hurdaboutuss

[hurdaboutuss]

I think I’ve just written the smuttiest smut ever & maybe my fav piece of work so far (!!!!)

[hurdaboutuss]

SPARKS, SMOKE AND SCARES

Modern Smoke Moore x Annie Moore

Summary: After sneaking away for some alone time at Sammie’s cookout, Annie faces unexpected emotions weeks later when she begins to suspect she might be pregnant.

EXPLICIT

Sammie knew how to throw a cookout. The whole backyard smelled like ribs and smoked sausage, laughter bouncin’ off the fence while Frankie Beverly & Maze floated through the air like sweet tea in summer.

Annie stood on the far side of the yard with Pearline and Rhiannon, fannin’ herself while the girls caught up on everybody’s business. Pearline was tellin’ some wild story about Sammie’s latest stunt, got everybody hollering and clutching their drinks. Annie laughed along, but her eyes kept wanderin’.

They landed on Smoke.

He was over by the grill with Stack and Sammie, all three of ‘em posted up like kings on a throne. Head low, black tee stretched across his chest, chain glintin’ under the patio light, her man looked too good. And the way he threw his head back laughin’? Whew. Annie had to bite the inside of her cheek just to keep from smiling too big.

She sipped her drink slow, pretending like she wasn’t watchin’, but when his eyes cut across the yard and locked with hers? Lord, her heart stuttered. Just like that first time he smiled at her years ago. Married or not, Smoke still had a way of lookin’ at her like she was the only thing in the world worth his time.

Pearline nudged her. “Why you over there cheesin’ like that?”

Annie rolled her eyes, heat creepin’ up her neck. “Girl, hush.”

“Mhm.” Pearline gave her that look that said she saw every thought runnin’ through Annie’s head. Annie just smoothed her dress and pretended to listen while Pearline and Rhiannon dove back into their talk.

Smoke sat with his plate half-empty, Stack joking loud while Sammie flipped ribs like he was on TV. He was laughin’ with the fellas, but truth be told, he wasn’t listenin’ to half of what they said. His eyes kept finding Annie across the yard.

She was standing with the girls, dress swayin’ in that soft breeze, lip gloss catchin’ the light just right. They’d walked in together earlier, but soon as folks started hollerin’ greetings, they split off- her with the ladies, him with the men. Still, he’d been keepin’ tabs on her without even tryin’.

Every time she laughed, he felt it in his chest. Every time she touched her hair or tilted her head, his grip on his cup tightened.

“Boy, you hear me?” Stack elbowed him.

Smoke blinked, smirk slid across his face. “Yeah, I heard you.”

He didn’t, but it didn’t matter. His mind was made up. He grabbed another plate, stacked it high with chicken and fries and strolled across the yard like it wasn’t a big deal.

Annie was mid-laugh when a shadow fell across her shoulder. She turned, and there he was, holding out a plate.

“You been over here all night talkin’, ain’t ate nothin’,” Smoke said, voice low and smooth.

Annie blinked, then smiled slow. “You tryna fatten me up?”

“Nah,” he said, lips curvin’ lazy. “Just takin’ care of what’s mine.”

Her stomach flipped. She took the plate, their fingers brushin’, and Lord, it was like a spark shot through her whole arm.

“Thank you, baby,” she murmured, soft as honey.

Smoke stood there a second longer, eyes lingerin’ like he was memorizing every curve, then gave a little nod before strollin’ back to the fellas. Annie watched him go, tryin’ not to let her grin show too wide, but Pearline caught it anyway.

“Mhm,” Pearline whispered, smirkin’. “That’s all you right there.”

Annie laughed, heat floodin’ her cheeks. She turned back to the girls, nibblin’ at her plate, but her mind was gone.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Hours rolled by. Music switched from Frankie Beverly to UGK, plates piled up, folks two-steppin’ on the patio while cards slammed on the table. The yard was still full of laughter, but Annie felt every second of Smoke’s gaze like a slow burn. Every time she looked up, there he was, eyes locked on her through the crowd.

And Lord help her, she liked it.

After a while, she excused herself, slid inside the house where it was quiet. Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she made her way upstairs to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned on the sink, letting out a shaky breath.

She fixed her lip gloss in the mirror, tried to cool herself down, but then the door hinges groaned soft.

Annie turned.

Smoke stood there in the doorway, chain glintin’, that slow grin playin’ on his lips.

“Boy, what you doin’ up here?” she whispered, tryin’ to sound stern, but her voice came out breathless.

He stepped in, shut the door with his foot. “Same thing you doin’, baby—lookin’ for a little quiet.”

Her breath hitched when he came close, cologne hittin’ her senses like a wave.

“Smoke…” she said again, almost a prayer.

He bent low, lips grazin’ her ear. “You know I ain’t been able to keep my eyes off you all night.”

Her knees damn near gave out.

Smoke wasted no time, pulling her into his arms and capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. His hands roamed her curves, squeezing and caressing as Annie moaned into his mouth. He broke away, his breath ragged. "You're fuckin' beautiful, baby," he growled.

Annie grinned and sank to her knees, her deft fingers making quick work of Smoke's belt and zipper. She freed his cock, already rock hard and throbbing, and wrapped her plump lips around the head. Smoke cursed under his breath, his head falling back against the wall as Annie's hot mouth enveloped him.

She bobbed up and down his shaft, her tongue swirling and teasing, driving him wild with pleasure. "Fuck, just like that," Smoke groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. "You suck my dick so good, baby."

Annie took him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat. She pulled back, gasping for air before diving back in, picking up speed until Smoke was thrusting into her mouth, chasing his release.

But he wanted more. He needed to be inside her, to feel her tight heat around him. "Stop," he commanded breathlessly, pulling her up and spinning her around. He bent her over the sink, pushing her panties aside to reveal her dripping pussy.

