—before slinging a heavy arm around your shoulders, “don’t care.”

Liv gives you a look, eyes wide before gesturing behind her with her head, towards that section. You look, simultaneously noticing the newly vacant spot on Roman’s right and the man now pushing through the crowd. Coming closer and closer.

Fuck.

“Aye, man, hate to do this to you and everything,” you’re slightly horrified as Jey shoulders in, past a knowing Rhea, and leans forward to grasp your arm, pulling you away from the burly Scotsman and into his side, “but she’s needed over here with me, uce. C’mon, baby.”

You truly hate that the first thing you notice, other than the blatant irritation in his eyes, is how good he smells and how warm his body is next to yours. And, strangely, you missed him.

Only a few hours, in which he was responsible for making you anxious and confused and overall upset, but you missed him.

“Why?” Drew dares to challenge, something tense building here that you did not like. “To say happy birthday? She already did. She told me—over dinner.”

And, ew.

Jey might’ve upset you earlier and you still don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but you know you don’t like Drew’s tone as he speaks to him. You don’t overly care for how Montez and Angelo make a yikes face to each other, or how Liv says uh-oh under her breath.

Jey doesn’t care for it either because he actually looks two seconds from flipping this damn club upside down if Drew implies anything else. And the last thing you want is for Jey to get active. Because, trust, he’ll get active.

“You know what,” you cut in with a false smile, moving closer into Jey’s side, his arm automatically wrapping around your waist, “we’re actually gonna go so I can give my gift to Roman. Y’all done held me up too long, anyways.”

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Bayley says diplomatically, suspiciously maneuvering her body between a jaw-clenching Jey and a smug Drew. “Have fun, guys.”

Not much more needs to be said after that. Jey is quick to whip your bodies around, arm still firmly around you, hand on your stomach as he steers you towards the VIP section—the touch truly nothing new but, tonight, it feels…

“Fuck he meant by dinner?” And it’s said with such a tone of disgust that you cannot help but to laugh, further pissing him off. You don’t wanna piss him off. It’s just—is he serious? “Oh, okay—yeah it’s funny. We gon’ talk about this shit.”

But not any time soon because as soon as you start heading up the tiny amount of stairs into VIP, you hear, “Oh shit, now! They lettin’ baddies into the section!”

“Man, shut the hell up,” Jey scowls at his twin, letting you go in favor of plopping back down in his original seat.

You roll your eyes at his attitude before grinning back at Jimmy, arms wide out for a hug. “Jimmmm! How are you?”

“Man, I’m good—got Big Uce out with us for once.” He jabs a thumb over to Big Uce. “You know his ass a damn hermit.”

Roman, from where he’s been sat in the center like a king presiding over his court, echoes Jey’s earlier statement. “Shut up.”

You chuckle at their antics, pulling back to reveal your present to the birthday boy. He looks genuinely surprised, “oh, so you didn’t forget.”

“Of course, I ain’t forget.” You watch with eager eyes as he takes it. “Now, come on, open it.”

Roman shakes his head, smiling as his fingers undo the bow. “You didn’t have to,” he laughs when you, hands on you hips, give a yes, I did look, “but I appreciate it.”

“That’s better,” you tell him, stepping further in to shoo Jey over.

He smacks his lips but does so, anyway. You take in the hard line of his jaw, how hard he’s clenching his teeth. You don’t know what comes over you but you whisper don’t be like that before raising a hand to smooth over his jaw. He relaxes but only a little, side-eyeing you for a moment that seems to linger before sliding his gaze over to his cousin.

The wide stretch of Roman’s grin has you smiling too as he opens the box to reveal a very nice, very expensive watch. “I know how much you love ‘em, so here’s another for your collection.”

“And I helped her pick, too.” Jey pipes up by your side. “So really you should thank me.”

You roll your eyes. “Boy, no you didn’t. You was looking at some bullshit actually.” Jey, predictably, smacks his lips at the sound of Jimmy’s cackle. “I have good taste.”

Roman chuckles, still appraising his newest timepiece, whistling in appreciation at the way the diamonds dance under the blue lights. “You sure do—this is fire,” he nods in approval before smiling your way, “and this ain’t cheap, too. Thank you.”

“Anything for family,” you say now, shyly shrugging, a little tipsy from the shots, warm with Jey’s body heat bleeding into your skin.

And Roman’s eyes grow warmer at that, a quiet fondness there that he only does look at those he deems family with. A step up in your relationship.

“You hear that, uce?” Jimmy nods over to Jey, eyes wide with secret meaning that’s slowly starting not to feel so secret. “She family.”

You look over your shoulder but now his shades are on and he says nothing, just nods impassively. Roman is standing when you turn back, stomach twisting, pouring a drink which he hands off to you.

“Now, that’s something we gotta toast to.” His words make you, and all his cousins, come to your feet. He raises his glass, everyone in the section following suit. “To The Bloodline! To family!”

“To family!” Everyone cries in unison. Roman leans forward to clink your glasses together, signaling you to drink the dark liquid with him.

It burns going down but it’s good. One of Roman’s younger cousins you’re not familiar with approaches you with a friendly hug and then Jacob, who you actually do know better, is wrapping a strong arm around your neck, yelling in your ear about how he loves you and that you’re good for Josh.

You return the sentiment but altogether bypass that other statement, which Jacob notices. “Aye, sis, lemme holla at you real quick,” and then he’s escorting you off to the side, his eyes strangely serious for someone intoxicated. “When y’all gon’ stop playing?”

Your first instinct is to deny, deny, deny. To act dumb. To shrink down whatever this is. But then your eyes are catching Jey gazing your way, obvious even behind those shades, and you can’t stop the exasperated laugh that falls from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you say plainly, honestly. Throwing your hands up because you cannot believe you’ve been so willfully blind. It’s a testament to how much you truly like Jacob, being so open about it for the first time.

“This is all catching me off guard, to be honest. It’s, like, I’ve always, always known that Jey cares about me. He took a chance on me, from day one by my side. Not only being my best friend but guiding me, being invested in my career. That means, well, everything.”

