#michael b jordan x reader

[soupsosa08]

𝑨 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝑵𝒐 𝑶𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 - Michael B Jordan X Reader; Fluff

Synopsis: Michael B. Jordan loves to cook — but what he loves even more is making you laugh, even if it means cutting all the onions himself.

Warnings: Fluff · Soft Domestic Romance · Kisses & Touch · Onion Tears (literally)

Note: I hate onions — but I love soft fluff, so here we are! Hope you enjoy this little piece of domestic sweetness :) 💛

You always knew Michael could cook — like, really cook. But what you didn’t expect was how much he’d enjoy doing it with you.

Most nights, when you came home after a long day, he was already in the kitchen. Music playing low, candles flickering, the whole apartment smelling like garlic and rosemary. He’d greet you with that warm smile, a soft kiss at the corner of your lips, and his usual:

“Hello, darlin’.”

Tonight was no different — except he wasn’t letting you off the hook.

“You’re helping this time,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a kiss on your shoulder. “No more sitting there sipping wine like you're the queen of the castle.”

You tilted your head. “What do I get if I help?”

Michael grinned, that familiar sparkle in his eyes. He kissed your lips — slow and teasing — before whispering,

“You get dessert before dinner... if you’re good.”

Your eyes landed on the cutting board.

“Wait. Is that... an onion?”

He held up a knife like a peace offering. “Just half. You do half, I’ll do the rest. I swear.”

You picked up the knife dramatically. “You owe me big time.”

“Always,” he said, already laughing.

Not even thirty seconds in, your eyes were stinging, and you were blinking like crazy.

“Michael—”

“I got you, I got you,” he said between laughs, wiping your eyes gently with his thumbs. “You’re so damn dramatic... but so damn cute.”

He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips — soft and slow, the kind of kiss that made your shoulders drop and your heart flutter.

“Come on, hop up on the counter. I’ll handle the rest. You just sit there and look pretty.”

You let him lift you up, legs swinging as you sat on the cool marble. He went back to chopping, glancing up at you every few seconds — just to smile, just to look.

Every now and then, he’d lean over to steal another kiss. Or rest his hand on your thigh. Or whisper something that made you blush.

And there it was — your kind of evening. A little spice, no onions, and the man you loved cooking dinner like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Being with Michael felt easy. Felt warm. Felt like home.

And honestly? You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[spookysanta]

Dodging Bullets. (MBJ)

Summary: A secret visit to set for lunch with the girls means hiding from Michael — nay, Stack. And he’s not happy.

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: intense smut. you’ve been warned. choking, spanking, rough oral (m!receiving), rough fingering.

hellooooo! we’re back with another one of the fics on my checklist. there’s only two left! the poll will be posted later today. enjoy ;)

The New Orleans heat wrapped around you like breathless hands — damp, thick, and relentless. It crawled over your skin and stuck to your clothes, pulling sweat from your pores before you'd even taken three steps from the car. You tugged at the hem of your tank top and pushed your sunglasses higher up the bridge of your nose, the sunlight sharp enough to sting. Your body moved on autopilot, but your mind was still catching up, weighted by the sweltering air and something deeper. Heavier.

Jayme and Wunmi had called you out for lunch after shooting wrapped for the afternoon, swearing you needed to decompress. You’d agreed too easily, distracted and restless. It felt good to laugh with them, to sip lemonade through a straw and pretend your stomach wasn’t in constant knots. You hadn’t even realized what day it was on the call sheet.

Until you turned the corner and saw him.

Stack.

Michael stood across the lot, leaning against a dusty red 1930s truck like he belonged there, like the truck was just another prop waiting for him to give it purpose. The afternoon sun hit the edge of his jaw, casting gold against the deep brown of his skin. Dark slacks clung to thighs you knew too well, that sharp white shirt hugging the broad lines of his chest, sleeves rolled against his strong forearms. His jacket was tossed over one shoulder, casual and effortless. The fedora was tilted just enough to cast shadow over his eyes, but not enough to hide the curve of his smirk.

He was laughing at something Ryan said, the sound carrying across the pavement, the sound smooth and rich like molasses. And when the gold in his teeth flashed with the grin you knew all too well, the one that said he already knew how this story would end, you felt it. A kind of heat bubbling through you that had absolutely nothing to do with Louisiana summer.

Your feet faltered, freezing where you stood.

It wasn’t fair.

Then his head turned. Michael saw you, his spine straightening up from the truck like a slow exhale. One brow lifted, and that smile deepened, touched with something darker. 

"Baby girl," he called. Just two words, but the way they landed in your chest made your breath catch. His drawl was thicker than usual, the edge of his Mississippi character slipping into his tone like a slow blade. He nodded once, just his chin, in a quiet command. "Get over here."

Your stomach dropped. Admittedly, you hadn’t thought it through: you’d forgotten that he was filming his Stack takes this afternoon, and his Smoke takes in the evening. Which meant he’d be dressed like this all day. And he’d be nearby. And he’d be watching.

So you turned.

And ran.

Your trainers caught on gravel, slipping slightly as you pivoted hard, heart banging in your chest like it wanted out. You didn’t even think to look back. His voice rang behind you – sharply, steadily – but you tuned it out, focusing only on the path in front of you.

The truth was: you panicked. And you knew better.

But between the outfit and the hair and the voice, you knew you would’ve been dead meat anyway. Whether it’d be by your own hand or otherwise – you knew it would be only a matter of time before Stack ruined you in the best way.

–

The diner was cool and dimly lit, a haze of comfort you couldn’t settle into. The air conditioner hummed above your head, but it did little to quiet the buzzing in your ears. Or the buzzing coming from your phone.

You slid into the booth, breath still shallow, trying to slow your pulse. Wunmi raised an eyebrow as she sipped her iced tea while Jayme’s eyes were scrolling through the menu like nothing was wrong. You timidly placed your phone face-down on the table, hoping they wouldn’t notice the way your hands trembled.

Jayme laughed behind the laminated menu, grinning wide. "You barely made that corner. Thought you were gonna eat pavement."

Wunmi gave you a look from across the table, her eyebrows raising in amusement. "You ran like he was the police."

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. "I panicked."

"He just looked at you," Wunmi teased, her voice lilting with amusement. "Didn’t even move."

"And spoke," you mumbled. "You heard that drawl. It’s not fair."

Your phone buzzed.

Once. Twice. Then again.

Wunmi didn’t ask permission. She grabbed the phone and flipped it over, her eyes scanning the screen. Her eyebrows shot up.

Jayme leaned over to peek and let out a low whistle.

The texts were short but pointed. Like bullets hitting bone.

You reached for the phone, but Wunmi pulled it back. "Oh, he’s mad mad," she said under her breath.

Another buzz.

You snatched it out of her hand, turned it face-down again, heart hammering against your ribs.

"He’s coming," you said softly.

Jayme raised her glass, "To poor choices and fine men who don’t take disobedience well."

The door opened, the overhead bell ringing with the chime that sent a chill down your spine.

Silence fell across the table.

You didn’t have to turn. You could feel it. It felt like gravity had shifted, like the air itself tilted in his direction.

Michael didn’t rush over. He didn’t need to.

He walked through the diner like a man who knew exactly how dangerous he looked. He was out of costume now: black joggers, white tee, gold chain catching the light like a warning. His eyes found you immediately, and the weight of his stare made your body lock.

He stopped at the booth, looking at you like you were already in his hands. His arms folded in discontent. "You really ran from me?"

His voice was low. Unamused. And entirely focused on you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your throat tightened. You swallowed. "I-I panicked."

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. "You left me standing there. In the heat. Talking to my damn self."

Jayme suddenly found her silverware very interesting. Wunmi took another sip of iced tea, pretending not to hear.

Michael didn’t look away. "Mind if I borrow her?"

Wunmi nodded curtly with a small “mhm”. Jayme gave a thumbs-up without looking.

You slid out of the booth on shaky legs. His hand was on your back the second you stood, hot and firm, guiding you a few paces away and out of earshot to any prying ears.

He stopped by the opening to the diner’s kitchen area, turning to face you, and stepping in close enough that his breath was hot against your skin. His voice dropped. "You saw me. I called you. And you ran?"

You nodded. "I-I didn’t know what to do,” you mumbled, your breath stuttered.  

Michael tilted his head slightly with a humorless chuckle. "You made me look like a fool."

Your eyes dropped. "I didn’t mean to."

"But you did."

You swallowed hard. "I’m sorry."

His eyes darkened. Not with anger, but with intention. He leaned forward, lips brushing your forehead in a kiss that didn’t soothe in the way they usually do. When he pulled back, his smirk was faint but ever-present. 

He pointed to the booth behind you. "Finish your lunch. Then take your ass home."

You blinked, confused.

He brushed past you to leave, mouth close to the shell of your ear. "I gotta finish work," he said, voice low, almost gentle. "But when I get there?"

He let the silence hang like a guillotine.

You nodded. Small. Quiet.

And he walked away, the door’s bell echoing in your head like an alarm.

–

Lunch was a blur after that.

You sat back in the booth pretending your soul hadn’t just left your body. Pretending the texts hadn’t made your thighs clench and your spine buzz like your phone’s vibration. You picked at your fries, nodded along as the girls carried on a completely unrelated conversation, trying to act like you weren’t filled with heat and dread and a sick thrill that curled in your belly when he used that voice to say your name like it was a warning.

Jayme offered you some of her sandwich. Wunmi cracked a joke that normally would’ve had you folded over the table, but your laugh came out too sharp, too late. 

But the tension in your limbs wouldn’t ease. When the check came, you didn’t argue – you just pulled out Michael’s black card and paid.

You needed to go. Needed to breathe. Needed to prepare.

You hugged them both, tried to smile, and stepped out into the heat like it wasn’t already swallowing you whole.

When you walked back to the lot, shuffling through the gravel, you saw him. Michael was leaning against your car, still out of costume, still dressed like sin.

The sleeves of his tee clung to his arms, skin damp from the heat. His forearms flexed casually where they were crossed. His eyes didn’t leave you.

You tried not to stumble as you approached, your shoes scuffing softly against the hot pavement. The sun had shifted just enough to glint off the windshield, throwing a flash of light across his jaw. But you weren’t focused on the sun. Or the street. Or anything else.

Michael was still. Way too still. Like a fuse waiting for flame.

Your mouth opened to speak, maybe to apologize again, maybe to say anything that might soften the edge in his stare – but before you could find a single word, he stood upright. His shadow fell over you instantly, his height and heat pressing into your space like a second atmosphere.

He reached behind you, gripped the driver’s door handle, and opened it with one smooth motion. His other hand landed on the roof of the car beside your head, caging you in.

“Go home,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper but it still cut clean through your chest.

You nodded quickly, stepping to the side, but he didn’t let you move.

His eyes swept over your face. Your mouth. The flushed skin at your throat. Then lower. “You hear me now, don’t you?”

You nodded again, throat dry. “Yes.”

“And just so I’m crystal clear,” He leaned in slow, lips brushing just beside your ear, his breath hot and deliberate. His voice dropped even lower, deep enough to rattle your ribs. “You ever run from me again… next time I won’t wait until we get home.”

Your breath caught.

“I’ll fuck you stupid right here in the backseat. In broad daylight. With the windows fogged up and your legs shaking so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

A gasp slipped past your lips before you could stop it, knees buckling just enough to make him smirk. He gripped your chin gently with two fingers, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you were his.

His lips brushed over yours, slow and soft, then bit your bottom lip. Just once, and just enough to make you gasp again. “Good,” he whispered. “Now go.”

And you did, seating yourself into the car, buckling your seatbelt with trembling hands and clenched thighs, and turning over the ignition. The sound almost – almost – drowned out the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. 

Your brain was foggy. With fear, ache, want. But also with the dangerous truth that you were in trouble. And you knew you’d learn to never run again. 

Not from him. 

Not ever.

–

The hours dragged slowly like wet rope across tile. You couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop checking the clock. You’d showered, changed, then changed again. Tried to eat something but couldn’t.

Everything smelled like him. The seat of your car, your pillow, the air around you.

Your phone hadn’t buzzed once since he walked away.

But when you heard the front door unlock, your body snapped to attention like a live wire. Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled.

The door clicked shut with a soft, final sound. When he entered the house, his footsteps were quiet. Measured. Intentional. 

You heard the rustle of his keys hitting the bowl by the door. The subtle tug of fabric as he peeled off his jacket. The faint sigh that escaped him as he finally crossed the threshold.

And then you saw him.

Michael stood in the bedroom’s doorway, framed by the hallway’s dim light, jaw set, shoulders rolled back like he was walking into a fight.

He didn’t speak. Instead, he just looked at you. And honestly…that was way worse.

He moved slowly, coming toward you with the kind of purpose that made your knees lock together. His silence wrapped around your throat like rope. “You ready to explain yourself?” he asked, voice cold.

You opened your mouth but closed it again. “I–” you started, but he held up a single finger.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your throat closed as you stood frozen in place, heat crawling up your neck.

Michael stalked closer until he was right in front of you, his body crowding your space, his presence stretching thick across your skin. “You ran,” he said. “While I was talking to you. In front of people.”

“I panicked,” you whispered.

He laughed, but it was cruel. “You panicked.”

His hand shot out, gripped your jaw, thumb pressing into the soft space beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. “You really thought that was gonna fly? That I was just gonna let that shit slide?”

“I didn’t mean–”

“You didn’t think,” he snapped. “That’s what you didn’t do.”

Your eyes welled up, shame and heat burning behind your ribs.

“Strip,” he said, taking a step back, eyes boring into yours.

You froze. 

He didn’t move. “Everything. Move.”

You obeyed. Fingers trembling, heart slamming against your ribs, you peeled your clothes away piece by piece until you stood naked under his gaze.

Michael looked you over like he was assessing damage … or, rather, measuring what he was about to destroy. “Turn around, hands on the bed.”

This time, you moved without hesitation. And the second your palms hit the sheets, his hand came down hard across your ass.

You yelped out at the contact.

“Louder,” he growled.

Another slap. Then another.

Your legs buckled, your throat raw from the cry it dragged out of you.

He didn’t speak as he pulled your hips back, forcing you to arch until your spine trembled and your breath came shallow.

“You wanna run?” he snarled. “Let’s see how far you get.”

He thrust two fingers between your embarrassingly soaked folds. “You’re so pathetic,” he muttered, adding another finger and pumping deep, curling them against your G-spot until your knees shook. “Still drippin’ for me after all that?”

You choked on a moan. Tried to answer. Couldn’t.

“You don’t even deserve to cum tonight,” he said. “You deserve to cry.”

He pulled his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss of contact, feeling your hole clench with want. You heard the shuffle of fabric behind you, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze. 

He spat nastily on your cunt, lining the mushroom head of his cock at your entrance, thrusting into you so deeply, so fully, you couldn’t help but let out a scream that could’ve cracked open the ceiling.

You clawed at the sheets, back arching, eyes rolling back as he slammed into you over and over, the pace brutal, unforgiving, relentless.

“You mine?” he growled, fingers digging into your hips like vices.

“Yes,” you sobbed with a nod, eyes already fuzzy. “Yes–yes, I’m yours!”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, I’m yours!”

“Louder.”

“I’M YOURS!”

He grunted in satisfaction, one hand fisting in your hair, yanking you up until your back was pressed to his chest.

“You gonna run again?”

“No–n-no, never–”

“You gonna ignore my calls?”

“No, I swear–”

He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing at the pressure point. “You better fuckin’ not.”

You took every snap of his hips. Every sting of his words. Every filthy word he growled into your ear. You took it until you were shaking, until your body betrayed you and started to cum around him even though you knew you weren’t allowed.

You cried out – your throat aching, your voice broken, desperate, apologetic.

He didn’t stop.

He fucked you through the orgasm, through the sobs, through the dizzy tears streaking your face. He flipped you over, pressed your knees to your chest, and went deeper.

You were nothing but sound and motion now. A ragdoll in his hands. A lesson he was making sure stuck.

When he finally came, it was with a snarl against your throat, his hips grinding deep, releasing in hard, punishing waves.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Didn’t loosen his grip on your thighs.

Just breathed. Heavy. Possessive.

Then he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “You feel that?” he grunted angrily. “That ache in your stomach? That burn in your throat? That’s me. That’s what happens when you run.”

You didn’t even register the shift in position until you felt him prop you against the headboard and Michael was kneeling in front of you, eyes dark, jaw locked tight. His hand cradled your jaw firm enough to keep you right where he wanted you.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted automatically, tongue trembling as he tilted his hips forward, dragging the head of his cock along your bottom lip. Still slick. Still hard.

“You think I forgot about that smart-ass mouth?” His thumb tapped your cheek once. “You thought I wasn’t gonna handle that, too?”

You tried to speak. To beg, maybe. But he slid in before you could even get a sound out, the thick weight of him forcing your throat wide, inch by brutal inch.

Tears pricked your eyes but he didn’t pull back. He just held you there, watching you struggle around him, spit already pooling at the corners of your mouth. “Take it,” he growled. “All of it.”

You gagged once, then again. He rocked deeper.

Your hands clutched at his thighs, nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. He just kept going, letting your throat stretch, making you fight for every breath.

By the time he pulled out, a string of spit connected your mouth to the head of his cock, and your lips were red, swollen, wrecked.

Your chest heaved, voice completely gone now, throat sore. 

Michael smiled down at you with a grin that could only be described as devilish. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

–

Michael didn’t speak again when he finished with you. He just laid you down with a reverence that cut against everything he’d just done, like he hadn’t spent the last hour using your body like a battleground. Like he hadn’t made you break in the best way.

The pillows were still warm, your limbs still trembling. He settled beside you, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths, his gold chain sticking to his damp skin.

He looked at you like he was still angry, but he touched you like you were breakable.

His palm rested gently against your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth in slow, measured strokes. The sheets were half-draped over your waist, your chest rising in uneven, shuddering inhales.

You blinked up at the ceiling, voice barely audible when it finally came. “…You mad at me?”

His head turned instantly. “What?”

Your throat burned, and your voice was raw – broken glass laced with guilt. “I just… I didn’t know if you were still mad. You didn’t say anything.”

He stared at you a moment longer, then exhaled hard, like the question had knocked the wind out of him. He leaned in slowly, forearm sinking into the mattress as he hovered above you, nose brushing yours. “I was mad,” he said, voice low. “But not because you ran.”

You swallowed, lashes fluttering. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“I was mad because you forgot who you belong to.”

His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb dragging across the corner of your mouth, wiping away the dried tears and spit from earlier. “You belong to me, baby. And when you run like that? When you look afraid of me? That shit makes me feel crazy.”

Your throat worked around the lump that built there. His voice was calm, but it shook something deep in you. “I wasn’t scared of you,” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes scanning your face like he needed to etch it into memory. “I know that now.”

Then, quieter, almost to himself, “But I needed you to remember what it feels like to be claimed.”

You didn’t answer. But really, you didn’t need to.

He bent down and kissed your shoulder softly. Then your collarbone. Then your temple. “You okay?” he murmured. “Anywhere hurting bad?”

You shook your head, then paused, motioning to your throat with a weak gesture. He chuckled low, the sound rough and unapologetic. “You could’ve tapped out, y’know.”

You gave him a half-smile that barely lasted. “You wouldn’t have let me.”

He hummed and kissed your cheek again. “You’re right. I wouldn’t’ve.”

Then, after a long pause, “You scared me today.”

You blinked. “I did?”

He nodded, brushing a thumb along your damp hairline. “You ran so fast. Thought somethin’ was wrong. Thought maybe I crossed a line somewhere.”

Your chest squeezed. “I just… I got overwhelmed. Seeing you like that. Dressed like him. Sounding like him. I knew what was coming.”