With one swift thrust, Smoke entered her, groaning at the feel of her walls clenching around him. He set a brutal pace, pounding into her as she cried out in ecstasy. The sounds of their flesh slapping together and their harsh breathing filled the small room.

"Fuck, baby,” Smoke grunted, reaching around to rub her clit as he drove into her harder. "Your pussy feels so good, baby. I'm gonna fill you up with my cum."

"Yes, yes!" Annie sobbed, her whole body shaking as her orgasm crashed over her. Smoke followed right behind, burying himself deep as he spilled inside her with a deep moan.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting and clinging to each other as the aftershocks of their pleasure subsided. Then, slowly, they pulled apart and began to straighten their clothes.

“Damn baby," Smoke said with a satisfied grin, tucking himself back into his pants. "You know what you do to me?”

Annie laughed breathlessly, checking her makeup in the mirror. "Maybe…come on, let's get back out there before folks start wonderin' where we snuck off to."

Smoke pushed the yard door open, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. A minute later, Annie slipped out the same way.

Smoke sauntered back toward the grill where Stack, Sammie and the others were gathered, trying to act casual like he’d been there the whole time. But Stack didn’t miss a beat.

“Where did you go, bro?” Stack asked, leaning on the table, curiosity mixed with suspicion.

Smoke gave a casual shrug, smirking just enough to keep it playful. “Just needed more ice,” he said cool as ever. Stack squinted at him, clearly unconvinced, but decided to let it slide. Smoke leaned back, cool and collected, as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Annie drifted back toward Rhi and Pearline, laughing at Pearline’s joke about who got the biggest slice of pie. Her cheeks were still tinged pink, and she kept sneaking glances at Smoke, who was acting impossibly calm like nothing had happened.

Even with everyone around, the tension between them hummed quietly. Every look, every small smirk, carried the secret they were both keeping. Smoke’s eyes flicked to Annie every now and then, and Annie couldn’t help but let her grin linger a little too long when she caught him watching.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A couple of weeks had passed since that hot, stolen moment at Sammie’s cookout. Annie tried to go about her days like normal, but lately, something felt… off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it; morning nausea, sudden fatigue, and a sense of queasy anticipation that wouldn’t let shake.

One quiet evening, after Smoke had dozed off on the couch, Annie pulled out her phone and walked quirky into the kitchen. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped on Pearline’s name, then added Rhiannon to the FaceTime call. When they picked up, their familiar smiles filled her screen.

“Hey, girl!” Pearline chirped. “Long time no see. How you holding up?”

“I’m surviving,” Annie replied with a small laugh. “How are y’all?”

Rhiannon waved. “Same old. Been cooped up at work. Y’all know me, always working.”

They joked and laughed for a while, talking about everything from Pearline’s failed attempt at a “fancy” dessert to Rhiannon accidentally setting off her smoke alarm again. But even as the laughter flowed, Annie’s smile felt a little off. She kept fiddling with her wedding ring, twisting it nervously between her fingers.

Finally, she sighed and leaned closer to the camera. “I gotta tell y’all something. I haven’t been feeling too good lately.”

The laughter on the other end screeched to a halt. Pearline squinted at her screen. “Not feeling too good? Annie… girl, what does that even mean? Like, did you eat something funky, or are we talking… dramatic sick?”

Annie blinked, trying to play it casual. “Well… I mean, I thought it was just… food poisoning. Sammie ain’t cook the chicken right or somethin’.” She giggled.

Rhiannon raised an eyebrow. “Food poisoning that lasted two weeks?”

Annie shrugged, looking sheepish. “Hey, I thought it was possible.”

There was a beat of silence before Rhiannon tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Wait a second… you pregnant?”

Pearline practically squealed into the camera, cutting her off. “Ohhh no, girl… don’t tell me you’re pregnant!”

Annie’s hand shot up to her face, heart racing. “I… I don’t know! Maybe? I mean, I didn’t even think about it at first… I just blamed Sammie’s burger!”

“Girl!” Pearline gasped. “You told Smoke yet?”

“Not yet,” Annie admitted, twisting the ring nervously. “I didn’t think it would be that. I thought it was just some weird bug.”

Rhiannon and Pearline exchanged sly grins. “Well, girl,” Rhiannon said, trying not to laugh, “if it is… congratulations! Smoke’s gon’ be so happy, and you know he’s gonna be right there with you the whole way; smiling, fussing over you, probably already planning baby names.”

Pearline leaned closer to the camera, practically bouncing in her seat. “And I cannot wait to be an aunt! I’m already picking out outfits in my head!”

Annie laughed, shaking her head. “Y’all are ridiculous…”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Annie set her phone down, still snickering from Pearline and Rhiannon’s antics, when she heard Smoke stirring in the living room. A few minutes later, he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

“You alright, baby? You need somethin’?” he asked, his voice still rough from sleep.

She smiled, patting his hand. “Yeah, I’m good. Just talkin’ to the girls.”

Smoke tilted his head, peering at her. “Now, what y’all been up to?”

Annie laughed softly and stood, taking his hand. “Come on, lemme sit you down.” They moved over to the dining table, Annie slid onto his lap, settling against his chest. “Pearline and Rhi were jokin’ and fussin’, and they think I might be pregnant.”

Smoke paused, eyes widening for a second, then a slow, warm smile spread across his face. “Hold up…you think you pregnant?”

Annie nodded, twisting the ring on her finger nervously. “Yeah… that’s what Pearline and Rhiannon been sayin’. Pearline’s already planning all the cute little outfits, and Rhiannon… well, she’s just goin’ wild.”

Smoke let out a low laugh, pulling her closer onto his lap. “Alright, alright… we gon’ make sure first, though. Gotta do a test, make sure it’s real before we start celebratin’ all over town.”

Annie leaned back against him, letting the comfort of his arms calm her nerves. “I know… I just wanted you to hear it from me first, before the girls start losin’ they minds.”

