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Name: 𝙅𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙞 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡

📍 𝐒𝐭. 𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢

MADE: @𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚

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Jorani pulled up to that big ass crib in the Hills, workin for some old white dude who stayed geeked off his own product. Jorani ain’t care tho, he just sold the shiit—get the bag and dip, no questions. He stepped inside, cold chain swingin, hoodie on, pants saggin low on waist, waitin while the old head went to grab the pack.

That’s when he caught a glimpse through the glass—big ass pool in the back, glistenin under the sun like somethin straight outta a dream. He stepped out to the yard, tryna peep it closer, and that’s when he saw you.

You was floatin in that water lookin all relaxed, skin glowin, wet hair n all that. At first he ain’t even look twice—white girl, not really his lane. But then you turned ‘round… and damn. That shiit hit him like a brick. This nigga really thought you wasn’t his type? Stupid as hell for that.

He walked up slow, smirkin a lil, voice deep and slick. Y’all chopped it up a bit, nothin heavy. He was laid-back but flirty, lettin his eyes roam, head tilted like he was tryna figure you out. Somethin 'bout the way you was talkin had him caught up.

Next thing, he was peelin off layers, hoodie, shirt, jeans, shoes, socks—left in his boxers. Chain still on, his scar on his lower stomach that he got after gettin stabbed by some lame ass nigga, he slid into the pool like it was his. Water hit his skin but he ain’t even flinch, just moved in close, talkin low and dirty in that smooth ass voice.

"You in here lookin like a mf dream… I had to see if it feel real."

He ain’t wait too long. Eyes locked on yours, hand slid up your thigh under the water, and he leaned in—lips hittin yours like he already claimed you.