#Stack x Reader

[prettyfilmz]

thinking about a dose of act right from stack rn….

warning: 18+ (minors stay away)

inspired by the mean!stack drabble I read from @cremeful (I love u babyyyy)

“uh uh, move that fuckin’ hand.” stack growls, thrusting deep into you from behind, removing your hand that desperately pressed on his stomach to pin against your lower back. “you was actin’ like you ain’t got no sense with your lil’ friends earlier, this is what the fuck happens.” the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your swollen, sensitive pussy was like porn to his ears. his length was coated with a thick creamy ring that was evidence of your previous orgasms. 

“p-please d-daddy ’s too m-much.” you sobbed, breathy pants and whimpers pouring out of your mouth as his cock kissed every spot inside the warm gummy walls of your cunt. “yeah? too much? daddy goin’ too hard?” he asked in a mocking tone, continuing to fuck you with the same pace but deeper this time relishing in your high pitched moans. 

“u-uh huh…n-eed a break,” you whined, head turning to the side to meet his hard gaze with your own teary lustful stare. brown eyes filled with tears of pleasure, plump lips forming a pout. “break? you so cute,” he chuckled sadistically which sent a throb to your core. “bratty ass ain’t even say sorry but you want a break.” he placed his hand on the back of your head, pressing you down into the mattress as he pounded into you furiously.

“okay! o-okay! ‘m sorry d-daddy..” you yelped as his heavy hand smacked her ass hard. “nah that ain’t good enough for me.” stack grunts, biting his lip. “you gon’ have to be real convincin’,” his hand reaches in between your legs to rub your engorged clit in small but fast circles with his fingers. 

“fuckfuckfuck! daddy w-wait!” you pleaded, feeling your 5th(? you honestly stopped counting after the second) orgasm crash over you. a smirk played at his lips as he continued to play with your throbbing pearl, moaning with your cries. warm, clear arousal squirts from your trembling hole, painting your thighs and his own. 

“mmhmm gimme that nut baby, let it go.” he cooed as he fucked you through the aftershocks. a few moments later, he pulled out of you slowly, your pussy fluttering as it clenched around nothing. 

you plop your body down into the bed, trying to catch your breath, sniffling as you met his face again. “‘m sorry..I didn’t mean it.” you tried again. stack reached over and pressed a kiss into your curls. “I know you are,” he hummed, trailing a hand over your trembling body. “but you wanna know what you can do to really make me forgive you?”

your eyes widen with the understanding that this punishment was not at a cool down…but a warm up.

“gimme that fuckin’ mouth and maybe daddy will forgive ya’.”

sinners taglist: @cafeluvs @cremeful @mirathebookworm @a4g3lstarfire @monstaxmomma0 @bl3ssyn @thecoloredpages @dumb-b4mbi @spiicii @wrestlingprincess80 @transparentphantomface

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[chromehoney]

“AT THE SAME DAMN TIME.”, chap one, chapt two, chap three.

synopsis; After a messy, short-lived situationship with Stack—reckless, flirtatious, and all the wrong kinds of possessive—you swear you’re done with hood boys who can’t keep up. But when you drop something off at his mother’s store and find both Stack and his older twin brother Smoke inside, something shifts.

“Don’t let me walk out this house lookin’ basic.”

You sat in Sevyn’s bathroom, your legs crossed under you while she dipped into edge control and eyed her parts in the mirror. A pile of synthetic hair bundles sat between y’all like some kind of offering. You’d been braiding each other’s hair for years, but today? It felt different. Intentional. A little…competitive.

Because Smoke and Stack were gonna be at that party. And like Sevyn said earlier—this had to be bitch-you-lost-me loud. Your hair was already halfway done—soft, loose boho knotless braids with curly ends that framed your face like silk. Sevyn’s would match. You told everyone it was so y’all could be twins for the summer.

By the time y’all were finished, the sun was getting low, casting that golden hour light on your skin as you both stood in the mirror, checking your angles. Sevyn wore a lime green swimsuit with clear heels. You chose the cherry-red bikini—the one Mary would’ve killed to fit the way you did. You tied a mesh skirt around your waist, hoop earrings in, clear gloss shined up, gold anklet catching the light.

“You look like a damn problem,” Sevyn said, snapping a photo. “Good,” you smirked. “I wanna ruin somebody’s night.”

•several hours later,

The bass from the backyard speakers was deep enough to vibrate through your chest. The crowd was thick—bodies half-drunk, glittering in oil and chlorine. You and Sevyn walked in side-by-side, braids swinging, skin glowing, confidence high.

Y’all mingled with a few people you knew from high school, laughed over plastic cups, and dipped your feet in the pool before finally slipping in waist-deep. The water was warm from the sun, and for a moment—you almost forgot about the real reason you were here. Until you saw him.

Smoke.

Fresh cut, black tee stuck to his chest, chain resting against his collarbone. He wasn’t in the pool, just standing to the side with a drink in his hand, cigar tucked behind his ear, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing worth watching.

But then—him.

Stack.

Leaning back in one of the patio chairs, shirtless, glistening, laughing with his head tilted back. And sitting next to him? Mary. Long-legged. Bikini too small. Hair damp from the pool. And she was giggling like she’d never heard a joke that funny in her life. Your smile dropped. Your stomach twisted. Ugly and mean. You didn’t even notice the way your lips pushed into a pout until Sevyn whispered, “Bitch, relax.”

You inhaled once. Smoothed your expression. Then let a slow smirk spread across your face. “Nah,” you said, wading toward the steps. “I’m good.” You walked up to Smoke, water still dripping from your thighs, mesh skirt clinging to your curves. His eyes followed the drops. Then rose—slow and hooded—to meet yours. “You always watch this hard, or is it just me?”He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “It’s you,” he said simply.

You stepped closer, real close. Chin tilted up. The music slowed into something bass-heavy and slick, and suddenly you didn’t care who was watching. “And what you gon’ do about it?” Smoke set his drink down. Palmed the back of your waist, warm and confident, drawing you into him with quiet heat. “Come here,” he said low.

And you did.

The kiss hit different. Slow. Warm. Wet. His lips moved like he already knew how you tasted. Like he was just confirming what he imagined. Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt, lips parting, and he kissed you again, deeper—his hand sliding down to the small of your back like he’d claimed it.

You didn’t know how long it lasted. But you knew when it ended. Because suddenly, a voice snapped from behind you.“Man, what the fuck?!” You pulled back, blinking. Stack was standing there, arms wide, face twisted up. Mary was beside him, eyes darting from you to Smoke to Stack like she couldn’t believe what was happening. “What is your problem?” she snapped at Stack.

“Why do you care if she’s over there with Smoke?!” “Because!” he barked, hands dropping. “Because it’s her! You don’t get it.”People had turned by now. Faces watching. Eyes wide. Mary threw her hands up. “No, you don’t get it! You been flirting with me, making me think—!” “Man, I don’t owe you nothin’,” Stack spat.

And right there, in front of everyone, they were yelling. Mary’s voice sharp, Stack’s louder. Your name came up once—“You was just tryna get back at her!”—but you stopped listening. Your stomach was tight. Your face hot. Smoke’s arm was still around your waist, but the moment had died. Sevyn found you quick. “We gotta go,” she whispered, already tugging your hand. “They just killed the whole damn mood.”

You nodded numbly. Turned to leave.

But before you did—you looked at Smoke. Reached in your purse. Pulled out a pen and slid it across his hand. Your number. “For when the mess dies down,” you said. You didn’t say it was to get back at Stack.You didn’t say you actually liked that kiss. You just walked off. Braids swinging Heart racing.And Smoke?

Smoke watched you go.

[mvth3r]

The Ol' Switcheroo

your husband wasn't the joking type, but his brother sure was. that was fine, you would teach him that every game didn't need to be brought home.

cw: 18+ (suggestive language), cursing, black reader, second person pov

an: *taps mic* is this thing on?!

The man standing in front of you was not your husband.

He looked like him, sure, from the warm, dark eyes framed by unfairly thick lashes down to the full lips that sat beneath neatly trimmed facial hair.

But you knew better.