Smoke pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, his grin growing wider. “We got this, baby. Whatever comes next, we do it together.”

Smoke stood up, still holding Annie’s hand, and led her to the bathroom. “Alright, let’s get this done and see what we workin’ with,” he said, smirking.

A few minutes later, Annie emerged from the bathroom, phone in hand. Smoke was pacing the bedroom, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a kid. “Alright, baby… we gon’ do this together, aight? Ain’t no rush, and whatever it says… we handle it.”

Annie nodded, biting her lip nervously. “I know… I just… I don’t know why I feel so anxious.”

He cupped her cheek with one hand, looking into her eyes. “Listen to me, Annie. Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of. If it’s positive, we handle that. If it’s not… we still got each other. Ain’t nothin’ gon’ change that.”

Annie held the test in trembling hands as they sat side by side. Smoke draped an arm over her shoulders, and whispered little reassurances. “Whatever happens, baby we gon’ be alright. Ain’t nobody else in this world I’d rather figure this out with than you.”

The minutes felt long, each tick of the clock echoing in the bathroom. Annie fidgeted with her ring, biting her lip, while Smoke hummed softly beside her, telling her about all the little things he loved about her; how her laugh made him weak, how her stubborn streak was something he adored, how they’d always find a way through whatever life threw at them.

Finally, Annie’s eyes flicked down to the test. Her heart sank a little. “Smoke… it’s… it’s negative.”

Smoke looked at the test, then back at her, taking her hands in his. “Baby… that’s alright. That don’t change nothin’. We still got each other, and if it’s meant to happen… it gon’ happen when it gon’ happen.”

Annie let out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I thought… I don’t know… I just…”

Smoke pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, hey… shhh… don’t cry. I got you. We gon’ figure this out, I promise. Ain’t no shame in this, baby. We gon’ get there when it’s right for us.”

Annie pulled back slightly, wiping at her cheek and giving a shaky laugh. “Well… I guess Sammie’s burger really did try to take me out, huh?”

Smoke chuckled, shaking his head. “Lord, baby, I told you, that man’s cookin’ been known to do some things. But don’t worry, you survived it, and that’s all that matters.”

She smirked. “Survived it, sure… but I think I need a medal or somethin’.”

Smoke chuckled, shaking his head, and leaned down to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Well looks like we get to keep trying huh, baby?”

Annie laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Yeah… I guess so Elijah.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Later that night, the house had quieted down, the laughter and playful teasing from earlier replaced by a calm, easy silence. Annie had called Pearline and Rhiannon back to let them know the test had come back negative, keeping it short and sweet to avoid another round of squeals and fussing. From the other room, the faint sound of voices floated through the house. Annie sank into the warm, bubble-filled water, letting out a long sigh as the lavender scent filled the room.

“Yeah, Stack,” he said, voice low but carrying a hint of disappointment. “We had a little scare tonight… thought Annie might be pregnant.”

There was a pause on the other end.

Stack’s voice came through, calm but teasing. “Man… that would’ve been somethin’. You ready for that?”

Smoke ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, man. I was hopin’ it’d be positive. Thought I’d be celebratin’ tonight.”

Stack chuckled softly. “I feel you, bro. But it’s all good. Ain’t no harm done. Y’all still got time, and when it happen, it happen.”

Smoke nodded, leaning against the wall. “Yeah… I guess I just wanted it to happen a little sooner. Ain’t mad… just a little disappointed.”

Stack’s voice grew reassuring. “I hear that, man. But you got the right woman, Smoke. Y’all gon’ handle it when the time’s right. And trust me, ain’t nobody more ready than you two.”

Smoke let out a soft laugh. “Yeah… you right. Appreciate that, man.”

Stack’s teasing returned, “Until then, y’all just gon’ keep tryin’ right?”

Smoke clicked his tongue, grinning. “Man, get the hell outta here!”

Meanwhile, Annie closed her eyes, letting the warm water soothe her and the lavender bubbles calm her nerves, unaware of Smoke’s conversation but feeling comforted knowing he was always thinking of her, even when handling things like this behind the scenes.

She let out a soft sigh, disappointed the test wasn’t positive, but a small smile tugged at her lips. We got each other, she thought, letting the warmth of that truth settle in. Life might not be exactly what she imagined tonight, but Smoke and her, they were in this together, and that was enough.

Across the house, Smoke sat at the kitchen table, phone still in hand after talking to Stack. He leaned back in his chair, staring out the window for a moment. Yeah, he was a little disappointed, it’d have been exciting to know they were expecting, but the thought of Annie, safe and happy, warmed him from the inside out. We got each other, he murmured to himself, smiling. No test could change the bond they shared, and when the time was right, they’d face it together.

Even though they weren’t side by side, that quiet connection, their shared laughter, love, and unspoken understanding, filled the space between them. Tonight hadn’t gone the way they hoped, but both knew one thing for certain: they had each other, and that was enough to carry them through anything.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Heyyyyy! I had this one in my drafts for a couple days then when I came to edit it the majority of it was gone- so its different to what I started out with but I think I’m happier with this version. I know I said I would put this out at the end of the week but I’m gonna upload my Stack x Rhiannon fic towards the end of the week. Thanks for reading once again, I hope you like🤍

[hurdaboutuss]

I just imagine modern Stack being in a relationship with a woman who’s on the same fame level as Beyoncé but she don’t intimidate him. Millions of people wanting her but he don’t let them get to him, he knows she’s coming home to him…..

(Is this me tryna to ask if this is a good fic idea…?)

[hurdaboutuss]

FITTING MOMENTS

Modern Stack Moore x Rhiannon Carter

Summary: A long day at a dress fitting leaves Rhiannon drained, but Stack’s spontaneous check-in changes everything. Between quiet words and lingering touches, a simple visit becomes something unforgettable.