“But he’s always been in a relationship. Even when that shit was off, it was on, you know?” Jacob nods, listening earnestly despite his glazed over eyes. “And I care too much to risk anything. Whatever this is, it’ll fizz out and it’ll blow over and we’ll still be just us. It has to, Jake.”

Jacob hums, amusingly contemplative with a drink in his hand, before saying, “Look, I love my uce, man. And I know him, too. Just like you do. And he loves the fuck outta you, girl. You can’t tell by now?”

With that, you can’t help but glance back over to Jey, standing away, sipping his drink. Still watching. You don’t even have to see his eyes to feel him. Feel what he’s feeling.

You shake your head, blinking over at Jacob. “I can’t do this. I’m not good at relationships. Neither is he, to be honest, and we’d only just ruin it. Like I said—this’ll blow over.”

Jacob looks like he wants to say more but you don’t, so you polish off your drink and politely excuse yourself. Instead of going back to your seat, it’s the dance floor you turn to.

Liv is excited to see you again, grabbing you up and screeching out a, “finallyyyy! Let’s dance, bitch!”

And dance, you can do.

Shaking. Twirling. Gyrating.

The liquor for sure has kicked in because you don’t give a damn who sees, you’re doing all of it. Your work family takes turns spinning you, touching you, grinding on you—it’s so fun, you barely care who it is just as long as the music keeps jumping and the drinks keep coming.

Shit, you’re so lit right now you’re pretty sure the body behind your whining hips is Je’von—who damn near feels like a little brother to you—but you’re unbothered and feeling better than you have all night.

But, then, you're being spun around by Je’von…who actually turns out to be Drew. “Oh, shit—my bad!”

“Why’re you apologizing?” he smirks, big hands on your still moving hips, bringing you closer. He leans down so his voice is in your ear. “I have nothing to complain about.”

“Right…” you trail off, unsure, eyes anxiously darting over to the VIP area, to Jey standing at the front of it. His eyes are most likely shooting flames behind those shades, threatening to light Drew’s ass up. Jimmy in his ear, no doubt telling him to chill. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

The Scotsman snorts, peering over his shoulder to Jey. “He got a claim over you now?”

In a way, you think. But not entirely.

“I don’t wanna step on any toes,” Drew is saying now, gathering your attention again. His blue eyes are fierce and slightly unnerving as he admits: “I just can’t deny that I’m eager for you to say yes to working with me, not only ‘cause you’re good but also because you are beautiful. I want a chance to prove myself.”

The admission makes you a little dizzy, though you’re not dumb—Drew has been clearly attracted to you from the jump. You just didn’t expect him to say as much, and so soon.

“Prove yourself…to me?”

Drew nods, sincere, squeezing your hips. “Don’t you know half the boys are dying to get with you, but don’t even try because of your Samoan bodyguard?” What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. “Jey’s a fool for not giving you what you deserve.”

He gives me everything I deserve, is what you would say had you actually possessed the capability to continue speaking. But you don’t.

“Tell Hunter yes and I’ll give you more than he ever could, sweetheart.”

Your face pulls, affronted by the pet name. “Like I said before, Drew, I’ll think on it. Excuse me, I’m tired and need a break.” From you, you tactfully leave out.

Drew makes a noise of protest as you break off from him, sliding through the sea of bodies and huffing to yourself as you all but stomp back over to VIP. Jey’s there at the top of the stairs, still staring down your former dance partner.

“These heels are starting to kill me,” you tell him by way of greeting, “and I need some damn water.”

You don’t see Jey behind you grabbing a bottle off a nearby table as he follows you back to the now abandoned couch. Roman is some mere feet away, laughing at something Jimmy and Jacob are saying when you plop back down on the velvet couch.

Jey settles right next to you, holding out the water which you gladly take and guzzle down. Big arms crossed over his chest, his voice is dry and unamused as he narrows his eyes. “Tired from shaking ass on everybody?”

Not willing to play into it, you coolly nod. “Something like that,” you shrug, sipping some more.

But he’s not content with that. He forces you to play his game.

“You fucked him?”

It is a close thing to not spit your water out everywhere but you certainly choke a little. Jey lets you recover while pushing his glasses onto his head, so you can see just how serious he is. His eyes are hard and unforgiving.

If there was ever a world that existed in which you did have sex with Drew, it wasn’t this one but he didn’t seem convinced of that.

You wipe at the sides of your mouth, forcefully putting the water bottle down, making the small remnants splash on to his dark wash jeans. Not that he cares. He’s still staring hard, daring you to confess.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” The volume of your shriek managing to reach the ears of his family even over the music, gaining their wary attention. “Why would you ever think that?”

Jey shrugs, hands folded, uncaring of the looks. “I said we was gon’ talk about this shit. Y’all came together. Had dinner together. Your fuckin’ phone was on DND for two hours while I was tryna get in touch with you. He was over there hugged up on you and shit, you grinding on him. Probably got him bricked. Genuinely, what the fuck are you doing?”

“One thing I’m currently not doing,” you jab a finger in his face, truly hot now, “is fucking Drew McIntyre—are you insane!?”

But, of course, Jey just has to be a stubborn ass hothead and not even listen to you. Getting in your face as he raises his voice a fraction, “currently? So there is a chance, then! I’m not fuckin’ stupid!”

“What does it matter to you!?” You shout, arms stretched out. “It’s never mattered to you who I’ve fucked before. For all you know, I could’ve fucked anyone we work with.” His eyes flash in anger but you have a point to prove. “I’m a grown ass woman, in case you forgot! If I wanna fuck any one of these niggas, that’s my business!”

“You better not be—you don’t even get down like that,” he sneers with a disgusted frown. As if casual, consensual sex as an adult should be beneath you. It is not. You do, in fact, get down like that but haven’t ever since you’ve been injured and recovered to return to work.

“And everybody know better, anyway,” Jey goes on, bragging his supposed ownership over you. “They know not to even think of you like that.”