His jaw flexed.

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I just… I didn’t know if I could take it.”

“But you took all of it,” he said, voice low with pride. “Every fuckin’ bit. And you're still here.”

You blinked slowly, vision blurring.

He kissed your forehead, then got up briefly. When he returned, it was with a damp washcloth and a bottle of water. “Drink,” he ordered gently, propping you up with one arm. “Don’t argue.”

You obeyed. Your throat ached with each swallow, but the coolness helped.

Afterward, he wiped you down slowly. Between your legs, behind your ears, under your breasts. Everywhere he thought to reach, until the shame melted from your skin and only warmth remained.

You were already drifting when you felt him tug the blankets over both of you. His arms wrapped around your middle, tugging you close until your back was flush against his chest.

“I’m not mad,” he murmured again, nose buried in your hair.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Then, after a beat: “But if you run from me again, I’m puttin’ a tracker on your phone, your car, and your titties.”

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[-harmonytbh]

office hours

summary: Michael is shadowing his molecular genetics PhD candidate gf to prep for a role, but underestimates just how much her intellectual side affects him (fluff, smut if you squint)  

pairing: mbj x black plus sized!reader 

warnings: cursing, sexual tension, discussion of racialized trauma, and suggestive content, teeeeeny bit of smut (I’m shy, teehee🤭)

word count: 6.8k

author's note: wanted to play around with this since I am a scientist by trade and am heavily considering going back for my phd lol I’m missing my college days when I’d have a lil cutie waiting on me after lab! also, I use third person because it feels more natural to my writing style, this isn’t intended to be an oc…completely I guess lmao. 

song pairing: hands x alex isley

the aggressive burst of buzzing from her phone against the mahogany table on the third floor of the library roused her out of her study-induced coma. rolling her neck to ease the tension, she rose to step out into the hall and answer it. it had already been an impossibly long day filled with unnecessary meetings, arguing with the students she ta’ed organic chem for, and another round of failed experiments. isolating these dna methylation patterns will be the death of her, but she figured it was nothing a few hours in the library brushing up on a few emergent papers couldn’t fix. 

the hallowed halls of the grad school library was her safe space. she often spent her class-free days in there, camped out at a table like she was this afternoon, or tucked in some corner lounging on the plush carpet balancing her books on her lap. 

“kari, heyyy,” she sang out finally when she’d taken up residence on a overstuffed armchair in the mezzanine. students scurried around on the ground floor beneath her, heading in every direction, resembling a hive of swarming bees. some chatted with friends or held hands with lovers, most were engrossed in their playlists or lectures pouring through headphones. 

“hey babygirl, how’s your day going?” michael hummed sweetly. the deep timbre of his voice caressed her, adding to her desire to be at home with him catching up on her never ending rewatch of insecure instead of staring down the barrel of more meetings, office hours, and one more Hail Mary bisulfite sequencing to hopefully salvage three days worth of work. 

“don’t ask,”she replied, pout heavy in her voice, “how about you?” 

the flurry of a production office blared from the other side of the phone. 

“that bad, hmm?”he asked over the cacophony of sounds and voices behind him. 

taking a cursory glance around the office, he spied zinzi and ryan gesturing excitedly at a whiteboard in the conference room they had rented while they were on location. their newest collaboration, Tenure, would be a thriller based on a professor at an hbcu that uncovers a conspiracy, putting himself and his family at risk. michael would, of course, be the leading man, starring opposite wunmi. 

“worse.” 

he chuckled lowly as he caught eyes with the cooglers, and they gestured for him to join them. holding up a finger, he turned his attention back to her. he could sense the wound up tension within her though the phone, and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her. they had been like ships in the night since he had started pre-production on this film a few weeks ago, and she returned to school for the spring semester. he missed her more than he was ready to let on. 

“hey, you think we could change our names and make it to bali unnoticed?” 

“uhh, not likely mr. international superstar. i’d definitely leave you in your throng of fans and make my great escape though,” she countered easily, descending the stairs toward the library’s cafe for a much-needed iced matcha latte. 

“that’s cold, baby, ice cold. you have much left for the afternoon? i’d love a lunch date,” he said, checking to make sure his afternoon was open.

“ugh, I wish I could. i have wednesday evening recitation with my organic chemistry students and another meeting with my department chair about my dissertation. i’m grabbing a matcha before my office hours start at six.” 

“you’re too damn busy, girl,” he replied pinching his eyebrows into a frown, “can I at least get one of the interns to send you some food?” 

“no Michael, no production intern envisions spending their afternoon dropping off lukewarm pad thai to an overworked ta.” 

“it’s called payin’ dues, but I respect your compassion. hey listen, I gotta go talk to zinzi and ryan for a second. I’ll text you later to see how everything is going. love you.” 

“love you too,” she giggled back. 

michael smiled and ended the call. he really worried about how much she was putting on her plate, but not because he didn’t think she could handle it. her ambition was one of the things that immediately drew him to her. she was just like him: always looking for the next project, always looking to learn something new. he just wished their shared ambition didn’t have to come at the cost of missing out on quality time with each other, the late night phone calls and early morning check ins just weren’t cutting it anymore. 

 as he made his way toward the conference room, he could hear the cooglers chatting back and forth. michael admired the easy way they were with each other, how even if they disagreed on creative choices (as they seemed to be doing now) they still operated with so much love between them. 

“great that you’re here, bro,” ryan said as michael swung open the door, “can you please tell my girl that a microscope scene has way more cinematic potential than a shot of him scribbling in a notebook at the library?” 

“still arguing about that montage, I see,” michael chuckled as he slid into a seat at the large mahogany table. 

“will you please tell my husband that a large part of a grad student’s life is spent in the library? this montage has to encapsulate his whole journey through his phd so that we can get into the juicy stuff,” zinzi replied, snacking on an apple slice. 

“ya’ll know I never take sides, but I will say that the library bit is pretty accurate. my girl is actually there right now readin’ some stuff to help her re-run some experiments tonight.” 

“I’m a genius, zinzi coogler, you are a genius!” zinzi exclaimed, pointing directly at Ryan.

michael looked between them, confusion knitting his brows. he saw the millisecond they did their usual zinzi-ryan jedi mind reading shit and shifted their attention back to him. 

“should I be nervous?” michael said, leveling them both with a narrow glare. 

“of course not, Mike, we’d never put you in a crazy situation. don’t look at me like that, i already apologized for all the fake blood, damn,” ryan said with a snort, “what if we could get consultation for pre-production done while simultaneously solving your scheduling conflicts with dr.boo?” 

“never say dr.boo to me again,” michael groaned scrunching his nose, “and that would be amazing, but how could we pull that off?” 

“i’m so glad you asked!” zinzi cut in, joining michael at the table, “what better way to crack the ‘phd years’ depiction for the film than you actually shadowing a phd student and getting a feel for the day to day experience? we’re thinking you’d sit in on her lab time, tag along to a lecture or two, and attend office hours. just really get into her rhythm.” 

he wanted to get into more than just her rhythm.

“wait, you want my girl to do ‘take your boo to work day’?” 

“so you can say boo?” ryan said rolling his eyes. 

“let him have this one, baby. so not the point right now,” zinzi smiled patting his hand. she turned to michael conspiratorially. 

“i’m in. who do we need to clear this with?” Michael said clapping his hands together once with a sharp pop. He felt his body thrum with an awareness that he’d be in close quarters with her for the next few days, seeing her in her element. He was excited. He was anxious. He was…horny as fuck. 

“it’s all handled bro,  I was contactin’ everyone while you and zinzi was doin’ that lil song and dance. get ready to go to school tomorrow,” ryan said with a dismissive wave not looking away from his laptop. 

the next day

she blinked rapidly as her alarm tone broke the sound barrier from the nightstand. she groaned loudly turning her head away from the offensive sound and brutal sunlight pouring through the floor to ceiling windows in michael’s bedroom. only rich people do senseless shit like inviting the sun to sit in their room first thing in the morning, ruining any chance of overworked underpaid graduate students getting an extra fifteen minutes of sleep past their alarm. 

“shut uppppp,” she spat at her alarm, tossing the pillow she’d used to shield her eyes from the sun’s assault at the screaming clock. she kicked the comforter back with a huff. the slight thrum in her left temple let her know what type of day she was in for. 

staring straight up at the ceiling she (not for the first time this week) considered her life choices. days like this were the fucking worst. all she wanted to do was curl up under her man, eat too much, and take nap after endless nap. much to her chagrin, today she met with her dissertation committee to discuss the progression of her project. most of the committee was on her side and very excited about her endeavor to map epigenetic markers of racialized trauma in black people of marginalized gender. dr.barrett, on the other hand, made it his personal mission to be a thorn in her side during each and every committee meeting, and today, she simply wasn’t in the fucking mood.  

glancing over to her left, she remembered that michael had likely tipped out in the super wee hours of the morning to beat everyone to the production office to get the day started. she simultaneously loved and hated that he had such an amazing work ethic. 

kissing her teeth, she jumped out of bed before turning off the alarm and quickly making her side of the bed. of course mike had a cleaning service, but she didn’t believe in leaving things in disarray just because. 

stepping into her slippers and wrapping her robe around herself with a pout, she drug her feet across the floors with a steady schht schht. mindlessly, she entered the kitchen to find that michael programmed the coffee machine to brew her a perfect caramel macchiato five minutes after her alarm sounded. he had taped a sticky note to the side of her mug and left her a bottle of water and extra strength tylenol next to the machine. bless that god of a man.

“have a beautiful day on purpose. love, kari,” she read aloud, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. she missed him so much she could scream. 

giving herself ten minutes to mindfully enjoy her coffee and take in the immaculate view outside his apartment, she fought the urge to write a mental to do list for the day. as soon as the thoughts started swirling, the anxiety would rush back in and her mood would plummet. she shook her head to banish any thoughts that were not directly related to the scenery in front of her, the mug warming her hand, the cool caress of the air conditioning against her bare thighs beneath the robe. She reveled in the act of just being.  as she reached the bottom of the mug, she instructed the surround system to begin her ‘getting ready for the day’  playlist. cleo sol filled the air, and she shimmied along to the music through her entire morning routine, bolstering her confidence for the meeting. twenty minutes later, she was slinging her backpack onto one shoulder as she walked down the hallway toward the revolving doors in the lobby. 

“have a great day mister harvey!” she called to the doorman as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. the cool morning air kissed her face, and she was grateful the tylenol had finally kicked in. 

“you too, darlin’. don’t stay out too late tonight. y’know avery gon’ let me know if he sees you comin’ in without mr.jordan past midnight. you really should call the desk and let us send a car for you at night,” he wagged his finger at her. mister harvey and his son avery trade shifts at the door of the building and unfortunately they take michael’s instructions to ‘look after his girl’ very seriously. plus, they both really like her and don’t like to know she’s walking home from campus alone at night most nights. 

“shhh! you know mike has spies all over this building. he’d be livid if he knew I was still walking home! i enjoy the fresh air. but, i’ll make a deal with y’all. if I’ll be walking home late, I’ll call the desk and let y’all know so if I don’t make it within twenty minutes ya’ll can call the teen titans to rescue me,” she said raising her hand in the girl scout honor salute. 

“mhmm, I’ll hold you to it!” mr. harvey replied with a smile. nodding back, she turned toward campus and set off with a newfound determination to have a great day. 

that was until the strap on her backpack broke sending the contents skidding across the lobby of the genomics building. and the elevator to the seventh floor stalled at the second, leaving her to climb the remaining five. and her reaching her office door only to realize her key had likely fallen under one of the couches in the lobby in the skirmish, requiring her to descend and ascend the seven floors again. 

irritation pulled her eyebrows together in a tight embrace, mild headache back with a full vengeance and through her shaky breaths, she could hear conversation around the corner near where her office door was. faintly, she could make out the grating timbre of dr.barrett’s voice and fought back a groan. not this early. 

rounding the corner, she could see him in an animated conversation with a gaggle of people and wondered why in the fuck they’d stopped in front of her office door. the last thing she wanted in her state was to have to give cursory small talk since she’d have to get past them to get inside. As she got closer, the group turned to watch her approach, and she stifled a gasp as she locked eyes with the same cinnamon pair she’d gazed into before she fell asleep the night before. michael. in the flesh. at her school? what. the. fuck?

her steps stuttered as she approached praying he wasn’t there to deliver any bad news.  looking past him, she saw the cooglers smiling at her. okay, so it probably wasn’t bad news. her hands trembled a little less as she reached the group. 

“ah, here she is!” dr.barrett said proudly, gesturing grandly at her, “she is by far the best and the brightest PhD candidate in our department and will be perfect for your project.” 

project? her eyes danced across all of their expressions noting the smug smiles on the three musketeers’ faces, and the wide grin dr. barrett was sporting. 

“i’m sorry, good morning everyone. wh-what project? what’s going on?” 

“good morning. this is zinzi and ryan coogler of proximity media and I’m sure you know who this guy is. killmonger, adonis creed, the smokestack twins, and more, mr. michael b. jordan!” dr.barrett excitedly gestured at all of them, eyes glazing over from the fact that he was clearly meeting people he deeply admired. hmm, dr.asswipe was a film nerd. interesting. 

“nice to meet you,” michael said politely, his gaze tracing a blazing path across her body. 

they’d gone through great lengths to keep their relationship out of the public eye, so no one at her school knew that they were together. it was known around the industry that mike was dating a woman who wasn’t in the business in any capacity, but her identity was a mystery to everyone but his closest friends, topping that list was zinzi and ryan. 

“likewise, I’m a fan of your work,” she said back, returning his hungry gaze, stopping at the lips that just a few nights ago had trailed along the column of her throat and on—she needed to lock the fuck in. shaking her head, she reached out to shake hands and greet each of them individually. 

“they’re in pre-production for a film that centers around a tenure-track professor, and the reached out to our department to see if there were any PhD candidates that could act as a consultant. we couldn’t think of a more qualified student for the job than you,” dr.barrett beamed, smile tight with faux-admiration.

shit, she thought,it wasn’t his choice, which means he gon be on one in the meeting later. 

zinzi met her gaze with a quirked brow, and an entire conversation passed between them telepathically. 

“well, dr.barrett, we want thank you so much for connecting us with your brightest. We trust your judgment wholeheartedly, especially after your lecture on environmental racism at the naacp national convention last year,” zinzi said sweetly, cutting her eyes in satisfaction at her as barrett preened under her praise. 

“you guys caught that?” 

“absolutely, bro. very insightful,” ryan chimed in with a hint of sarcasm, subtly sizing him up. 

“I know you must have a busy day ahead of you dr.barrett, and I am definitely excited to get started with my shadowing. my team will be in touch about the logistics of the press conference at the end of the week,” michael said with a curt nod.

“oh, uhh, of course. please enjoy your time at our institution, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything!” 

the four of them glared at his receding back as he traipsed toward his office. once he was out of earshot, the other three turned their attention on her. 

“so that’s the dickhead you were telling me about at brunch?” zinzi whisper yelled, grabbing at the student’s shoulder. 

“the one and only.” 

“yeah, you were right babe, he definitely hates women,” michael said with a snort, “meanwhile he was finna cum in his lil wing tips cause I remembered his name.” 

“definitely didn’t need the visual, bro,” ryan barked out a short laugh and shook his head. 

just then the lovers remembered they would be spending the entire day together, and the world around them fell away. she captured michael’s gaze in a searing embrace, causing him to tuck his lip ever-so-slightly between his teeth. heaven help him if he was going to make it through today. the silence around them lengthened, and ryan subtly cleared his throat to cut into the tension. 

“yeah so we gon’ leave y’all to it, cmon zinzi.” 

ryan captured her hand in his sending a smirk down to her. 

“y’all be good.” zinzi threw over her shoulder as they walked away. 

and then it was just them. the air around them was almost congealed with yearning. wordlessly, she moved to unlock her office door. he was hot on her heels, the heat from his shortened breath fanning across the nape of her neck. a groan lodged itself in her throat as she felt the strong line of his body meld into her from behind. they stumbled into her office clumsily, clutching at each other the moment the door closed behind them with a click. 

“nice office,” michael said huskily, pressing her back against the door. 

“you ain’t even looked at it for real,” she said, her gaze locked on his bottom lip. daringly, she tipped onto her tip toes and captured it between her own. he gripped her hips tightly as he deepened the kiss. 

“my favorite part about it is that thing we did against the door that time,” he said hotly, against her damp lips after breaking off their searing kiss. 

“which time?” she asked, voice dazed. 

“hmm, must’ve been future me talking for a second,” michael said, pushing his fingers past the waistband of her pants. She yelped at the feel of his middle finger ghosting over the seat of her already damp panties. 

“I have a lecture to give at 10,” she huffed out, swirling her hips to chase more friction. 

he tsked, before sliding his fingers fully past the barrier of fabric, zeroing in on the exact part of her body that was screaming for his attention. her legs instinctively parted for him. 

“you doubting me already, baby? I know it’s been a few days, but tell me something professor. how long before you cummin’ on my fingers?” 

“five minutes plus or minus one,” she said on a small moan, pulling him even closer. 

six minutes later, they were composed and headed across the quad toward the chemistry building for her 10 am organic lecture. the much needed orgasm flushed her features and cleared her aura before she went in to deal with high-strung pre-med, pre-dental, and pre-pharmacy students in her class who were always prepped and ready to argue her down for a percentage point increase on their grades. she hoped michael’s presence wouldn’t be too much of a distraction for them—or her for that matter. that office door would likely never look the same to her. shaking her head, she looked over at michael as he was taking in the ambiance of the busy campus. she could see the gears in his head turning as he began to imagine himself in the role and to embody his character. amazingly, many of the students walked right past him without noticing him. She wouldn’t want to chance it will her ten o’clock though, those little fuckers were shrewd. 

“so, I think it may be best if you camp out at the very back of the class so you can get the best view while also not being a distraction,” she said as he opened the door to the chemistry building for her. 

“distraction for your students or for you?” he asked with a smirk, following her down the hall to the large lecture hall. 

“just do what I ask bakari,” she said snatching open the door and beginning her descent down the stairs toward the stage. 

“middle name in public is crazy, ma.” 

“says the man with a wikipedia page.” 

“touché,” he said, finding a seat in a dark corner at the top of the room and pulling his hood up to conceal himself. 

he watched as she readied herself for her students’ arrival, and he found himself enthralled at the sight of her in her element. as students began to trickle in, they greeted her and vied for her attention to discuss quiz grades and homework assignments. the more students engaged with her on the way to their seats, the more he could see the tension work its way back into her face and shoulders. 

kari luv🥰: tell your shoulders to break up with your ears. they don’t make a cute couple. 

babygirl, PhD👩🏾‍🔬: fuck you. these damn kids blowing me already! 

kari luv🥰: on the bright side, they got a fine ass professor. you sure none of these lil niggas be in yo office hours tryna get fresh? i don’t mind catching a case. 

babygirl, PhD👩🏾‍🔬: goodbye michael. 

kari luv🥰:  wait wait, no fr. I think I need some one on one tutoring. 

babygirl, PhD👩🏾‍🔬: GOODBYE. MICHAEL. 

he watched some of the tension melt from her body as she smiled and locked her phone. she cleared her throat to get the attention of the class. a hush swept through the room, and to his surprise, she transformed before his eyes into someone he’d never seen before. not that he didn’t know she was intelligent and a rigorous academic, that was a given. it was something about the way she deftly navigated conveying concepts while intuitively knowing when to push and pull with her students and help them understand the material. HE was even following the lecture, and he didn’t even know what the hell a substitution reaction was. 

“as we’ve previously discussed, substitution and elimination reactions can fall into the categories of sn1, sn2, e1 or e2. what type of base will drive a reaction toward the sn2 mechanism?” 