EXPLICIT

The city hummed and honked beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a distant roar that never quite faded beneath the heavy beige drapes. Inside the suite, the soft glow of the chandelier reflected off polished marble and velvet furnishings, but Rhiannon barely noticed. She was ten hours into what felt like an endless fitting for the upcoming gala, the kind of day that left her muscles sore and her patience threadbare. She sank into the velvet chaise, pressing her feet into the plush carpet, and let out what had to be her seventh yawn of the hour.

The gowns surrounding her gleamed under the soft suite lighting, sequins and beads catching the glow, but even their beauty couldn’t erase the ache in her back or the tension in her shoulders. One hand rubbed at her temple while the other smoothed down the delicate dress she was wearing, the fabric clinging to her skin in all the right places. Every adjustment seemed to demand more effort than the last, and yet she forced herself to continue.

Time had lost meaning somewhere between the silk and satin, the embellishments sparkling like tiny constellations she could feel brushing against her skin. She flexed her toes against the carpet and let out another long yawn, wondering how much longer she could endure the meticulous, exacting process before she collapsed entirely.

“This one is from the Galliano era,” the stylist chirped, laying a feathered masterpiece across a polished rack.

“Mm-hm,” Rhiannon murmured, eyes sliding to the clock on the lacquered console. Hours. She’d been at this for hours, and still nothing felt like the one.

She padded into the adjoining dressing room, slipping out of the last gown and into the next. And then—oh.

The corset. Christian Lacroix spring/summer 1996.

The crystals caught the soft suite lighting like a thousand tiny stars, stitched over ivory satin so smooth it nearly purred against her skin. It hugged her waist like a secret, cinched high to frame the swell of her breasts with wicked precision. The matching panties shimmered, crystals cascading over them like liquid light.

When the stylist tied the last lace and stepped back, Rhiannon stared at her reflection and stilled. The bodice glittered like frozen fire, and for the first time that day, she felt alive. Dangerous. Feminine in a way that could make a man forget his name.

She smiled faintly, then bit her lip. Stack gon’ lose his damn mind if he see me like this.

As if conjured by the thought, the suite door clicked open with a weighty hush.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Stack stepped inside like the place belonged to him, all six-foot-something of quiet menace wrapped in a charcoal suit that moved like smoke over muscle. His gait was that slow, unbothered Southern rhythm—each step saying he ain’t never rushed for nobody. His gold grills catching the warm light from the crystal chandelier as he smiled.

He told himself he was just swingin’ by. Quick. Check on his girl after sittin’ through a meetin’ full of men talkin’ circles with too many zeroes on they tongues. But soon as he caught a glimpse through that dressing room doorway? Lord have mercy.

“…Goddamn.” The word left his mouth low, like a prayer he ain’t know he was prayin’.

Rhiannon turned, slow and deliberate, like she already knew she was wreckin’ him. That corset shimmered under the golden light, every crystal sparklin’ like it had a personal vendetta against his self-control. It hugged her waist so tight he could damn near hear the satin strain, and her skin, smooth and glowing made everything else fall clean outta focus.

“Hi baby,” she said, her voice low and teasing, soft like bourbon but sharp enough to cut.

He stepped closer, shoes soundless on that thick carpet, eyes never leavin’ her. “Baby… what the hell you got on?”

She smiled, slow and lethal. “I’m thinking it would be nice for the gala. You like it?”

“Like it?” He let out a laugh, deep and low in his chest. “Girl, you tryna kill me in broad daylight. Look at you. Sparkled up like some damn angel sittin’ on my downfall.”

The stylist cleared her throat nervously. “Uh—I can, um, give you both a moment—”

“Yeah. Do that.” Stack didn’t even look her way, just flicked a hand like she was dismissed from the court of law. The door clicked behind her and now it was just him and Rhiannon, the air thick enough to taste.

“Been workin’ you all day, huh?” He stepped in close, so close she could feel the heat rollin’ off him, smell that clean, dark cologne that clung like sin. His hand came up, rough knuckles brushing over one glittering crystal like he couldn’t believe it was real. He stole a quick, teasing kiss.

“You tired, baby?” His voice was low, syrup-slow, but laced with something darker, something that vibrated against her bones.

She swallowed, lips parting. “A little.”

“Mmm.” He leaned down, breath teasing her ear. “Lemme take care of you, then.”

The way he said it wasn’t no suggestion. It was a promise.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

He didn’t wait for no green light. The way her eyes softened and darkened at the same time told him everything—told him she wanted this just as bad as he did. Maybe worse.

Stack slid his palm down her back, slow like he had all night, tracing the rigid line of the corset’s boning. That thing was snug, hugging her waist like it was tryna keep her from him, and he hated it for that. But Lord, he loved how she looked in it, glittering like sin, skin glowing soft and warm against all that hard sparkle.

“This place got a bedroom?” His voice came out gravelly, thick with something he didn’t bother hiding.

She just nodded, lips parted like she forgot how to speak, and that was all he needed. He caught her hand, swallowin’ hers up and led her past the racks of dresses into the bedroom suite. City lights spilled through glass windows, glitterin’ like backup dancers, but he ain’t see nothin’ but her.

The door clicked shut, sealing them in a hush so heavy it felt like the air itself was waiting.

Stack turned, slow, and leaned back against the door for a beat, lettin’ his eyes drag down her body like he was takin’ inventory of everything God did right. “Baby,” he rasped, voice like smoke. “You don’t even know what you doin’ to me in that.”

She stood in the glow of the lamp, corset glintin’ like a thousand tiny suns, the embellished panties clingin’ to her hips like it had a personal grudge against decency. Her curls were a little wild now, lips stained from his earlier kiss, and that sight? That was enough to make a man do somethin’ reckless.

“No,” he murmured, stepping closer, heat radiating off him like a summer storm. “This right here? This ain’t for no gala. This just for me.”