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh loudly, maybe even immaturely but you’re past caring. If he wants to go there, you’re right with him. “Drew told me a lot of the boys want me but yo’ ass is cockblocking which, you know, is pretty upsetting because,” you pause to tap your chin as if in thought, “now it’s coming back to my attention that I ain’t had none in a while. At least Drew’s not afraid to try it. Kinda sexy of him, actually…”

The words land, of course. You watch smugly as Jey’s eye actually twitches, his top lip pulling back into that signature snarl that displays the gold in his mouth before he scrubs a hand down his face. He takes a long moment to stare up at the ceiling. If he’s smart, he’d be wisely considering his next words to you.

When he looks at you again, it’s still heated but there’s a different glint in his eye now. One that makes you subtly shift in your seat and blow out a nervous breath through your nostrils.

“You got this tight ass dress on,” he sucks his teeth, reaching up to tug at a strap, the sting that comes with it snapping back against your skin making you gasp in light outrage. “Dancing on dudes and ignoring me. What is it, huh? Why you actin’ out?”

Acting out? You huff out an unimpressed breath, eyes shifting before returning to stare at him in disbelief. Slowly, confusingly, he grins like the Cheshire cat—gold fronts glittering deviously.

Backing down isn’t an option for you, but somehow you can feel that you’ve lost.

“If all you wanted was some dick, baby, all you had to do was ask.”

Not the words you were expecting to hear in a million years.

The reaction is instant. You gasp quietly but you know he can hear it, too close to you not to. Your cheeks flush as your eyes widen, staring at him in shock. Your head feeling fuzzier for more reasons than the alcohol.

“Yeah, shut that shit up.” Jey commands, leaning forward to grab your chin and make you look him directly in the eye. Not allowing you to shy away or hide from it.

“Don’t I give you everything you need?” Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, you nod dumbly underneath his palm, his gaze approving. “Don’t I always take care of you?” Another nod because he does, he does it the best. “So, why you going to other muhfuckas like you need something from ‘em? Do you?” A shake of the head. “So get yo’ fine ass up, go wish uce happy birthday again, and meet me at the door.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A part of you is terrified, heart beating fast as hell, but the larger part of you is so turned on you could genuinely moan right here and now. Jey is gone before you can approach Roman again but you’re quick to do what he says, lowkey cursing yourself with every step that makes it blatantly obvious how wet your panties are.

Roman and Jimmy must feel the nervous, frantic energy coming off of you because in unison they ask with worried gazes: “Y’all good?”

You giggle anxiously, wringing your hands together. “Y-yeah, we just, um, realized that maybe we shouldn’t be doing all that in front of everyone at your birthday party,” you wince apologetically at Roman. “So, uh, yeah…we’re gonna take our conversation elsewhere like adults.”

Behind them, Jacob is watching you with a knowing smirk but doesn’t say a word. Roman does, though, coming forward to embrace you and thank you graciously for coming along with the gift. Jimmy, however, narrows his eyes suspiciously at you and then back towards the direction his twin vanished to. Which has you thinking in a panic fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows…

“Well, be safe, girl,” is all he says after hugging you too, still regarding you with a glint in his eye. “Don’t hurt him too bad, now. I need my tag partner!”

Laughing again, you depart the section with waves to everyone. Once you disappear onto the dance floor, does Jimmy plainly state: “Oh, they finna fuck.”

Roman nods, going back to his drink. “Fuckin’ finally.”

“He gon’ do her in, too,” Jacob adds, locs swaying while he shakes his head, as if pitying you.

Had you been there you would’ve been mortified by their blunt observation but you’re not. Your heels currently clack viciously along the floor as you near the doors. You manage a few rushed goodbyes but don’t make the time to stop for anyone, not wanting to make Jey, or yourself, wait any longer.

Like he said, Jey is there at the doors when you approach, casually standing off to the side as the bouncer talks to him about something you genuinely can’t care less about. Once he sees you, he holds his hand out, gesturing to your purse. Mutely, you hand it over, coming close to hug his arm to your body, already simpering with need as he grabs your keys.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to you and then raises a hand to dap up the bouncer. “Aye, man, don’t work too hard. Have a good night, uce.”

The bouncer returns the sentiment but it barely matters when Jey is already tugging you out of the building, your purse slung over the shoulder you’re not wrapped around. You shiver as the cool night air hits your bare legs, burrowing closer into his side as the two of you make way to the parking lot.

“You cold, baby?” Baby. He always calls you that but it sounds different now. Full of meaning that actually does feel like a claim. You bite your lip, nodding up at him. He brings you closer into his side, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “We gon’ get you warm real soon.”

Another rush of heat goes through your veins at the double meaning of his promise. Your treasured candy red Kia Soul comes into view and Jey hits the button to unlock the doors. You break away from him, going to the passenger side but he’s right behind you, quick to open the door for you before you can.

“Thank you,” you peer shyly up at him before sliding into the seat and quickly bringing your legs in so he can close the door.

Jey rounds the front of the car to slide into the driver’s side, using the push to start to bring the engine to life. While he backs out of the parking space, your head is spinning with so many thoughts and questions, mainly—are you really going to do this? Could this not ruin everything?

You’ve been quietly fretting so long that you didn’t even realize you’re on the road until he speaks up, one hand on the wheel, the other a warm balm on your knee that was just bouncing a second ago.

“Aye, baby, do me a favor?” You gaze at him in wait, his side-profile so handsome under the city lights that streak through the glass over his face. “Answer me a question.”

“Okay...”

Jey nods, taking a left turn before speaking. “You said you ain’t had none in a while—how long?”

The question has your heart beating fast again, the pulse of it rivaling the one between your legs. “Since before the injury.”

More nodding, as if he thought as much. “And in all that time, what did you do to blow off steam? Did you touch yourself?”

And, Lord, what a question. You rarely talked about sex with Jey. If there were any discussions about it, it was him telling you about a past experience or him casually asking if you’d been recently entertaining anyone in that way. But nothing so forward.

You try not to blush—you are grown, for fuck’s sake—but Jey makes it hard to remain cool. “I mean, yes, but that’s normal.”

“Okay, cool—so put your hand in them panties and do it for me.” You stare at his face in shock but he only glances at you before turning his attention back on the road. “It’s aight, mama, I just want you to be ready for me.”