Smoke had texted you an hour ago, letting you know he was on the way home. Usually, he’d call you when he was heading in, asking if you needed anything or if you’d cooked, but you hadn’t thought much of it, responding with wishes of safe travels and going on about your business. Now you were wondering if the lack of phone call had been in an effort to keep you from clocking their scheme too soon.

Unfortunately, they had failed.

The differences between Smoke and Stack were less than minimal when it came to their appearance. Early on, you might have confused them once or twice on account of not having met Smoke’s family yet, but you were seasoned now. You could pick your husband out if he were a quintuplet.

Stack stood in front of you with a dour expression, dressed in the suit that Smoke had left home in earlier that morning, coincidentally on his way to meet his brother for a business meeting.

From then to now, you had no clue what they’d been up to beyond Smoke’s texts through the day, but those were often far and few between. Your husband was a man of few words, especially when it pertained to business. You didn’t particularly mind, secure in the fact that you would always be the first person notified if something bad happened.

You refocused your attention on Stack, watching him watch you like he was waiting for you to catch on. How he had convinced your husband to play such a silly game, you had no clue, but whatever. You would play your role.

“Welcome home, handsome,” you said, arms reaching up to twine around Stack’s neck in a textbook loving embrace.

Stack wasn’t so good of an actor that he could conceal the way he startled, arms stuttering as they lifted to wrap around your waist in turn, “Evening, baby. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine. Just missed you a lot,” you put on a charming smile, leaning back to look Stack in the eye. One of your hands slid slowly around his neck and down the muscly planes of his chest, “How was yours?”

Stack blinked a couple of times, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh, “It was alright. Meeting went well and all that.”

“Oh yeah?” You responded, fingers toying with the buttons of his dress shirt, “Well a good job deserves a fittin’ reward, don’t you think?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement in the hall that connected the kitchen, where you and Stack stood, to the garage. Your smile turned coy, full lips twisting wickedly.

Stack cleared his throat, stepping backwards out of your embrace in an attempt to make some distance, but you followed him anyway, the gap between you disappearing as it formed, “Don’t need a gift for doing my job, baby.”

You hummed, hands raising to push him lightly against the edge of the counter, “I didn’t say anything about a gift, handsome.”

The emerging bewilderment on Stack’s face almost made you crack, the laugh bubbling up in chest, but you were too committed to your performance. Silly games, silly prizes, and all that.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” you whispered, pressed in close against his chest, “Since when you had a problem with a lil’ kitchen love? You don’t like bending me over the counters no more?”

If you hadn’t been so close, you would’ve missed the choked off whimper that came from Stack’s throat. His eyes darted towards that dark hallway like he was waiting for Smoke to turn the corner and jack him up.

But you knew he wouldn’t.

He was watching, you knew that. You could practically feel his eyes traveling over you from that hallway, gaze as piercing as you knew it to be.

He wanted to see how far you would go. You wanted him to make you stop.

A different game, but just as fun.

Your hands drifted slowly over Stack’s ribcage and down to his waist, nails scraping softly over the fabric. By the time you’d reached his thighs you could feel his heart beat quickening.

“Or maybe,” you whispered, those fingers creeping towards his zipper, “you’re in the mood for something else..”

You let your voice trail off, tone layered with heat and intent, as you began to shift, crouching low until you rested perfectly on your knees. Your eyes met Stack’s from where he stood frozen above you, mouth slack with genuine shock. His gaze shifted from yours to the grip your fingers now had on his zipper and back.

“Is that what it is, baby?” You murmured sweetly, face moving closer until your lips hovered just shy of making damning contact with his pants leg, “Is my mouth a better reward than my—”

Stack jerked suddenly, and you didn’t have to turn to know that Smoke had finally made his entrance. You rose slowly from your spot on the floor, a false look of confusion painted on your face. It was for Stack’s benefit more than yours at this point, and he knew that.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why you actin’ like this?”

“Game’s over, stop fuckin’ around,” Smoke cut in before he could respond, voice gruff.

You glanced back and forth between the two of them, eyes widening dramatically, “Smoke?! Oh my goodness! I thought you were him!”

Smoke’s voice was sharper, “Cut it out.”

You held on to your wide eyed look for a few more seconds before finally allowing your expression to drop, a laugh rumbling in your chest, “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

Stack, brain finally back online, sputtered in amused disbelief, “You knew the whole time? Could’a fooled me, shit!”

You hummed, laughter tapering off, “Might'a been born at night, but not last night, Stack. You think I can’t recognize my own husband?”

“Ah hell,” he grumbled, “You should’a just said somethin’.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, “But now y’all know I ain’t the one for these crazy games, and..”

Your gaze shifted to your husband, ever the quiet observer, “This was much more fun, don’t you think, Elijah?”

Smoke huffed a dry laugh, hand reaching out to ease you closer, “Sure. Why don’t you head on upstairs? Let me walk this fool out and I’ll be up to talk about just how hilarious you are.”

The following silence was heavy, not with tension but heat and you couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose to life on the skin under Smoke’s fingers.

You didn’t bother with a response, smiling sweetly instead and turning instead towards where Smoke was directing you, a brief ‘Have a good night’ tossed Stack’s way as you left the room.

Stack shuffled back the way he’d came, through the dark hallway and out to the garage that was still open. His eyes flitted from the dark glint of his truck’s metal to the cement floor, contemplative.

“What, Stack?” Smoke muttered, standing behind him in the doorway.

“Guess she know’s you better than we thought, huh?” He responded, a weak attempt at humor.

Smoke didn’t respond. Stack hadn't expected him to.

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, opting to twirl it around his fingers rather than reaching next for a lighter, "You think she really would'a..."

"If I let her," Smoke responded coolly. "'s that what you wanted me to do?"

It was Stack's turn to go quiet, he fingers stilling long enough for the cigarette to slide silently to the floor.

He heard Smoke turn on his heel, muttering, "Drive safe. And close the garage 'fore you leave."

The door closed with finality and Stack released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Silly games, indeed.

[decayingearf]

𝙈𝙊𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙉!𝘼𝙐 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝘾𝙆

modern!au stack, who loves your modest bikinis. “damn” he’d state re-adjusting his suddenly tight boxers. “it ain wrong if don’t nobody know” he convinces referring to him pulling you away and into his car to handle his ‘problem’.

modern!au stack, who is still very very, chivalrous. “that shit taste damn good, baby” he’d tease after having sucked your clit as if there wasn’t a tomorrow. he also chuckle smugly at how your toes curled or how you’d push his head down further. “slow up mama, y’know i got you”.

modern!au stack, who loves when you squirt on his face and in his mouth. “shit! ‘s like a damn waterfall, baby” he would smile smugly before dipping his head low and lapping up your essence.

modern!au stack, who gives you sloppy kisses on your mouth to drown out the sound of your moans as he fingers you. “mm—you look so pretty mama” he’d coo eliciting a needy huff from you.

modern!au stack, who finger-fucks you faster as he feels you getting closer. “cum on my fingers, [𝜗𝜚]” he would encourage before slowing his pace “there you go” as he’s fucking you through the aftershocks.

modern!au stack, who drives you home as you nap in the passenger seat. when you stir he’s quick “you feelin’ good, baby?” teasingly, of course. “we be home inna minute..ill clean you up there” the man spoke as if it was a promise.

and knowing him, it was.

(what do we think of the new theme?!)

[cremeful]

thinking about how stack is so mean in bed :c .. how he just manhandles you so easily as if you’re made out of feathers, flipping you over on to your back and folding you into a mating press…

“oh look at you” he say it mockingly, you look absolutely wrecked, soft curls tossed, dark redish and purple bruises decorate your skin, drool smeared all over your mouth nd chin.. yet stack still thinks you look beautiful.

his cock bullies his way inside of you, you’re gripping on too his shoulders for dear life as if you could float away, tears staining your face, from the pure bliss. you start blabbing out incoherent thoughts but stack understand you better than yourself.

you’re to far gone and he just put his cock in you, it’s embarrassing to say the least. stack is a man that is there to give and you are there to take but something about this is different. he is taking everything from you and you are letting him.

he sits up on his knees, your legs now laying across his thighs, he leans down and kisses you. it’s sloppy and wet. his tongue slips into yours and your panting like a dog in heat, your hand on the back of his neck pulling him in to get even closer. he pulls away with a string of saliva following.