“a strong nucleophile,” a young black man with a curly taper fade said from the front row. She sent a proud smile his way and nodded. michael watched as the lil nigga sat up straighter and puffed his chest out in pride. oh, he couldn’t wait until office hours. 

“very good, mr. jackson,” she turned toward the projector build into podium and wrote out the beginning of a reaction, “can someone suggest potential products for this reaction?” 

another girl midway through the lecture hall raised her hand, and she waved her down to the podium to give the answer a shot. the short girl reminded him of younger pictures he’d seen of her at her mom’s house over christmas break. her face cracked with joy as the girl drew the correct product, and she clapped for her excitedly. 

“wonderful, ms.reed! I’m so glad this is starting to click for you.” 

“thanks prof, your office hours really helped.” 

the girl blushed with pride all the way back to her seat, and michael fell in love with her all over again. the way she took an active role in her students’ success, even with all the other things on her plate. her intellect. her passion for learning. he was utterly and completely enraptured. 

forty minutes later, she was wrapping up her final conversations with the students who hung back after class, suggesting that they could finish things during her office hours that afternoon. once the coast was clear, he ambled down the steps toward the stage as she bent down below the podium to finish gathering her belongings. 

“mmm, mmm, mmm, professor. you sure I can’t get no one on one tutoring?” He groaned, turning his head to the side to ogle her fully, “I think there’s a lot you can teach me.” 

“down boy, we don’t have time. my cells are coming off incubation in 15 minutes and we gotta run now if we’re going to make it in time,” she said with a huff, pulling him by his hand. 

they skidded to a stop outside of the lab twelve minutes later, and she tossed a lab coat and safety glasses to him absentmindedly. snatching the door open, she made a bee line to the incubator and pulled out her plates and stacked them on her benchtop. 

“you can come watch me but don’t talk. if you contaminate my samples, I will resent you heavily.” 

She cleaned the bench off with isopropyl alcohol before removing the parafilm from one of the plates. taking a pipette tip, she isolated a colony and mounted it on a microscope slide. gesturing to him to follow her, she walked to the bench top microscope and focused the bacteria into view and moved so he could look at it. 

“wow, this is so cool baby. you a whole ass scientist,” michael said peering down into the eyepiece with wonder. 

“I’m a whole ass geneticist, but yeah,” she laughed, gaze softening as she watched the man she loved be fully engaged in her life’s work. 

he stayed back as she moved to process her samples for the next phase of her experiment. she moved between tasks smoothly and confidently, and he could tell that she had been fine tuning the process for months. she reminded him a lot of himself when he was fully immersed in a role. the movements became second nature, whatever persona he was embodying became an extension of himself. 

“so, when did you know this was the career for you?” 

“I guess I’ve always known in a way. when I was five I told my mama that I wanted to be a marine biologist,” she giggled, “don’t even know where I got that from. my granny would take me to the museum of natural science all the time, and I guess I just fell in love with it there. over time it has evolved through many applications and iterations, but it wasn’t until undergrad that I learned about epigenetics.” 

She turned from the bench and placed the rewrapped plates into an industrial fridge. after gesturing at him to remove his coat and glasses, she then guided him outside of the lab and back toward her office. 

“and epigenetics is?” 

“epigenetics is how behaviors and environmental factors affect gene expression and function without altering the genetic code itself,” she answered easily as she unlocked her office door and stepped inside. 

the mental image of his mouth on her pulse and his hands all over her assaulted her as she rounded her desk. yup, office officially ruined. 

“oh wow, so you’re saying depending on what you do and where you live, you can develop certain conditions?” 

she nodded, waving at a chair for him to take a seat. 

“exactly. my project is looking specifically at how epigenetic modifications can be passed down, especially through black women and people of marginalized gender. when your grandmother was pregnant with your mom, you were inside of your mother as an egg. think about the ways stress, environment, and access to resources could’ve affected not only your mom’s development, but yours. now zoom out and think about how that cycle can be relevant even going back to slavery, jim crow, and the civil rights era,” she gushed excitedly, her eyes on fire with passion. 

never mind, now he loved her more than he previously thought humanly possible. 

“I love the way your mind works. you are genuinely one of the most intelligent, interesting people I’ve ever met,” he said, rising to kiss her forehead.  

she melted under his embrace and praise. he always had a talent for seeing her just as she was, and beyond everything being seen and understood was all she ever wanted.  

“aww, thanks baby,” she said, pecking his lips, “now get away from me, office hours start in five, and I don’t wanna be tempted.” 

“I’m very concerned that we haven’t stopped for a break yet and it’s almost 1 pm,” he observed, “are your days like this every day?” 

She looked up in thought. 

“uhh, no actually. today has been pretty slow for a thursday.” 

“unacceptable. I demand that we take a break after office hours,” he replied quickly stretching his legs out in front of him. 

“can’t, have a dissertation committee meeting after,” she said flatly, typing away on her computer. 

shaking his head, he navigated to his team’s group chat and instructed his assistant to contact dr.barrett and reschedule the committee meeting. he heard the Microsoft outlook tone and watched as her eyebrows knitted in confusion. she narrowed her gaze in his direction, and he smiled devilishly. 

“what did you do?” 

“took care of it. now we got time for that lunch date.” 

“I love you. I love you. I love youuuu,” she said jumping into his lap and kissing him all over his face. 

“save these kisses for somewhere else,” he said wiggling his bushy brows. 

“you freaky frog, unhand me.”

he tightened his arms around her waist to hold her in place. she pretended to struggle to get out of his grasp, but neither one of them wanted to let the other go. it wasn’t lost on her that this was the longest they had spent together uninterrupted in a minute, and it felt amazing. their movements slowed as they caught each other’s gaze. 

“kiss me,” she whispered, leaning into him. 

his hand tipped her chin upward to meet the descent of his lips. her lips parted on a sigh, and she readjusted herself to straddle him, threading her arms around his neck. as he deepened the kiss, she ground against him. his hips bucked slightly to meet hers, and they both groaned softly at the friction. 

a knock at her door startled them apart, and she jumped up to compose herself. he sent an angry glare in the direction of the intrusion and ripped his hoodie off to conceal the extremely noticeable (and uncomfortably throbbing) bulge in his pants. 

“mr. jackson, right on time,” she said breathlessly. she watched as her student ahmad, looked over her shoulder and noticed michael. 

“holy shit prof, is that—”

“shhh! come in, ahmad, we’ll explain,” she said, looking back and forth down the hall and shuffling him inside the office. 

ahmad stayed close to the doorway as if moving closer into the room would make michael disappear and blinked with a stunned gaze in his general direction. michael sized up the young man and sent a smile his way. 

“wassup, bro. I’m michael,” he said, reaching out to dap him up. 

“I’m ahmad. what, uh, what are you doing here?” ahmad squeaked out, returning his dap. 

“your brilliant professor has graciously agreed to help me prep for an upcoming role. I’m shadowing her for a while. speaking of, I was really impressed with you in class today. you’re pretty smart.” 

“y-you were in class today? whoa,” ahmad shot a look at his teacher with his eyebrows raised in stunned surprise. 

she nodded slowly and smiled. 

“yes, mr. jordan is here to observe so just ignore him. pretend this is a normal office hour. do you have any questions about what we’ve covered in class so far?” 

ahmad took the other seat and to his credit, he was quickly able to put his focus squarely on his professor. a little too much focus for michael’s taste, but he couldn’t blame the boy. hell, he was even squirming in his seat watching her this closely. 

twenty minutes later, they sent ahmad on his way with the promise of tickets to the premiere if he kept the sighting to himself. the last thing they needed was other students pretending to have questions to catch a glimpse of him. 

after repeating this with four more of her students and a few nosy colleagues, they were on their way to their favorite thai spot for a late dinner instead of the lunch they’d originally planned. they got their food to go, and she brought him to her favorite spot in the library. the rigors of the day were starting to take its toll on both of them, but having this quiet time was welcomed wholeheartedly. 

“so how did you manage to get access to the library after hours?” he asked, handing her the container of shrimp pad thai. 

“I have friends in high places,” she grinned, pulling her chopsticks apart with a snap.

“mmm, okay. it’s been so fun being in your world today. you work way too fuckin’ hard, but seein’ the way you light up with your research and your students, I don’t know. it just makes me realize why you push through the bad days,” he said smoothly, taking in the sight of her balancing her textbook on one knee and her food on the other. her glasses were perched on the tip of her nose, and he leaned forward to push them back into place. perfect.

“aww kari, thank you,” she pouted, “it was amazing seeing you immersed in my work today, and I really been missing the hell outta you so this was exactly what we needed.” 

he nodded before leaning over to peck her on the lips. taking the book from her knee, he softly read to her as she ate. molecular genetics never sounded so good. 

three sections later, she was laying her head in his lap and staring up at him as he continued to read to her. her body was thrumming at the intimacy of the moment, at the tension that had been building between them all day. 

“mike, stop.” 

“did I say ‘chromatid’ wrong again? my bad,” he said, turning the page to continue. he was way too into this. 

“no, I’m not thinking about studying right now,” she said raising up from his lap and placing a hand on his jaw. 

“are you tryna take advantage of me in this library?” 

“you don’t want me to?” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nah, hell naw, I ain't say that. I just was being respectful of your sacred space,” he said quickly pushing her back against the plush carpet. His hands began to roam over her, stopping at just the right spots to have her wound tighter than a snare drum. 

“nigga please, my first kiss was in a library,” she giggled around her quickening breaths. he stopped his ministrations. 

“on brand.” 

“fuck you.” 

“oh, you bout to.” 

before she could reply, he was on her. he made easy work of removing her clothes.  between his hands and his mouth, there wasn’t an inch of her left untouched. the steady thrumming had increased to a fever pitch of need for him, and he was more than happy to oblige. 

“michael.” 

“I’m here mama, what you need?” he said huskily as he continued to kiss a trail down her body. her hips bucked up toward his mouth, and he let out a sardonic chuckle, “is that right? I got you.” 

he dipped his head and kissed her. sweetly at first. reacquainting himself with her taste. once he got that though, he deepened the kiss. she moaned at the hunger with which he devoured her and reached down to tug on his hair. her fingers traced lazy circles in his scalp as he claimed her stroke by decadent stroke. he tugged her clit softly between his lips and traced her nipples with his fingers. she was writhing beneath him. practically begging.

“fuck, I missed you,” he whispered against her lips, continuing his assault on her senses. he was everywhere and no where at once. she wanted to push him away and pull him closer all at the same time. 

“show me then,” she whimpered, pulling him up to kiss her. she tugged at his shirt as he hastily unbuckled his pants. before she knew it, he was sinking into her softly, allowing her to adjust to the stretch. a tear escaped at the combination of it all. the feel of him buried so deeply, so magnificently, the feel of the plush carpet at her back, the scent of the books around her. 

“I love you so much,” he groaned as he stroked into her slowly, doing his best to etch this moment into her memory, “so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you too.” 

moments later, they lay cuddled up still physically connected. michael lazily traced a finger along her shoulder and stared at her as her eyes fluttered sleepily. 

“maybe we should get outta here before we get busted for indecent exposure,” he yawned, tapping her hip. 

“five more minutes. I owe this to undergrad me. pretty sure she wrote fan fiction about this exact scenario, I need to soak it in,” she hummed before pecking his lips. 

“wait, you wrote fan fiction about me?” he snickered. 

“the word you’re looking for is write. I write fan fiction about you.” 

“why write about it when you have the real thing, weirdo?” he said, tickling her. 

“I believe in manifestation,” she said soberly, gesturing to them. 

he laughed and shook his head. she buried her face in his chest as he pulled her closer and allowed himself to soak it in too. 

“we owe zinzi one hell of a wrap gift.” 

one year later

zinzi, michael, and ryan took the stage to accept their award at cannes. tenure was slated to be their most lucrative film yet, and there was already oscar buzz about michael’s performance. he looked out into the crowd and caught her eye as she cheered loudly for them. just a week earlier, he was inconspicuously camped out at her graduation screaming his head off as she accepted her degree with highest distinction. over the past year, they had really found their stride with balancing both of their demanding careers and schedules. he was truly grateful for the opportunity to use their shared experiences that day to give his role the edge it needed, but he was even more grateful for the new level of intimacy they reached after that day. the ring box weighed a ton in his pants pocket. he winked at her as he approached the mic to give his acceptance speech. 

“a year ago, I was gifted the opportunity to shadow a brilliant scientist that really helped me embody this role. of the many things I learned from them that day, the one that has stuck with me the most was that anything that lights you up from the inside is worth the grueling days,” he held her gaze with a smile, shaking his head slightly as he saw the tears clinging to her lashes, “for me that’s filmmaking and creating. for them, it’s mentoring, learning, and innovating. somewhere we meet in the middle with the passion of telling the stories that deserve to be told. this is for you, professor.” 

[afterdarkmax]

Michael B Jordan let me bounce on it PLSSSS

[chromehoney]

Imagine a middle aged Smoke saying something like this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8hnvrro/

He’s a family man, got a successful business, calmed down from the streets a bit, but every now and then someone tests his gangsta and he has to remind them that he hasn’t always been Mr. Moore who pulls out his reading glasses while he’s looking over paperwork. 😂

smoke would deffff say some shit like this omg!!! you neverrr said if you were requesting a fic buttt i got inspired so i wrote a little something!!!

Y’all were just out for groceries. Kids with their auntie for the afternoon, sun high and hot, your hand tucked sweetly into Smoke’s big one as you walked through the parking lot toward the local farmer’s market.

You wore a sundress—something light, hugging in the right places—and even though you weren’t trying to do the most, you were glowing. That kind of glow that comes from being loved right, taken care of, kissed every morning before the coffee brews.

You stopped by a stand to ask about the peaches. The man behind the table smiled a little too hard. Told you they were “as sweet as you lookin’ right now.” You gave a polite chuckle, barely thinking about it, asked if he could pick out a few ripe ones. He licked his lips.

“You got a man?” he asked, real low. And you felt it before you heard it.

That shift.

Smoke was already stepping up. You didn’t even get a full second to react. “She got more than that, she got a husband,” he said, voice cold as steel. “The fuck you whisperin’ for?” The man blinked, unsure. “Damn, I ain’t know, my bad—”

Smoke stepped so close, his chest bumped the table. “Don’t ever speak to her like that again. You see a woman like this, you don’t speak. You look at the ground and mind your fuckin’ business.”

You grabbed his arm—tight.

“Smoke. Baby. Please.”

He didn’t budge. “Go head, say somethin’ slick,” he told the man, licking his teeth. “See if I don’t break your jaw in front of all these people.” You pressed into his side, trying to turn him away. “C’mon. Let’s go. He ain’t worth it.” He let you tug him, finally—shoulders tight, that old heat rolling off him like asphalt in July.

Y’all walked in silence back to the car, his jaw still clenched, chest rising like he was steady fighting the urge to double back and finish it. Then you heard it—mumbled just under his breath, not meant for anyone but you and the air around him:

“Niggas keep playin’. My trigger finger itch all the time. I stay ready. Niggas must not know who the fuck I am.” You shook your head and kept walking with him. As much as you’d like to lie, and front — you did like seeing this side of smoke.

@cremeful for the use of dad!bf smoke/olderman!smoke.

@k1ssyoursister for the dividers!

tag list! @thickianaaaa , @vaultkween .

new chapter coming out for either one of my series is coming out soon — not saying which one yet though!!

[szatears]

just a lil' something, smoke.

summary: no matter how hard he tries to reject your advances, smoke always gives in. after all, you know his body like no other.

pairing: smoke x reader, platonic stack x reader.

warnings: use of the n word, allusions to sex, making out.

notes: first time writing in a couple months !!! literally had no plot with this one i just went straight off the bag lmao. also this isn't proofread at all!

It wasn't uncommon for you to find your way to his arms. Usually it would all be under his control; he'd call on you, he'd tell you what to do and you'd happily oblige. It went on like that for some time.

Only, you never got used to Smoke's hard exterior.

You thought that with time, you'd be able to read him better, but it seems it only become more difficult as time went on.

You and Smoke had been messing around for some time now, ever since he first laid eyes on you at a neighbourhood event he and his brother were "just passing by". But when he and Stack left for Chicago, all that went away.

You didn't expect the invite to the twins' new juke joint to find you, but there you were at the train station with Pearline when Stack found you.

"I ain't seen you in hot minute," he grabbed at your hand and twirled you towards him, ever the flirt. Your light pink sundress spun with you, frilly and light with air.

"Alright, Stack, let me go," you laughed, pushing at his chest. You turned around to check on Pearline, seeing her smiling at the twins' cousin, Preacher Boy. "What brings you back? Chicago too hard for you?"

"Girl, ain't nothing too hard for us," Stack waved you off, kissing his teeth. "We jus' wanted something a lil' more... familiar."

You rolled your eyes at him, whatever that meant.

"Say, we're having us an opening party tonight. Smoke and I got ourselves a new joint," a smirk graced Stack's face as you held a more quizzical look.

"Oh really? And whose pockets did you pick to get that new joint?"

"You want an invite or not, 'cause the way you goin', you gon' get blacklisted before it even open," he tilted his head to look down at you, his hat shadowing his face a bit.

"Alright, alright," you laughed. "I'll be there."

"Damn right," he smiled. "Imma tell Smoke too, that nigga sure could loosen up a bit."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at the mention of his brothers' name, whom you haven't seen since the night he told you he was leaving for Chicago, more like the night you found out rather than got told.

*

It was around 10pm when you got to the joint, the sound of music and laughter drawing you in. You couldn't lie to yourselves, the boys had outdone themselves on this one. Cornbread was at the door when you arrived, a smile on his face as you walked closer.

"Well, if it ain't lil' missy herself!" He laughed aloud.

"Hey Cornbread," you smiled, wiping away a curl from your face.

"Go on in, Stack an 'em expecting you."

By 'them' you assumed he meant Preacher Boy, who was with Stack when he extended the invite to you.

Walking in, the smell of food hit you straight away. The lights shone on everyone, illuminating faces and figures, some that you knew, some you didn't. Your eyes were looking for a certain someone's, never seeming to find them.

"I knew you'd come," you heard Stack before you even saw him. He swung his arm over your shoulder, a drink in the same hand. "You look good."

"You don't clean up too bad yourself," you patted his chest, a bright smile on your face.

He smiled back at you, gold caps glinting when they caught the light. "Aight, let's get you a drink, hm?"

He didn't give you tike to respond, walking you towards the bae section of the joint. You saw Annie behind the counter and a few others behind her.

"Hey Annie," you greeted her with a civil smile, to which she returned. Things between you and Annie weren't the best, but they weren't bad either. You knew better than to blame Smoke's personality towards you on the other woman in his life, especially because she'd been with him longer than you had.

You pulled out a few crumpled notes from your bra, but before they could even hit the counter, Stack had snatched them.

"Man, get that pocket change outta here," he said, pointing the cash back at you.

"Huh— I'm buying myself a drink, Stack, give it back." You huffed when he held it away from you again.

"It's on the house," he nodded at Annie, who grabbed a cup and filled it, handing it back to you.

"I thought y'all ain't do charity?" you laughed, accepting the drink nevertheless.

"It's a special night, and plus, you one of the few I like," he kissed your cheek, leaving as quickly as he found you, not before he stuck your cash under the strap of your dress on your shoulder.

You shook your head, moving through the crowd with your drink, smiling back at those who greeted you.

You found yourself a little corner to watch the stage and everyone else, leaning against the thick wood as you let the drink flow through your body. As you tipped your head back to drink more, your eyes caught his.

Of course, he was upstairs, watching over everyone else. His eyes stared right back at you as he took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke he exhaled wafting through the joint. You didn't break the eye contact, staring back at him as you drank from your cup.

