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passionxwrites · 2 months ago

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Summer Romance 1

Pairings: ModernAu! Elias “Stack” Moore x Black OC! (Cymone) x ModernAu! Elijah “Smoke” Moore

Warnings: MDNI, Cursing, use of the N-Word, a little angst

Word Count: 4.0K

Masterlist

Cymone

The summer of 2025 had settled into Jackson, Mississippi with a vengeance and it had Cymone Johnson constantly swiping sweat from her forehead as she swept her grandmother’s sunroom.

“Etta Jean is lucky she’s the light of my life boy,” she muttered under her breath for the millionth time in the past 20 minutes she had been out there straightening up. She definitely wished she had opted to clean the guest room instead but Etta Jean loved her sunroom and Cymone knew she hadn’t been out here cause it was a little unkempt.

After taking a step back and assessing her work she was finally pleased with the cleanliness of the sunroom now and knew her grandmother would be more than happy to spend her summer nights out here like she usually did.

“Oh Gannnnyyyyy,” she drawled out as she bounced on her toes in excitement. She had always loved showing her grandmother when she cleaned ever since she was 2 and at 20 things were definitely no different.

“Girl you know I don’t like all that yelling, now what is it,” her grandmother fussed as she stepped into the sunroom from the kitchen where she had been cleaning her greens for the church potluck the next day.

She was beaming with pride purely from the fact that she knew Ganny would be happy meaning she would be happy cause no one was happy when Ganny wasn’t.

Etta Jean crossed her arms and surveyed the hard work of her youngest grandchild with a clean poker face before it finally broke into a grin they both knew was coming.

“You did a beautiful job Punkin, come here, hug ya Ganny now,” she spoke as she stepped towards her baby with her arms open.

Cymone leaned in and gave her a quick but loving hug knowing she felt dirty and didn’t want to get all her sweat on her grandmother’s nice lounging clothes.

“I’m glad you love it! Now I’m finna go shower so I can get ready for Tricia’s party tonight cause you know ya girl has got to look good,” Cymone spoke as she snapped her fingers.

Ganny only playfully rolled her eyes because she knew full well she was the reason behind every piece of attitude her granddaughter had so her antics were not unusual at all.

“Alright miss thang, you just make sure you don’t pick up no drink you ain’t see get fixed!”

Cymone quickly yelled a yes ma’am as she ran up the steps to wash the stench of hot air from her body.

After 30 minutes she emerged from the overheated bathroom adjoining her room and picked up her phone to FaceTime her best friend of 10 years, Reana.

“This a pay phone not a play phone. Speak ya mind and don’t waste my time,” flooded through Cymone’s speaker located on her desk as she rolled her eyes at the usual behavior of Reana Williams.

“Just one day I wish you didn’t have to be an ignorant bitch. Anywho, what you wearing to Tricia’s. I’m drawing a blank,” she muttered in frustration while frantically flipping through her closet for the millionth time.

See Patricia Newsome always threw the littest parties to kick off summer break and this year was no different. Actually it was a little different being she couldn’t throw any pool parties because somebody threw up in hers last year so this year was gone be a party down at the local park in Presidential Hills.

“Ooooo okay so boom I got this bomb ass two piece set yesterday from the mall. I found it up in Windsor. It’s a halter top and some mesh capri pants. Hold on, let me go get it from my room so I can show you! It’s fye bitch!”

Chuckling at her friends excitement Cymone sat on her bed with her face contorted into concentration as she tried to think of something she hadn’t worn yet. Tonight Rashad Jennings would be at the party and they had been talking a lil bit since Cymone tutored him in general chemistry. Rashad was a track start at Jackson State and would be going into his senior year next year. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Almost put you in the mind of a young Lance Gross so he was fine as hell and Cymone quite frankly needed that.

“What about that red dress you bought two weeks ago from Charlotte Russe and ain’t ever wore yet?”

Cymone was jolted from her thoughts as Reana appeared back into the camera holding up her two piece set for her to see.

“That’s cute sista and you know what I forgot alll about that dress. This why I keep you on payroll! Aight give me like a hour to get ready and I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

“Okay honey bunches. Love you!”

“I love you too!”

After their farewells and the confirmation that she had a solid outfit she knew would not only break every neck at the party but would also have her target salivating, Cymone could finally focus on the easier tasks of doing her hair and makeup.

She changed her 2 day old silk press from a side part to a middle part and settled on a light beat since the party would be outside.

With her hair and makeup finally out of the way she held up the showstopper for the night. The dress was a tube top dress that ended in a pleated skirt. Thankfully it covered the assets carried down from Etta Jean and her mother while also still looking tempting enough for the average nigga to pray a strong gust of wind came through. She paired the dress with her gold platform flip flops and gold accessories and sprayed on her Kayali Pistachio Gelato perfume.

With her shoulder bag in tow she strutted down the stairs of the home to find Ganny sitting on the couch in the living room watching her stories.

“I’m headed out Ganny, I’ll be home no later than 1,” she stated as she leaned down to place a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek.

“Alright girl, you be safe and don’t give that boy a heart attack,” she winked and Cymone couldn’t help but to laugh.