“such a nasty little thing. who taught you these things, huh?” he’s taunting you like he doesn’t know the answer, the first time you two had sex was your first time and he turned you out to say the least.

you say nothing, pushing your hips up for friction, a soft plead leaves your lips, he chuckles and pushes your hips down, “lets play a little game, called find the button.” his voice is sickening sweet yet he is doing things that shouldn’t sound remotely close to sweet. he watches as he slides into you, he can see you coat his length, he laughs to himself.

you try pushing at his stomach for him to let up but your weak temps barely break his focus. once he is fully inside of you, he slowly starts thrusting inside of you. you can feel him in your stomach, heart and soul. you try closing your legs but his grip is tight and wont allow you the mercy.

“no, its okay. you can take it, its all yours” he says it breathless. your squeezing around him so tightly that it makes him dizzy, his hand comes down to your stomach and presses down. you cry out, gripping the sheets “i cant i cant!” he just laughs, “i think i found it baby”

[sammyquarius]

Stack in love with you would include

1)Stack doesn’t fall in love like normal men. He collides with it. Fast. Violent. Irrevocable. One look at you, and it was like something ancient clicked into place.

2) He’s not soft with most people.But you? He’s different with you. It’s in the way he holds your wrist like you’re breakable, even though you’ve seen more than most.

3)If you cry? He looks like he’s about to commit war crimes. One hand around your waist, the other holding your face like it’s made of something holy. “Tell me who did it. I ain’t askin’ twice.”

4)He’d kill for you. No hesitation. But the real danger is how he’d live for you Settle. Stay. Try. All the things he swore he’d never do again.

Note: For more content follow me on https://www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius

[ridingreeves]

𝖯𝖾𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒❣︎

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝖼𝗄＆𝖲𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌❣︎

𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝖼𝗄

Penthouse in New York with floor-to-ceiling windows and a closet full of high-end designer everything.

Black card access — no limit, no questions. You want it? You got it.

Gifts arrive in velvet boxes and matte black wrapping, usually with no note… just the knowledge it’s from him.

⸻

You’re untouchable. Every whisper of danger disappears before it reaches your door.

You don’t have to look over your shoulder — he already did, and the threat’s handled.

That subtle man watching you from across the street? He’s your bodyguard, sent by John. You didn’t even notice when he was hired.

⸻

Dinner at private clubs, drinks at bars that don’t have a name — only coins and codes.

Everyone knows you’re his, and that means they treat you like royalty (or stay ten feet away).

⸻

You’re not the only one he spoils — his dog loves you too.

You get to see the softest side of him when he’s on the floor, playing with dog, “He likes you more than me.”

⸻

Cold to the world, but warm to you. Protective. Possessive. Obsessed.

He doesn’t talk much, but when he does? Every word is measured and meant.

He’s all rough hands, tailored suits, and that look — the one that kills men but melts you.

⸻

There’s something intoxicating about being kept safe by someone who can destroy the world if you cry.

He’ll wipe blood off his hands and still kiss you like he’s been gone for years.

That gun on the nightstand?It’s always there, just in case.

𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖽

He’s calm. Too calm. That kind of slow-burning, you-don’t-know-what’s-coming calm.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t fumble. He touches you like he’s memorizing. Like he’s mapping every inch just in case he never gets to again.

But when you push too far—bite his lip, pull his hair, say something smart—he flips the switch. Real quiet. Real fast. And suddenly your back’s on the mattress and he’s in full control.

⸻

Doesn’t say much, but when he does? Your knees go weak.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Say it louder.”

“Good girl.”

And that raspy voice? He’ll murmur filth in your ear mid-stroke, all while keeping that same unreadable expression—like he’s watching you come undone for him.

⸻

His fingers are careful—on your face, your hips, between your thighs. Gentle when he holds you, cradles your jaw.

But once you’re ready? He doesn’t hold back. Deep, steady strokes. Focused. Deliberate. Like he’s trying to ruin the memory of anyone before him.

⸻

He kisses like it’s the last time. Fucks like it’s the only time. Holds you after.

He’ll lay you out, strip you slow, and just… look. Take it in. Eyes scanning like you’re art.

And when he finishes? He doesn’t leave. He wipes you down. Pulls you in. Lets his hand rest on your lower belly like a claim.

⸻

He’s not loud about it. But you know when he’s claiming you.

Marks you—hickeys, bite prints, handprints. Doesn’t say why, doesn’t ask permission.

Anyone even looks at you the wrong way the next day? They feel it.

𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾

Your rent? Handled. Your car? Upgraded. Your closet? Looks like a store.

You mention a bag once and it shows up in three colors the next day. “Didn’t know which one you wanted. Keep all three.”

Even your lip gloss stash is stocked like a Sephora aisle—because “I like when your lips shine when you talk back.”

⸻

Pulls up in a blacked-out Range Rover, music bumpin’, blunt in hand. Passenger seat is yours. Always.

He opens your door. But only after checking his gun. “Just in case, baby.”

Late-night food runs in pajamas, windows down, his hand on your thigh the whole ride.

⸻

Nobody talks to you slick. Nobody looks too long. Nobody plays with your name.

If someone even thinks about disrespecting you? Smoke handles it before you can blink. “Don’t trip, mama”. Just like that, He handled it.

You don’t need pepper spray. You’ve got Smoke.

⸻

“You mine, right? Say it.” (You say it every time. You love how he says mmh after.)

“Why you walkin’ like that? I ain’t even go deep yet.” (Lies. He did.)

“You too pretty to worry ’bout bills. That’s my job.”

⸻

The lace you wear? For him. But it doesn’t stay on long.

Rough, slow, or possessive—it depends how long he’s gone without you.

Morning head. In the kitchen. anywhere. “You don’t even gotta lift a finger, baby. I got you.”

⸻

You in the club? He watching you like a hawk. Letting you dance—but just enough. “Alright now, that’s it. Bring that ass back over here.”

Stack and Sammie clown him, but never you. Not once. You’re off-limits.

girls hate. men stare. But no one can touch the pedestal you’re on.

⸻

He buys flowers, secretly.

He’ll press a kiss to your temple and mumble, “You my home, you know that?”

And when it’s just the two of you? He’s soft. Real soft. “Come here, let me rub your feet. You been walkin’ too much.”

𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖽

Not too soft, not too rough… but just the right kind of dangerous.

Smoke’s bedroom game? Lethal. He’s not all slow strokes and tender kisses all the time—but he’s not full-blown feral either (unless you beg). He lives in that middle space—where control and chaos meet. Where your body sings and your brain short-circuits. Where he ruins you just enough to make you come back crawling.

⸻

He moves like he’s been there before—because he has. But he never treats you like a routine.

It’s the way he grips your thigh with one hand, cigar still burning in the other, telling you, “Keep still. You actin’ like you don’t know who this is.”

Sex with Smoke feels like R&B in a dark car… windows fogged, bass thumping, and nothing but tension.

⸻

He’ll bend you over without warning, yeah—but then rub your back while he’s deep inside, breathing all heavy against your ear.

He might say some filth—but it’s the way he says it. Low. Like a promise. Like he means it.

“This what you wanted?”

“That mouth got smart earlier. Keep talkin’.”

“Look at me. Yeah… right there.”

⸻

Smoke don’t do praise. He commands. Calmly. Casually. Like it’s second nature.

You don’t even realize he’s the one in control until your legs are shaking and you’re asking permission to come.

He likes to hear you talk shit, though—so he can shut you up.

⸻

Starts slow just to tease. To get in your head. He knows you’re ready. He just likes making you wait for it.

Then out of nowhere? Rough. Deep. Fast. But he never loses rhythm. It’s like his whole body got built to break yours in the prettiest way possible.

He’s not a jackrabbit. He’s a menace with a plan.

⸻

After? He wipes you down with a warm towel. Pulls you close and kisses your shoulder like he didn’t just leave you folded.

If you whimper when he slides out, he grins—then kisses your temple and says, “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Might run you a bath. Might feed you fruit. Might even spoon you. But he’s never gonna talk about it out loud.

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾

Stack’s money is long and quiet. He not on the ‘Gram throwing bands—he’s behind the scenes, owning the block and the buildings.