If he weren’t operating a moving vehicle, you might’ve actually jumped on him. Instead, you refrain from your baser urges and tell him with a breathy whisper, “I been ready for you.”

It’s Jey’s turn to tell himself to chill, you can tell by the way his eyes flutter shut for a brief second and how knuckles turn damn near white on the wheel. You’re delighted by the effect you have on him. You have to give it to Rhea—Jey did have the hots for you.

“How long that pussy been wet for me?” he asks as calmly as he can. His restraint only makes you hotter.

“Honestly?” Jey nods, glancing at the Apple Maps as it guides him closer to the hotel. “Probably ever since you snatched me up from Drew.” Because that shit was sexy. In a stupid, man-cave way. How he mean-mugged Drew, how tight his arm round its way around your body. How his entire body language said mine, mine, mine. “And there’s been other times…”

He can’t help the way his head snaps to your face, at the glossed lip underneath your teeth. That doe-eyed innocent look you perfected and only looked at him with. “That I got you wet?” You nod, batting your pretty lashes at him. “What you do then?”

“This.”

Spreading your legs, you follow his instruction and dip your hands in between the rucked-up hem of your dress. The breath of relief and pleasure is immediate once you push the lace to the side and feel your arousal, how it clings to your manicured fingertips.

Jey is trying his hardest not to crash the damn car but, fuck, if you don’t look good as hell right now. Sound good, too. Not just your hypnotizing breathy moans and whimpers but the actual sound of that dripping pussy being played with ricochets throughout the small enclosed space of the car.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Jey,” you breathe out, clit underneath your fingers, more moisture pooling with every circle and stroke. “I actually wanna make it to the room so you can fuck me.”

“Girl, keep playin’ and I’ll pull over right now and make you take this dick on the side of the road. I don’t give a fuck.”

The blunt statement incites you to pick up speed, openly moaning now because it feels too fucking good to do anything else. So many nights you’d done this, secretly thinking of him the whole time, the pleasure in the moment too good to feel the guilt that would come soon after.

But now you don’t have to feel guilty because the feeling is mutual. Always has been. You’re allowed to take. To have him. “Jey, baby, I’m already so fuckin’ c-close—shit,” you whine in warning, leaking more than you ever have, belly tight with the too fast rising of your climax. “Fuuuuck, I’m gon’ come!”

Jey is so grateful for the red light that comes up, completely forgoing looking at the road in favor of your pretty face all scrunched up and your desperate hand working away between your legs. His own hand comes up to the back of your neck, maneuvering your head in his grasp to meet your heavily-lidded eyes with his sharp ones.

“Go ‘head, bae, get that fuckin’ nut and come for Daddy.”

And that’s really all you need.

It’s a fucking miracle, with how hard you come, that you don’t squirt all over your seats. Instead you just shake and shout so loud your throat feels raw as you quite literally experience heaven on earth, Jey a greedy voyeur at your side.

“Fuck, baby, gimme some,” and your head is still reeling so you don’t even have time to register his words before your hand is being snatched away and your fingers are in his mouth in record time. He moans so damn loud between sucks and licks, you would’ve thought he was the one that just came.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.”

A loud, abrupt honk interrupts you, bringing you back to reality. Oh, god—you really just came at a stoplight. “Hurry, baby, it’s green.”

Jey takes your fingers out his mouth but keeps a firm grip on your hand as he accelerates a touch too fast. Hazy with the orgasm, you thread your fingers in between his, neither of you caring about the dampness of your touch.

You quietly watch him the rest of the way. It’s just about three minutes but it’s three minutes spent with quiet shared looks between you and him, both of you marveling at each other, reveling in the newfound change in your relationship.

“C’mon, ma, we here,” Jey tells you while throwing the car in park in front of the ritzy hotel. He remains seated, however, when he glances over at you, eyes roving over your flushed face, lingering on the softness of your lips.

“I had you come for me but ain’t even kiss you yet,” he chuckles a touch boyish, bringing a smile to your face. “Shit hella backwards.”

You lean forward over the console, emboldened by his pure, honest desire for you mixed with that sweet earnestness you always loved. “You should fix that, then.”

Jey doesn’t need to be told any more. He leans forward, his big hands enveloping you, cradling your head to bring you closer and hold you as your lips finally touch. It’s automatic—how easy it is to kiss Jey.

Of course, it is. The rhythm unhurried and full of promise. His lips so soft and pliable upon your own. The pass of his tongue to get you to open up. How both of you moan at the meeting and slide of your tongues, the wetness there.

You reach up to grip his biceps that strain under his white tee, desperation keying up to an all-time high to feel how strong he is, how big. His hand drops down to the back of your neck, gripping there as your heads tilt to get deeper into the kiss.

“Fuck, Jey, I need you so bad,” you plead with a heaving chest as you break for air, his eyes so dark and pretty, “I can’t wait no more.”

On cue, a knock at your window has you turning to see a polite-looking valet trying peer through the tint. “Alright, shit, let’s go,” Jey agrees before bestowing another peck on your lips.

Both of you exit the car, you shyly nodding at the young valet as Jey comes around and hands your keys over. He grabs your hand, nodding his thanks at the man before tugging you along. Equally still intoxicated and riding the high of Jey has you stumbling once or twice after him but he only laughs and brings you closer, not so sober himself.

The elevator ride is unshockingly spent with him in your space, crowding you against the wall as his lips trail dizzying kisses along your neck, the line of your clavicle, licking into between your cleavage. You hold him close, fingers embedded into his mullet as you spread wide for him and grind onto his pelvis, feeling what lies underneath those pants for you.

“You don’t know how bad I want you, baby,” Jey says into your skin, his eyes low just like yours. “How sick I was when you were gone and recovering at home. How sick I get when someone thinks they can touch you. Can have you.”

You shake your head, messy bangs creeping into your eyes. “They can’t,” you avow faithfully, “not now. Not ever.”

Jey pulls back to look at you, unblinking. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, baby,” you reassure him easily, caressing his bearded jaw. Chest feeling like it’s gonna cave in with how fast your blood is pumping. “I’m yours, and I’m not doing that stupid storyline with Drew. I’m not doing it unless I can do it with you.”