She talked to Ganny about almost everything so of course her number one girl knew that she had a lil crush on the boy who ran track at her college.

Cymone hopped in her all black 2023 Ford Bronco, a high school graduation gift from her cousin Duke, and quickly headed to pick up Reana so they could arrive fashionably late.

Pulling up outside of Reana’s she shot her an “outside,” text and waited for her to walk out of the door.

While waiting she pulled out her phone to see a text from her cousin saying he had a surprise for her when she got to the party and immediately her suspicions were raised. Duke loved spoiling his little cousin like he was her father and essentially acted as if he was her father due to hers not being in the picture. He didn’t play about Cymone and frequently found ways to run niggas away from her since he felt nobody deserved his angel.

“Bitch I’m so sick of my mama boyfriend tryna act like he my daddy. Talkin bout I better make sure I’m home at a decent hour. Clyde if you don’t get the fuck out my face!”

Cymone could only shake her head in laughter at her homegirl. Reana’s parents tragically divorced their freshman year of college, sending her dad back to Canton to live closer to her grandmother and leaving her mom to all the new men who were clamoring for her attention. Her newest man, who she had been with for 5 months now, was Clyde James who owned a bar downtown near the King Edward’s hotel. Reana hated his guts because he felt like he was gone be the next man to lock her mama down so he was tryna step into the dad role to a girl who was grown as hell and already had a daddy. Safe to say he was getting cussed out almost everyday.

“Clyde ain’t gone learn until you call up big Will to come handle that.”

“Girl cause I done already put my daddy on game since the first time Clyde called himself checking me on MY grown ass whereabouts in MY mama house. To make matters worse mama just sit there and let’s him say the shit. Daddy said one more call and that’s all for his ass like Richard Schwartz.”

Cackles immediately filled the truck and Cymone immediately forgot about the message from Duke. That was just who Reana was. They met in the 5th grade at their elementary school. It was Reana’s first day being that she had transferred from a private school. Cymone was a really rough girl back in the day so she didn’t have many girl friends and the boys mainly just picked on her. When Reana sat by her in class and started conversation Cymone almost thought she was being punked. She was instantly on guard and had half a mind to whoop Reana’s ass thinking she was playing her. It took a week of convincing for her to finally get comfortable and after that they were thick as thieves. You wouldn’t see one without the other and you better not say nothing about one in front of the other or your ass was grass.

Cymone started the 10 minute drive to the park and began playing her Bad Bitches Only playlist.

She double parked the foreign at the function, we watchin for boots

I hop out ass fat as fuck, he watchin the glutes

We been came Cartier, them watches was cute

But I can’t fuck with none of yall niggas, yall watches be loose

Pulling into a parking a space, Cymone parked her car and pulled down her mirror to check her lip combo. Once she was satisfied she looked to see Reana finishing up doing the same.

“Let’s go have a good time girly!”

They hopped out the car and watched as everyone was outside having a good time. Ass was being thrown everywhere, niggas was everywhere watching, it was a complete vibe. This was the epitome of summer and giddiness was setting into Cymone’s bones the more she surveyed the crowd.

“Looking for yo man,” Reana teased as she watched Cymone take in the scenery.

“No baby, he’s looking for me. I’m just taking in my surroundings,” Cymone muttered cockily as she stuck out her tongue because she knew the truth. Rashad told her he would find her at the party a couple days ago so she was simply waiting to be approached.

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m thirsty as hell.”

As they approached the table under the pavilion with the coolers they saw Patricia. The girl was bossing everyone around as she stood on the table. As they got closer her eyes immediately lit up.

“If it ain’t the thickest bitches I know! Where yall asses been at,” Tricia yelled as the two women approached her. She was now sitting on top of the table donned in a gold bralette, denim mini shorts with gold studs embroidered on them and her honey blonde hair styled in a middle part with wand curls.

“I had to help my Ganny before I came out. My girl needed her sunroom in pristine condition so she can sit and people watch,” Cymone explained as she filled a cup with ice, Don Julio, and orange juice.

“I gotta come see my girl Etta Jean. I know she done cooked up something for that church pot luck tomorrow and I need whatever it is!”

“Oh girl you already know. We gone see you later though, we finna walk around and see what we see,” Cymone spoke as she gave her a side hug before walking away.

“Tricia really been like that since middle school. That shit is crazy,” Reana muttered as she took a sip from her cup.

“Girl she been like that since she was 5,” Cymone said as she felt a tug on her arm from behind her.

“I told you I was gone find you.”

With a smirk on her lips Cymone turned around to face Rashad in all of his beautiful, tall, chocolate glory.

“Well look what the cat drug in. Hey Rashad.”

“Hey to you too. You looking good girl. Done had everybody talkin bout you since stepped foot out yo truck.”

Reana who was suffocating in the sexual tension had long got the hint and decided to make herself busy elsewhere and mingle with the other people at the party.

“Well I tend that have that affect on people. It’s one of my best qualities actually,” Cymone spoke while fluttering her eyelashes. She was laying it on thick which was a little out of character but Rashad was different and she had been smitten with him since the first day she laid eyes on him.