His hands went to her waist, rough fingertips diggin’ just enough for her to feel it through the fabric. He pulled her flush against him, hard length already straining against his pants, and kissed her like a man who’d been hungry for too damn long.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The second his mouth crashed onto hers, everything else melted, the hotel, the city, the hours of fittings. Gone. All she felt was him. His lips, soft but insistent. His tongue strokin’ hers in a rhythm that stole the breath from her chest.

Her knees nearly gave out when he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to grip her hips like he owned ‘em. And Lord, the way he tasted, like heat and hunger and a promise she knew he’d keep, made her moan low against his mouth.

“Stack…” She whispered it when his lips broke from hers, barely catching air before he dragged them down her throat.

“What, baby?” His voice was rough against her skin, lips brushing her collarbone as his teeth grazed lightly. “You gon’ tell me stop?”

Her head shook before she even thought about it, curls bouncing. “Don’t you dare.”

That grin curved his mouth against her shoulder, dark and wolfish, before he spun her easy and pressed her up against the window. The city lights spilled over her like liquid gold, and her reflection stared back, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, the corset glitterin’ like stars.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“Hands up,” he ordered, low but firm, and damn if she didn’t obey, arms sliding up that cool glass like an offering.

His hands went straight to the laces at her back, fingers workin’ fast but deliberate, loosening one by one ‘til the corset slackened, just enough for her to breathe easier. But he ain’t strip it off—nah. He left it there, hangin’ half-undone, the satin gaping just enough to tease glimpses of bare skin underneath.

“Mmm,” he hummed low, mouth grazing the slope of her shoulder as his palms smoothed down her ribs. “Look at you…waitin’ on me to do somethin’ bad.”

She shivered when his lips trailed lower, followin’ the V of the corset, tongue flickin’ over a crystal like he was worshippin’ it. Then he dropped to his knees without warnin’, big hands slidin’ down her panties before yankin’ it down slow, barin’ those thighs he dreamed about on nights he couldn’t sleep.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Her breath hitched hard when he kissed the inside of her knee, lips hot, movin’ slow like he had forever. His hands pushed the panties lower and lower until it bunched around her ankles, and then his mouth—Lord—his mouth was on her, open and greedy, lickin’ and suckin’ like he was tryna memorize the taste of her.

“Elias, oh my God—” Her voice broke, one hand slidin’ down to clutch his hair while the other braced against the glass.

“Mmm.” The sound vibrated against her, deep and sinful. He used his hands to spread her legs wider so he could bury himself deeper, tongue strokin’ her in slow, devastating laps until her hips bucked without shame.

“You taste like somethin’ sweet,” he growled between licks, voice muffled against her heat. “I been waitin’ my whole life for this right here.”

When the pleasure hit, it hit hard—white-hot and rollin’ through her body like a storm. She cried out, legs shakin’, and he held her steady, ridin’ that wave ‘til she damn near slid down the glass.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

He stood, lickin’ his lips slow like he just sampled the best thing on Earth, eyes hooded and hungry. “Turn ‘round,” he ordered, voice thick as molasses.

She did, chest heaving, corset hangin’ open in the back, glitterin’ against bare skin. Lord, have mercy. He popped his belt, shoved his slacks down, and freed himself with a groan.

“You ready for me, baby?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and that was all it took.

He grabbed her hips, slammed her gently against the glass, and slid into her slow, so slow it was torture—’til he was buried to the hilt. Both of ‘em groaned loud enough to shake the damn suite.

“Damn…” He clenched his teeth, forehead droppin’ to her shoulder as he held still, lettin’ her adjust. “You feel that? That’s all you, baby. Got me losin’ my whole mind in here.”

When she moaned his name, soft and breathless, Stack lost it. The leash snapped clean off.

His strokes started slow and cruel, deep enough to make her toes curl against the carpet, hittin’ every sweet spot like he mapped her out in his head. Then he picked up the pace, harder, faster—’til the sound of him slammin’ into her echoed through the suite, skin smacking like applause.

Her nails clawed the glass at first, then tore down his arms when he bent low, chest pressed against her tits tight, lockin’ her in like she belonged there. His voice hit her ear, hot and rough, every word punched out between thrusts.

“Say my name, baby. Let me hear that shit,” he growled, breath ragged, teeth grazin’ her ear. “Say who fuckin’ you this good.”

“You—oh God—Stack, it’s you!” she sobbed, body shakin’ against him.

“That’s right,” he snarled, hips jackhammerin’, cock draggin’ deep and hittin’ that spot that had her cryin’ his name over and over. “Ain’t no one else got you screamin’ like this. This mine, you hear me? This pussy mine. Always gon’ be mine.”

“Yes! Yours—yours, Stack—”

“Mmm, that’s what the fuck I like.” He slammed harder, grip tight on her hips, liftin’ her damn near off the ground so he could dig even deeper. “Take this dick like you mean it, baby. Take all this shit.”

She broke then, body clenchin’ up so tight around him he damn near saw stars. “Goddamn…” he gritted, voice guttural now, holdin’ her still while he pumped through her climax. “Squeeze that dick, baby—fuck, I feel you—oh, shit—”

With a hoarse groan, he buried himself deeper and spilled deep inside her, hips still jerkin’, ridin’ that wave like he ain’t never comin’ down. His arms locked around her like iron, breath hot against her neck, holdin’ on like he owned every inch of her—and he did.

When he finally let go, the corset dangled loose, crystals flashin’ in the dim light like they knew the kind of sin they’d seen.

Stack kissed her shoulder, then her temple, soft now, like the storm passed but the sky was still hummin’. “You good?” His voice was tender, sweet in a way that made her chest ache.

“More than good,” she whispered, smiling against his neck.

Stack bent, kissin’ her neck again, slow and sweet this time. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He scooped her up easy like she ain’t weigh nothin’ and carried her to that big-ass bed, layin’ her down on sheets softer than cloud breath. She sank back with a sigh, watchin’ him like he was the only thing in the room worth lookin’ at—and he was.