It felt like you were staring at each other for ages, but seconds later he tipped his head to the side, gesturing for you to come up. Then he disappeared into a room.

Your breath hitched, your hand taking to your collarbone to ease the burn of the alcohol. You didn't know what to expect, things with Smoke were almost always unpredictable.

Regardless, you put the cup down and made your way slowly up the stairs to where you last saw him, adjusting the silky navy blue dress that you wore as you went.

The music was quieter upstairs, slightly muffled by the foundations and thickness of the room's doors.

You stood outside the room before knocking twice on the door, opening it shortly after.

His back greeted you, toned arms begging to be relieved from the slightest tightness of his shirt and waistcoat. He still had the cigarette, though when he turned to you, you knew it was only a matter of time before he ashed it.

You didn't say anything, leaning on the back of the door as you watch him.

He studied you for a bit, and that's when you really saw him for the first time in what felt like forever. His chiseled face, sculpted with time and effort. Those eyes that never seemed to soften, only at times when you got him loose enough to let go, just for a bit.

"Whatchu doin' here?" He said, startling you from your thoughts. You didn't expect that to be the first thing he said to you, but then again this was Smoke, he didn't care what he said to who.

"You told me to come up here, didn't you?" you smiled back sweetly, enjoying the feeling you got when you got under his skin.

"Stop sassing," he mumbled, ashing the cigarette at the end of the wooden desk.

He took a seat on the same desk, folding his arms across his chest.

"How you been, then? Didn't hear much from you these past days," you couldn't care less about how he was, and he knew that. You just wanted the truth and the honest truth.

He didn't answer you right away, simply allowed himself to eye you up and down. The way the dress hugger you perfectly, the navy blue on your melanin skin, the way it was cut low on your chest to expose just a little cleavage... he was enjoying it. Almost like it was just for him.

"You ain't got no where better to be?" He changed the topic again, much to your annoyance.

You let out a bitter scoff, already regretting following Smoke into the room. "You told me to meet you in here. Don't act like you didn't, Smoke," you kissed your teeth.

One thing about Smoke, he didn't do attitudes, regardless of whether or not he deserved it.

"Come here," he spoke to you softly, which should've alerted you if anything. Instead, you allowed your legs to take you to him standing right in front of his taller figure.

His hands rested on your waist, pulling you into him. Now, you stood between his legs as his eyes stared into yours.

"Why'd you leave, Smoke?"

He sighed but didn't act surprised, like he knew this was where the conversation would go. Your hands made their way to his broad shoulders, massaging gently.

"You already know why I had to go, business don't wait for no one."

You huffed at his answer, pulling back as much as you could whilst still in his hold.

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"What else you want me to say?"

You look at him then, really looked at him. "I want the truth. Why'd you leave me? When you was just saying all that stuff about wanting to be better for me an' all... It makes no sense."

Smoke looked away from you when you said that, but you still felt his fingers dragging up and down your waist, almost like he was making sure you were real, that you were still in his hold.

When a few moments of more silence passed, you pushed away from him, ready to go back down and pretend none of this even happened.

But Smoke didn't let you. He turned you back around in his hold, your chest against his back. His head dipped down to your bare neck, kissing along. His beard tickled, but you found yourself too busy almost melting into him to register it.

"You scare me sometimes," he mumbled, so quiet you almost missed it.

"What?" you whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "When was you scared of anything?"

"You're too... good. I'on know how to handle that." He was speaking honestly now, and it made sense why he turned you away from him to say this. Smoke never shower any vulnerability. You thought he was immune to it but it turns out he just never wanted anyone to see that side of him.

"Smoke..." you trailed off when he began to suck and bite at your neck, eliciting the faintest of moans from your lips. You pressed back into him, needing to feel more.

"I had to leave. Not because of you but you know I ain't good for you... I'on know why you can't understand that." He brought his left hand to your throat, tipping your head back into his shoulder as he spoke. Your eyes closed, suppressing the lewd sounds threatening to escape. He was barely touching you yet already had you like this? Insane.

"I don't care about that, Smoke." You managed to get out.

"Yeah, well you should." The way he said it sounded almost like a laugh. "You don't make no sense, baby."

He was right. Smoke wasn't the type of guy that a lady should keep chasing if she knew he didn't have what she wanted. Yet you, you kept trying. And that's what confused him.

He did everything to throw you off of him — use you when it pleased him, shut you out, literally everything he could think of. But it seemed to only make things between you stronger.

You forced yourself out of his grip and turned around, now looking him right in the eyes. He could see how hot and flustered he got you.

"I do make sense. I always tell you what I want, it's you who acts like he don't know what he wants." Your hands caressed his face bringing his forehead to rest on yours.

Smoke closed his eyes, his hands cupping your ass as he held you against him. He shook his head, seemingly about to say something before he pulled away.

"Stop," you frowned. "Stop forcing yourself away from me."

"I have to," he grunted, looking anywhere but at you.

Still, you pulled his face back to your, making him look back at you.

"You know you want to," you whispered, dropping a hand from his face and down to his pants, stroking over his clothes bulge. Smoke groaned lowly, throwing his head back. "Give me a lil' something, huh, baby?" you asked sweetly. How could he deny that?

He brought his hand back to your neck, pulling you in til your lips touched his. You moaned almost immediately, it had been way too long.

Smoke kissed you like he would never get the chance to do it again, pulling you impossibly closer to him whilst one of your hands held the nape of his neck, the other still palming him.

He lowly moaned into your mouth when you pulled away slowly, biting his lip. You left him do what he did best, take control.

He turned you around, lifting you up to sit on the desk, his hands roaming all over your body. "You're something else," he whispered against your lips as you fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt.

"Yeah, you love it, don't you?"

You felt him smile against your lips, just ever so slightly. If anything, that told you he wasn't ready to let you go. Not just yet. And that was enough for now.

He broke away from your lips to kiss along your neck, your head thrown back in pleasure as your legs wrapped around his body. "Smoke..." you whispered.

"Yeah, baby?" he kissed along your jaw, your hand wrapped around his throat as you pulled him closer to your face.

"I always get what I want."

[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.

[wakandas-vibranium]

Testing a Theory

Summary: After a rough night, Smoke finally gives in physically and emotionally, revealing his submissive, breeding-obsessed desires.

Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, breeding!kink, sub!smoke, praise kink, slight daddy!kink and use of the n-word

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: Writer's block has been beating my ass, but I finally fought back!! I hope y’all enjoy the read 🫶🏾

Three times now.

Three times Smoke has come to you with bloodied fists and cracked knuckles, teeth clenched as if to swallow fire.

Three times, he’s taken you with that kind of trembling, unspoken longing that says I shouldn’t be doing this but I need you more than air.

And he has pulled out every time.

Even when his hands shook. Even when he groaned your name, like it was an apology and a prayer.

He wanted to finish inside you. He just…wouldn’t.

That’s when you start to wonder:

Maybe he’s scared of what it would mean.

Maybe he’s punishing himself.

Maybe he wants to take what you offer, surrender to you but not unless you make him.

You’ve also noticed something else.

Past the gruffer edges and biting teeth, there’s something tender. Something quivers.

When you praise him? He shudders.

When you say good boy in that low, honeyed tone? He grips the bed sheets as if he’s about to confess a war crime.

“Soldier in the streets,” you murmur to yourself, leaning against the window that bobs and fogs from your breath. “But a whole sub in the sheets…”

And tonight?

Tonight, you’re gonna put that theory to the test.

It’s Thursday and this is the night Capone usually has the twins doing unspeakably foul shit that Smoke has refused to talk about.

You hear him before seeing him.

Heavy boots pounding up the steps. A pause outside your door. A soft grunt as he exhales as if just being near you is undoing him.

Then two knocks, slow.

You leave the door unlocked. Just like you always do.

"Come on in, Eli."

He steps inside.

And damn.

He looks like sin on two legs. The kind of sin God warns you about but never rescues you from.

He is tall and broad, his frame soaked from the rain, shoulders rounded from exhaustion. His brown skin glistens coppery in the amber lamplight, and he smells like wet tobacco, gunpowder, and cheap motel soap. That sharp Mississippi drawl clings to him even in silence.

You watch his intense acorn brown eyes pull over you, bare legs, silk nightgown, the curve of your body softened by the candlelight. His gaze gets stuck on your lips, then your chest, then further south.

He is already breathing heavier.

"Rougher night than usual?" you ask softly, knowing the answer.

He nods. Drops his coat. Doesn't say anything.

He still has that damn shoulder holster strapped under his vest. Still has dirt underneath his nails. His mouth is set tight, jaw clenching like he is chewing gum with a bitter aftertaste.

You take a step toward him, slow.

"You need to come down, baby. Let me help."

He does not move.

So you gently cup his face, rough stubble and skin chilled from the rain and tilt it toward yours.

"You ever gonna let go with me, soldier? Or are you too scared of what it will mean?"

That is when his eyelids flutter just for a second.

Got you.

You back him up until the backs of his knees hit your bed.

"Take off your shirt, Eli."

He hesitates for a moment, but then he literally peels the shirt off.

You notice how his thick chest rises and falls as he breathes, muscles tight with tension. A faint scar crosses his right shoulder, and another, lower, covers his ribs. His arms flex as he pulls his shirt over his head, skin slick with sweat and moisture.

He sits on the bed like he is in trouble.

Good. Because he is.

You take that as your cue to straddle him, soft thighs settling over his lap, nightdress creeping up as you lean in close.

"You know I have been thinking 'bout you," you murmur, trailing your fingers over his bare chest. "Thinking 'bout how good you feel inside me. And about how every time, you pull out like a coward ass nigga."

His whole body tenses.

"I know you want to," you whisper, your lips brushing against his jaw. "I know you want to fill me and watch me walk away with your cum runnin’ down my thighs."

"D-don't," he breathes. "Don't say shit like that, Y/N."

You smirk.

"Why not? Cause you won't be able to hold it back?"

A deep growl escapes his throat.

"I'm tryna be good now, Y/N," he mutters. "You know I can't—"

"You can. You just won't."

He doesn’t respond. He just helps you pull your gown over your head and tosses it to the floor. 

You grind down slowly and can feel the hard, pulsing length of him beneath the fabric of his trousers.

"You always tryna protect me. Protect yourself. But you ever think maybe I want you to lose control, Eli?"

He lets out a shaky breath. His hips jerk up instinctively, grinding against you. His hands hover over your thighs, shaking like he doesn't know if he's allowed to touch.

"You know what I think?" you ask, your tone light but darkening. "I think the man that kills for Capone every night, the man that breaks bones like glass, the man who shoots first and asks questions later is really just a messy little submissive when the lights go out."

His breath hitches in his throat.

Bingo.

"You like it when I ride you 'til your voice breaks, huh? You like when I tell you you're doing good. You cum harder when I tell you you're mine, don't you?"

"Fuck—" he gasps, biting his bottom lip.

You lean in, your lips grazing his.

"You like it when I call you daddy too, don't you?"

He groans. His head falls back like he can't take it. His thighs flex hard beneath you.

"Say it," you demand.

He clenches his jaw. Stubborn as per usual. You slap his chest.

"Say it, Eli."

"...Yes," he finally chokes. "I-I fuckin' love it, Y/N. Please—"

"Please what, daddy?"

He whimpers.

"Please let me cum in you."

"Are you gonna be a good soldier for me tonight?"

He nods like he's being drafted into a war.

He pulls his trousers down and you take his cock out of his boxers and stroke him a few times before lining yourself up, sliding down slow. So damn slow and his whole body goes rigid.

"Fuuuuck," he moans, already breathless. Your wetness and heat damn near sending him over the edge. 

“Shit,” you whimper as his grip on your hips tighten while he fills you with every inch. 

You ride him slow. Tortuous. Deep.

"You're so thick, Eli. Stretching me like you were made for it."

"Don't— don't say that—baby, I can't—”

You dig your nails into his chest, letting out breathless curses and moans as you bounce harder on his fat dick.

"You can. You'll stay right there and take it. You'll let me fuck you 'til you lose every bit of that control you hold on to so tightly."

He nods wildly, hips thrusting up mechanically in rhythm with your grind.

"That's it. Be a good boy for me. My perfect little soldier."

"I'm I-I... oh shit— I ain’t gon’ last," he gasps. "I swear to God—"

You grab his throat, not too tightly but enough to make him notice. He moans, a deep, breathless whimper.

"Quit talkin’ about it and do it, Elijah."

He gasps, eyes flying wide open. 

You squeeze a little more.

"Be a good soldier and cum inside me like you always wanted to."

That's it.

He lets out a whimper so filthy that it takes the air right from your lungs. His whole body jolts. He grabs your waist like he's drowning, and he just erupts inside of you with a guttural cry. You can feel hot thick pulses filling you deep, his hips twitching as he tries to ride the high.

"Shiiit—Y/N—fuck—fuck—"

You don't let up even when he starts twitching from overstimulation. You slowly shift your grip on his throat while leaning in close to him, lips against his ear.

"Look at that. You came so fast. So messy. You really are my little sub, huh?"

He nods, chest heaving, still hard inside you.

"Say it, Eli."

"…Y-you mine," he whispers. "I'm yours."

You're still straddling him, bare and full, hips flush to his as the rain patters against the window like a lullaby.

The room is soaked in sex, skin, and tobacco… the real stuff, earthy and weighty. His breath is slowing, but his arms are still around your waist, like he doesn't trust the air between you enough to let go. 

Your arms drape sweaty and lazy around his thick, muscly neck, fingers curling into the damp curls at the base of his skull. He trembles faintly still, the aftershocks rippling through him like he'd just survived a war. 

And you? 

You are calm. Soft, brown skin glowing. Pressing sweet, open-mouthed kisses to every inch of his cheeks, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. Each time he flinches just a little, like he forgot how it felt to be loved on like that. It’s been a while. Years.

“Breathe, baby,” you murmur against his temple. “You're safe.”

His chest rises and falls under your arm, broad, solid, scarred, and beautiful. His arms are like steel cables wrapping around you, but the tension is finally bleeding out of them. He melts into you inch by inch, right there in your arms. 

Kissing his forehead. His dimple. That special spot behind his ear that always makes him groan when you suck on it.

“You did so good for me, Eli.”

A soft hum vibrates in his throat—less a sound, more a feeling that escaped.

You kiss the corner of his mouth and rock your hips just a little. He shivers. Still inside you, overstimulated and raw. 

“Sensitive?” you tease gently. 

“Hell, yeah,” he rasps, his voice low and gravelly, like wheels grinding on gravel. “You tryin' to kill me?” 

“Mm-mm. Just tryin' to bring you back to life, nigga.” 

He huffs a half-laugh, his voice loose now, lazy and southern, no longer clipped by stress. 

“Damn...I ain't even know how much I needed that,” he mutters without thinking. 

You still.

And so does he.

His eyes flick up, startled, like his words broke through his armor and he's afraid they'll cause irreversible damage. 

But you don’t tease him. You don’t flinch.

You just kiss his cheek again, more softly now, and whisper, “I did.”

He looks at you like he's not sure how to survive being seen this completely. His fingers trace up and down your spine now, slow, and reverent. 

"You always this sweet after you take a nigga soul?" He questions, smirking just a little, but there's that tiny ache in his voice again. That ghost. 

“Only for you,” you reply honestly. 

You stay like that for a while. Rocking slowly. Breathing together.

Eventually, you peel yourself off him with some effort and a giggle. 

“Damn,” you say, walking gingerly to the bathroom, his warm cum slowly seeping out of you and down your thigh, “you really did try to put a baby in me.” 

“Don't tempt me,” he calls after you, his voice hoarse, amused. 

But when you return with a warm rag, kneel between his knees, and start to clean him with slow, gentle thoroughness?

He goes quiet again.

He watches you with that same overwhelmed look like you are a hymn he doesn't understand how to sing.

You kiss his thigh.

Then his stomach. You feel it flutter.

You stand and lean down to kiss his lips.

“Next time,” you whisper as you knead one of the knots in his right shoulder, “I want you to beg before you fill me like that.”

“Yes, ma'am," he says without missing a beat then laughs at how quick it was to come out. "Goddamn. You really had me."

"Took your black ass long enough to figure that out."

Without warning he pulls you back into his lap, and you let out a small squeak as you giggle and settle back into his lap. He’s still rock hard, and you’re still a soaked mess.

Smoke grunts softly as you sink down on him again and admits, “I like the way you handle me. Do it again.”

You moan a giggle, teasing, “Mmm…you tellin’ me or askin’ me?”

He pauses.

Jaw clenched. Eyes locked on yours. Still buried deep.

Then he says, quiet, rough, but honest, “I’m askin’.”

Your breath catches.

He’s still strong. Still big and very dangerous.

But right now? He’s yours.

All pride stripped. All power offered. Not taken.

You lean in, kiss him much sweeter this time, and whisper against his lips, “Good, ‘Cause I wasn’t finished with you anyway.”

And then you move with intentional precision.

And boy does he let you.

He groans, head falling back, voice wrecked as you swirl in his lap, clenching around the tip of his dick when you bounce up, “Fuck… you gon’ break me tonight, huh?”

You push him down so his back is against the bed, your palms flat against his chest as you bounce harder and moan, “That’s what you want, right?”

He nods, smacking your ass as hard as he can, “Mhm, that’s what the fuck I need, baby. Don’t stop.”

And of course you don’t stop.

[itachihottie]

Co-Producer

You paused near the entrance, letting it all soak in. Your name was on the call sheet. Co-Producer. You exhaled slowly, then walked in. Inside Stage 5, the first scene of the day was being shot. And then you saw him. Michael stood near the monitors in black joggers and a white tee, laughing with one of the DPs, until his eyes met yours.

His smile shifted, a little wider. He stepped away and met you halfway. "There she go," he said. You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Try not to get too excited."

“Too late," he replied. You laughed, then brushed past him toward the monitor. You sat beside him during the first take. No words, just watching. The scene played out smoothly, but something about the pacing felt a little off. He turned to ask you something, but you were already writing. "I think if he lingers a little longer after the toast, like a half a second, it'll feel more believable when he storms off."

Michael blinked, then nodded slowly. He repeated the note back to the actor, and it worked. He looked at you again as if he was seeing you for the first time again. "Told you you were good," he said. You smirked. "That's why you asked me to be here, right?" He stared for a moment, then looked away.

[pyraomen]

゛ᢉ𐭩 ⸝⸝⋆ 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝑭𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 , elias moore.

𝑺𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── it’s stack’s first real father’s day and he’s been waiting to spend it with you and his lil man. just like old times. he told you a week ago his momma was throwin a cookout back home in mississippi, a special day for all the fathers in his family. he even cleaned up his act a lil bit, tryna show he still that man you fell for. instead of showing up with just his son, you bring your new nigga…on his day. you knew better, and now he gotta remind you. remind both y’all.