You got a direct deposit from him every Friday labeled: “For looking pretty.”

You whisper about wanting something? He already wired the funds. Don’t ask how. Don’t ask when. It’s just… handled.

Rent? Paid early. Tuition? Gone. Your mom’s light bill? Handled and never mentioned again.

⸻

Stack’s voice never raises his voice at you—but you listen. That calm “Come here, baby” hits harder than any shout.

Protective in the softest, most dangerous way. That man will pull you behind him and calmly say, “I got it.” And it’s got.

“You mine. That’s it. That’s the whole story.”

⸻

He takes his time like he’s got all day. Eyes on you the whole time.

He’ll rub your waist, kiss your thighs, and still ruin you slow. “Relax, baby. You safe here.”

Loves when you ride him—hands behind his head, smirking, low moan in his throat. “That’s all you, baby.”

After? He cleans you up, then carries you to the kitchen to feed you like the queen you are.

You’re not just spoiled in public. You’re spoiled in bed, too. Satin sheets, silk robe, and a man who knows how to use his mouth and his hands.

⸻

“Put your wallet away. You got me.”

“You don’t even gotta ask. I already did it.”

“What’s mine is yours, mama. And you mine.”

“Come here. You stressed out? Lemme take care of it.”

“Nah, don’t lift that. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

“You like being my problem, huh?”

⸻

Surprise spa appointments, nail appointments, even therapy sessions—because he takes care of all of you, not just the body.

Custom jewelry with your initials. A chain that says Moore in diamonds. “In case you forget who got you.”

His driver knows your name. His crew knows not to speak on you. His family knows better than to disrespect you.

“Had the driver bring you something.” It’s a Cartier bracelet. In rose gold. Because he said “it looked like you.”

He’ll book a hotel for you to have a spa day alone. “You need time to yourself. I’ll see you later tonight, mama.”

⸻

He doesn’t argue with people who try you—he makes calls.

Enemies don’t mention your name. They know better.

He’ll walk into a room full of tension and only care if you ate yet.

⸻

Ain’t no “showing off.” It’s real connection, real care, real provision.

Late-night convos where he lets you in—slowly, vulnerably. Only you get that side.

He’ll kiss your forehead before a meeting and say, “Wish me luck, baby.” Like your love is a good-luck charm.

⸻

Random “check your account” texts. No explanation. Just $10K.

“Had the driver bring you something.” It’s a Cartier bracelet. In rose gold. Because he said “it looked like you.”

He’ll book a hotel for you to have a spa day alone. “You need time to yourself. I’ll see you later tonight, mamas.”

⸻

He’s not showy, but the way he pulls your chair out at dinner? The way he stands behind you in every photo? It’s clear.

Girls wonder what you did to bag Stack. You didn’t have to do much—just be soft for him.

You’re the only one who sees the full version of him—cold-blooded to the world, but warm as a cashmere hoodie with you.

𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆

Low voice, deep stroke, big problem.

Stack in the bedroom is pure danger. He doesn’t need to talk his game. He’s calm, deliberate, and obsessed with every little reaction you give him. He’s the type to ruin you slowly, then ask if you’re okay with your whole body trembling under his.

He’s not fast. He’s not soft. He’s focused.

⸻

Stack takes. His. Time. Every move is intentional. He’s not rushing—he’s studying.

The type to undress you piece by piece, eyes low, hands warm, knuckles grazing your skin like he’s memorizing.

He doesn’t just touch—you feel it. Palm on your waist. Hand around your neck. Fingers in your hair. It’s quiet dominance that makes your knees buckle.

⸻

“Breathe.”

“Hold still.”

“You takin’ me so good, baby.”

That low, raspy voice in your ear while he’s deep inside? Life-changing.

⸻

He’ll go slow. Deep. Stretch-it-out pace. And when you start shaking and clenching? He doesn’t stop—he slows down even more.

Might flip you over mid-whimper just to keep going, hand on your lower back, whispering, “You ain’t done yet.”

Doesn’t need breaks. Doesn’t need direction. Just needs you quiet and obedient… or loud and ruined. Either way.

⸻

Stack looks at you the whole time. Doesn’t break eye contact when you moan his name.

If you try to hide your face, he’s lifting your chin like, “Nah… lemme see you.”

Those hooded eyes and that slow smirk when you hit your climax? Enough to make you forget your name.

⸻

“That’s it. Take all of it.”

“You look so good like this… full of me.”

“You mine, right?” —soft but serious. Like it’s more than sex. Like it’s a bond.

⸻

Cuddle—will keep you close. Arm wrapped around your waist. Hand under your shirt. Chain against your back.

Kisses your shoulder in the dark. Rubs your thigh while you fall asleep. Wakes you up with his hand already between your legs.

If you try to get up, he pulls you back and says, “Five more minutes. Lay down.” (And you do.)

𝖠／𝖭－ 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄❣︎

[afroslacks]

Hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but I was wondering if you could do something where Micheal during an interview for Sinners he accidentally lets it out that when building smokes character that he had to draw from his own experiences in fatherhood. Which shocks the public because no one knew he was married let alone had a kid.

So he decided to put out at one of the premieres with his wife (reader) and nearly one year old baby (baby was born during filming in 2024)

Sorry if that doesn’t make sense🥹

Sinner’s press tour is up and running. The cast has been everywhere for the last couple of days. Michael, Wunmi, and Hailee are seated across from a female journalist who just entered the building. The journalist sits down with a warm smile on her face and white flashcards in her hands.

“Hello everyone, you all look so good today!” she says warmly, hoping to make everyone feel comfortable.

Michael is seated in the middle between both actresses, nodding his head while adjusting his chain and the special watch that has a message engraved from you. He always wears the watch because it brings him comfort on days like this—days when he’s extremely busy and wishes he could be with you and your baby girl, who was born recently.

“Thank you, we’re happy to be here,” he replies with a beautiful smile, gesturing toward the journalist.

“Truly,” Wunmi adds softly, nudging Michael’s shoulder as a subtle signal of gratitude for actively engaging—even though she knows his mind is at home.

Hailee sits there smiling as she rocks back and forth with her legs crossed in her chair. The journalist clears her throat.

“Now that we’ve got pleasantries out of the way, let’s get started, shall we?”

All three actors agree silently.

The journalist asks, “So Michael, since you’re playing two different characters in this film, how were you able to differentiate the twins, specifically in their relationships with Annie and Mary? Because the relationships are completely separate from one another.”

Michael nods as he takes in her question, preparing his response.

“That’s a good question. Stack is the more impulsive, hot-headed twin, so you can imagine his relationships with women being the same. He’s seen as a womanizer—breaking women’s hearts and moving on. But it’s also seen as a front, because Mary is the woman he wants. He has to act a certain way to deny himself his desire for her. When they do get together, you can definitely feel the tension and passion between them.”

After the first half of his answer, he clears his throat before continuing.

“Smoke, on the other hand, is the calmer twin. He typically keeps to himself. The trauma they experienced impacted him a lot more, so he retreats emotionally. I wouldn’t consider him much of a womanizer, because the only woman who stole his heart is Annie. Their relationship is deeper—they have history, and he’s the father of her child. He welcomed fatherhood. I’m the same way—”

His eyes go wide, and he shuts his mouth the moment he realizes his mistake.

The journalist furrows her brows. “I’m sorry? What do you mean you feel the same?” she asks.

Michael mentally rolls his eyes, realizing he now has to talk his way out of the mess he just created.

Wunmi quickly steps in. “What he means is, since he eventually wants to become a dad, he’s ready for the idea of fatherhood. Right, Michael?” She turns to him, giving him a flawless save.

He perks up, smiling at the interviewers. “Of course! My bad, I’m just really tired right now, so the words are coming out a mess,” he explains.

The journalist glances between the cast members, unsure if they’re being honest. After a moment, she lets it go, understanding that people make mistakes.

“Oh, okay. For a second, I thought you were a father.”

Wunmi, Michael, and Hailee nervously laugh, trying to steer attention away from Michael’s slip-up.

One hour later, after the interview is posted, Michael’s words start circulating online.

You’re sitting at your mansion on the couch, watching television while fiddling with the large diamond on your finger. The baby sleeps quietly in the crib next to you. Your best friend sends you a link to the clip with a message that says: "Check it out."