He hit the bathroom quick, came back with a warm towel, and started wipin’ her down gentle, like she was somethin’ precious. And he didn’t rush it. He took his time, lettin’ his hands linger over skin he’d just worshipped rough a few minutes ago.

“You know I love you, right?” he said it low, like a confession, while his fingers brushed her thigh.

Her eyes softened, and that smile, sweet, sleepy, but real, hit him dead in the chest. “I know,” she whispered. “And I love you too.”

Stack grinned, slid the towel aside, and kissed her one more time before standin’ up and fixin’ his shirt. “Alright then.” He glanced back at her, layin’ there lookin’ like a damn dream with that corset barely hangin’ on. “I’m gon’ let you finish gettin’ dressed for this fancy-ass party. I’ll see you at home, baby,” he murmured, fixin’ his jacket like he ain’t just ruined her for the next twenty-four hours. That grin curved his mouth again, dangerous and soft all at once.

“Got somethin’ real good cookin’ for you tonight.”

Her brows lifted, teasing even through the daze. “You cooking for me?”

“Damn right,” he said, backin’ toward the door with one last look that stripped her bare all over again. “Figure after all this, my girl deserve a home-cooked meal… and a second round.”

The door clicked behind him, leavin’ her there with the city lights, the glitter of the corset, and a heart poundin’ like a drum.

The click of the suite door still echoed in her ears long after Stack left. She lay there for a second on the edge of the bed, breathing like she’d run ten miles in stilettos, staring at the glittering mess of crystals hanging off her body like battle scars.

Lord. What had she just done?

Her thighs still trembled, heat lingering deep where he’d left her filled and raw, and her reflection in the full-length mirror across the room looked like sin incarnate, lips swollen, curls wild, skin flushed from his hands, his mouth, his everything.

And she still had a damn fitting to finish.

“Pull it together, Rhi,” she muttered under her breath, pushing to her feet even though her legs wobbled like fresh champagne bubbles. She tightened the corset as best as she could, but the laces hung loose where Stack’s big hands had worked them open, and honestly? She couldn’t even be mad. Not when the memory of his voice, rough, low, talkin’ that mess in her ear, was still ringing sweet and filthy in her head.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Elias: You know I can’t leave you alone, right? Even with you tryna act all professional.

Elias you gon’ get me in trouble… I really gotta focus…

Elias: Trouble? Baby, I ain’t even tryin’…

Deep breath. Time to act normal.

She stepped out of the bedroom and into the main suite again, where racks of gowns waited like judges. The stylist looked up from her tablet, bright smile freezing for half a second as her eyes swept Rhiannon from head to toe.

“Oh… you okay?” the woman asked, voice all sugar but brows knitting just a little.

“Yeah,” Rhiannon said quick, adjusting the corset like it had been her idea all along. “Just… needed a break. Been a long day.”

She exhaled, deep and shaky, slipping into another gown. The next one heavy with beads and history, gorgeous but empty compared to how alive she’d felt fifteen minutes ago.

But as the stylist zipped her up and fussed with the hem, Rhiannon’s phone buzzed again from the chaise. She didn’t have to read it to know it was him. Didn’t have to see the words to feel her heart skip like it did every damn time.

And all she could think was: how the hell was she supposed to finish this fitting when her man had promised her the kind of homecoming that couture could never compete with?

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Hiiii. Thank you for all the love on my first fic, it really means a lot. I wanted to write this one and get it out there before I forgot about it. I just wanna give a quick little credit to @blackpantherismyish… you honestly inspire me so much with your writing- you really are incredible. Thank you for reading and if you have any requests be sure to send me a message 🤍

[hurdaboutuss]

Obsessed with him.

SINNERS 2025, dir. Ryan Coogler

[hurdaboutuss]

ALL ROADS LEAD HERE.

Modern Stack Moore x Rhiannon Carter

Summary: As Smoke & Stack’s new club opens its doors, guilt hits Stack hard, making him face the truth: he’s been neglecting the one person who matters most.

The bass from the club still throbbed in his chest as Stack stepped out into the night. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and sweat, a lingering mix of cologne and liquor that clung to his clothes like a second skin. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension that had settled deep in his muscles over the course of the night.

It had been another long night. Money counted, deals whispered, eyes everywhere. That’s what came with running a spot like this with Smoke. The joint stayed packed, the music loud, the people wild. From the outside, it looked like success; cash flowing, bottles popping, women laughing, but Stack knew the grind behind it. The long hours. The fake smiles. The weight of making sure nothing went sideways when so much could.

He pushed open the heavy metal door, the cool breeze hitting his skin like relief. For a moment, he just stood there, breathing it in, staring out at the empty street. The city was quieter now, past 3 a.m., but his mind wasn’t. Smoke’s voice still echoed in his ears from earlier: “We good tonight. Stop stressing, bro.” But Stack couldn’t turn it off. He wasn’t built that way. Every late-night phone call, every unfamiliar face in the crowd—it all kept him on edge.

Sliding into his car, he let his head fall back against the leather headrest, closing his eyes for a beat. Just one beat. Because if he lingered too long, he might not move at all. He felt the exhaustion in his bones. Not just physical—soul deep.

The engine purred to life, headlights slicing through the dark as he pulled onto the quiet streets. His phone buzzed once in the console. He didn’t check it. Didn’t need to. The only person he wanted to hear from was at home.

Rhiannon.

Even thinking her name softened something in him. Six years, and she still had that effect. She was his balance in a life that never stopped spinning. His calm in the middle of chaos. She didn’t ask for much, just honesty, just time and lately, he hadn’t given her either the way he should.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, guilt creeping in like a slow tide. He’d been coming home late for weeks now, sometimes crashing on the couch before she even woke. That wasn’t them. That wasn’t who they were supposed to be. Tonight, though—tonight he needed her. Not the way most men thought of when they said they needed a woman. He needed her presence, her voice, the way her arms could take all the sharp edges off his day.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of their house, the warm glow spilling from the front windows told him what he hoped: she was still awake. Of course, she was. Rhi never really slept until he was home.