“I just bet you do. Now, since I found you what do I get?”

Cymone titled her head and began tapping her finger against her cheek as if she were genuinely thinking of something.

“Hmmm I guess I can dance with you. ”

Rashad’s face immediately broke into his normal charming smile.

“I would love to dance with you.”

Just as he reached for her hand to lead her to the dance floor he was cut off by her name being yelled from the parking lot.

“PUNKIN! COME HERE.”

Of course Duke was the culprit. Cymone immediately scrunched her face in frustration at not only being interrupted but also being called by her childhood nickname in front of everybody and they damn mama. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Reana snickering behind her cup because she knew how much Cymone hated that name and Duke’s dumbass knew that too. She turned to Rashad while trying to fix her face so he wouldn’t see her upset.

“Give me one second to see what my cousin wants. I promise we will have that dance okay,” she said while nodding her head at Reana to follow her.

She marched to her cousins pickup truck with the anger of 1,000 women wondering what the hell this surprise was and why it was calling for all of this.

“Duke what the hell I tell you about callin me Punkin in public? I should slap yo loud country ass,” she fussed as she got up on him.

“Girl kill that shit! Look who came back home!”

She finally realized he wasn’t alone and turned her head to the two people accompanying him. When she did she felt like she had seen a ghost….or two.

Elias and Elijah Moore also notoriously known as Smoke and Stack. Smoke and Stack had been running with her cousin since she could remember and they were pretty much known as the city terrors. Niggas feared and wanted to be them and women wanted at least 5 seconds of their time.

Growing up Cymone was a tomboy. She was always wearing t shirts and jeans that would end up with holes in them from her scrapping with any and everybody in the neighborhood. Boys basically ran away from her because she was so aggressive but not the twins. I mean it wasn’t like they was scared of her cause they were five years older but they always watched out for her. She always appreciated how they were the only boys who would actually talk to her besides Duke.

Maybe she developed a little crush on them from how much time they spent together and maybe that’s why she was so heartbroken the day they up and left without so much as a goodbye. No one knew where they went but Duke and he was sworn to secrecy so he wouldn’t tell her where they went. In all honesty, them leaving like that was probably Cymone’s first heartbreak and she never really recovered from that betrayal.

Now seven years later they swept back into town and this is how they made their entrance back into the Jackson as if they never left.

Everyone else in the city might have felt like throwing them a parade but Cymone had no intentions on a warm welcome back. One glance at Smokes cool as fan expression and Stacks smug grin she could have spit.

“This my surprise,” she asked as she finally tore her eyes away from her long lost companions and back to her cousin.

“Yeah girl! When they got back into town this morning I told em how you was doing good in school and how you was such a girly girl now and they had to see you.”

“Oh is that right,” as a bitter chuckle escaped her lips.

“Well I owe somebody a dance. Bye,” and with that she turned on her heels and quickly grabbed Reana’s arm to drag her alone with her.

“Bitchhhh-“

“Not now Re. Now now.”

Stack

The minute Stack and his brother stepped outside of Jackson-Medgar Wiley airport they were hit with the almost overwhelming heat of Mississippi but it was honestly missed. After spending many years in cold ass Chicago the twins truthfully needed the heat.

“How far Duke say he was,” he questioned his brother as they stepped out of the path of other travelers seeking their ride from the airport.

“Say he 2 minutes out,” Smoke answered as he looked down at his phone.

Smoke was the stoic one out of the twins. He never really had much to say or showed much emotion but Stack knew his brother was just as happy as he was to be home. After handling their father they both knew they had to get the fuck out of dodge and Chicago came with a promise of not only an escape but some good money as well. Business was so good out there the twins stacked up enough money to live comfortably back home and also fulfill a dream of being business owners.

Their plan was to come home and open their own club. It was gone be the best thing Jackson had ever seen. Way better than the bullshit that was out here right now.

With the help of Duke they knew they would be booming with business in no time. Stack could see the dollar signs now and he was more than ready to be livin large and in charge.

“Oh my goodness! Are you boys twins?”

Smoke and Stack both looked up to a little old white woman staring at them in amazement as if she had never seen twins a day in her life. Smoke immediately took the ignoring route and put his head back into his phone while Stack, ever the asshole, smirked as he answered.

“Nah, we cousins.”

The woman looked perplexed with her mouth agape and just as she looked like she had finally found a response she was cut off by Duke honking his horn ignorantly as he pulled up to the airport.

“Bout damn time,” Smoke spoke under his breath as he grabbed his bags and walked up to the truck.

“You have a good one ma’am,” Stack replied with a chuckle leaving the women standing there looking like a jackass.

“Mannn! I missed yall boys being in the Sipp! We finna get into so much shit this summer!”

Stack grinned as he dapped up Duke already up for the shenanigans remembering how they used to get down back in the day.

“Aye we can roll by my crib so yall put yall shit down and freshen up cause Tricia throwing a party down at the Hills Park and you know all the bad bitches gone be there!”

“Tricia….you talking bout Nautica lil sister Tricia,” Smoke asked with his face scrunched up in confusion.