Pressing the link, you watch the clip. You scoff, shaking your head.

“I know this nigga didn’t just open his mouth,” you mutter, typing a message to your husband telling him to call you as soon as he’s free.

You and Michael have been together for five years total—dating for two and married for three. You recently had your baby after waiting a while to enjoy each other’s company. You met at a work event and immediately hit it off, but decided to keep your romance out of the public eye so you could enjoy your relationship in peace. You both agreed to hold off on telling the public for as long as possible.

But… that might not be an option anymore.

As you sit on the couch, you scroll through the comments—and people are not letting that slip slide at all:

I knew he had a family. That’s why we don’t see him much.

Michael, let me find out you’re married. I’m gonna find your wife.

Oh no, I’m not sharing my man.

Hello, I’m the wife he has a secret family with. So y’all can back off—thank ya!

It don’t matter if you’re married—we can still make it work, baby.

Whoever he’s with is lucky. They get Smoke AND Stack.

Where is the wife? I’m trying to find her.

That’s just a few of the comments. You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart.

Your phone lights up with “Hubby” flashing on the screen. Swiping green, his face appears.

“Hey, baby,” he greets nervously, noticing your scowl.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me. Michael, what the hell was that?” you ask, stepping into a quiet area of the house so the baby can keep sleeping.

“I’m sorry—I slipped up. I stopped myself as soon as I said it,” he apologizes, hating to see anything other than happiness and pleasure on your beautiful face.

You roll your eyes so hard they might fall out and hit the floor.

“You better do damage control. We agreed to keep this private.” The threat is crystal clear in your tone.

After a few moments of silence, he mutters, “Or… you could come with me to one of the premieres?”

You pause. Silence fills the air.

“Michael, are you serious right now?” you ask, brows furrowed.

He scoffs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We agreed to be private to protect ourselves from the public. And now you want to throw that out?” You clarify to process what he’s saying.

“I know, baby. But I don’t wanna hide forever. I want to let the world know I’m taken and happy—so they’ll back off. We don’t have to be super public. Just let them know one good time, then keep it moving,” Michael confesses, hoping you’ll agree.

You sigh deeply. “Fine. But the baby can’t come—it’s too loud, and I don’t feel comfortable showing her.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says, smiling.

“I love you too, punk.”

[keraiiszn]

ᴏᴜʀꜱ, ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄!𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

ᴘᴛ. 2

ʙᴀʙʏ ᴋɪᴄᴋꜱ, ꜱᴏᴄᴋ ᴅʀᴀᴡᴇʀ ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ʟᴀᴛᴇ-ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴘɪᴄᴋʟᴇ ʀᴜɴꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴅᴇʙᴀᴛᴇ — ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇʟɪᴊᴀʜ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʜɪᴄᴄᴜᴘ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴏꜱ ᴡᴇ’ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇᴅ.

If someone had told me six months ago that I'd be watching my deadly, composed fiancé reorganise the baby's sock drawer for the fourth time this week while muttering about "proper size categorisation," I would have laughed until I cried. Now? I'm just trying not to pee myself laughing, which is a legitimate concern at thirty-nine weeks pregnant.

"Elijah" I call from our bed, where I'm propped up like a beached whale surrounded by pregnancy pillows. "The baby is not going to care if the newborn socks are arranged by colour or by cuteness factor."

He pauses, a tiny yellow sock in each hand, and turns to look at me with the most serious expression I've ever seen him wear. "But what if they have a preference? What if they're a colour-coordinated baby?"

I snort, which immediately turns into a hiccup, which somehow triggers the baby to start what feels like a full kickboxing routine against my ribs. "Oh, now you're awake," I mutter, rubbing the spot where a tiny foot is trying to escape through my skin.

Elijah drops the socks immediately and rushes over, his hands hovering uncertainly over my belly. The man who can disarm opponents without breaking a sweat looks panicked when our baby decides to practice their karate moves.

"Are you okay? Is it time? Should I get the hospital bag? I knew I should have packed a backup bag for the backup bag—"

"Breathe, babe," I interrupt, catching his hands and placing them where the baby is currently attempting to break free. "They're just saying hi to daddy. Watch."

As if on cue, the baby settles at Elijah's touch, and he gets that look—the one that still makes my heart do ridiculous, fluttery things despite the fact that I currently resemble a penguin who swallowed a basketball.

"Every time," he murmurs, wonder clear in his voice. "He always calm down for you."

"It's because you have magic hands," I tease, waggling my eyebrows. "Among other talents."

He flushes slightly, which is adorable on a man who radiates danger for a living. "Y/N..."

"What? I'm pregnant, not dead. And these hormones are no joke—I'm basically a walking ball of feelings and inappropriate thoughts."

Before he can respond, my stomach lets out a growl that could probably be heard in the next county. Elijah's eyebrows shoot up.

"Hungry again? You just ate an hour ago."

"Yeah, but that was dinner. This is the second dinner. Different." I pause, considering. "I think I want pickles. And ice cream. But not together—that's gross. Although..." I tilt my head, genuinely contemplating it. "Maybe together. Sweet and salty, right?"

Elijah stares at me for a long moment. "It's eleven-thirty at night."

"Your point?"

"The store is closed."

I give him my best innocent look, the one that usually gets me exactly what I want. "But you love meeeee."

He's already reaching for his keys. "I'll find an all-night place."

"You're the best baby daddy ever," I call after him as he heads for the door. "Get the good pickles! The garlicky ones!"

"I don't even know what the bad pickles are," he mutters, but I catch the smile he's trying to hide.

Twenty minutes later, he returns with not just pickles and ice cream, but also prenatal vitamins (because, of course, he checked if I'd taken today's), those weird crackers I've been craving, and a bag of mini doughnuts.

"You bought out the store," I observe, accepting the jar of pickles like it's a precious gift.

"I wanted to make sure I got the right ones." He settles beside me on the bed, watching with fascination and mild horror as I alternate between pickles and vanilla ice cream. "How is that good?"

"Don't knock it till you try it." I offer him a spoonful, and his face goes through several interesting expressions.

"That's... not terrible?"

"See? Our baby has excellent taste already." I pat my belly proudly. "Speaking of which, we need to finalise names. We can't keep calling them 'the baby' forever."

Elijah groans. "Not the name discussion again."

"Yes, the name discussion again! What if they come early? What if I go into labour tomorrow and we're standing there like, 'Hello, Baby McBaby Face'?"

"I still like the names we talked about," he says carefully, which is code for 'I'm trying not to restart the Great Name War of last Tuesday.'

"Okay, but hear me out—what about something unexpected? Like... Storm?"

"Storm?"

"It's dramatic! Powerful! And it goes with your whole mysterious vibe."

Elijah looks like he's genuinely considering it, which is both sweet and terrifying. "What if it's a girl?"

"Storm works for a girl, too! Very fierce warrior princess."

"You want to name our potential daughter after weather phenomena."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." I take another bite of the pickle-ice cream combo. "Weather is powerful. Unpredictable. Beautiful."

"Like you," he says quietly, and there he goes again, being all romantic when I'm eating the weirdest food combination known to mankind.

"Smooth talker," I mumble around my spoon, but I'm grinning. "Fine, what about something unique? Alheri? Journee? Kairo? Something our kid won't have to spell for people their entire life?"

"I like Alheri," Elijah admits. "Strong queens were named uniquely, you know."

"And for a boy? James is good. Classic. Respectable.”

I wrinkle my nose. "But also kind of... boring?"

The look he gives me is long-suffering. "You're going to suggest something like Phoenix or Raven, right?"

"Phoenix is cool—"

"No."

"What about—"

"No mythical creatures, no weather patterns, no gemstones, and nothing that sounds like a stripper name."

I gasp in mock offence. "I would never suggest a stripper name for our baby!"

"You suggested Candy last week."

"That was a joke!" I pause. "Mostly."

Elijah drops his head into his hands. "We're never going to agree on this."

"Sure, we will. When I'm in labour and screaming at you about how this is all your fault, you'll agree to whatever name I want just to make me stop yelling."

He looks genuinely alarmed. "You're going to yell at me?"