He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Gathering himself. Because no matter how much he wanted to leave the night outside, pieces of it always clung to him. The noise, the tension, the danger he never spoke about.

Climbing out, he locked the car and took the walkway slow. The house stood quiet under the moonlight, their sanctuary tucked away on a private street where nobody asked too many questions. The porch light was on, casting a soft circle of warmth against the cool night. When he reached the front door, he paused. Key in hand. Breathing slow. Then he turned it and stepped inside.

Warmth. That was the first thing he felt. Not just from the soft glow of the lamp in the living room, but from her. She was on the couch, legs tucked under her, laptop resting in her lap, Her eyes lifted the second she heard the door.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a second, taking her in. Her curls were loose tonight, spilling over her shoulders. She was wearing that oversized shirt he liked, the one that brushed the tops of her thighs and made him think about everything underneath.

“Hey baby.” Just soft and steady. Like an anchor.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, rough from too many hours of talking over music.

“You’re home late.” Not an accusation. Just a fact, laid out gently between them.

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand over his face and exhaled. “Long night.” She didn’t press. Didn’t start in with questions he didn’t want to answer. That was one of the million reasons he loved her. Instead, she closed her laptop, set it aside, and opened her arms.

And just like that, every wall he’d built through the night cracked.

He crossed the room without another word, sinking into her like he’d been holding his breath all night and finally found air. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers threading into his hair as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence was full, rich, better than any words he could’ve found. He just breathed her in, the soft scent of her skin, the quiet strength in the way she held him.

“You tired?” she asked after a moment, her lips brushing his temple.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice muffled against her. “More than I wanna be.”

“You don’t have to be anything right now,” she said, so simply it almost broke him. “Just be here.”

And God, did he want that. More than anything.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Stack didn’t move for a long moment. He just stayed there, folded into Rhi like a man who’d been lost at sea and finally touched land. Her fingers brushed the back of his head in slow, soothing strokes, and every pass unraveled another knot inside him.

“You didn’t eat, did you?” she murmured against his hair. He huffed out a laugh, low and rough. “What gave it away?”

“You’re all sharp angles,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at him. Her eyes searched his face like she was reading a language only she understood. “Come on.”

She stood and tugged his hand gently, and he let her lead him down the hall. The soft glow from the kitchen spilled across the polished hardwood, and for a second, Stack took it in; the house they’d made together. Warm colors. Family photos. Her touch everywhere. It didn’t matter how many nights he spent in the noise of the club; this was what he wanted his life to feel like.

She stopped by the counter where a plate sat waiting, wrapped in foil. “I knew you’d be starving.” He managed a small smile as she peeled it back, releasing the smell of roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes. “You didn’t have to.”

“Stack.” She gave him a look, the kind that could silence an army. “I’ll always make sure you eat. Now sit.” He sank onto the barstool, watching her move around the kitchen in that oversized shirt, her bare legs catching the warm light. Everything about her was soft and real, a sharp contrast to the artificial glitter of the world he just came from.

As he ate, she leaned against the counter, sipping water, eyes on him. “You had a rough night baby?”

“They’re all the same lately,” he muttered between bites. “Too many people, too many eyes. Always feels like something’s about to go left.” She tilted her head. “You ain’t think about stepping back?”

“I can’t baby,” he said without hesitation. “Not yet.”She didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Just nodded like she’d already expected that answer. When he finished, she took the plate, rinsed it in the sink, and turned back to him. “You look like you’re carrying the world on your back.”

“Feels like it some days.” His voice was low, but his eyes stayed on her. Always on her. “Only time it don’t… is when I’m here.”

Something flickered in her expression then, something soft that twisted in his chest.

He stood, closing the space between them until he could feel her warmth. Her breath hitched when his fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her chin so she had no choice but to look at him.

“Rhi,” he murmured, and it came out like a confession. Her lips curved just slightly, but her eyes stayed serious, searching his like she wanted to reach past his skin and touch his soul. “Yeah?”

For a beat, he didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His mouth found hers, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that stripped everything down to need. She melted against him, arms winding around his neck as he gathered her close, lifting her onto the counter like she weighed nothing. Her thighs parted when he stepped between them, and the kiss grew hungrier, less careful. Weeks of late nights and missed moments poured out in every press of his lips, every scrape of his teeth.

“You always smell like trouble when you come home,” she teased against his mouth, breath shaky.

“Trouble loves you,” he rasped, hands sliding under that oversized shirt, finding bare skin that burned under his palms.

Her laugh turned into a moan when his lips left her mouth for her neck, tracing the curve slowly, savoring. She tilted her head back, giving him access, and he took it like a starving man. For a moment, the house was filled with nothing but their breathing, harsh and uneven, the quiet hum of the fridge a background to the sound of two people needing each other more than air.

“Elias…” Her whisper was half warning, half want, and it undid him. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his thumb brushing the edge of her bottom lip. “Bedroom,” he said, voice like gravel. She nodded once, slid off the counter, and took his hand again. This time, there was nothing slow about it.

When they reached the bedroom, he didn’t wait. The door clicked shut, and the rest of the world disappeared.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The bedroom was dim, the glow from the hallway spilling in just enough to cast soft shadows on the walls. Stack shut the door with a quiet click, the sound final, like shutting out every demand, every deal, every noise that had been clawing at him all night.

In here, there was only her.

Rhi stood at the foot of the bed, watching him with that steady gaze that had always undone him more than any fire could. Her breathing was a little quicker now, chest rising and falling under that shirt that wasn’t really hiding much anymore.

He shrugged off his jacket first, letting it hit the floor, then tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. The muscles in his arms flexed as he tossed it aside, and her eyes followed the movement; low, lingering.