“Yeah nigga. She been throwing bomb ass parties with Nautica since high school but she throwing this one by herself today. Punkin gone be there.”

Hearing that named instantly brought warm feelings to Stacks chest. Punkin was they lil rider and the girl would whoop anybody ass. She was so bad none of the lil neighborhood boys and girls would fool with her so she would always hang around them. He used to enjoy they lil back and forth moments they had when he would get on her about all the scars on her arms and legs from fighting.

“Man I missed Punkin lil badass. What she been up to?”

Duke shook his head with a smile like he knew a secret none of them knew.

“Punkin ain’t the same Punkin no more. She don’t even like being called Punkin no more, like everybody to call her Cymone. She a girly girl and shit now. Always worried bout her hair and makeup. She a cheerleader down at Jackson State, making good grades, damn near running that school. I be working hard to keep them lil niggas from sniffing up behind her. Yall know that’s my baby man.”

Stack found himself intrigued hearing that Punkin was no longer a tomboy. Hell he halfway thought the girl was gone be a stud when she grew up so hearing she did a complete 180 shocked him.

“Damn, I gotta see her,” he said as he looked into the rear view mirror to see Smoke sitting in the backseat with the same look.

About an hour later the boys had gotten settled at Dukes and changed clothes to head to the party. As they pulled up they noticed how big the crowd was.

“Man it look like the whole Jackson at this bitch. Is that Antoine bitch ass? He owe me some money,” Stack said as rubbed his hands together with a grin. He already knew people were gone be all up in they grill with them being back home after so long.

Smoke snorted from the backseat probably thinking the same thing. Duke pulled into the back parking lot and immediately hopped out his truck after spotting Punkin in the crowd.

“PUNKIN! COME HERE,” he yelled with his hands cupped around his mouth as if he needed anymore help with elevating his usually loud mouth.

Minutes later as they exited the truck they saw her and the wind was almost knocked from Stacks chest. Matter of fact his jaw almost hit the ground. This definitely wasn’t the Punkin they left down here 7 years ago. This was a grown ass woman with a body that would make a nigga pull out his wallet and hand it over if she so much as blinked at him.

He immediately peeped his brother out of the corner of his eye and though his face was calm Stack could see the surprise swirling in his eyes. Duke's description could have never prepared him for what was in front of him.

He was so stuck on stupid he didn’t realize Duke had told her they were there until her eyes shifted over to him and he saw her pause for a moment.

His face split into a smile seeing she was just as surprised by them as they were by her but the surprise on her face didn’t last long. Soon it was replaced by anger as she turned to her cousin asking if they were her surprise. After Duke confirmed she barely gave them a second glance before announcing she owed somebody a dance and marching off with a girl Stack hadn’t even realized was standing there.

“Mmcht, man she gone be aight. She just a lil mad right now cause I couldn’t tell her where yall was. Give it a couple days. She gone be fine,” Duke spoke but Stack knew that lil firecracker and the grudges she could hold.

Him and Smoke were gone have to grovel to get back into her good graces. While he never begged for a damn thing he was more than prepared to beg for her forgiveness.

Note: Okay the time has finally come and I finally stepped out of my comfort zone. After I watched Sinners I fell in love with the twins and seeing that the movie was set in my home state I just had to get in on the fun. I will try to update every Friday/Saturday. I hope you all enjoy this first part and let me know what you think! Bye guyssss

#sinners #elias stack moore #elijah smoke moore #smokestack twins #stack x reader #smoke x reader #sinners fic

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gothic-thoughts · 1 year ago

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Second Chances

(yes i played clarinet in HS. no we not gon talk about it 😭🧍🏾‍♀️)

Part 1! Dio Brando x Black Fem Reader Fluff

College Football!Dio, Band Geek!Reader(me fr), ModernAU, Drabble(esque)

CW: reader is fed up😭

Word Count: 981

TW: bullying mention, not proofread

After the university won the game, the football team was swarmed by people to congratulate them. Especially Dio, the star wide receiver, who was surrounded by cheerleaders fawning over him and the win. (Y/n) wades through the commotion with her marching band hat under her arm and her clarinet case in her free hand as she pushes past the crowd. The Center walks over to Dio and playfully snatches his helmet away while the Running Back rests his arm on his shoulder.

"Whatchu looking at, Dee?" Center asked.

"That your girl?" the Running Back teased.

"Not yet," Dio replied with a smug grin. “That's (Y/n), we got like two classes together. She's in the marching band."

Center laughed thinking he was kidding, "Pretty nerdy, guessing you want her to help you study?"

The Running Back laughs along, "Yeah, you need more nerds to help you with your homework?"

"Nah, I tried bullying her cuz she's in marching band." Dio chuckles fondly at the memory of their first encounter, "But she shut me the hell down. She may be a short-ass band nerd but, goddamn, she's got one hell of a fuckin spine."

He sees her finally exit the sea of people who once filled the audience and adjust her marching band jacket before turning down a relatively empty corridor. Dio playfully chases after her and he catches up to her and grabs her shoulder lightly from behind.

"Hey, Short Stack."

“You again? What do you want now?”

"You." Dio winks.

“Ugh.”