꒰ babydaddy elias “stack” moore x black!fem reader. established relationship, second chance. strong use of profanity, lots of n-word usage, drama, jealous!stack, toxic arguments, emotional tension, hurt feelings, possessive!stack, threats made, violence, reminiscence, sexual content, sexual tension, angry sex, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, oral sex, creampie, light breeding kink, overstimulation and lots of other things so scroll now if you don’t want to read about people fucking. ꒱

the ride from atlanta to mississippi was long, too long for how quiet the car had gotten. even with the air conditioner running, the air felt heavy. your baby boy was asleep in the backseat, pacifier slack in his mouth, and his black curls stuck to his forehead from the heat. you had one hand on the steering wheel, fingers tapping in a rhythm to calm your nerves.

the road stretched on forever in front of you, with the GPS voice muted after the fifth "continue straight". your man, dominique sat in the passenger seat mindlessly scrolling through his phone, thumb moving fast like he was tryna distract himself. he had been feeling a type of way since you told him about today’s plans. you caught the look he gave you ten minutes ago, fake mean mugging you with his whole face turned up. full of questions he ain’t bold enough to ask outright.

the tension was cut when he asked, “why couldn’t we just stay in atlanta?” voice laced with too much attitude. “could’ve saved us this whole damn trip.” you sighed, you knew this was coming and could feel yourself getting irritated because he already knew the answer. “because his momma throwing a father’s day cookout. it’s his first one and it’s good for my baby to be round family.”

dominque rolled his eyes while shaking his head. “family? tuh. ain’t none of them came around since he was born, but now they wanna go all out. throwin cookouts ‘n shit.” he tried to mutter under his breath, but you still heard him.

you gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes still focusing on the rode. “this ain’t about you dominque. i told you that before we even left.” out of your peripheral vision you could see him put the phone down and turn his body in the seat to focus in on you. “you right, it’s not about me.” his voice raised, “but let’s keep it a buck cause its damn sure ain’t just about your son either. you could’ve dropped him off and turned around.” you shot him a look, because now he was doing too much. “don’t start.”

his voice came out sharp, bitter. feeling like he could finally get everything off his chest, like your son wasn’t sleep, but he didn’t care. the words had been sittin on his tongue too long, and now they were spillin whether you liked it or not. “i’m not starting shit”, he snapped. “i’m just saying, look how you dressed. that thin ass sundress, hair done up, wearing jewelry i fasho ain’t get you.” his lip curled as he looked you up and down, voice dropping low, more insult than question now. “this all for me or him?”

his fingers tapped against his fake amiri jeans, eyes still on you, waiting for an answer he assumed he knew. you cut your eyes at him. the way he was acting? like he ain’t realize who he was talking to. like he forgot you had a whole baby in the backseat. “stop raising your voice like you ain’t got no sense”, you snapped. “my son is sleep, and i’m not about to keep going back and forth with you over bullshit.”

he tried to open his mouth, to defend himself, but you kept going. “i’m the mother of elias’ child. i’m gon show up put together regardless. you expect me to pull up lookin like some bag lady in front of his entire family?” the silence was evident after that. you heard him huffing and puffing clearly bothered by what you said.

then came his bitter laugh. he shook his head, staring out the window like he couldn’t believe what he was hearin, “you still call that nigga elias.” he was quiet for good after that, but the disrespect was loud. voice full of resentment and something else y’all both didn’t want to admit to.

this was one of those times you were lucky your baby couldn’t talk yet. if he did, he would of been running to his daddy about what dominique said and you were trying to get them to have a cordial relationship. unfortunately it wasn’t working.

the silence felt suffocating and pushed against your temple like a headache. with dominque’s resentment weighing heavily on you, each mile seemed to go on forever. you decided to pull over when you noticed a faded green symbol for a gas station up ahead. you flicked the turn signal, “i’m pulling over.” your voice was low, you hated arguing because it always drained you mentally. “tank low and i need a minute.” dominque didn’t say nothing, giving you the silent treatment.

you shifted into park, pulled up next to the pump, and released a breath you weren't even aware you were holding. the long drive caused your sundress to stick slightly to the back of your thighs as you climbed out slowly. you went to the rear of your car, swiped your card, and began filling up the tank.

the voice in the back of your head criticized dominque for not getting out to pump your gas. “elias would of did it, argument or not”, you thought. you shook them thoughts away because it was nothing you could do, ya’ll weren’t together anymore. you peaked into the back seat, as the gas nozzle stayed where it was at. inside the car, your son was still sleeping peacefully. completely unbothered by the mess unfolding around him. which he got from his daddy, they both could sleep through anything.

you glanced at your reflection in the car window — lips still glossy, no smudge in your makeup, hoops glinting, and your ass looked fat in this sundress. you fixed the placement of some of the bracelets around your wrist, the ones elias got you, by the way. you looked good and that’s what had him pressed.

from the passenger seat, dominique finally stepped out. stretching like the whole ride wore him out and he wasn’t behind the drivers seat once. he leaned against the car, arms folded across his chest, watching you. “you always gotta make shit harder than it gotta be, don’t you?” he mumbled. you didn’t even glance at him.

“and you always got somethin to say when you feel like you ain’t bein prioritized. ain’t nobody tryin to make you feel small, dominque. but today ain’t about you.” he sucked his teeth, pushed off the car and came stalking towards you. “nah it’s never about me. it’s always elias this, elias that. like he somebody for real. whole time he couldn’t even keep his family together.”

“you got it dominique.” and it was left at that. you weren’t gonna argue in public with a man who couldn’t handle you doin right by your child. you just needed to hurry up and get this over with. drop of your son, play cordial, make you a few plates, and leave before elias reminded you why he was the hardest man to walk away from in the first place.

─────────

after another thirty minutes, you finally made it to elias’ momma house. it took you a minute to find parking since cars was packed in the front of the house and the neighbors. you eased your car into a tight spot across the street from them. “come on”, you muttered hopping out the car.

the air smelt like smoke ribs, burnt ends, and sweet bbq sauce — a classic mississippi summer. your baby started to stir as you lifted him gently from his car seat, resting him against your hip. you didn’t pay dominque any mind, as you made your way to the back of the house. the moore house was vibrant — music loudly playing, uncles loud off liquor while playing spades, elijah was on the grill, kids ran through the grass barefoot with melting popsicles. elias’ momma was setting out foil pans on a fold-up table with her hands on her hips.

as you walked closer, your feet became slightly heavier. every step felt loud and all eyes on you, like everybody at the damn cookout paused just to see who the hell you brought with you. relatives of stack approached you, saying their hellos and cooed at your son. all you could do was give them half smiles in return.

because your attention was focused on him, your babydaddy. he hadn’t noticed you yet, which was a relief at the moment. lazily leaned back in a folding chair with his legs spread wide and elbows rested on his knees. he looked good, too good. stack had his go-to black durag tied tight around his head, white tank clinging to his muscles, gold chain glinting in the sun, and his grills lightly shined when he smirked at something his cousin said. he was having a good time, sipping on his favorite drink — hennessy in a red cup.

all that shifted when one of his messy ass aunties pointed you out in the crowd. “there go your baby mama, eli,” she said, smirkin over her plate of ribs. “ain’t that her right there in that lil pink dress?” he glanced up and just like that, all the playfulness dropped clean off his face.

his shoulders squared up and the relax lean he had in the chair turned into a full sit-up. flexed jaw. eyes narrowed. mean mugging. the moment he clocked the man next to you, his smile vanished, and the gold on his tooth stopped flashing. his eyes moved very slowly, taking you all in, from the bouncing curls on your shoulder to your glossy lips to his little man on your hip.

and the lame ass nigga next to you.

elias’ lips parted just slightly, but he ain’t say nothing. not yet. he just stared.

you felt it, that familiar look he gave you. the one he gave you back when you used to test his patience just to see how far he’d go. heat began to crawl up your neck, not from embarrassment, but knowing you fucked up. he was trying to keep it cute in front of his people, but stack wasn’t a level headed nigga. no, that was smoke. smoke was the calmer twin, the one you could reason with. and when he looked over at his brother across the yard and gave him that sharp nod. saying all the words he needed with his eyes —“if something pop off, be ready”. you already knew what it meant. you and dominique was beyond saving.

you gripped your son tighter, adjusting him on your hip and forced a smile towards elias’ momma who pulled you into a one-armed hug. “hey baby”, she greeted. “look at my grand baby, ain’t he getting big?” you nodded, voice light. “yes ma’am. growing too fast for my liking.”

she gave dominique a simple “hi”, but didn’t say his name. just looked him up and down real quick, then turned her attention back to the food table like she was tryna keep the peace.

peace was thrown out the window when you showed up with another man. stack was looking at you like you personally betrayed him. he rose slowly, as though tension tightened every bone in his body. the red cup hung loose in his fingers, but his whole frame said anything but relaxed.

one of his cousins who already peeped game, leaned over to try and stop him. “aye stack, chill.” but he wasn’t hearing none of that. nobody understood how he was feeling, that was his babymomma at the end of the day.

not just some random bitch he used to mess with. you were his, his headache, his soft spot, his unfinished business. and he would do anything to get his family back. he was already walking toward y’all, straight through the crowd, eyes locked on you. nothing about his body language gave soft or calm.

he made his way across the yard, cutting through chairs and coolers like the crowd wasn’t even there. like his whole family wasn’t lowkey staring, forks frozen mid-air, watching how this was about to play out.

dominque was right next to you, standing tall like he had something to prove. arms crossed over his chest, chin up like he was ready for whatever. stack’s eyes didn’t leave yours once. not even when he got close enough for you to smell the henny and versace cologne on him.

when he finally spoke, it was low and grumbled, like he was trying real hard not to raise his voice “this what we on now?” you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. because in reality, this was a terrible idea. there was a familiar sting in the back of your throat. the one you got whenever stack looked at you like this, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. as if he was waiting on you to say something dumb so he could call your bluff.

you shifted your son on your hip and shaked your head. "let’s not do this here, elias." he licked his bottom lip, head tilted slightly. still looking at you, taking you in like you owed him something. “nah we gon do this right here, in front of everybody.” he turned slightly towards dominique, just enough to size him up. “you the new nigga?”, stack asked straight up, grill flashing just a little — a crazed smile forming on his face.

dominque puffed his chest out, “yeah i’m with her. problem?” stack laughed, a serious laugh like what he said was funny to him. “you with her. that’s cute.” and like a switch he turned back towards you, looking dead in your face, expression wiped of every bit of playfulness. “you really brought this clown to my mama house? on father's day? with my son?"

your heart sank, because now whatever jealousy you were trying to get him to feel was biting you in the ass. “elias please—”, he snapped cutting you off. “you knew what you was doing. came all this way looking good and smelling sweet. ‘n had the nerve this bring this lame ass nigga, like i wasn’t gon say something.”

dominque stepped forward a little, trying to come to your defense. “she not doing shit. you mad emotional because she chose me, nigga get over it.” and had the nerve to laugh in his face. it was silent for a moment, stack had to process the straight bullshit he fixed him mouth to say. he stale faced him, voice oddly calm. “nah, she settlin. you the in-between. the lil nigga holding her bag while she waitin for me to remind her who the fuck she belong to.”

you bit your lip hard, head turned away as you gently patted your baby’s back — trying to soothe him, and yourself. you unfortunately knew what was coming next. dominique stepped towards stack, clearly not used to somebody pushing back. “man, i’m not scared of you. you just mad she don’t want your toxic ass no more-”. before he could finish his sentence, stack’s fist came up fast, clean, and cracked him dead in the mouth.

dominique stumbled back hard, hand flying to his lip that was already pouring blood in his hand. stack ain’t even flinch. just stood over him, eyes dark, jaw clenched, chest rising slow. “talk that shit again nigga,” he growled. “i dare you.” you stepped between them fast, voice loud. “alright that’s enough! both of yall need to stop.”

stack’s eyes flickered towards yours, and his gaze softened. he looked at your son, now whimpering soft against your shoulder and his whole face shifted. the anger inside him subsided at that moment. for a second, it was just you, him, and the baby.

and then, of course dominque had to ruin it. “you really gon let him disrespect me like that? you gon stand there and let this nigga think he can put hands on me?” you turned your head slowly. looked at him with nothing but exhaustion in your face. “you shouldn’t’ve said shit,” you muttered.

then you looked at stack again. he was still breathing heavy, still tense, but his eyes were on you now. not dominique. just you. “you comin with me,” he said, voice low, thick in a way that made your knees feel weak. “wait—” he stepped in close, barely touching you but still taking up all your space. “let me word it differently for you, bring yo ass inside.”

you looked back at dominque. his lip was busted. and he was scared to even look stack’s way. you couldn’t even feel bad. not really. you gently handed your baby over to stack’s mama, and she just took him with a sigh and shake of her head.

with your son safely out your hands, he reached and grabbed your wrist. and you let him, didn’t even fight it. he pulled you into his momma house like he paid mortgage himself. the screen door slammed behind y’all, and the second y’all hit the hallway, his hand was on your ass, gripping hard.

“you out your fuckin mind”, he snarled against your neck, lips dragging over your skin. “comin here looking pretty as fuck, smelling good. knowing i ain’t touched you in months.” you gasped, moaning softly when he bit your shoulder, rough teeth dragging over the dip of it before he licked the sting away. the grip he had on your hip got even tighter. you could feel how mad he was. his dick was pressed up against your ass, already hard and heavy through his jeans.

he tugged your sundress up, hand palming your panty covered ass like it was his again. “take yo ass up stairs.” he didn’t have to tell you twice, you practically ran up the stairs, flip flops almost sliding off your feet. you hit the top stair and turned to the first room on the left, his old room — your back hit the edge of the bed right as he stepped through the door.

he slammed the door shut with one hand, not bothering to lock it. stack pounced on you, gripping your throat slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. he kissed you like he was punishing you for making him wait. tongue in your mouth, lips rough, teeth nipping at yours. his golds cold against your lips, his hands greedy, yanking at your dress like he didn’t care if it ripped. and he didn’t, he’ll buy you a new one.

he slowly peeled the straps of your dress down. you were already bare underneath, no bra, your breasts spilling out and brown nipples already hard. stack’s lips never left yours as he pushed the dress to your waist, palms rough against your back, until he finally pulled away to look.

“god damn”, he muttered, biting the corner of his lip as his thumb brushed across one peaked nipple. “i ain’t seen these titties since you was pregnant. they still mine?” you nodded too fast, chest rising with every breath. his hand came up and slapped your tittie once, not hard, just enough to sting and make your knees buckle a little.

“i said talk, not nod.” “yes—yes, they yours,” you breathed, mouth parted. “always been.” he let out a low chuckle, “i know.” his lips wrapped around one nipple and sucked hard, before doing the same to the other one. now both coated in saliva, he took his two thumbs to brush over your nipples. rolling and tugging on them, just to feel you squirm, to hear the way your moan cracked when it got to be too much.

“fuck i missed the way you sound”, he said while inching toward your neck leaving soft kisses. “you ain’t moan like this for that other nigga huh?”, his voice tickled your ear while one hand was still on your nipples.

“no, fuck no,” you gasped, thighs already rubbing together for friction. “bet he ain’t even know how to suck on these right.” he latched on again, sucking until your back arched, your body begging.

he slid down to his knees, “lay back”, he muttered. “legs up.” you followed quickly. he planted soft kisses on the inside of your thighs. “look at you”, knuckles grazing over your panties. “i can already tell this pussy wet.” you let out a low whine, wishing we would do something, “stack please.”

“i know, i know baby.” he let out a low, knowing grin. his fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, yanking them down your trembling thighs with no patience. slow enough to watch the strings of slick cling to them, but fast enough to remind you he wasn’t in the mood to be soft.

“fuck, look at this pussy”, he murmured, eyes locked between your legs like he was witnessing something sacred. “all this mess? you that fuckin wet for me, huh?” your thighs trembled as the cool air hit your soaked folds, and he held the ruined panties up with a smirk, index finger running through the sticky wetness clinging to the lace. “so sticky, baby. you must’ve missed me real bad.”

you whined when his fingers spread you open. clit on full display and wetness spilling out of your slit. the moment he slid his tongue between your folds, you cried. tongue flat, wide, dragging through your folds with no mercy. he sucked on your clit like he was mad at it. you jerked forward, but he grabbed your hips and pulled you back, eating like a man starved, nose buried, tongue fucking you.

“mmm,” he groaned into your pussy, beard soaked. “you missed this nasty shit, huh?” you could only let out a nod, hands gripping the sheets while your thighs trembled. “missed me suckin on this clit, fuckin you open with my tongue…makin you cum without even puttin dick in you.” “f-fuck, elias—oh my god,” you cried out, back arching.

that tongue was still disrespectful. sloppy, greedy, licking from clit to slit and back again like he missed the taste. he pulled you forward, buried his face deeper, eating like he was trying to drown in it. “i’m about to cum”, you screamed.

he smirked against your pussy, spit and slick dripping down his chin. “there she go.” your orgasm hit hard, too hard, and he didn’t even stop, not while you twitched and cried and begged. when he finally pulled back, you were soaked, thighs sticky, your pussy fluttering around nothing, empty and aching.

he stood, unbuckling his belt with quick hands, pulling his jeans and boxers in one swift motion to free his dick. that familiar fat dick slapped against his stomach, veins thick, tip angry red and leaking. you moaned at the sight. “gimme that dick,” you begged finally, your voice gone, eyes glossy. “elias—baby, please, fuck me.”

“now you remember how to act.” you looked down to see him stroking his dick slow, watching you squirm. “look at you. laid out like a slut. that nigga ever make you beg like this?” you shook your head no. “didn’t fuckin think so.”

“turn around”, he said voice hoarse. you did, planting your palms on the bed, back arched just the way he liked it. he stood behind you, taking a second just to admire. “she so pretty,” he muttered under his breath, rough knuckles brushing over the swell of your ass. “don’t make no sense…”you gasped when you felt him drag his tip through your folds, slow and steady, coating himself with your slick.

the low grunt he let out told you just how good it felt. his tip circled your entrance, teasing. “this my pussy?” he asked, voice a low rasp that scraped down your spine. you nodded your head, trying to push back into him, but he held your hips in place. “nah i need you to say it.” a frustrated, needy whine slipped from your lips. your voice trembled, breath catching in your throat. “yes, eli—”

you couldn’t even finish. he slammed into you with no warning, deep and rough, knocking the air straight out your lungs. your mouth dropped open but no sound came out for a second, just the echo of skin slapping skin and the high-pitched moan that followed once you caught your breath.

“say it again,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, dragging his hips back only to slam forward again. “tell me who this pussy belong to.” “y-you!” you cried out, eyes rolling back as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. “it’s yours elias, it’s yours. i promise.”

your knees were already starting to buckle, the way he gripped the fat of your waist, the stretch of him, it was all too much. your hand reached back instinctively, pushing weakly at his stomach. “eli—slow down,” you whimpered, voice barely a breath. “it’s too much.”

he wasn’t hearing none of that. he caught your wrists and twisted them roughly behind your back, pinning them in one strong hand. “you gon take whatever the fuck i give you.” without breaking rhythm, he lifted one leg up, planting his foot on the edge of the bed. the shift in angle had your spine arching, eyes flying open as the next thrust punched a cry straight from your chest.

he was deeper now, way deeper. dick punching at your g-spot. your face dropped to the mattress, fingers clawing at the sheets. you could barely breathe, and he didn’t let up. just kept digging deeper, rough and steady, the grip he had on your hips making sure you stayed right where he needed you.

“yeah,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple. “keep runnin that mouth, now look at you. can’t even talk.” broken moans spilled from you uncontrollably. you was sounding like you were possessed by the dick. repeating his name like a broken record. “sound real obedient now, huh?” his voice turned low, mocking, the gold on his tooth flashing with each groan behind you. “lil mouthy ass always actin like you don’t remember who you belong to.”

he leaned forward then, chest pressing into your back, lips right by your ear. “you do now, though, don’t you?” you nodded desperately, voice gone, body limp except for the way your thighs trembled from being split open and stuffed full.

you started shaking, vision blurry, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. heat bloomed from your core, spreading through your belly and straight up your spine. your mouth fell open, a soft string of moans tumbling out, breath hitching every time his hips slammed into yours.

your pussy clenched around him on instinct, thighs trembling as you tried to hold yourself up. but you were so close, you could feel it coming. his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you back harder into him. “you about to cum, baby?” he rasped, breath hot on your spine.

you barely managed a nod, a broken, desperate “yes” escaped your throat as he drove into you deeper. “that’s it. cream on my dick”, he growled. “i feel you mama.” your legs gave out completely, collapsing at the weight of your release. the orgasm that hit you was blinding, hips jerking, thighs twitching, body rocking with wave after wave of pleasure as your cries filled the room. you were sure anyone that came into the house would here you, but you didn’t care.

he kept going, fucking you through the aftershocks, letting you ride it all out. “damn, you soaking my shit.” he then flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing. your legs fell open, lower half completely soaked and mind in the clouds. his body hovered over yours, his face twisted in that look he always got when he was about to nut, jaw clenched and eyes wild.

he lined up again, quick and calculated. one deep thrust and he was buried inside you, both hands sliding beneath your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest. “look at me,” he grunted. “eyes on me while i cum in this pussy.” you could barely breathe, let alone think, but you did, eyes locked on him, lips parted, whispering his name.