"Oh, honey," I reach over to pat his cheek sympathetically. "I'm going to say things that will make you question every life choice that led to that moment. It's normal. All the pregnancy books say so."

"Maybe I shouldn't be in the delivery room," he mutters.

"Try to leave and I'll hunt you down myself," I say sweetly. "After I push a human being out of my body, because that's apparently what we're doing now."

The reality of it hits us both at the same time—the fact that in just a few days, there will be an actual tiny person who depends on us for everything. The mood shifts slightly, becoming less playful and more... holy crap, we're about to be parents.

"What if we're terrible at this?" I ask quietly, suddenly feeling very young and very unprepared.

Elijah sets aside the pickle jar and pulls me closer, carefully arranging himself around my belly. "Then we'll be terrible at it together. And we'll figure it out as we go."

"What if the baby doesn't like us?"

"Babies don't have a choice. We're stuck with each other." His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "Besides, look how much practice we've already had taking care of each other."

I think about all the times he's held my hair back during morning sickness, how he learned to make my favorite tea exactly right, the way he talks to my belly every morning like the baby can already understand him. And how he lets me reorganize his perfectly organized drawers just because the nesting urge is real and I needed to organize something.

"We're going to be okay," I say, more to convince myself than him.

"We're going to be better than okay," he corrects. "We're going to be disgustingly happy and sleep-deprived and covered in baby spit-up, and it's going to be perfect."

"Even when I'm crying over diaper commercials?"

"Especially then."

"And when you're reading parenting books at three in the morning because you're convinced we're doing everything wrong?"

He has the grace to look embarrassed. "You noticed that?"

"Babe, you colour-coded a feeding schedule. For a baby who isn't even born yet."

"Organisation is important—"

I silence him with a kiss, tasting vanilla ice cream and the promise of chaos and joy and sleepless nights ahead. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his.

"I love you," I whisper. "Even if you do think our baby needs a sock filing system."

"I love you, too," he replies. "Even if you want to name our child after natural disasters."

"Storm is growing on you, admit it."

"Not."

But he's smiling when he says it, and as I settle back against his chest with my ridiculous snack and his hand protective over our baby, I think maybe we've got this whole parenting thing figured out after all. We'll make it up as we go along, argue about everything from feeding schedules to bedtime stories, and love this little person so fiercely it'll probably terrify us both.

And if our biggest problem is what to name them, well, we've got at least eighteen years to come up with nicknames anyway.

"Fine," I concede, closing my eyes as exhaustion finally starts to win. "Alheri or Kairo?"

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm. Alheri or Kairo”

The groan he lets out vibrates through his chest, and I fall asleep smiling, dreaming of tiny socks and big adventures and the beautiful, chaotic life we're about to begin.

[cinnamonlouu]

I Swear people are sick making twin incest for smoke and stack

[charliedawn]

SINNERS (2025)

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/784537724515450880/i-got-a-questions-for-the-vampys-can-ya-tell

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/784824404940046336/charlie-im-telling-you-this-in-complete

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/786078122057580544/omg-the-vampires-with-a-reader-who-had-a-petty

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/786366099595886592/how-about-a-reader-who-just-loves-making-their

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/786788729408962560/hey-charlie-once-again-sorry-for-spam-but-i-cant

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/786792957533716480/i-absolutely-adore-your-sinners-imagines-can-you

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/786921598671323136/a-love-that-never-dies

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/787187098004357120/hey-charlie-not-sure-if-when-you-cleared-out-your

https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/787238231989174272/hi-i-got-to-go-swimming-today-and-i-was-thinking

Remmick Series: THE PET (finished)

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783014726264291328/the-pet-remmick-x-reader

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783200868262707200/the-pet-remmick-x-reader

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783357872417472512/the-pet-remmick-x-reader

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783556930254831616/the-pet-remmick-x-reader

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/784300358129336320/the-pet-last-part

[chromehoney]

Hey really like your writing and I was wondering if could do more smoke and stack black!fem!curvy/plusize!reader. I do think this will go well with the nerdy/girl next door or the independent baddie type of reader. But you make her personality and lifestyle whatever you want.

aweee thank youu!!! and ofcccc , this is a little rushed since i just wanted to get atleast one request done today so excuse errors!!!

You was tired. Tired of them twins—Smoke and Stack—playing in your face like they didn’t want you. Like they ain’t watch your ass in every room, talk about “that damn dress,” whisper in your ear at family functions, make you cream off one look. They’d tease, flirt, touch your thigh in the truck, but never make a real move. And the second you put a little distance? Act like they owned you.

So tonight, you said fuck it.

Your thick ass was outside at one of your friends parties in a strapless bodycon that gripped every roll and dip like sin itself. Soft pink, and made to make a man stutter. You had on lashes that batted without tryin’, nails long and wicked, diamond studs shining through your wild curly hair as you laughed with your girls. You posted a story before you left the house, of a picture you took of your body in your long vertical body mirror, the dress was thin so the picture got the outlines of your tits and your nipples were poking out, and the picture also showed a lil’ hip. You weren’t playin’ shy no more.

That was until your phone buzzed in your purse.

SMOKE: Bring yo’ ass home.

STACK: Before we come find you.

Your heart jumped.

You swallowed thick. Laughed a little too hard, trying to play it off—until you caught sight of him. Trey. One of Smoke and Stack’s old running buddies. Standing across the bar like he ain’t have a damn drink, arms crossed, eyes on you. No smile. Just watchin’. Close enough to move if needed. That’s when you knew. They had eyes. Ears. Everywhere . Shit, they probably knew what color your panties were before you left the house.

You snatched your keys. Whispered to your girls, “I gotta go. Emergency.” They looked confused, but you didn’t stop to explain. Just shuffled fast in those heels, heart pounding, thighs rubbing, heat blooming between them before you even made it to your car. The house was dark as hell when your car pulled up.

But the porch light was on.

They was waiting. Smoke leaning against the railing, Stack sitting back in the chair beside him, both passing a fat joint between calloused fingers. Lazy, country, smug as hell. They wore black tees that clung to muscle, jeans sitting low, boots tapping against the wood.

You stepped out the car slow.

Their eyes dragged down your body like rough hands. That damn dress clung to your ass like it was made to sin. Stack’s jaw clenched. Smoke exhaled smoke through his nose, eyes low and hot. “Didn’t we say bring yo’ ass home?” Stack muttered, voice thick like molasses and thunder.

“She was tryna show out,” Smoke said, barely glancing at his brother, like he couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Look at her. Lil’ dress tight as hell. Like she want somebody to rip it off.”

“You mad?” you asked, head cocked, lips pursed—trying to keep your bratty edge, even while your thighs pressed tight. “No,” Stack stood up, slow and towering, licking his lips. “We done bein’ mad.” “We done playin’, too,” Smoke added. You ain’t get another word out before you were pushed back against the front door, that joint flicked into the grass.

Four hands. Rough, greedy, mean.

Smoke grabbed your chin and made you look up. “You think you grown, huh? Think you can tease us? Walk around in that lil’ dress and not get fucked like we hate you for it?”

Stack was already behind you, hand fisting the hem of that tight fabric. “You made us chase you. Made us watch you postin’ pics like you single.” “I am—” His hand cracked across your ass. “Say it again.”You whimpered. “I ain’t!…” “Damn right,” Smoke growled, dragging his tongue down your cleavage. “You ours. Say it.”

“Y-Yours—”

And then they was on you. Everywhere. Clothes ripped, dress yanked, lips bitten, thighs pinned wide against the door. You were lifted, filled, devoured. One held your wrists while the other fucked you deeper than breaths. Their mouths left marks on your tits, your throat, your soul. Each thrust came with a growl, a curse, a whisper about how they should’ve claimed you sooner. You cried and came, then cried some more—smeared and swollen, your lip gloss gone and your sass unraveling like lace.

They fucked you like they hated you. But kissed you like they owned you. And when it was over—your body limp and slick in their arms, breath shallow—Smoke played with your curls as he fixed his mouth to speak. “We done playin’, baby.