She shrugs him off her shoulder and turns around, continuing down the hall only for him to casually follow her with his signature smirk.

"You know, I can't tell if you hate me or like me."

“I don't know enough about you but let's go with I dislike you.”

Dio moves closer, "I don't know, I feel like you do. Besides, if you don't even know me then you shouldn't make judgments about me, short stuff."

“Oh really? Our first encounter, you made me late trying to bully me.”

"Oh right. But I think we should let bygones be bygones. Besides, people change. And people can start over."

“Not when that first encounter happened 4 fuckin’ days ago. Mind you, I was late for practice for the halftime show at the game you just won.”

"Listen Short Stack; are ya gonna let something so minor keep you from doin' that? Like c’mon, that was Monday."

(Y/n) stops mid-step and looks up at him with a narrowed irritated glare.

“No, you listen, Number 33.” She poked his chest, “Not like you asked, but the band director is strict as fuck. If any of us is more than 5 minutes late, we usually have to stay an extra 10 after class to make up for it. But since the game was this week, your fuckin’ song and dance made me have to stay an extra 25 minutes and walk in the fuckin’ rain. That was my Monday."

(Y/n) turns away and storms off down the hall, turning the next corner. Dio's composure breaks for a moment before he sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. Despite the mask of playfulness on his face, he does feel bad for making her go through that.

He also feels slight shame since he’s not used to losing these kinds of encounters with girls. They were usually falling all over him, hesitant to argue, much less yell at him. Dio sighs and follows her around the corner, now getting into a more serious demeanor.

"I have a compromise for you," Dio says calmly. "Hear me out real quick."

She sucks her teeth, “Bruh!”

“I mean it, as a way to apologize.”

“Just apologize.”

“Not good at that, so I want to do something for you to prove it.”

“A deal?”

“Just hear me out

She sighs deeply, “What is it?”

"Let me take you on a date to make up for those 25 minutes."

(Y/n) genuinely chuckles, “You want to take me on a 25-minute date, Dio?”

“Tch, no, I’ll take you on a date and I have 25 minutes to make you feel better about what I did Monday. If I don't, you can leave and I won't bother you again."

“Hmm...”

“I mean of course I’ll find you around school for more of this lovely attention you’re giving me right now, but I won’t bother you.”

Another deep sigh. “Can’t believe I’m doin’ this. Fine, but I pick the place and time.”

"Sounds fine to me, where and when?"

“How about another compromise; I'll give you my Insta and text you all the info if you go change out your uniform.”

"A compromise within a compromise. I like it." Dio said with a sly grin. “And what's wrong with the uniform, it's a chick magnet."

“Yeah, not with the smell.” She laughs, “ Like I know we’re both sweaty, but you smell like ass and grass so...”

"Hey, that's just cuz of the game. After I clean myself I smell like a bouquet of flowers."

“You gonna have to prove that cuz that’s not what I’m inhaling right now.”

Dio laughs as he takes out his phone, “Alright, alright; message received. I’ll go now.”

(Y/n) puts her clarinet case down and takes his phone to follow herself on Instagram before handing it back. Dio notices the smile on her face and his eyes follow her movements, even as she starts to walk away. He thinks for a moment; she had every chance to shoot him down and yet she agrees to let him take her to a date.

Was she interested, or was this her just way of being spiteful? Either way, he was willing to find out. Dio stares at the screen of his phone, reading her Instagram handle over and over again. After reading it a second time, his smirk returns.

#x black reader #x black fem reader #black reader #black writers #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando x reader #black fem reader #dio brando #dio x reader #dio x black reader #jjba #jojo part 1 #dio jojo #jojo no kimyō na bōken

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chaotic-on-main · 2 years ago

Note

Summer Event! 💕

Matcha Green Tea Ice Cream,

Kitchen Sink option but make it a surprise!

Thank you for being so understanding & sweet, I get really anxious if you can't tell haha. You're a dear💕✨

Order up!! One matcha green tea cone with everything but the kitchen sink for Eri!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ janitor!Levi Ackerman x fem!people-pleaser!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, meet-cute(kinda?), familial trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff, accidental therapy (for me), corporate ick

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Eri!! Thank you so much for sending this request in. I was a little worried with the whole "make it a surprise" because I struggle with lack of structure BUT I'm so proud of how this came out. I couldn't stop writing, as you can see. This might be a little self-indulgent and I hope I got the emotions right since I struggle with them. I just want Levi to call me out on my shit, okay?? Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! love you k bye *smooches*

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.6k (oops)

“Hi, you’re the new hire right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Carol from a few rows down. Listen, I hate to do this to you since you’re so new but you’re the only one I can ask. Would you be able to do the data entry on the Sina job? I can’t stay past closing tonight due to my set plans and unfortunately it’s due tomorrow morning. Could you help me out? I’ll pay you back!”

The voice of your overly excited brunette coworker reverberates through your skull as you type away at your desk, the bright light of your monitor biting at your eyes just like the migraine you feel in the back of your head. You had a feeling that this is not the first time the people in the office have picked on the newcomers, and you bet it wouldn’t be the last. You chalk it up the fact that you were still in the office past seven in the evening doing someone else’s work because they dropped the stack of papers on your desk before you could say anything back, but you knew better. Damn your pathological people pleasing tendencies.