Jey presses his forehead to yours, staring down at you so intensely, your toes curl in your heels. “You want that? You want the world to know you mine, mama?”

“‘Course, I do, daddy,” you tell him just as the elevator dings with the arrival to your floor and the doors slide open. “I want everybody knowing who I belong to, and who belongs to me.”

Jey mutters a fuck under his breath before taking your hand and leading you out of the elevator to your room with haste. You giggle as he struggles with the keycard, kissing along the back of his neck in the meantime before he eventually gains access to the room and snatches you into it.

As soon as the door slams, he’s on you again. Hands everywhere. Lips everywhere. You can barely keep up. He succinctly decides that he’s, “gotta taste you for real,” before putting his hands on your hips and guiding you towards the plush bed.

Before he pushes you down on it, you stop him with a hand to chest, the other hand reaching around for the zipper at your back. Jey is quick to help when you fumble, admiring the smooth skin of your back that gets revealed to him inch by inch the further the zipper goes down. You shift so he’s in front of you again, a sly smile on your lips as you shimmy out of the straps and drop the dress altogether to let it pool at your feet.

You’re naked as the day you came into this world with the exception of your panties and heels and Jey is eating you up with his eyes.

“Damn, baby—it ain’t fair how fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

You can't help but grin bashfully, especially as you coyly request, “if you’re gonna eat my pussy, can you at least take your shirt off for me, daddy?”

“Hell yeah, girl,” his overzealous agreement makes you giggle before taking your lip in between your teeth as his skin comes into view. Your eyes greedily rove over the ink, seeing it with new eyes. Taking in how fine he is. He notices your desire, how you unabashedly check him out, and nods towards the bed. “Sit that sexy ass down for me.“

You obey, excitement ramping up to see him kick off his Forces, his pecs flexing as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down. The sizable print he sports in his boxer briefs has your mouth watering instantly. If you were wet before, you were soaked now.

“Lay back, beautiful,” he says, approaching the bed. Which you do, head still spinning from the drinks and giddy as ever. Jey drops down to his knees, eyes greedily drinking in your bare skin from the length of your smooth legs all the way up to your round tits sitting on your chest, the brown nipples peaked and hard.

“Let me take care of you…”

And then your panties are coming down your thighs to be tugged off past your feet and thrown elsewhere. You’re more eager than you realize, spreading your legs without him having to tell or coax you. Pussy on display as Jey grips your hips to pull you closer, more open and wide for him.

You have the audacity to blush at the look of awe on his face as he studies the arousal threatening to drip down to your ass at this point. How soft and delicate you look in this special place.

“Pretty ass pussy,” he salivates over it, breath fanning your mound and clit in a dizzying manner. “You been hiding this from me, huh.” His thumb comes up to lightly circle that pearl, coaxing more cum out and making you whine already. “Hiding such a perfect pussy, knowing I be fiendin’ for it.”

He’s going to kill you before his mouth even touches you. “Baby—Jey, please.” The desperation bleeding out of you must work—you don’t even have to beg that much before he’s gripping your thighs and pushing them back to give one searing lick from hole to clit. “Oh, shit…”

He’s relentless after that.

He chooses to immediately focus on your still sensitive clit from the car orgasm, flicking and lapping at it with his tongue. You cannot help but to start twitching already, not when his mouth feels so fucking good. A mouth you imagined on you countless times but the dreaming pales in comparison to the real thing.

“Relax for me, baby,” his voice muffled by your wet cunt, a hand coming up to rest on your belly.

But that’s easier said than done. Jey is on a mission to make you feel good, kissing and licking your pussy with finesse and hunger. You helplessly run your fingers through his hair before gripping the curls for dear life, moaning and writhing on his mouth as he groans from your touch.

Jey rears back to spit on your pussy, not because you weren’t wet enough but because he’s nasty as hell, and the smug twinkle in his eye as he looks up to see your eyes rolling back after witnessing his filth is proof of that.

“Always knew you’d be so sweet,” he slurs in awe, lips messy and wet with you. “Can’t let nobody else taste it now.”

Instantly you’re shaking your head with the sheets in a death grip under your hands, voice guttural as you choke out, “nobody ever. Just you.”

Because it’s true. Just one taste of Jey, along the night’s revelations, already has you inwardly swearing off any other man.

“Oh, yeah?” Jey hums, greedy gaze drinking up the sight of your swollen clit under his thumb, the clear sticky fluid drooling out of you with every twist of his skilled finger down to the crack of your ass.

He decides your hole looks lonely and shifts his thumb so his other hand can enter the fray, two thick fingers tunneling their way in. Fucking through the tight grip that chokes them and makes his dick jump beneath damp fabric.

“You promise?” His voice so sweet even if his fingers were doing bad, bad things to you.

Embarrassingly and weakly, you nod down at him rapidly, making you look like some dumb bobble-head as your eyes widen and your grip tugs at the bleached ends of his mullet. “I promise, baby, I swear. It’s so good—don’t want no one else.”

Which he knows now. But the words are still validating as hell to hear. Jey needs you. Has needed you for a long, long time even when he was being stupid and fucking around with people that didn’t matter.

And nothing matters more in this moment to him than you and the pleasure you’ve been silently craving. His own desire intertwined with yours.

Eager to make you feel good, Jey’s mouth latches on your clit and he sucks hard while the tip of his tongue twirls in vicious, tight circles. Nevermind his fingers that still thrust and dig in you, hitting a spot that you’d often found difficult to reach with your own fingers. The sudden intensity sends you crying out, soles of your feet bearing down on Jey’s upper back as you try to not fucking explode in his arms.

Being so attuned to you, Jey senses the fraying restraint on your part, secretly thrilled to watch you try to fight it from between your thick thighs. “Yeah, mama, I know,” his smug yet soothing voice muffled against nothing but wet flesh, “can feel you squeezing my fingers.”