Stack kissed your neck, slow and possessive. “Time to settle the fuck down.“ You blinked up at them. Mascara running. Cheeks flushed. And all you could do was nod. Because deep down… You knew you weren’t going nowhere ever again.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers!

btw , i got alllll yalls requests done! i’m surprised but i did it. so imma drop em in bulk , another one should be coming out either later on today to tomorrow .. depending on how im feeling!! after they all drop imma give myself a few daysss to rest from writing before i start a new fic.. ‘m thinking maybe annie x fem reader ??? andddd there’s also gone be a new series comin’ out so stay tuned for that.

[willyoubemycherryy]

No Guidance (Stack.M x R)

Summary: You’re just getting to the good part.

Contains: Flirting, some smut, Mary slander, cursing, everyone has a southern accent, platonic smoke with reader, a little dancing, MARY SLANDER, and I don’t care I don’t fucking like her, this is for the _ strictly for the _, kissing, making out, a hint of manhandling, established relationship, choking, allusions to sex and one brief flashback of some impact play, Michael B Jordan fine as hell, fine enough to bring me out of retirement

-There’s just not enough mindless smut of sinners, almost no x reader bc they’re all OC 😔 and please tell me how we feel about the daddy thing bc Stack screams daddy kink and in the next part👀…

A/N: act like I’ve been here the whole time.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Uh-uh. We not doin’ none of that. Not tonight. Get ta steppin’”.

You level a look at the pale woman standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow when she crosses her arms- fixing you with a glare of her own. She really was lucky you 50 percent Christian- otherwise, you’d have turned her every way but inside out.

It was no surprise that Mary was there- given her history with Elias or “Stack”. Of course she’d come running the minute she heard he was back in town along with his brother and cousin…but running to where? Not up in here.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere cause I have business in there.” Mary points the loud crowded space behind you and you push your shoulder from off the side of the doorway. You knew all about Mary. You may have empathized a little with her but you damn sure didn’t like her. She was the past in a future that needed her gone in order to make it and her refusal in understanding that irked you immensely. To you, she was selfish- plain and simple.

“You also ‘bout to have a foot up yo ass because the only business in there is the one my man is tendin’ to and you can’t possibly be talkin’ ‘bout him?” You pose it like a question but you leave no room for debate in your voice.

She was there for Stack. She wasn’t getting Stack.

Your question was met with a scoff but otherwise silence. Mmhm. That’s what you thought. Stepping back, you get ready to close the door since you were not about to stand and argue with Mary all night; fixing her with the same ugly glare she always gives you before leaning down to whisper in her face,

“Go be a good bitch and find a new master or I’ll be the one to walk you.”

Slamming the door with a satisfied grin, you turn around to go find a friend of yours and ask her to watch the door. It took some convincing since she was the strict one out of your group but it had to be her because as much as you love the twins and trust their judgment (mostly), Cornbread could not be the one to watch the door the entire night. After agreeing that you’ll owe her one, you leave to grab a drink of your own and judging by the look on Smoke’s face as you pass him- you didn’t look happy.

“Ooh. Who did it?” He drawls out as his eyebrows draw together in a slight frown. He knew about his brother and Mary’s sordid past because of course he did but he also knew how you and Stack have been since day 1.

He still remembers the day they met you…barefoot and sass-mouthed serving drinks at your mommas little dive bar.

“Aww twins~ Wait-! don’t tell me! Y’all gots ta be Double and Trouble!” Laughing like a hyena until your mama threw a spoon from the kitchen and you ducked- smacking your teeth before hurrying off to get their liquor.

That was it.

A pretty young server and good malt..until they came back for another couple rounds one night and you were still barefoot but this time, you wasn’t serving no drinks. Instead, you were standing in the middle of the room singing with a voice so sweet and strong that it rang through their head for the rest of the night. Smoke saw an amazing gift. Stack had seen a gift and something more…

“Just some go-go flour ranger. Nobody important.” Damn. Smoke winces with a soft hum at the insult yet knowing exactly who you mean. You always were creative with your insults- never missing in hitting where it hurt. Taking a deep breath, the beat of the music temps up and he passes you your drink and you sip at it, nodding along to the music as you start to loosen up. Tonight wasn’t the night and neither were any of the others. Tonight was supposed to be the continuation of their new pages turning- and that meant the end of whatever beef was between you, Mary, and his brother.

Smoke watches you start to move and raises a brow; broad smile growing across his face, making his dimples pop out as something comes to him.

“You gon’ sing a lil sum’ for us?”

Reaching out, he takes your hand to twirl you with a soft grin and you let go afterwards to fake think for a bit. Sammy currently had the floor and he was doing great plus…you sorta had other plans for the night. Smoke huffs a laugh, noticing that glint in your eyes- the one you got when you were fixing to get a kick out of causing trouble.

“Ohh, I get it. You in a just dancin’ mood tonight, huh?”

You get another drink and finish that one quick before nodding slowly before moving closer with a grin.

“Smoke, y’know, I neva’ woulda pegged you as a dancin’ man but if you’re offering-“,

“Oh nah baby, he ain’t but I am.”

The low words are whispered against the shell of your ear with a heat that sends shivers licking up your spine. Big, familiar hands fit themselves on your shoulders while Stack dips his head lower to press soft, full lips against your throat- directly over your pulse point and your heart jumps; you barely holding back a gasp. You look at the space where Smoke had been standing before he made himself scarce with a lighthearted “don’t wear y’selves out” and try to gather yourself, turning in Stack’s arms to face him.

Lidded, mellow chocolate eyes focused on you with plump lips pulled up in a smirk framed by dimples greet you and you roll your eyes. Shaking your head lightly as you swallow a whine.

There really was such thing as being too fine and Stack was proof. Strong hands glide themselves further down your sides, settling on the space just above your ass, never taking his eyes off yours and the intensity of him sparks something inside you.

“Been lookin’ for ya. Shoulda known yous’ somewhere in here causin’ trouble, hmm?”

It’s a lot warmer than you remember it being a couple minutes ago but no matter how deep you inhale, it doesn’t go away. That’s when you realize that the room hasn’t gotten any hotter than it’s already been.

But you have.

Your mouth barely opens to retort before Stack’s is covering it completely with his- slow, consuming and so deep. You truly can’t help the way you melt into him. Heart pounding with adrenaline and something much more tantalizing at the way Stack leads, plush lips firm against yours as you suckle at each others mouths. You only had two drinks but you already feel drunk; senses heightened and so sensitive that you’re borderline vibrating. Blood flowing through your system with a searing rush.

Stack harshly sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your pulse drops like a boulder into the lava pooling in your lower stomach; sending waves ricocheting through your body before licking deep into your own just in time to muffle the nasty little moans threatening to slip out while his tongue memorizes every inch of your mouth and the pleasure has you on the way to out of your mind and he knows it.

You were unyielding to everyone and everything else except him and Stack used that to his advantage each and every time. He’d always been good at getting people to listen to him but the way you gave into him was the sweetest thing he’d come to know. From the way your doe eyes would get wide whenever he’d say or do something that set you off and you’d find yourself wanting him- to the way you were purring and sighing like a cat now, snuggling your soft pretty self tight against him while he devoured your mouth; lips smacking hungrily against yours.

By the time you two separate, his hand is a little too close to your throat and you suddenly want everyone to go home.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that baby. 'Else I might think we have a problem.” Stack drags his lips from the corner of your lips to your cheek, rasping lowly into your ear and you whine in frustration, shifting in his hold.

“And what if we do?”

The hand that was at first only close to your neck, slides up to wrap around it. Loose enough but heavy like a collar and you go dizzy from how hard your cunt throbs, biting your swollen lip as you bat pretty lashes up at him.

Now, Stack learned early that you had a thing for sass-mouthing. You, learned quickly that Stack didn’t have much patience for being sass-mouthed. So if there was something you wanted from him, you learned the first time he spanked your ass raw while being stuffed with three of his thick fingers but nothing else- to ask for it real nice and polite. Your tone though, would be the death of you.

“Then I’m sure we can come to an agreement”, his hand squeezes quick before releasing as he presses another hard kiss to your lips, “Right baby?” You nod before you can stop yourself, body roaring with molten need and you blurt out,

“Tell everyone to go home.”

A surprised bark of laughter shoots from his chest and he raises an amused brow as he looks down at you.

“C’mon, you know I can’t. We just opened this place a few weeks ago, mamas. Gotta break it in.” You throw your head back with a groan, rolling your eyes as you mumble under your breath.