Your chair squeaks as you lean back in it, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you sigh heavily. It’s a handful of days into your first week and you’re already daydreaming about your next vacation. An office job was not your first go to, but as all struggling artists do, you needed this job to supplement your income until your art took off – if that ever happened.

Thoughts of how much longer you’d have to be here swirl through your mind when you’re interrupted by a loud thunk a few cubicles down. It startles you so much that you jump up as your eyes shoot open, hand over your heart in an attempt to calm it. You weren’t aware of anyone else in the building so you can’t help but think there might be a mass murderer just feet away from you. Steeling your resolve, you push yourself up from your chair and carefully peek over the half wall to see what had made that noise.

At first you don’t see anything as your eyes adjust from seeing nothing to the semi-lit office floor from the setting sun and dimmed overheads. Down the row, you see the back of a man in what you assume to be a gray janitor’s suit. An undercut peeks between short raven locks, neck lines sharp giving away to a clean cut. It doesn’t seem like he notices you’re there as his attention is focused on the waste basket in front of him.

You sit back down slowly, heaving a heavy sigh from relief that it was indeed not a mass murderer – well, that you know of. He didn’t seem threatening from far away at least. Your hands hover on the keyboard as you do your best to blink away the tired. Only a few more pages now, you reassure yourself.

An hour later, miraculously you find yourself down to the last page. The miscellaneous words and numbers swim off the page as you force yourself to focus. With the promise of a late night treat, you finally make it down to the last line. Just as you’re about to hit ‘enter’, something kicks the back of your chair causing you to yelp loudly and slam down on the keys harder than you meant.

“What are you still doing here?” A deep voice grumbles from behind you, making your ears twitch at the sudden volume difference. You twist around in your chair to see who the voice belongs to and you’re surprised to see it coming from the janitor you saw earlier. What’s even more surprising is how young he looks, and handsome to boot - despite the look he’s giving you. Stark gray-blue lidded eyes stare down at you as he scowls, eyebrows pinched together. He doesn’t look pleased.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m working on some…” Your voice falters when his expression turns into annoyance.

“You’re in my way.” He simply states as he leans against a vacuum you only now notice sitting under his arm. Was your focus so strong that you completely missed the sounds of him cleaning around you?

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me get out of your way then.” You say timidly, pushing yourself out of the chair. You’re face to face with him at standing height, even in your work heels. This was a very intimidating man despite his short stature.

“I’m not going to clean with you breathing down my neck.” He grumbles, eyes narrowing at you like you asked him the most offensive question known to man. Your lips part as you struggle to find your words, but nothing comes out as you find yourself low-key panicking.

“I c-can just-”

“Just finish what you’re working on, I’ll just come back.” He rolls his eyes before walking away, leaving you and the vacuum illuminated by your computer screen. You ball your hands in fists to keep them from shaking.

Exhaling a weak breath, you sit back down and force yourself to focus on the last line of data instead of the glowering expression of your office’s janitor.

You slam your forehead into the vinyl coating of your desk, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to hear the echoes of contact through the whole floor. It’s nearing seven at night again and you’re still in office catching up on yet another coworker’s workload.

When they asked what plans you had tonight, you didn’t think that saying you were going home to watch TV would bite you in the ass. If you were completely honest, you had quietly hoped they might be asking if you wanted to go out for drinks with them. After all, they were the only ones that had really talked to you in the past few weeks but you’re starting to wonder if they were just trying to butter you up to get you to say yes to their requests.

Who were you kidding though, you would have said yes anyways because the word ‘no’ didn’t exist in your vocabulary. You wish you weren’t so aware of that fact because not only are you stressed out, you’re full of self loathing. A groan escapes your lips.

“Still doing other people’s work?” You hear a familiar voice grumble from behind.

After lifting your head up from the cool desk, you swivel around in your chair to see the janitor – this time in dark blue. A white handkerchief wraps around his face, covering his mouth and nose so that all you see are his tired eyes. A same-colored bandana adorns his head with some of his bangs falling into his eyes. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from asking what the point of the bandana was if it didn’t keep his hair out of his face.

It takes you a moment to find your voice, partly from not using it for so long but also because of the steady unfriendly feeling radiating off him. He raises an eyebrow at you as you stare up at him almost dumbfounded.

“I- who said I was doing other people’s work?” You finally make out, voice trembling.

“You’re new, right? The office goons do that to every newbie that comes in.” He folds his arms over his chest and you see that his sleeves are rolled up to show his toned forearms, muscles popping up from the position they’re in. Your eyes flicker back up to his, blinking slowly.

“I’m sure but they needed the help, so...”

“Because they would rather slack off than do any work. They’re taking advantage of you and you’re falling for it? You’re an adult, right?” There isn’t malice in his words but they still sting.

“Of course I am! I work here, don’t I?” Your eyes widen in emphasis, sweeping your hands around you.

“Tch, that doesn’t make you an adult. I’ve been here for years and I’ve seen my fair share of children.” His scowl reappears at those words. You’ve never met someone so grumpy.