“take it”, he snarled. “take all this nut. i’m about to put another baby in you. you want that mama?” you nodded your head fast. “i wanna be a momma again,” you sobbed out, voice breathy and broken, thighs trembling where they clung around his waist. “gimme another baby, elias.” your nails clawed at his back, desperate to hold on to something, anything, while your body shook beneath his. “make me yours again,” you whispered against his lips, eyes glossy, lips swollen. “put one in me so i never forget.”

his strokes got meaner, like he wanted to carve himself into you. like he needed you to feel him even when he wasn’t around. his mouth dropped open, head tilted back, gold glinting as he groaned through his teeth, “okay, mama. i got you.”

his rhythm turned ragged, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep one last time. you felt the pulse of him inside you, warm, thick ropes filling you up, spilling out around his dick. you felt the weight of him collapse onto you, chest pressed to yours, his breath ragged and warm against your collarbone. he whispered low, sweet praise into your ear, words only meant for you. he then eased off you slow, dragging himself out like he hated to leave, his body already missing yours.

he didn’t go far though. just to the other side of the bed, where he leaned against the headboard, chest rising and falling to catch his breath, and dick still standing at attention. his chain rested crooked on his collarbone, catching the light as he reached over on the nightstand to grab one of his pre-rolled blunts, lighting it with a flick of his lighter.

you were curled into the bed, trying to catch your breath. trembling from overstimulation, thighs slick and warm, breath coming in uneven puffs. but when your eyes met his — dark and hooded, full of lust and love, you felt your heart skip a beat. "cmere," he murmured, voice dragging low and thick, smoke slipping between his lips as he stared you down. “we not done girl, come ride this dick.”

you blinked, eyes widened, lips parted in disbelief, and body already reacting before your brain could catch up. his legs were spread, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other held his pre-roll near his lips. that smug smirk crept up slow as he mockingly patted his thigh, like it was your permanent seat. “i’m nuttin all in that pussy. ain’t stopping till im shooting blanks”

his dick jumped with the promise of more, still thick and hard, despite busting a nut, slick from both of yall juices. he was making it hard to say no. and you didn’t have the energy to resist him.

A/N: omg who wrote this?!?);&:& anyways this was my FIRST time writing smut so tell me how i did😏. moral of the story don’t bring your new nigga around your baby daddy, unless you wanna get put through the mattress! i proofread this a few times, but if you see any mistakes ignore or you’re anti black LMFAOOOO. i hope yall enjoyed, feedback is welcome <3!!!! (im definitely dropping more bd!stack)

stack having a son inspo

LAYOUT INSPO: @dollerin

TAGS: @zomqiez @n3atjok3r246 , idk why it’s not letting me tag the rest sigh.

small confession … im a smoke girly so next up is smoke fics! what yall want next modern!plug smoke orrrr 30s!smoke.

[soupsosa08]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 — Michael B Jordan X Reader; Fluff

Synopsis: A lazy Sunday spent wrapped up in each other, where Michael B. Jordan shows just how much he loves you — with soft touches, playful teasing, and quiet moments that say more than words ever could. Fluff with a little spice, lots of hugs, kisses, and the kind of love that feels like home.

Warnings: pure fluff with some soft, gentle sensuality; reader is female; physical affection; casual references to intimacy (no explicit content); warm, protective Michael B. Jordan energy

Note: Hello! Since you liked the last one I wrote, here’s another super fluffy imagine with Michael — casual and romantic vibes. Requests are open ;)

You woke up to a gentle shiver running down your skin. It wasn’t cold. It was the tip of Michael B. Jordan’s fingers tracing slow circles along your waist, beneath the oversized shirt that was actually his.

You opened your eyes slowly and found his face right there, resting on your shoulder, smiling like he’d been watching you for a while.

— “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, voice still deep and husky, that morning voice only mornings bring.

— “How long have you been staring at me?” you asked.

— “Long enough to know you bite your lip when you’re almost waking up. And that you make that cute little face when you’re dreaming,” he smiled, pulling you up onto his bare chest instantly, fitting you there like you’d always belonged.

You rested your ear against his heart, feeling his chest rise and fall slow, warm, steady.

— “Am I trapped?” you joked, with zero desire to get up.

— “It’s not prison if the captivity feels this good,” he replied in your ear, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “Besides, your bed is right here.”

Michael hugged you tight, pressing his whole body against yours, and you felt that warm, delicious heat spread. His hand slid softly over your thigh, just caressing — no rush, no mischief, just the intimacy of someone who loves to touch.

— “We should get up,” you whispered.

— “No, we should stay exactly like this. You, me, and that face of yours that’s begging for more kisses.”

He gently turned you over, straddling you. The weight of his body against yours was comforting. He looked into your eyes seriously for a moment.

— “Do you have any idea how much I like you?”

— “I think so,” you teased, pulling on the chain he always wore around his neck.

— “You don’t. Because if you did, you’d know I love you even in silence. Even when you’re turned away. Even when you ignore me just to play hard to get,” he smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth. “But I love it even more when you kiss me back.”

And then you kissed him. Slowly at first, just brushing lips. Then more intense — tongue and desire — with that taste of “I want you” and “we have time.” His hand slid up your thigh, gave a light squeeze, and he bit your bottom lip the way he knew drove you wild.

— “If we keep going, there won’t be any breakfast,” you murmured between kisses.

— “We are the breakfast, baby.”

You laughed, but he didn’t stop. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, making sure to explore every inch with care and attention. No rush. Just love and desire living in the same body.

Later — after lots of kisses, touches, and some laughter tangled in the sheets — you finally made it to the kitchen. Michael in sweatpants and a loose tee, you wearing just his shirt and the marks of his love on your thighs and neck.

— “Are you gonna post a pic with me today?” you teased.

— “I’ll post a caption that says, ‘My favorite place is wherever she is.’ And whoever gets it, gets it.”

He came up behind you, wrapping you in a hug at the sink, burying his face in your neck and swaying you gently to the soft music playing.

— “See this right here?” he said, squeezing your belly with affection. “This is my home.”

You turned and kissed him again. One of many kisses. Because with Michael, kisses were never too much. Neither was love.

[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

if you'd like to be a part of my taglist, sign up here to be the first to see my newest drops! 🫧

[i-love-ptv]

Hand Prints and Good Grips…✱*.:｡✧

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Childhood Best friend!Reader

Trouble brews once Mary walks into the twins’ juke joint, and you just wanna be the girl Elias likes.

wc: 6,103

warnings: porn with lots of plot, jealous!dom!Elias, sub!reader, clit slapping, face-sitting, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v, dirty-talk, degradation (not tew much but it’s there), overstimulation (r receiving), rough sex, manhandling, slight tit sucking/licking, marking, creampie (gulp??), language, one klan mention, shitty southern writing

an: HEY GUYS!!! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER WOOHOO! (ignore how it took me a month to make it, i’ve been going thru it man) i’m literally obsessed w sinners so hopefully i did stack justice! do y’all even read these? anyways

feedback is always appreciated n welcomed <3

Your hair was starting to cling onto your forehead as if you were drenched in sticky molasses.

The air was humid and dry; of course, this was a Mississippi custom, but it doesn’t help that there’s dozens of bodies stomping and prancing around.

Though you can’t complain much, considering that you were right here with them—dancing as if you hadn’t in years.

In a way, you haven't. You haven’t felt a rush of autonomy and euphoria quite like this before.

With everyone being nothing but working busy-bodies, there’s been little to no time to plan big events such as tonight. The lack of excitement has been a major factor too.

Hence why as soon as the Moore twins came back into town with the intention to open up their very own juke joint, everyone was on board.

The pair hadn’t been seen here in seven years.

Seven long, cruel years without the twin you’ve grown to love.

Stack.

Well, he was Stack to everyone else. But to you? He was still Elias. Your ‘Lias.

Seven years without his lingering touches and pearly smiles.

You weren’t the only one that missed him, it seems.

Your sister told you that when she went down near the train station, she was right there waiting for your Elias.

Mary was waiting.

You don’t have a clue as to how she knew he was coming home before you did, considering that nobody from the Delta had heard from him except for you. And a letter from him was rather rare.

Mary had nearly thrown a fit once she saw him; it didn’t help that Elias had turned down her persistent advances.

The lack of contact obviously sent her over the edge.

Apparently she mentioned their former relations; their connection being a secret to none.

You were envious of this; never jealous, but overcome by a feeling of want.

Growing up with the twins meant that the three of you were as close as can be. That being said, though, they looked at you as if you were their little sister. It was fine when Elijah assumed the role of a family member, but Elias?

Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.

You longed for the flirtatious remarks that he’d give off to any and every woman, a night filled with intimacy plagued your mind constantly.

But you got over it.

You had to. Not only for the sake of your friendship with Elias, but also because of his prolonged absence from town.

That’s why tonight—right now, you had to pump the breaks and focus on celebrating the twins’ success.

Speaking of success?

You making your way over to the bar with your wobbly heeled-covered feet was a success. Surprisingly.

“Someone’s been dancin’ a lil too hard, huh?” Annie chortles, looking at you with nothing but sisterly-love, and a bit of amusement.

“Only dancin’ I was doing was during my cooking—nothin’ like this in a while,” you exclaim with bliss through a beaming smile. You huff as you sit down in front of the bar. “Y’got anythin’ good back here?” You motion to the bottles Annie has surrounding her.

“Better than good,” Annie replies before ducking down and searching below the counter.

You brace your hands on the counter and slightly peer over at the woman, but then she pops up quicker than you can plop back down onto your chair. She quirks a brow at you before placing a bottle down in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question; if Annie didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that it was Christmas morning with the way you were looking at the bottle.

“Authentic Irish beer; straight from the north side of Chicago. Different from the rest they’re sellin’.” She replies. “Your man brought it specifically for you—made me promise I wouldn’t give it to nobody else, no matter how much they was payin’.”

You bite back a smile at her words; you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“He fixin’ to be Mary’s.” Your lips straighten, it’s bittersweet.

“That so? ‘Cause that ain’t what I heard,” Annie muses, making you pause. You savor Annie’s words as if they were your holy grail. Was there a chance that Elias looked at you the same as you did him?

You crane your neck and your gaze is set over your shoulder—over at him.

He catches your eye and he gives you a cheeky smile, to which you return rather eagerly.

You hadn’t had a single nonchalant bone in your body it seems.

Your shared staring was cut short as Mary forced Elias’ attention back onto her, but it wasn’t exactly a hard task for her.

Something about her was just so easy and simple, despite the ring shining on her hand that matched another man’s being anything but simple. The way that they connected even after all these years made you feel as if you swallowed a jar of mud.

After a few sips of beer, you can’t help but let a smile rest on your face. Elias knew you’d love it, and it makes your heart dance.

Speaking of dancing, your dearest friend Pearline struts up to you with a grin that soared for miles.

“What’s got you cheesin’ all hard?” You raise your eyebrows at her, making her giggle.

“Y’know the Preacher’s boy? The one that was just singin’?” Pearline’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement.

“Lil’ Sammie Moore? Course I do, why? What’d you do Pearl?” You gape at her and hold her hands tightly in yours.

“Well…” She trails off. “Let’s just say, he showed me he ain’t a boy, but a real man.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets as you exclaim a Pearline! that could probably be heard for miles.

Pearline gushes, “He made me feel things I ain’t never felt before.”

“Not even with your mister?” You gasp.

“Not even close. And that’s not all,” she pauses before looking around, then leaning in towards you.

“I wasn’t even able to freshen up. He didn’t want me to,” Pearline whispers.

You shout, then look around in embarrassment at your outburst; you shake Pearline vigorously by her shoulders and giggle some more.

You decide to look around the joint, and you coincidentally catch Sammie looking right at the back of Pearline’s frame in utter awe.

You nudge Pearline, and she looks over at him with you. The look that she throws his way is nothing short of flirtatious.

“He looked at ya like he wanted t’take a bite,” you snicker.

Pearline looks at you mischievously, “Funny, considerin’ he already did.” You can’t help but laugh.

“So, y’thinkin’ bout singin’ like he said?” You ask.

Pearline hums, “Maybe. ‘M thinkin’ you should too.”

“No, not happenin’. Not a chance,” You scoff playfully.

Pearline whines and grabs your wrists. “C’mon, sista! When’s the last time you got the chance to do this?” She pouts, and tries hardest to make puppy-dog eyes at you.

“Besides, this could be y’chance to make a move on Stack. Ain't that whatcha been waitin’ for?” She drags.

You falter at the question she poses.

“Tonight’s the night, sista.” Pearline murmurs softly.

It’s crazy how you always get in your head when it comes to him.

The thing is, you weren’t one to throw yourself out there just to entertain a man. No, that just wasn’t your style.

But God—tonight? His suit was fitting snug in all the right places, his grills glimmered dangerously in the dim lighting, and his eyes always found yours, recklessly.

You couldn’t resist Elias Moore.

And right now, you’re starting to wonder if you ever could.

“Y’better wrap that scarf on tight, Pearl,” you say as you grab her arm and start walking with her to the front. Pearline shrills and claps her hands with glee.

You saunter towards the stage with a pep in your step and your arm linked with a perky Pearline. Your heels clack on the wooden floors as you come face-to-face with the band and none other than Delta Slim, who’s now grinning at you.

“Been tryin’ to getcha to sing for years girl, what’s with the change o’ heart?” He questions with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. You’re sure that he did with the way that his eyes looked past you and towards Elias.

“It’s a nice night, figured I’d try sum different,” you shrug, trying to mask your sudden embarrassment. Pearline intertwines her hand with yours and uses her other one to gesture to the band. You inhale deeply while looking at her; she gives you a look of reassurance.

The patrons of the juke joint grow silent at the sight of you two taking your stances and the band readying their instruments.

Pearline starts humming and you lightly stomp your feet on the stage, starting to form a beat as the band follows.

Elias feels as if his heart was being weighed down by a ton inside of him. He held his breath—scared that the rise and fall of his chest would make him miss the steady view of you: parading around as if everything outside the joint had come to a halt.

You looked completely, and utterly divine up there; moving swiftly and effortlessly, as if you owned the very ground you were stepping on.

You were absolutely ethereal in Elias’ eyes.

And he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t falling even harder for his sugar as of right now. He was the only man that could get away with calling you sugar; he knows it, so does everyone else in the Delta—and Elias can’t help but let his pride swell every time he thinks about it.

Your body sways carelessly as if you were one with the words that escaped your lips, but your eyes are grounded—powerful, even. Speaking of them: your glittering orbs meet his, your gaze nothing short of a vixen’s.

Though, the interlocking of your sights is interrupted when Mary makes her presence known yet again at Elias’ side. He can’t help but sigh at the intrusion.

Luckily, Elias’ ever-growing agitation fades when the patrons of the juke let out their elation around him. The band’s playing picks up, as well as you and Pearline’s voices.

Don’t let it shine, shine, shine once more

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

Everyone chants and stomps rhythmically.

“I wanna sing, like I hear the crickets do,” Pearline sings seductively while peering at Sammy as she struts.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna hoo,” you and Pearline sing simultaneously, harmonizing beautifully as your backs meet and you both slide to a crouching position.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna howl,” the two of you sound as if you were straight out of a folktale—like one of those myths of the sirens that Annie had explained to Elias once before. You and Pearline then reside in a crawl as you look at the crowd with a sense of hunger in your eyes.

Mary gets ahold of Elias’ tie, but he quickly removes her grip from him—without even breaking eye contact with you. He knows she’s interested in spending the rest of the night with him; maybe in hopes of rekindling an old flame.

But how could Elias be interested in another woman when his woman—his sugar—was looking at him so deliciously.

You grin slyly at him, biting your bottom lip before licking your teeth.

Pale, pale moon, pale, pale moon

“I wanna scream,” Pearline sings, as you mouth the three words to Elias.

Three little words that have Elias fucking mesmerized, hypnotized even. You have him in a trance, right where you want him, and you both know it.

Elias wishfully thinks that the pick up in your breathing isn’t just from all the dancing you’ve been doing tonight. He bites his lip at the thoughts running through his mind.

Mary can’t even say that she recognizes the look that Elias gives you, for she has never been on the receiving end like you have been. Her frustration and jealousy boils over, and she eventually huffs before walking away from Elias, and out of the juke joint.

Elias doesn’t mind one bit, and he sure as hell doesn’t when the song finishes and you hug Pearline with excitement as the joint nearly turns upside down. You’re jumping up and down and Elias can’t help but smile til his cheeks hurt.

Elias feels a hand slap somewhat roughly on his shoulder. He knows good and well it’s his brother, with or without the wave of tobacco radiating.

“Came out here after the game finished, saw the way she was lookin’ at’cha, too.” Elijah grumbles.

“Breathtakin’, ain’t she?” Elias remarks breathily, not even turning to his brother—keeping his sights on you, as you hug Slim and the rest of the instrument players.

“Not ‘bout how I feel, ‘s ‘bout how you feel,” Elijah sighs. This makes Elias turn towards his brother.

“Don’t know what’chu waitin’ on, already been years,” Elijah then pauses before continuing, “Don’t be surprised when somebody see what’chu see.” Elijah trails off, almost ominously, and nods his head in your direction.

Elias follows his twin’s trail of sight and spots you: talking to a man he ain’t even seen before. You were beaming, your hair a little frizzed up by the humidity, your lipgloss smudged a little onto your shimmering skin.

Speaking of your lipgloss—whoever you’re talking to decided to rub his finger below your lip to wipe it away. Right now, Elias’ demeanor resembles the snake him and his brother killed earlier: cold and unmoving.

You glance around the sea of bodies, and Elias takes this as a sign. He starts to walk up to you, but not before having to mumble several ‘excuse me’s while side-stepping quite a few people—who seem to not be able to hold their liquor.

He finally reaches you, and he gets a glimpse of you over the guy’s shoulder, who has no idea he’s even there.

“We got a problem?” Elias murmurs, making the stranger nearly jump out of his skin.

“N-nah man,” the man chuckles awkwardly as he faces Elias.

“I reckon we do, since y’talkin’ to my lady,” Elias replies, sizing him up as he takes a step closer to him. The man takes a step back in return.

“I ain’t know, I-I’m sorry, Stack,” the man trembles meekly. Elias only hums. The man glances between the two of you before making himself scarce.

Elias stays in the same spot for a beat, before turning and giving you a look that says let’s go, before walking towards one of the back rooms of the joint. You hesitate, before inching behind him.

“So I’m y’lady now?” You don’t bother to tone down the sass in your voice.

“‘S what I said, ain’t it?” he mumbles, not even looking at you.

You scoff, “Yeah, well, y’got a funny way a’ showin’ it.”

Elias pulls you into a dimly lit room and finally faces you as you stand before him. “What’s that s’possed to mean?”

You narrow your eyes at him before speaking. “Means I saw you messin’ with ole Mary.”