Blood rushes to ears, your face frowned up due to the relentless onslaught of Jey’s skilled mouth. You swear you’re not trying to tug his damn hair out but your grip does become firmer once you start lifting your hips to essentially ride his face. Not wanting the sensation to stop, getting so close…

“Jey—Daddy—oh my god, please.”

And he loves it—groaning loudly, still flicking that wicked tongue before using his free hand to crack you on the side of the ass to encourage the eager thrusts against his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” you moan into the air, head thrown against the fluffy covers. “Baby, s-shit—I think it’s co—unhhh—coming!”

Another hard swat to your ass. The curl of his fingers and the way he rubs against that one spot. Ramping up the pulling on his sucks that echo throughout the entire room and the speed of his tongue.

All that combined with his domineering order for you to, “gimme that shit,” into your over-heated, drenched skin and you’re gone.

The entire room feels like it splits open. You try to scream but the sound gets caught, trapped in your throat. Hips buck and toss against the overwhelming feeling. Thighs tense up and squeeze as your feet shake and your eyes slide back into your skull.

Jey doesn’t move. Holds you through it. Licks and kisses you through it. His handsome face set with determination in the midst of your thighs that has you finally mustering a weak sob that gets bulldozed by drawn out moans.

“Oh, fuck, I can’t…” And you start to push at his shoulders, oversensitivity rushing through your entire frame.

Kindly, Jey rears back and takes a moment to admire your gushy cunt before glancing up to your flushed face. The rapid speed of your blinking at the ceiling convinces him to take pity and come to his feet rather than attach his mouth back to his new favorite place.

“Did so good…” his voice sounds far away and you claw at any strength you can to look down and see his hands at his waistband.

Before you can really register that what he’s doing is taking his underwear off, the entirety of him is free. Hard, long, and thick. Hanging heavy between his tatted tights. So brown and pretty.

Goddamn.

Now, look, subconsciously you were aware, in a way, that Jey wasn’t small or even average. With certain men it’s just obvious. The way they walk, the way they talk. You remember having a conversation like this with Trin—her not outright saying that Jimmy was gifted but that he wasn’t being called Big Jim for no reason. Which got you thinking. And what a coincidence it was that Jey just so happened to walk in the room, Trin raising her brows and glancing at her brother-in-law and then to you, pointedly.

So, yeah, you knew but it still makes your heart skip a beat and has you rearing up onto your elbows, getting a better look as his right hand comes up to start stroking the length of it. Maybe you look horrified to Jey because his other hand comes up to your ankle, thumb brushing over the diamond anklet. “We’ll go slow, baby,” he murmurs, a sweet offer and promise. “I got you.”

Though it’s funny he thinks you’re scared—initially startled, yes—and not as terribly horny as you are. You leer at him under the dark fan of your lashes. “Give me that dick,” you drawl lustfully, spreading your legs even further. The surprised flash of his eyes only further emboldens you, lights a fire in your chest. “I ain’t fuckin’ scared.”

Because you’re not—this is Jey. He would never hurt you. He’s gonna take care of you.

“Shit, girl,” he exhales breathlessly before bringing his knees up to the bed, scooting your bodies further into the middle. Right hand still stroking his dick and making your tongue dart out to your lips as you peek.

He sees the pink wetness of it and hungrily claims your mouth with his own, the kiss quickly turning wet and filthy. Twin moans fall out of you that only stretch further at the sensation of that mushroom tip sliding against you.

“Can’t be talkin’ like that—what if I wanna be a gentleman, huh? Take my time with my favorite girl?”

Any other time, that’d be good and wonderful but the liquor is flowing through your veins and you’re in the arms of this sexy man who is yours after so long. So, you take matters into your hands, knowing how stubborn Jey can be.

You laugh cruelly, gazing up into his glazed over eyes. “Drew wouldn’t be gentle.”

The fire instantly ignited in his gaze is your fault, you know it, and so is the way he cocks his hips back, tip pressing into you faster than you’re prepared. “Wait, wai—” But it’s too late, thundering heart coming to a halt as the breath in your lungs is pushed out of you the same second he pushes all the way in. “Fuck!”

“Shut that shit up, lil girl,” he growls, eyes fluttering at the tightness enveloping him. “Been waitin’ too fuckin’ long and yo’ ass wanna play.”

You did want this, you did but Jesus.

Unable to do much else, you wrap your legs around Jey’s waist and clutch at his broad shoulders as he starts the punishing pace he sets to pound you into the mattress. Squirming and twisting under his strong hold doesn’t do anything other than make him grip your waist and pull your hips into his. The meeting of your bodies borderline painful but so good.

All you can do is take it, and he says as much, spitting down at you, “been bad all fucking night, you gon’ stay here and get this dick.”

It’s getting to be too much, and too quickly. A deep sense of fear is building within—there’s no way you can be coming again so fast. He barely just started.

“S-s-shit, Joshua, I’m f-finna…fuck!”

Above you, chain swinging in your face, Jey nods cockily, gaze darting between the disbelief on your pretty face and the hypnotizing bounce of your tits. “Talkin’ shit but already nuttin’ on Daddy’s dick?” he huffs out, reaching up to grasp your chin in his warm palm. “Did I say you could do that?”

You shake your head under his hand helplessly, pathetically. “No b-but I still gotta! Can’t fucking stop!” Hard rhythmic clenches around him to prove your point. Desperate hands clawing and scratching at his skin. “I-I’mma nut on that dick!”

If he wants you to stop, he’s certainly not helping by latching his wet mouth onto your left nipple, sucking and tugging the brown peak between his teeth. “Jey, oh shittt…!”

That's the last of any warning you’re able to give him before crashing headfirst into another orgasm, shaking throughout the process, only seeing white and feeling Jey’s touch.

Rather than slowing down and letting you come down softly, he rears up off your body a little, snaking a hand up to your throat. The wet slapping noise of your fucking ramping up as Jey only swings his hips harder and applies the right amount of pressure at the sides of your neck.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” Lousy pleas through gasps and eager sucks of air that he’s controlling. Jey is blurry through your tear-pooled eyes but you can see the gold in his mouth when he grins to feel your hand scrambling up to grip his wrist.