You close your mouth at that, not sure what else to say. He clicks his tongue and flips a small towel over his shoulder. Turning on his heel, he sets off down the aisle without another word, the sounds of his heavy boots getting quieter.

You don’t get done until 10:30 that night. On your way out, you pass by the janitor who was currently on the inside of the board meeting glass walls, wiping them down with what you suppose is glass cleaner. His eyes meet yours as you walk by and you offer a small wave and smile even though his short words still sting. You think he’s going to ignore you but instead, he gives you a curt nod.

The janitor’s words swim through your mind the next time you’re asked to stay behind to help out. You spent the last couple of weeks doing your best practicing in the shower on setting boundaries with your coworkers but when the person who came to you next was your supervisor, how could you say no.

You were in the middle of packing your bag while lost in thought of your weekend plans when she came to you. You’re thinking you might stop by the evening market by the river before heading home with some food from the local vendors when a finger taps on your shoulder followed by your name coming out in a honey-laced voice.

“Hey, I just wanted to stop by and commend you on being such a team player in the last month. It’s something we find rare in someone as young as you and of course we’re grateful.” Your red-haired boss beams down at you while she talks. The feeling of ice pricks in your veins at what you know was coming next.

“I’m really sorry to come to you so last minute and on a Friday no less, but because of your wonderful work ethic, you’re the only one I can trust to complete The Warrior Project. It’s been extremely slow going and we need it done by Monday. Do you think you can stay behind and help us out?” She offers you an apologetic smile, eyes boring into yours with sincerity.

You wished you could have said no but the words died before they made it out of your mouth, instead agreeing meekly with a fake smile.

So now here you sit at your desk with the dying rays of light rising higher against the back walls as the sun sets, fingers flying across the keyboard. You suppose you’ll have to stop by the late night convenience store on the way home for some dinner; your face scrunches up at the thought of your very limited choices.

“If you type any harder, you’ll break it.” You don’t bother to turn around at the voice, knowing damn well who it was.

“I’m sure they’ll get me another one. They need me to finish this, after all.” You mutter the last part under your breath. The smell of something sweet and tangy hits your nose and on contact, your stomach rumbles loudly.

Swiveling in your chair, you’re met with the janitor who’s simultaneously holding a feather duster as well as a bag of what looks like Chinese take-out. Your eyes widen at the sight, bouncing back and forth between the objects in his hand.

“Are you here to eat or dust?” You ask, finally looking up to his face. There’s no expression on his pretty face. You still haven’t gotten over how stunning he was, with his pointed nose and pouty bottom lip. Today he has his janitor uniform half on, the sleeves of the suit tied around his waist so that it’s only pants. Tucked in is a black t-shirt that shows more of his muscular arms. He’s not ripped by any means but it’s very obvious he exercises on his time off.

“I’m here to dust. This is for you to eat.” He says dryly, shoving the bag in your direction. Once again, you find your words stolen as you stare at the brown paper bag that sits curled in his pale fingers. Your eyes shift back and forth between his face and the food.

“F-for me? Why?”

“Whenever I see you here late, you never eat. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I eat when I get home.” You retort back softly. A late night meal for you consists of a single serving bag of chips and whatever looked edible at the convenience store – but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Just eat it.” He pushes it forward to you again, the warm smells of food wafting past your nose. It smelled like heaven.

“I- no. I can’t take that, it’s yours!” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. A dark eyebrow shoots up his face.

“So she can say no.” He reaches over you and places the paper bag down on your desk. Along with the smells of delicious food, the scent of clean laundry and musky pine tickles your nose. It’s a very pleasant combination, and one you were not expecting. “Eat it, throw it away, I don’t care.” He says casually before turning around and walking off. Your hand reaches out in an attempt to stop him, but he’s long gone.

Twisting your chair around, you eye the paper bag for a moment before finally caving. Your stomach is about to eat itself and he had paid for it, so you don’t want to waste it. Why he would care enough about you to order food is a mystery, though.

Upon opening the contents, you’re greeted with a small foil dish with a plastic covering holding what you believe is orange chicken. A little white box off to the side contains sticky rice and in the little plastic package next to it holds some spring rolls – all still steaming hot and smelling wonderful.

You spend the next half hour scarfing down your dinner while thinking about how you’d pay the janitor back. The flush that started creeping up your cheeks at the end of your encounter with him stays even when you go to bed late that night.

The week after, you intentionally slow down on your daily work so that you had a reason to stay late and finish it. But much to your dismay, you don’t see the janitor anywhere. You’d leave each night a little embarrassed at yourself for being so excited for someone you’ve talked to a handful of times, but to your benefit you had a reason for your madness.

Finally, you gather enough courage to peep your head over your half-wall and grab your coworker’s attention – whose attention was on a mobile game in his hands and not on the spreadsheets in front of his face.

“Ryan?” You whisper-shout down. Your brunette coworker’s eyes shoot up to yours, almost in a panic.

“What? Is the boss lady making her rounds?” He asks back. You sweep your eyes around the office floor and finally find your supervisor who was currently in a meeting with other board members.