“Been thinkin’ about this all night,” he murmured, voice low, gravelly, as he closed the distance between them. “Oh yeah?” Her tone was soft, teasing, but her pulse betrayed her, thudding hard enough for him to feel it when he brushed his fingers along her neck.

“Yeah.” His thumb stroked the hollow of her throat, gentle despite the hunger clawing at him. “You… waiting up for me like this. Lookin’ like every reason I need to leave all that noise behind.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She didn’t need them. The way her body leaned into his touch said everything. He kissed her then, slow at first, savoring the taste of her like it was the only thing that could wash the bitterness of the night away. But it didn’t stay slow for long. Weeks of coming home late, weeks of wanting and not taking, all of it surged through him until the kiss was deep, rough, and desperate in a way that made her moan into his mouth.

Her hands slid over his shoulders, nails grazing the hard planes of his back as he walked her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed. He lifted her like nothing, laying her down gently even when everything inside him screamed not to.

“Stack…” His name was a whisper, trembling with want, but there was something else there too—something soft, grounding. He hovered over her, bracing on his forearms, staring down into those eyes that had always seen past the armor. She touched his cheek, thumb sweeping over the sharp line of his jaw.

“You don’t have to hold it all in with me,” she said quietly. “Not here.” That undid him more than anything. Not the curves of her body, not the heat between them—but that voice, that truth. He swallowed hard, pressing his forehead to hers for a long moment, breathing her in, steadying himself. Then he kissed her again, slow this time, almost reverent, his hands gliding under the hem of her shirt to find warm skin.

Her breath caught when he peeled the fabric up and over her head, leaving her bare underneath. He took his time, letting his eyes roam, letting her see everything he felt in his stare.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice rough, and it wasn’t a line. It was a confession. Her hands found the button of his jeans, fingers working with urgency that made him growl low in his throat. Clothes fell away in a trail until there was nothing left between them but heat and history.

When he finally pressed against her, skin to skin, it wasn’t just about want, it was about need. About coming apart in the one place he could do it without fear.

The first time he slid into her, both of them gasped, the sound breaking the quiet like a secret too big to keep. She clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, and for a while, there were no words, just movement, breath, the rhythm of two bodies finding each other again and again. But between the moans and the heat, he felt something else clawing up his throat. Something he didn’t say often enough.

“I love you,” he rasped against her mouth, the words raw, almost broken. Her eyes flew open, wide and shining, and then she smiled—soft, fierce, like it was the only answer that mattered. “I love you too.”

That was it. That was the center of the storm.

He moved slow after that, every thrust deliberate, every kiss a promise, until she was trembling beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer he didn’t deserve but would die to keep earning. When it was over, he didn’t roll away. Didn’t move at all except to pull her closer, their bodies tangled, slick with sweat and something deeper than lust.

For the first time in weeks, maybe months, he felt light. Empty of everything except her. And in the quiet that followed, her voice came soft against his skin: “See? You’re home now.”

He closed his eyes and let those words settle where nothing else could reach.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The room was quiet now, the kind of quiet that wrapped around them like another blanket. Nothing to be heard except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan above. Rhi lay sprawled across his chest, her fingers tracing idle shapes on his skin. Stack’s arm was draped over her back, his hand resting on the curve of her hip like it belonged there, and it did. Always had.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Just the sound of their breathing, slow and even, filling the space between them. Stack stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. His mind wasn’t on the club or the cash or the tension that had chewed at him all night. For the first time in a long time, it was still.

“You know what I love about nights like this?” Rhi’s voice broke the silence, soft and almost sleepy. “What’s that?”

“They feel like ours,” she said simply. “Not the world’s. Not the club’s. Just… ours.”

Something in his chest tightened at that, because she was right. Out there, he was Stack, the one who kept it all together, who carried the weight, who never showed cracks. But here, in this room, in her arms, he was just Elias. Just a man who wanted peace.

He shifted slightly, so he could look down at her. Her curls spilled across his chest, her eyes heavy-lidded but still watching him with that quiet knowing. He brushed a thumb along her cheekbone. “Don’t know what I’d do without you baby.” “You’d survive,” she teased lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Maybe,” he said, voice low, honest. “But I wouldn’t live. Not really.”

Her smile softened, and for a second, neither of them looked away. There was a weight to the air, not heavy, but thick with truth.

“You’ve been gone a lot,” she said finally, her tone careful but not accusing. “Yeah.” He let out a breath, raking a hand through his hair. “Club’s been wild. Feels like I can’t take my eyes off it without something blowin’ up.”

“You trust Smoke, though.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But trust don’t stop bullets. Don’t stop people who want what we got.”

She went quiet for a moment, her fingers still moving against his chest. “And what about what we got?”

That hit him harder than anything tonight. He turned fully, pulling her close so her face was just inches from his. “We’re good,” he said, the words coming out rough.

“We’re better than good. I ain’t ever loved nobody like I love you, Rhi,” he said, the truth raw on his tongue. “Ain’t ever wanted nobody the way I want you. You’re… you’re it for me.”

Her breath caught, and for a second, he saw the shine in her eyes before she blinked it away. “Then don’t forget that when the world’s loud,” she whispered.

“Couldn’t if I tried.” He kissed her then, soft, lingering, like sealing a vow. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers, grinning. Her head on his chest and his hand tracing lazy circles on her back, Stack realized something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace. Not the kind you buy. Not the kind you fake. The real kind, the kind that comes from knowing that no matter what waits outside those walls, in here, he was home.

And damn if he wasn’t gonna fight to keep it that way.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Heyyy. This is my first fic and thought it would be super cute to start it off with a romantic vibe. I’m a stack girl through & through but I’ve got a few smoke fics in store. Let me know what you think of this & if you have any suggestions, don’t be afraid to ask!! Thank you for reading 🤍