“This what you wanted?” he teases, a little mean and absolutely perfect. You’re unsure if you nod or don’t but he laughs all the same. “Never woulda thought my baby was a slut.”

Degradation isn’t always your cup of tea but Jey does it so good that it’s hard to do anything but be just that—a slut.

His slut.

Something is brewing deep down, in the lower pits of your heaving stomach. That initial discomfort that bleeds into an urgent feeling that feels like oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

You’re thrashing now, as best as you can, head tossing left and right. The heels of your feet kick at his ribs but he still doesn’t slow down. Panicked, you push at his chest, his belly, anything.

“Don’t fuckin’ run,” Jey snarls, fingers flexing at your throat, digging into your guts. “Lemme stroke this pussy the way I want.”

But he doesn’t understand. “Jey, s-slow down—I gotta pee.”

These sheets are nice and soft, an expensive cotton—probably Egyptian—and you’d really hate to ruin them.

But, of course, Jey couldn’t care less about the sheets. He leans down right above your face, warm breath mixing with your puffy gasps. “You not gettin’ outta this, baby. Ion give a fuck if you piss, just as long as you come on this dick some mo’.”

That vulgarity paired with the way he shifts into you, ramming into a very delicious spot, is more than enough to have your back arching painfully beneath his big body, a wild screech climbing its way out of your lungs, nails digging deep in his wrist and the poor sheets you’re about to destroy.

“Wet that shit up, mama. Right now,” he barks roughly, his voice the trigger on making your pussy gush around him, spraying onto his lower belly and even reaching up to his chest the more he keeps fucking you. “That’s right…”

Mercy is granted once the last weak pulses die down. Jey carefully slides out of you, him wincing and you whimpering at the loss. The whimpers tumble into low sobs and shakes. Curling up on your side, he’s quick to follow, shushing you and pushing hair out of your face all the while.

“Baby, you okay? Did I go too hard?” His warmth envelops your body, the mass of him curling around you, his eyes scanning your damp face. “Please, say something.”

You remain quiet for another few seconds, blinking yourself back into reality. “I’m good,” you finally say after some time, moments full of his soothing caresses and slightly anxious gazing. “That was good.”

Jey studies your features a little longer, and when he is convinced that you’re not lying for his sake, he’s careful in nudging your bodies over and out of the wet spot. “Yeah, you right—it was good,” he agrees, in between your legs again with a thumb brushing over the line of your smooth jaw. “Squirted all over me like a good girl. Shit so sexy.”

You let out a bashful laugh, eyes sliding over to some random unfocused point in the room. “Made me do it harder than my toys.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” When you look back over, he’s grinning eagerly, making you snort a little with a roll of your eyes. “I knew I had it like that but damn.”

Jey laughs when you push at his shoulder, dropping a tender kiss to your collarbone. “Whatever, Joshua.”

Now, this is what you’re used to. Pure comfort with your best friend. Not whatever messy bullshit you two were doing earlier.

Gazing up at him, those big brown eyes, his beautiful wide nose that you trail a fingertip down, you register he is still very much hard between your thighs. “You know what would really be the last and final step to making me yours?” you muse softly, making his brows rise in question. “Coming inside me.”

The softness of the moment bleeds into that earlier heat. Jey’s eyes darken and he inhales deep, as if to steady himself. You are still awed by the effect you have on him, how you haven’t seen it all this time.

Shaking his head but smiling all the same, he tells you, “you got a wild mouth, girl,” and starts rubbing along your thigh, your ass.

You smile back, raking a hand through his sweat-damp, frizzy curls—there’s no telling what your blowout looks like right now. “I dunno know ‘bout all that…”

“Uh-huh, and what do you know?”

“That I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

How can Jey refuse that sweet wish?

When he slides back in it’s with you folded in half, ankles by your ears and him breathing deep into mouth. The moan that breaks out of you both is one of shared satisfaction.

Your eyes never break away from his, even as the first long strokes turn into something harder and a little reckless. Desperate and maybe a little unhinged, driven by the need to claim you. His eyes dance with the challenge. Like he can’t help it.

It punches the air out of your lungs. Already so good again, already so… “…deep. You’re so deep in me—oh my god!”

Jey groans above the sounds of wet pussy squelching filthily in the air. “Take my dick so good, baby. Only like you can.” The praise has you dripping down his balls. “Tight as hell, too—what you got all this good pussy for, hm?”

The answering cry is instinctual, automatic. You don’t even have to think about it. Your body knows. “For you! It’s f-for you!”

Still staring deep into your eyes, Jey nods approvingly, cockily, “Yeah, that’s right. Grippin’ me like you own me. This your dick? Tell me.”

With every eye-rolling thrust, you have no choice but to chant, “yes, yes, yes.”

Jey is grinning but you can barely see it, eyes blurred by mind-numbing pleasure. He takes it in the way your legs start to shake on his shoulders, the desperate way you claw at his skin and the whites of your eyes proudly. He’s doing this to you, and no one else.

Seeing you so fucked out has him silding a hand underneath your neck, scooping you up to urge your plush lips back to his for a downright nasty kiss that you both moan loudly into. The kind that makes your brain all floaty and your body numb. When he breaks away, you start to whine, blindly pawing at him. You’re already the closest you can physically be to him, and still it’s not enough.

If he wasn’t so hellbent on proving to you why he’s the only one you need, Jey would’ve been come. But he is—there’s no way y’all are leaving this the same way before. He’s going to make sure of that.

“That shit feel good, don’t it? I know you wanna come again, leaking all over me and shit.”

The mention of another orgasm has you slightly panicking—you didn’t think you could come again—because once he says it, you start to feel that impending rush, deep in your belly. Your soul.

Snapping back into clarity, you look up at Jey beeseechingly, hair wild with the way you shake your head. “No, I can’t, Jey.”

“Then why you gettin’ tighter?” He asks in a mocking tone that does indeed have you clenching and pulsing like your life depends on it. “Why you been creamin’ on Daddy’s dick?”

You try to protest again but any defiance is snatched out of you by the feel of his big hands coming up to grip your thighs as his thrusts become even more intense, hitting that sweet spot that has your chest damn near caving in.