“She don’t mean nun to me,” Elias guaffs. “Why d’ya think she left already?”

You roll your eyes and begin to head out the door you just came from. You’re not sure where this attitude just came from, in all honesty. The moment your eyes met him while you were on stage, it felt as if everything else had faded away, and it was just the two of you.

Maybe it was the irritation caused by Mary that left you in a sour mood now, you’re not sure. You know it won’t be beneficial to you nor Elias in this moment, but you can’t help it.

Elias grabs your wrist before you can get too far away from him.

“She ain’t nun, y’hear?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost sounded desperate. You stay quiet.

“Asked you a question, sugar. ‘N with that attitude of yours, I ain’t fixin’ to repeat myself.” His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks, and heat twinges through your stomach. Elias seems to take notice of the subtle switch in your demeanor; he smirks and his chocolate brown irises darken even further.

“I…I don’t believe you,” You almost whisper, but still meet his gaze.

Almost immediately, he responds with, “What I got to do to convince you, baby?” Elias matches your tone, but there’s still a hint of assertiveness conveyed through his words.

You don’t speak—it’s almost like you couldn’t, but you release your wrist from his grasp gently.

Elias’ jaw clenched slightly, but you still spot it. He looks as if he’s pondering his next words.

“‘S not makin’ sense, darlin’. I mean, you were acting like a whore on stage, now you don’t want me to touch you?” He cocks his head at you and your lips part—like it was reflex, and maybe it was. Elias clicks his tongue.

Your breath picks up, and if your mind weren’t turning fuzzy, you would’ve chided yourself for making a fool out of yourself in front of a man—Elias at that.

The man you’ve yearned for longer than you can even remember.

“I ain’t no whore,” you speak, finally regaining your senses.

“That right, sugar?” You can feel Elias’ breath on your heated face, and all you can do is nod in return.

“Y’wanna know what I think?” Before you can answer the question Elias poses, he murmurs lowly, “I think that deep down….You are a whore—and you needa be fucked like one.”

Despite the vulgarity of his words, the way that Elias places his palm across your cheek is soft—loving, even.

You press your thighs together through your dress unconsciously, desperately seeking even an ounce of friction to cool the impending heat between your legs.

Elias takes the hand that rested upon your cheek and moved it to the stiff rim lock that resided on the door’s surface.

Thank god—You’d hate for the likes of someone such as Sammie barging in and being witness to sin hotter than the Mississippi sun.

Elias then starts to walk you back to the table that remained bare in the dingy-lit room, removing his suit jacket and vest, followed by his tie. The backs of your knees meet the edge of the firm table, making you stumble just a bit. Elias takes it upon himself to lay you down onto the table.

You rest on your elbows as you look up at the six-foot-something man in front of you, and you can’t help but swoon. His beating eyes look down at you lustfully—almost as if he were a predator, and you his prey.

It made you weak.

Weak at the hands of a man you’d been waiting on while he had the time of his life in Chicago, with all sorts of Italian customs. Your actions are beyond halfwitted, but you make no effort to straighten yourself out anymore.

Elias takes his warm hands and spreads your knees with ease after unbuttoning his shirt, making you yelp involuntarily at the near-abrasiveness. He licks his grillz and lets out a short, deep chuckle; you feel it vibrate your bones, while he aligns himself so that almost he’s eye-level with your warm core.

“Elias, wait—“ You whimper meekly,

He hums disapprovingly, letting out a firm ‘mm-mmn’. He rips his gaze from your thighs to your eyes, “Been waitin’ for years, sugar, not sure if I can any longer.” He repositions his hands, lifting your dress and hitching it up to your upper thighs, nearly to your pelvic bone.

Elias massages your thighs with an iron grip, it’s not yet rough, but not exactly gentle either. His switch between the two is making your mind reel.

He kisses up from your knee almost to where your dress bunches up as he removes his button-up, leaving him in his undershirt. He then says, “…So, m’sorry if I lose m’manners,” he breathes hotly against your skin, “But I don’t think I can live without destroying this pussy for a minute longer.” He damn near groans.

His mouth hovers above your clothed cunt—he purposely breathes in a way that makes you squirm at the feeling you’re unable to run from. As you shudder and tilt your head back, you suddenly hear a rip and you feel a gust of air.

You gasp and look down, where you’re met with Elias looking up at you cheekily, with one half of your panties in his mouth, and the other in his hand.

“‘Lias!” You exclaim.

Elias feigns innocence, “Told ya I ain’t mean no harm.” He then averts his focus to your legs, and he leaves a kiss to your mound.

“Y’not gon let me freshen up, will ya?” You ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

Instead of answering, Elias takes his tongue and trails it from your hole to your clitoris, and you puff out the air you didn’t know you were holding in.

Elias seems to enjoy your reaction, for he then gives you another long lick.

And another,

and another,

and you guessed it, another.

You press your lips together, muting your sounds, and Elias ‘tsk’s at the sight.

He nips a bit of the skin next to your lips, making you choke on your own spit. “Don’t like how quiet you’re bein’.” Elias reprimands you.

“Stop t-teasin’ then,” You manage to huff.

Elias chuckles in disbelief, “Wanted to be gentle, but y’makin’ it hard,” he then lifts you up from the table, and places his back where you once laid. He hooks your legs over the sides of his head, your pussy now inches away from his plump, shining lips.

Elias’ typical, million-dollar smirk is back on his face, but there’s something more sinister behind it—your legs would’ve buckled if he weren’t holding them.

“You’re a whore, jus’ like I said y’were.” His southern drawl makes your stomach twist in knots, despite the familiarity. Before you could get a word out, Elias placed you onto his face.

You mewl at the feeling of his tongue swirling around anywhere, and everywhere.

Your clit, your lips—it was almost as if he were starving.

There was no rhythm, no harmony and contentment, just the actions of a man on a mission.

A mission to make you scream louder than the birds on your farm.

Then, abruptly, Elias leaves a small, yet firm slap to your clit. “Admit it,” he says between licks. “Admit that you’re a whore.” He leaves another slap.

You don’t respond, too caught up in both the pain and pleasure. Your head hangs back and your eyes are clenched shut, and Elias grows impatient.

He removes his mouth from you with a ‘pop’ and almost snarls at you, “Thought I told ya Ion like repeatin’ myself.” He slaps your clit again, this time with more force.

“Okay—Okay! I was bein’ a whore tonight, ‘m sorry!” You cry out as your back arches.

Elias starts to lower you towards his grinning face, and you shiver at the feeling of his cold grillz.

Instead of teasing kitten-licks, Elias sucks at your slit and lets his tongue roam freely, without a care in the world. You writhe and whine on top of him, your body bending back and creating a dull aching sensation.

His advances are relentless, and you have no chances of escaping his grasp; he readjusts his grip as soon as he feels you start to slip away from him. You don’t know whether to clench around his tongue as he fucks you with it, or to cry–you end up doing both, and this continues on for who knows how long.

You’ve stopped counting the number of orgasms you’ve had after the second one–you think–but you think Elias has been keeping track. He’s muttered ‘jus’ one more, sugar’ maybe three times now, and you don’t know how many you have left in you at this point.

After what feels like hours, Elias finally lifts your hips up, allowing you to slide down and straddle his hips with your head resting upon his chest.

The beating sound of his steady heart fills your ear, and you try to match your breathing with Elias’. You feel a vibration as he shakes with laughter. You slightly drag your head up just enough to peek at his face, and he looks down at you with amusement.

“We ain’t done, not yet, peach,” he chuckles breathily at the wave of surprise that washes over your face.

You fumble with your words, “What d’ya mean? ‘L-Lias, I-I’m spent!” You continue to tremble in his arms.

“Y’still talkin’, ain’t ya, sugar?” He scoffs, it’s antagonizing. And before you can utter anything else, Elias flips you around onto the table, so you now lay with your back on the wood once again. Your dress rides down a tad at the sudden movement, and Elias holds your back, lifting you so that he can push your dress up past your breasts.

Elias lowers your back, before leaning peck your nipples. You bite your lip, but quickly let out a moan once he blows air onto your nipples, watching almost menacingly as they harden. One hand tweaks one of your nipples, as the other drags down your rib cage.

His hot, glistening tongue swishes around your tits, as he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

He sucks harshly as you whimper beneath him. One of his hands leaves your body and goes down to his slacks, he unbuttons them with ease without even looking, as he continues to leave hickies on your chest.

He untucks himself from his underwear, and you can’t help but buck towards his cock in anticipation.

“Easy, girl. You’ll get it when ya prove y’deserve it,” Elias mocks, you whine in response.

“I deserve it, more than anybody else–y’know that, ‘Lias,” You plead in hopes of him giving you what you want.

“That right, baby? All this yours, nobody else's?” He challenges, starting to stroke his length.

You squeeze your eyelids together, almost as if you were personally pained by the question.

“Damn right,” You huff as you look at him with a sudden wave of fire blazing through your eyes. Elias scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, baby–always been yours. Glad ya finally came to y’senses.” And with that, Elias pushes inside of you, and you let out a broken gasp.

Elias quickly finds his pace as he thrusts in and out of you rapidly. He nearly pulls entirely out of your dripping cunt–and you think he’s going to tease you again, but he then slams back into you roughly, making you cry out as your back arches into him.

You’re now chest-to-chest with Elias as he continues to pump into you with little regard to your overstimulation. The contact of skin makes your toes curl in your heels. Elias grunts at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and bites forcibly at the flesh of your neck.

Elias groans–almost as if fucking you were the key to heaven’s gates. He takes his large palm and pushes it down onto your torso, making your sweating body meet the barely-covered, rumbling wood.

You weep helplessly and squirm as he keeps you pressed against the shaking table.

“Mmnf–”Lias! Please!” You cry yet again, but without knowing the reason behind it this time.

He doesn’t respond to your watery blabbering, instead putting your legs on either side of his shoulders. Elias slowly–and almost lovingly–kisses your ankle, before unclasping the latch of your heel and sliding it off of your foot, letting it hit the floor with a thump that neither of you seem to catch through the sounds of your bodies meeting.

You two damn-near become one.

He repeats his actions on your other leg, but this time he kisses from your calf to your ankle before removing your heel and letting it meet the ground with your matching one.

His hand grips at the ankle he just kissed, using it as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded; like an anchor. He then sucks and nips at your leg, quickly marking just above your ankle with a red bruise, which you know will be purple by the time the sun rises for morning.

You hiss when he bites a little too roughly, and he shows his sympathy by licking at the irritated skin, soothing the tender ache.

“That feel good, darlin’? Tell “Lias how much y’love it, peach, c’mon,” Elias coos, lifting his shirt up so he can get a proper view of your sex.

You babble through sobs intelligibly, mewling something along the lines of ‘so so good, ‘Lias!’—at least that’s what Elias makes of it.

“Can’t hear ya, baby. Ya gotta–fuck! Ya gotta speak a ‘lil louder f’me, hm?” Elias manages to speak through his panting and groaning. You bawl, hot tears dripping from your cheeks down to your chin.

“It feels so good–oh god—‘Lias!” You shriek, not caring about the volume of your crying. “Please don’t stop! Please, please, please–” You ramble with a slur.

If Elias ever felt guilty at the way he man-handling you, seeing your fucked-out expression made all his worries wash away at the sight of you: tongue hanging out, as your tears dribble into your open mouth.

Your panting grows more frantic, little ‘uh-uh-uh’s being let out more frequently as you feel another orgasm course through your veins. “‘Lias—cummin’! S-sh-it, I-I’m cummin’!”

Elias firmly plants his feet on the floor, repositioning the arm on your stomach onto your other leg so that he can fuck you even deeper–deep enough to create a slight bulge in your stomach with his throbbing tip. “Yeah, that’s it. Fall apart on this dick, y’know y’want to, sugar. Been dreamin’ ‘bout it f’years, huh?” He taunts.

You try to answer him, honestly! But he’s hitting your cervix just right and his abs rub against the backs of your thighs–it’s too much.

Elias thought you’ve learned by now that he doesn’t take silence for an answer, so to remind you, he gives your spent cunt a more forceful slap than before.

“Fuck—Yes! A-always been wantin’ you, ‘Lias,” you wail. “I-I never let nobody touch me! Nobody but you!” You exclaim without thinking.

This fuels Elias to quicken his pace; he almost fucking growls at your words, and he tightens your legs around himself–right now, as he feels himself getting closer and closer to climaxing, he has no plans on pulling out.

He continues to heave words of encouragement as fucks you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

You moan and blabber as your vision turns white, and your ears start to ring. Your toes curl and flex, and your nails scratch at the table, hands desperate for something to hold. Your voice then gives out, as your tongue lolls out of your mouth yet again.

Elias gives you a few more earth-stattering thrusts, before his seed fills your puffy, aching hole; the guttural groan that leaves his throat ups in pitch–nearly turning into a whimper.

He pumps his cum into you once more, before releasing your legs from his grip and laying down on top of you. As he half-lays-half-stands against the table, he feels as if a cold bucket of water was dumped onto him.

He can no longer focus on the tingling feeling that shoots from his skull to his toes, but now on the fact that he was the first man you’ve been with.

You spent your first time with him–in a rickety building he bought from a Klan member, on an even dingier table.

Elias then taps your face, just enough to get you to come back to your senses. You open your eyes with a lazy grin at the feeling of his seed mixed with yours, but when you’re met with his panicky expression, you quickly push yourself up–to the best of your ability.

“What? Wha’s wrong, ‘Lias?” You question worrisomely.

He allows himself to catch his breath before speaking, “Y’serious?” It’s all that he says.

You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, “Bout what? Y’scarin’ me, Elias,” you chuckle awkwardly.

Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

A million thoughts run rampant throughout your mind.

“‘Bout all this,” he flails his hand, motioning to where your bodies had just met. “Was that really ya first time?” He speaks loudly, and you feel mortified.

Your breath catches in your throat. You confirm his worries, your voice softer than a freshly picked feather, “Yes.”

Elias takes a step back, and it takes everything in you not to reach out for him. Instead, you sit up fully and push your dress back down to your thighs. You twiddle your thumbs idly, seeking for even an ounce of comfort as Elias pushes his shirt back down and tucks himself back into his boxers after wiping himself off with a rag. Despite his glowering, he hands you a rag so that you can wipe away the slick from between your thighs.

Did he regret spending the night with you? Did he find the fact that you remained a virgin because of him embarrassing?

“Why you ain’t tell me, girl?” He exclaims, “I wouldn’t have said and done all that foolishness if I knew you ain't never been with a man before!”

You feel your soul come back into your body. “You would’ve been all sweet with me? That whatcha sayin’, ‘Lias?” You can’t help but giggle.

“Ain’t nothin’ funny, woman! I was all rough with you ‘n–” You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer to you. You fold your arms around his neck, and you feel his hands drift down to your waist and squeeze lightly. Your nose nudges his, his breath fans your face as yours does his.

You break the kiss when you feel yourself losing your breath, and you gaze at Elias lovingly.

“You were perfect, I couldn’t imagine it any other way,” you whisper.

“Well for starters, could've gotten you a bed in the house ‘stead of a table in this dark ass room,” Elias grumbles.

You grin, “I think the lightin’ was just fine. Added ambience ‘n all that.” Elias pouts, and you peck his lips.

“I don’t care ‘bout the details, “Lias. Long as it was with you.” Your tone is as sweet as the finest honey in Clarksdale, and it pulls on Elias’ heartstrings.

“Y’really waited all these years….For me?” He whispers.

“Course I did, couldn’t imagine bein’ with anybody else.” You speak just as softly. You recognize the guilt that crosses his face, despite his best efforts to mask it with his bravado. “Don’t feel guilty, please. I don’t blame you for nun.” You caress his hair. Silence fills the room as Elias deciphers what to say, you just hold him tenderly until he’s ready.

“I-I love ya, more than y’know, sugar…” He trails off before finishing his sentence, “I jus’ want ya to know that. I have since we was young.” He looks at you with adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you too, Elias Moore. Have since you stood up to my daddy on his farm f’me when we was seven.”

He smiles, but it’s tight lipped, making you frown. “Jus’ wish I could’ve admitted it sooner. Then this would’ve went down differently—would’ve been better.” He sulks.

You take your thumb and index finger and pluck his lips, making him shout ‘hey!’ with a laugh.

“Stop beatin’ y’self up, Elias. I told you, I’m perfectly happy here, right now. Ain’t nun gon’ change that a bit.” You scold him.

“If ya stop all that moppin’, I’ll let ya try again tomorrow, however y’want,” you giggle mischievously. Elias’ eyes light up almost immediately, the way he perks up reminds you of a puppy that was just given a treat.

Elias roars with laughter and squeezes you, before lowering you back down onto the table, he presses nearly all of his weight onto you.

You squeal and cackle as he tickles your sides, “‘Lias!”

You lay wrapped up with Elias, you felt as if you could lay there forever, and honestly in this moment, you wanted to.

Clarity and revelations do the body good.

Everything was good.

Until you heard a commotion on the other side of the door.

[innorality]

Imagine Stack or Smoke taking a shy thick girl’s virginity!

how about... smoke and stack? 😼

cw : oral sex, fingering, taking turns, unprotected (he pulled out), it's painfully obvious how much I need them both-, spit play (stack loves spit play its canon), not proofread, english isn't my first language

"so... how is this even going to work..?" you questioned. and honestly, reasonable. because seeing the two twins walk towards you on the bed, one loosening his tie while the other was already working on his belt, is something worth questioning.

smoke held an arm out to stop stack—who had been rushing to fasten his belt— in his tracks. "don't get ahead of yourself," smoke ordered and stack groaned, letting out a low, honey-coated laugh. "we're here to fuck her, yeah? why you stoppin' me?" "It's her first time. we can't rush it." you squeezed your thighs together at the interaction, whining.

their attention turned back to you as smoke made his way to you, finally kissing you into the pillow your head was resting on.

he leaned in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. his hand brushes your jaw, gentle at first, then firmer, anchoring you to the moment. your heart stumbles as his mouth meets yours—slow, searching, then deeper, urgent. his lips taste like heat and want, and when he presses closer, it's as if the rest of the world falls away.

you respond without thinking, your fingers clutching his shirt, needing him nearer. the kiss burns—soft and rough all at once—leaving you breathless, undone beneath his touch.

as if on cue, while smoke kissed you, stack made his way to between your legs that he peeled open softly while gripping the flesh of your thighs for underneath your skirt. he hiked it up and kissed his way up your inner thigh, the proximity to his goal arousing him.

smoke pulled away, his hand snaking to underneath your top as he massaged your breast, his hand following your chests up-and-down movement. before you knew it, stack had pulled your underwear to the side, and you jumped when you felt his tongue lick a long, teasing stripe up your slit.

"o-oh my- what are you-!?" your cheeks heated up when you felt him smile against your cunt. you could not see him, as he was underneath your skirt, but the sensation of his warm breath on your now exposed skin had you throbbing. "you better not be messin' around under there, stack." smoke warned, which earned him another chuckle from the twin. "you'd be surprised."

smoke went back to distracting you from the overwhelming sensation of stack eating you out, pulling top down your shoulder to expose your breasts more. he leaned in once more, "may I?" and you nodded, before his lips landed on your nipple while the other one was being rolled between his finger tips.

"oh lord- my gosh! shit-" you kept cutting yourself off with your own moans, each sensation one upping the other. the feeling of smoke's warm tongue against your nipple had your back arching, aching for more.

but what you really felt was stack's eager tongue on your cunt. he was licking up and down, the tip of his tongue bumping against your clit which had your hips bucking slightly. he kissed the bud softly before diving in completely, sucking on it harshly which had you whining. then, he angled his head lower, and his tongue penetrated you slowly. you gasped, not used to the feeling of penetration.

smoke took advantage of your opened mouth and plunged two rough fingers inside it, pressing against your tongue as you instinctively sucked on them. "you feel that? you feel him making you feel good, sweetheart?" he began and you clenched around stack's tongue, making him grin.