“Wish you’d break me in…”

“Huh?”

“What?”

You ask back just as fast and Stack whistles lowly, shaking his head before dragging you in by your throat so close that you’re standing between his legs. He drops his forehead against yours and just takes a couple seconds to look at you- breathe you in before he has you begging for the better half of the night.

“Nah, what was that?”

“What was what?” You could play dumb with the best of em. Grinning innocently like you had all the time in the world to play your games and Stack was all too ready to play with you. Especially when he knew he’d win.

“You gon’ make me get it outta you, pretty girl?”

Your heart skips a beat and he notices your eyes doing the thing when you answer:

“If you think you can then go ahead.”

Stack nods slowly, moving his hand off your throat to take your hand instead. Rising to his full height, he leads you up to the office of the joint, guiding you in first then closing the door behind you both with a click and makes his way towards you.

His stride reminds you a lot of a predator getting ready to jump on their prey and you only hope that you’re left shaking afterwards…

Part 2🫶🏽

-p.s. can y’all guess who’s next?

Another note- agree or disagree about Mary in the comments but be respectful to one another. I delete comments and block people so chill and type accordingly.

[tforpresz]

Finals are almost over, so I'm redoing the list yayy. I will update more as I come across them but if anyone has any recommendations comment pls!!! ALSO THANK YOU TO THE AMAZING WRITERS THAT ARE PUTTING OUT THESE WORK I LOVE Y'ALL DOWN 🫂🫶🏽

Work by @writerofautumnnights A Dance with the Devil

Works by @jazziejax ModernAU Jumpin' (SmokexBlack!OC,StackxBlack!OC) From the Same Cloth(SmokexBlack!OC,StackxBlack!OC)

Work by @hotgrlcece Fever (soon to be out,StackxReader)

Work by @strangerexee Sir,You're Too Fine (Bo ChowxReader)

Works by @livingmybestfakelife Castle Made of Sand (StackxReader, PlatonicSmokexReader) Love Rollercoaster (pt1)(StackxReader) Love Rollercoaster (pt2)(StackxReader) Waiting to Exhale(SmokexReader)

Works by @rdmasevi The One Who Asked (RemmickxReader) The Long Night (RemmickxReader) Blood&Blues (StackxReader) Bloodlines&Blues (Stack and SmokexReader)

Works by @aviawrites Love Bites (StackxOC) Wait For Me (SmokexOC) Anastasia Antoinette (StackxOC, SmokexOC)

Works by @fckwritersblock I Never Told You (Pt1,StackxBlack!Reader) What I Should've Said (PT2) Works by @spikedfearn Mercy Made Flesh Upon the Scarlet Alter Work by @uzumaki-rebellion Choose One (Smoke,Stack&OC. first three chapters posted)

Drabbles by @crystalgemcrusaders Til Death Do Us Part(Stack) They Are All Sinners(18+)(Stack) Headcanon-devils temptation:NSFW(Smoke) Work by @melancholymetropolis "Stop pretending that you hate me" (StackxReader) Work by @coldeforprez Is It The Way;2003 teaser (StackxBlack!OC)

Works by @szatears Just a lil' something (SmokexReader,Plantonic StackxReaer) ModernAuSmoke (personal fav 🤭) Three's Trouble (StackxBlack!Reader, StackxMary, MaryxBlack!Reader) Works by @spookysanta The Stack Effect 1/3 The Stack Effect 2/3

Work by @freshbakedbreadstick Advantages and Disadvantages (Smoke&StackxPOC!Reader) Work by @ughdontbeboring Let Me In (SmokexWOC!ReaderxStack)

Work by @starcrossedxwriter Still Standing pt1 (SmokexBlack!Reader) SmokexReader sneak peak

if any author wants to be removed, let me know and I'll glad do so 😁

also here are the A03 works :) A' Lil Taste by Katetypes (Sammie rec) Blood Ties by Xoslimm26 (Remmick fic) níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá by Subedarling (Remmick/reader) Where's There's Smoke, There's Fire by CreativeBuzz (Smoke/Annie, my parents fr) Dangerous by Cohrareads (Stack/Mary)

[decayingearf]

𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓓𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝔀.:｡+ﾟ

✗ warnings; 18+, mdni, oral (f!receiving) praise, overstimulation, smug bo chow wc: 718

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀; after a slow burn crush, you finally get what you want. which in this case is, bo chow.

[a/n; i rushed this tbh and its not proofread so 😬. also, read this with the song ‘kisses down low’ by kelly rowland! thank you for 100 <3]

to say you were head over heels was an understatement. you and bo had only started talking a few weeks ago.

but that was long enough for your family to notice change in behavior. “why you always at that market?” or “that chow man came by” was all you heard for a little over a month now.

today was no different. you guys needed fruit. you walked into the chow grocery market and hoped that he would look your way. you strolled around as if nothing before he spoke “hey, yer back” with a smile.

that smile.

your parents and siblings whispered about how you were so inlove. love? maybe. lust? for sure. “i’m looking for the peaches” you lied smiling back at him as he grabbed your arm just above your elbow and guided you over to the fruit section.

you nearly passed out. “these were just picked” he reassured still holding onto you as he gazed up at you and your eyes met before you noticed his eyes dip down to your lips. “thanks” you mutter as he nods before walking to the back of the store.

impure thoughts, [𝜗𝜚]

later that night, after you caught wind of a juke joint at the old sawmill, you arrived looking your best. now, to be fair you didn’t even know if he was gonna be there but, after seeing the sign? you knew he was there.

you entered and bought a drink before chatting with annie. you let time get away from you and, you and annie had talked practically all night. it dawned on you once you see someone walk up.

“an irish beer annie,” he started before seeing you “two” bo finished putting some money on the counter and leaning next to you. “i didn’t know you were gonna be here” the man broke the short lived silence. “neither did i” you responded in a sort of cocky tone.

bo only chuckled at your snark before wiping a hand across his face, “you look good” he lowly voiced eyeing you up. “thank you” you softly giggle looking down at your dress which was just above the knee.

“no, thank you. seriously wouldn’t know what to do if i didn’t have the sight”

you just laughed it off after crossing your legs.

──── ୨୧ ────

time went by of thousands of flirty comments which all lead you to here.

all you remembered was bo’s hand sliding up your thigh before you ended up in the storage room. “hmph” you huffed as he nipped at your neck while he made his way down. each kiss, bite, lick, and suck, got lower and lower.

once they reached your collarbone he got more handsy. grabbing your hips and pinning them beneath him as he kissed and sucked your tit.

“mm shit” you panted squirming slightly under him.

he finally reached where you ached for him more. bo, rubbed the area through your panties, feeling how wet it is. he laughed at the moans and whines his touch drew from you.

“i figured you’d sound like this..” he said, his voice deeper now “like you want me to ruin you”. you did. “i do” was all you said and all that needed to be said before bo got ‘tween your legs after yanking down your panties, and slurping.

“oh fuck!” you say relatively loud before covering your mouth so no one heard. “nuh uh,” bo started “lemme hear you..please”.

good god all mighty.

before you had time to respond he’s back sucking your clit. you start to get a bit overwhelmed so you push his head away or, try to prior to him swatting your hand away and sucking harder.

in mock warning.

you whimper as your legs shake and he doesn’t even look up from between your folds. after a minute or two you’re overstimulated. only twitching and ‘oh!’ ing.

bo is relentless.

his nose now nudging against your clit as he groans at your noises. “c’mon pretty girl, cum for me” he coax’s.

it seems like on command ( or rather on the last nudge of his nose) you squirt. “o-oh—ouu shitt” you whimper as bo just smugly laughs and kisses from your clit to your upper thigh.

he licks his lips with an exaggerated moan, “you taste like heaven baby”.

[cremeful]

dandelion!reader snuck out with her friend && farmer!dadbf!stack is NOT happy

🌼 @prettyfilmz , @hallucinagin , @woahitslucyylu , @queenofklonnie22 , @cafeluvs , @earthreturn , @bl3ssyn , @michifilmz , @tonichildsdaughterduh , @thebumbqueen , @tojisteddy , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @christinabae , @ami-s-k , @pinkkycherrish