Jey can sense your disbelief and panic, dropping his forehead down to yours. How can he look so sweet while beating your pussy up? While snaking a hand down to touch and circle your clit with deadly precision?

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t gotta fight it. Show me how good I make you feel. One more time, so Daddy can nut in his pussy. One more time, so I can make you mine.”

That last sentence has it ripping through you. Stars burst behind your eyelids. You actually think you can see heaven. Overstimulated isn’t even the word. You’re on the fucking moon.

“Aw, shit, bae—squirting all over me again.”

And you didn’t even know that. Too busy caught up in the earth-shattering waves of your orgasm to catch Jey craning his neck down for a better view of your gushing pussy, how his eyes roll back up into his head as he drills into you.

“Tell me you love me.” It’s not just a command but it’s a need. One that tethers you back to Earth, to him.

Slightly taken aback, your gaze sharpens to see his laser-focused on you. Waiting. Pleading, almost. As if you could love anyone else. He’s entirely ruined you in the best way.

He did all this to you, and still doesn’t know it?

Overcome, you slide your hands into his hair, softly scratching at his scalp. He moans at the sensation. “I love you, Jey. I do, so much. Only you, I swear.”

Your confession of long felt feelings has him groaning loud, teeth gritting. “Fuck—I gotta come.”

It makes the taste of your pleasure even sweeter, feeling him shake over you, his muttered curses rumbling in your ear as he holds you close. The heat of his body bleeding into yours. At this point, your bodies were one and nothing could feel better.

“Please come, Daddy,” you mewl up at him, exhaustion creeping in on you under all the pleasure-pain. “Come inside me, I need to feel it.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

It’s not long before he does as you ask of him, sitting deep to shoot thick rope after thick rope of his warm cum into your willing body. The feeling so good and dizzying that it has you giggling, eyes pooling with unshed tears.

Even through the ebbs of his pleasure, Jey cracks an eye open to check on you. However crazy you look, it makes him smile.

When the last ebbs of his orgasm fade, and it’s just you and him slowly careening back to the present, Jey rears up to hover above, watching you still giggle.

And, of course, because he always has to play.

“Damn, my dick was that trash?”

He joins in your laughter when you playfully slap him upside the head, eyes bright and beautiful. “If you call four orgasms trash, then sure, yeah,” you snort, pushing him off of you once he pulls out.

Without a lick of shame, you get up and traverse the span of the floor all the way to the bathroom, not a stitch of fabric on you. However, before you get there, Jey is calling your name, making you look over your shoulder.

He looks so good there, just as nude, just as shameless. Head propped up on his elbow as he watches you. Teeth gleaming with a grin that screams, just got laid. “By the way? I love you, too.”

And when your eyes soften a certain way, just for him, under the lights…Jey has to wonder to himself why he was even jealous at all.

Summary: When the reader is released from captivity by Homelander, she's reunited with a familiar face. Soldier Boy. Her childhood friend. Her true love. The loss of her life. The man she was taken from in 1957. Sixty eight years later and Soldier Boy is baffled not only by her being alive but her young age and apparent powers. Old memories resurface as the pair try to navigate what truly happened all those years ago. New fears emerge as they come to terms with who they now are in a frightening modern world. All the while, Homelander poses a looming threat to not only the two of them but the entire world. Hard truths must be faced. Lines must be drawn. Two fated souls must make an impossible choice. Run or fight. Monster or anti-hero. Soldier Boy or Ben. Alone or together, once and for all...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: ~80K

Warnings: spoilers through S4, language, violence, smut, captivity, mention of torture/miscarriage/parental abuse, supes vs. humans, death, illness, adultery, threats of violence against a child, attempted murder/murder, vigilantism, mention of drug use/drinking/WW2 violence and more

A/N: This series is complete!

This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

✿・・───・・just another collection of djo (steve for the most part to be honest) fanfics i read late 2025 anddd there's gonna be a whole lot of friends to lovers in this one because i have a problem :3╰(*´︶`*)╯

_ _　　+ some thoughts and light commentary

fandoms included: stranger things [✿] fluff [✦] angst [★] smut fic rec list pt. 1 !

divider creds to @mang0smoothie and @strangergraphics !!

steve harrington:

[✦] [✿] there is no other love (it's only yours) by @keeryhours | word count: 8k

　　summary: You and your best friend are constantly mistaken for a couple - sometimes you have a little fun with it. Or, 5 times you were mistaken for Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, and the one time you really were. 　　thoughts: this is the first fic i read on this acc after my old one got hacked :p and this i recall i've reread so many times HIHI the best friends to lovers trope just gets me too hard (and that's gonna be a recurring thing throughout this fic rec list)

Summary: you’ve adapted to your employer’s moods, but you don’t realise how attached he’s become to you .

Status: in progress

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

(gore warningggg)

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

Part 2 here

Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: I obviously took some liberties with the storyline, but I tried keeping it as true as possible to the canon history. No beta used this time around, so excuse my mistakes.

Summary: It started with a blind date. A date you had skipped out on, but fate had led you right to the man you stood up. Steve Rogers, a man small in stature but big in heart. A chance meeting set everything in motion, but decades later when he is unfrozen, he has been told you have died. But when a mission to retrieve Hydra plans turned up some interesting information, Steve’s left to wonder whether you are still alive. Or is this all just false hope?

Part One   

Part Two   

Part Three 

Part Four  

Part Five 

Part Six  

Part Seven 

Part Eight  

Part Nine 

 Part Ten  

Part Eleven 

Part Twelve 

18+ 4k homelander x f!reader. bickering, post-breakup sex, dubcon/coercion, angst, jealousy, emotional manipulation, implied murder, stalking, boundary smashing, breaking and entering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex. read on AO3. written as a follow-up to the breakup, but can be read as a standalone. gif credit.

Breaking up with Homelander is... complicated. After all, it is a god that loves you.

"What do I taste like?" You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over. "Love," he said at last. "Like you love me." You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you. If that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier.

a study of cody rhodes

@eringobragh420 @femdisa

Come. Look. Drool.....