"look at you, baby. we just began and you're already whining." he leans in to kiss your cheek, "ain't you lucky that we're the ones taking care of a sweet girl like you? huh?" you nodded eagerly, moaning around his wet fingers when you felt stack's tongue curve onto itself, grazing a spongey spot with its tip that had your eyes rolling back.

"you got a finger in?" smoke turned to stack, who pulled away from your cunt to hike your skirt up higher, completely exposing your lower body. he was sweating, you noticed. "nah, just my tongue. I'm about to put one in, though." smoke nodded, turning back to you, only to see that your eyes have already rolled back again—stack put a long finger inside, and he was unforgiving. his pace was relentless, quick and easy, slamming his palm onto your clit.

"go easy on her, yeah?" smoke instructed as he took your top off completely, exposing your chest and tummy. "just what I wanted to see..."

"it's so good! oh my- fuck, I'm-" he did not slow down one bit, even slightly speeding up just to pull more of those pretty sounds from your mouth. he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers and nodded to smoke who kissed you again, distracting all your senses.

you felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, and it's the moment you realize that, that you feel your first orgasm washing over you. it's felt intense, every muscle in your body tensing up as your mouth went slack, barely having the spirit to kiss smoke back. "thats it baby, youre doing perfect." he egged you on as your velvety walls clenched around stack's digits, coating them with cream.

your thighs, trembling, clenched around his hips, caging him in.

he kept pumping, getting progressively slower, letting you ride out your orgasm, before stopping completely when you go limp. he didn't want to overestimate you on your first time... not yet.

he allowed you to catch your breath, using that time to take your skirt off completely. you were now completely bare in front of two men who looked at you like you were the first meal they had on their table for years.

"that wasn't so bad now, was it?" stack looked at you, chuckling. you nodded sheepishly, "y-yeah.."

suddenly, smoke left your side, quickly getting replaced by stack. "here it comes, sugar." he smirked while watching his brother undo his belt, letting his pants drop. he pulled his cock out, rubbing it along your slick folds making you jump slightly. "she's so fucking wet..." he commented also absentmindedly, which had you clenching.

"you ready?" smoke asked you, and you nodded. you felt embarrassed, flustered, but you couldn't take you eyes off of the man that was about to take your virginity.

the push of his cock against your entrance knocked the wind out of you, and before you could recover, you felt two moist fingers tap against your cheek. you looked up to stack, "wanna taste yourself, baby?" you furrowed your eyebrows, "huh?" your voice being barely above a whisper. his thumb landed on your bottom lip, pulling it open softly and your followed, opening your mouth as clear saliva dripped down his mouth into yours.

the moment the drop of spit landed on your tongue, smoke had bottomed out, his tip bumping into your cervix which made you cry out. "you fully in?" stack question and smoke, lost in bliss, nodded eagerly while closing his eyes, throwing his head back. "holy fuck-" he couldn't help the buck of his hips as he grabbed onto yours, using his knees to dig into the fat of your thighs and pry them slightly more open.

"p-please-" that was the only confirmation he needed to start moving. he went back and forth, relishing in the feeling of your warm untouched walls around him. stack walked up to him and set a hand on your tower tummy, pressing down to heighten the sensation of smoke's dick inside you. you cried both of their names out, your body squirming uncontrollably.

stack other hand landed on your pussy, fingers immediately looking for your clit, rubbing it quickly when he found it. "r-right there! yes-!" you whined, as smoke's tip bumped into that one spot again.

"there?" his voice, baritone, bubbled from his chest as his body ran on pure instinct, angling your hips in a way that made him ram into your g-spot with every other thrust. you nodded, your voice simply dying down as you ran out of breath with all the moaning and whining.

stack pressed down a bit harder on your tummy, his hand making a wave motion to even out the sensation. "you like that, sugar?" "fuck- yes! I'm- I'm close- gonna-" and you barely got the opportunity to warn them before you creamed on smoke's cock again, squeezing down on his so hard he had trouble moving again. the view and sensation of you orgasming had him nearing his own high.

you whine when he pulled out of you to fist his dick, stroking himself fast enough to cum all over your tummy with some of it landing on stack's hand, squeezing around the base to ride out his high with a hiss. he moaned your name before tumbling back and plopping down onto the bed.

"s-shit... that was-" "smoke are serious right now? learn how to aim, man." he peaked at stack who was shaking his hand in the air, "some of it got on my hand! fuck," he walked out the room to grab a tissue.

smoke's arm wrapped around you as you were still catching your breath, mind still hazy from the orgasm.

"that was... amazing..." you managed to admit between breaths and he smiled.

"I know, baby."

[chromehoney]

yearning!bestfriend!smoke x black!curvy!nasty!fem!reader

You and Smoke been thick as thieves since before y’all even had teeth. Since you were two loud little brown kids playin’ in the sprinkler in your grandma’s yard, barefoot on concrete and dripping in popsicle juice. He was the boy who always ran. Ran to get what you wanted. Ran to fix what you broke. Ran to grab the extra cookie you were too scared to ask for.

And even when you got older—full hips, lip gloss poppin’, that spoiled little whine always curled in your throat—you still didn’t have to finish a sentence before Smoke was already halfway to doin’ it.

“Smoke, can you—?”

“I got it.”

“Wait, you know what I want—”

“I already do.”

That was y’all’s rhythm.

He’d never said how bad he loved you. Never said that when you called him your best friend, it made his chest hurt. He never told you how many nights he stared at his phone, waiting for a text that said “Come over.”

You never told him either. You thought he knew. Thought maybe he didn’t feel the same. So you started dating other people. Just a little. Just to test the waters.

But you still showed up at every function on Smoke’s hip. Like today—his mama’s birthday cookout. You in that damn white dress. Tight up top, short in the back, every inch of you jiggling and glowing. Everybody noticed. But he noticed first.

He saw you before you even walked past the fence. Watched your thighs bounce with every step, your gold anklet glinting, your curls pulled up with just enough down to frame that smartass mouth he’d kill to kiss.

He didn’t speak first. He just stared. Chain glintin’. Blunt burning slow between his fingers.

You plopped down next to him at the table, legs crossed, plate in hand, talking loud with his cousins like you ain’t been skipping his calls.

And that’s when Aunt Vi turned to you, fork paused halfway to her mouth. “So baby girl, you still single? Or you got a lil boyfriend now?”

You blinked. Swallowed. Peeped Smoke from the corner of your eye. Then softly, like you ain’t really mean it: “…I do.” The clink of Smoke’s fork hitting his plate was the only sound for a moment.

He turned slowly, eyes glued to you. Not moving. Not blinking. That quiet, slow anger in his chest boiling over in silence. “You do?” he said low, voice tight.

You didn’t answer. You looked at Aunt Vi instead.“He tall?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“Mhm.”

“Cute?”

“…Kinda.”

“Got a picture?” You pulled your phone out, too quick. Nervous giggle stuck in your throat. Smoke didn’t take his eyes off you. He leaned back in his seat, arms folded, watching you show the picture. Your screen faced Aunt Vi, but he saw it too.

And his jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

Marcus. From the block. A dude Smoke knew. A dude who tried to be like him but couldn’t hold a candle. He stood slow. Walked around the table. Quiet as ever. Then reached down and snatched your phone right out your hand.

“What the hell—” “Get up,” he said. You blinked. “Smoke, don’t start—” “I said get. The fuck. Up.”He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t curse loud. But his tone wrapped around your neck and dragged you up out that chair like gravity shifted. Your thighs trembled. You followed. You had to.

He yanked the back door open and took you through the house—ignoring every cousin, every curious glance—into the den. The door slammed behind you. And then? Silence. Thick and hot and tight. Smoke turned, chest rising slow. “You really fucking with Marcus?” he said. Voice low. Not yelling, but shaking. “Marcus?”

“He nice,” you whispered, but your voice cracked.Smoke stepped forward. Your back met the wall. He placed your phone on the dresser like he was lining it up for later. “You know how many times I wanted to tell you?” he said, hand finding your waist. “How many times I had to sit there and watch you run off with them clown-ass niggas? You do that shit on purpose?”

“I didn’t know you—” “Yes the fuck you did.” You didn’t answer. His mouth found your neck first. Hot, soft, trailing down like it was muscle memory. Your hands fisted in his shirt. His touch wasn’t rough—but it was hungry. Desperate. Like something that’d been waiting too long to be born.

“Still lettin’ me do everything for you,” he murmured against your skin, tongue flicking just beneath your ear. “Still callin’ me first. Still wearin’ shit like this around my damn family.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” you whimpered. His hands slid down your thighs, cupping your ass, pulling your hips against his. “You the only one I care about.” He kissed you. Slow and deep, lips pressed like a seal. Like a brand.

When he lifted your dress, you gasped. His fingers found the soaked cotton between your thighs and he smiled against your mouth. “This for him?” he growled. “Or me?”

“You,” you whimpered.

He dropped to his knees, pulled your panties down slow, kissed your thighs like he had all day. Then, without warning, he lifted your leg and buried his tongue in you—slow. Groaning into your folds, fingers digging into your hips.

You came on his mouth in minutes, shaking, gasping, whispering his name like a prayer.

“Say it right,” he whispered, standing, dropping his sweats. “You know what to call me.” “…Pa.”He moaned. Deep in his chest. Lined himself up and slid in—slow, deep, smooth, until his whole body trembled. Your mouth dropped open. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes glassy.“You feel that?” he groaned. “That’s mine.”

He moved slow but heavy, rolling his hips deep inside you like he was making a promise. His lips on your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. His hand on your jaw. “I been waiting so long for this, bunny,” he whispered. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna touch you again.”

You were close again. Shaking. Crying now.

And then he reached for your phone. “Call him.”“What—” “Call that little nigga now.” With shaking fingers, you dialed. Voice trembling. He pressed the speaker on.

“Hello?” he spoke. Your breath caught. Smoke thrusted deep. You cried out, breath hitching. “I’m with my boyfriend.” Then Smoke grabbed the phone and ended it. And came inside you with a long, low groan that rattled your bones. His forehead rested on yours, breathing heavy, thumb wiping the tears from your cheek. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And I’m done sharing.”

A few weeks later…

You don’t even call him “Smoke” no more. It’s Pa this, Pa that. The whole damn block know what it is. He walkin’ with his arm around you like you made of gold and velvet. One hand resting on your hip, thumb rubbing that little space on your waist like it’s his personal territory. And it is.

You’re wearing one of the three diamond rings he bought you. Not engagement, not yet—but you keep tellin’ folks, “This one’s for my mouth, this one’s for my attitude, and this one’s ‘cause I’m spoiled.” He don’t argue. He just adds another.

And right between your collarbones? That chain. Thick, gold, glinting in the sun. His name on the pendant in soft cursive—“Elijah’s”—like a warning and a lullaby. He’s got one too. Yours. Tucked under his shirt but always there, lying flat on his chest, heartbeat pressin’ against the letters.

You’re headed to get ice cream, arguing playful in the heat. You want strawberry shortcake. He already bought it for you ten minutes ago and it’s in the car. He just like hearing you beg. And then, like a breeze cutting through the thick summer air, you hear two girls on the stoop whispering:

“—you ain’t hear? Marcus? That nigga gone. Shot dead couple weeks ago. Just now found the body in that alley behind Glenwood. Whole clip in him.”

You pause mid-step. Smoke doesn’t.

His grip on your waist tightens just slightly, just enough to make your stomach flip. He’s still walking, face neutral, but you catch the edge of his mouth. That little curl. That little smile.

He don’t say nothing. Just keeps moving. Pulls you closer, presses a kiss to your temple. You look at him. “Pa…” He raises a brow like he don’t know what you’re about to ask—but you don’t even finish the sentence.

You know better. You know exactly what that smile meant.

He ain’t ever gonna tell you what happened. But you can feel it in his kiss, in the way he holds your hand a little tighter now. The way he makes love to you like he got rid of every last threat.

That chain around your neck ain’t just jewelry. It’s a warning label. “Property of Elijah Moore.” And when the streets whisper about Marcus? Smoke don’t blink. He just licks ice cream off your lip and says: “Open your mouth, bunny. You know I don’t like repeating myself.”

last one yall… last one for the day.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers.

[szatears]

Girl dad smoke (taking care of wife a daughter)

mini hustler, smoke.

summary: smoke was never one to be picky about what gender child he wanted to raise when the time came, but it seemed that the universe had a plan of its own, and he was made to be a girl dad.

pairings: smoke x blackfem!reader, dad!smoke.

warnings: descriptions of reader, use of the n word, descriptions of pregnancy, established relationship, maybe some ooc smoke?

notes: okay i know this was sent in bc i asked for modernau reqs but i feel like i can write this better for the actual sinners universe smoke... :)))

You let out a hum of contentedness, leaning your head back against your husband's shoulders. His arms were wrapped securely around your waist as you both lounged on the outdoor settee, taking in the Mississippi sunset before you. His hands rested on your growing stomach, thumbs stroking gentle patterns.

You were almost six months along in your pregnancy, and Smoke had been with you every step of the way, as he had promised you when you first announced the news to him.

"You know," you broke the comfortable silence. "I think we're having a boy. He sits so low, 'n all the ladies say that means it's a boy."

"Stop calling my daughter a boy," he mumbled with a kiss to your temple, smiling when you let out a laugh.

"You mind what we have?" you asked.

He shook his head no. "Long as they healthy and grow up to be that 'n happy, I'on really mind."

You smiled at his words, placing your palms on top of his hands.

Life as an expecting mother was going by a lot faster than you imagined. One day you were with your mother picking out materials to make baby clothes from, the next you were sitting back relaxing as Smoke, Stack and Sammie attempted to build a baby crib.

"It don't look right," Smoke frowned. He stood behind you, arms wrapped around your stomach like they always were whenever he was around you lately.

"Man, how else it's supposed to look?" Sammie huffed, and you laughed. They'd been at it since the early morning and it was almost four o'clock now.

"Not like that, nigga. Why it only got three legs?"

"'Cause we're not fuckin' done with it yet, bruh. Chill, goddamn." Stack kissed his teeth, and you took that as your queue to get them something to drink, leaving them to bicker amongst themselves.

Your growing family was everything to you, and your heart warmed at every moment they spent tending to you and your unborn child. That was, when Smoke let them get close to you.

Smoke was already overprotective of you. but you when carrying his unborn child? It's like people needed permission to even breathe near you.

He needed you in his eyesight at all times or he'd start going insane. Never wanted you to do any heavy lifting, or even lift a finger if it was something he could handle.

"Whatchu doin' that for?" he'd scold you when he caught you about to step on a dining room chair to grab a box of your things from the top shelf.

"Elijah, I could've gotten that," you smiled sheepishly when his hand held your waist to place you back down on the ground, picking the box up for you.

"Yeah well, you ain't need to do all that when I'm right here," he kissed your cheek, sitting down on the chair with you in his lap as you opened up the box, revealing things from your childhood.

All this never phased you, if anything, it just solidified the feeling you had that he would make such a great father.

─── ༉‧₊˚✧ ───

"Stack, you drop her an' I swear to God, we gon' fight," Smoke mugged his brother as he played with his daughter, throwing her up into the air and catching her again.

"Man, move. I'm not gonna." Stack kissed his teeth, tickling his niece.

Three years ago, you gave birth to your daughter, Amaya Marie, and ever since, she'd been such a light in your life. Today, everyone was celebrating her birthday at yours and Smoke's house, the bustling sounds of laughter and chatter all around you.

You could hear her giggles as she played around with her Uncle Stack, the only important thing at the moment being that she was happy.

"She's fine, stop worrying," you brought your hands to either side of your husband's face, literally smoothing away his frown as you caressed his skin. He hummed, tearing his eyes away from his daughter to look at you, kissing your lips thrice.

Amaya had changed Smoke's life in ways he didn't even know could be changed. He found himself having a new purpose in life, catering for both you and her. Everything he did was for the both of you, making sure she didn't grow up to know the life of hardship and struggles.

She may have had your eyes and nose, but her personality? Oh boy, that was growing to be all Smoke. He spoiled her, as you often complained, but that didn't stop him from doing it.

Every new dress, new toy, new hair clip had her fawning over her father even more.

"Daddy look!" Amaya came running towards you both, as fast as her little legs could carry her. Smoke pulled away from you to pick her up and your eyes widened as she waved her hand in your face, showing off a crisp $10 bill.

"The hell?" you mumbled, looking at Smoke who just shrugged at you.

"Where'd you get this from, baby?" he asked Amaya, kissing her cheek over and over.

"From Uncle Stack," she managed to say through her giggles as Smoke tickled her.

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing that if it wasn't Smoke giving her money, then it definitely was one of her uncles.

Just like her daddy, Amaya had grown to be quite the negotiator at just three years old.

"Is that right?" Smoke smiled, a little idea forming in his mind. "You wanna get some more?"

Amaya nodded, waving the bill around in her hand. He adjusted her in his arm, his free hand taking a hold of yours, leading you to sit down at the table with the rest of the ladies, Pearline handing you a cool glass of lemonade as you sat down.

"Say bye to mama," Smoke brought her closer to your face, and you smiled when she kissed your cheek, waving goodbye.

"Don't hurt my baby, Elijah," you warned him, taking a sip of the drink in front of you. He waved you off, walking away from you and towards where Stack, Sammie and them were, beers in their hands as they stood around laughing.

The smile on Stack's face grew when he saw two of his favourite people approaching him. "Wassup lil' bit?" He ruffled the top of Amaya's head, messing up her curls.

"Now, you know damn well Y/N gon' get you for doing that," Smoke swatted his brother's hand away, trying to fix his daughter's hair. "Heard you gave lil' miss some money."

"Yeah, she deserves it." Stack smiled.

Smoke nodded, looking down at Amaya you was already looking up at him like he hung the planets and stars in the sky. "Go 'head baby, just like we practiced before," he whispered to her.

Amaya nodded, turning around in her father's arms. "This ain't gonna work, Uncle Stack," she spoke clearly, waving the money in his face now.

Stack paused mid sip, furrowing his brows. "Whatchu mean by that?"

"I mean," Amaya huffed. "This isn't enough."

Stack cut his eyes to his brother, who held a proud smirk on his face as he looked back at him. "Girl, it's $10, that's plenty for you."

"Nuh uh," Amaya shook her head, earning a laugh from Sammie. Who handed off the music to Slim so he could join the conversation.

"Say Stack, you gettin' pressured by a youngin'?" he laughed, dodging when Stack stuck his arm out at him.

"Aight then," he bent down to Amaya's height in his brother's arms. "Name your price."

Amaya thought hard for a moment. "A hundred."

Stack let out a loud laugh, and even Smoke chuckled at that. "Girl, I said name a price, not be delusional. Must get that from your mother," he mumbled the last part, but Smoke heard loud and clear, punching Stack's shoulder. "It was a fucking joke, my God."

"Try a lil' lower baby. Don't lowball though, that's how you get 'em to take you serious," Smoke encouraged her, rubbing her arm soothingly. She nodded, turning back to her uncle.

"40."

"20."

"40."

"25."

"50."

"Aight, I'll give you forty, stop this madness," Stack huffed, opening his wallet as Amaya turned to Smoke.

"I did good?"

"You did great baby," he kissed both her cheeks as Stack handed his niece the money.

"We gotta take her with us one day, almost had me emptying my pockets." Stack watched as she ran over to her mother with all her money, smiling when she looked their way.

"Man, shut up."

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