“She’s busy, you’re fine. I actually had a question?” You didn’t realize how soft you were speaking until he stood up to meet you, towering a good foot above you with his ear down to you.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you knew when the janitor might be back? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” You subconsciously start picking at your nails – a nervous habit.

Ryan stares at you as he processes your words before throwing his head back in bellowing laughter. You’re quick to shush him and duck your head down from the glares aimed your way at such a loud disturbance.

“Not so loud!!” You whisper-shout again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just curious why you want to know? He doesn’t like anyone, and no one likes him.” He shrugs his shoulders. You so badly want to tell him to shut up and that you like him, but instead you settle on trying to get him to answer your question.

“Well, what’s his schedule?” You narrow your eyes in hopes of getting the message across that you were serious.

“Well, that’s the thing, he’s always working. Sometimes even on the weekends. From what I heard, his cleaning routes are the same every week. He doesn’t get to our floor until late in the week. He has a thing for cleaning, so I heard, and that’s why there’s only one janitor contracted. He’s so weird.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he rests his chin against the top of the wall.

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you care so much about the janitor?” It’s Ryan’s turn to narrow his eyes to you. You’re asking too many questions and he’s getting far too nosy about your business. It’s best to retreat for now.

“Uh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You squeak before plopping yourself down at your chair and pretending to click around on your word documents until you no longer feel the pierce of your coworker’s stare.

So he’s always here, you think. You’re just missing him on your way down. You bite back a smile as you glance down to the clock at the bottom corner of your screen. The time reads 4:37pm and it’s a Thursday which meant that he would be around your floor this evening. Perfect. Your eyes sweep over to your bag in your excitement.

In the time it takes for you to wait for the gray-blue eyed janitor, you’ve finished half of the next day’s work. A part of you starts to wonder if he isn’t coming tonight, that it may be tomorrow instead, and weirdly you find yourself hoping one of your coworkers would ask you to help them out again so that you had a reason to stay.

“That’s so stupid.” You say out loud as you stir sugar into the black tea you had spent the last 5 minutes steeping. You’re standing in the office break room, lost in thought.

“I’m sure the mug doesn’t feel that way.” That voice makes your heart flutter, and you bite back the smile that threatens to curve into your face. Instead, you pinch your lips together and turn around.

The janitor is there alright, uniform zipped up tight as he holds a spray bottle and a rag. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the break room, arms folded across his chest. His black hair falls into his face, almost kissing the corners of his heavy-lidded eyes as they watch you intently.

“Ah, there you are!” You exclaim, pointing your spoon at him.

“Here I am.”

“I have something to give you as payback for dinner last week.” You muse, grinning at him. His eyes widened briefly before going back to normal.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’m grateful for it, dummy.” Carefully, you place your spoon next to your mug and walk towards him until you’re face to face. It takes him a moment to realize you were waiting for him to move, and carefully he backs away so that you have room to escape.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You order before dashing off to your cubicle.

When you come back with the gift in hand, you see that the janitor hadn’t moved an inch. His intimidating eyes follow you as you stop in front of him, slightly breathless from speed walking back. An eyebrow raises at you as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“I-ah. Okay. So. I made these for you. I ended up having to make a fresh batch because I didn’t see you for a bit and I didn’t want to feed you stale cookies so. Anyways, here. Thank you for feeding me last week.” You beam up at him as you hold your hands out to show him your gift.

It’s a small plastic bag wrapped with a pastel bow. The contents of the bag include bite sized cookies that you spent all last night remaking in hopes you would see him again. They’re pale yellow in color, dusted with a light coat of cane sugar. His eyes widen again at your gesture, this time staying big as they stare at the bag in your hand like its gold.

“You… made these for me?” His voice is low.

“I did! I don’t know if you like sweets but these are my mother’s recipe and her cookies were never that sweet. Pretty much the sweetness comes from the sugar on top. The rest are just buttery goodness.” You gush as you stare off in thought, the happy memories of your mom making these cookies for you flooding your brain.

When your eyes fall back to the raven-haired man, you’re almost tempted to run away in embarrassment. His neutral expression stares back at you and you take a small step back.

“I’m sorry, this is probably weird. You don’t have to take them actually. In fact, I’ll just le-“

“No, you’re fine. I uh, I appreciate it.” He quickly reaches out and grabs the bag, the sound of crinkling plastic taking up space in the nearly empty mess room. You offer him a small smile, grateful that he accepted the gift. His eyes trail past you and onto the kitchen counter behind you. He purses his lips as he thinks but finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Pour that disgusting excuse for a tea out and follow me. Bring the mug.” He says tersely before turning on his heels and out the door. You blink hard a few times as your brain processes his words but quickly you find yourself dumping out the tea and chasing after him down the cubicle aisles.

Soon, you’re sitting on the ground with the janitor as he pours steaming amber liquid from the thermos he pulled out of his cleaning cart just mere moments ago. It splashes into the bottom of your mug and fills it quickly, then he hands it over to you as he starts speaking.

“So are you a workaholic or…” He gives you a side eye.

“I should be asking you that. I’ve been told you work practically every day, even on weekends.” You hold the mug by the handle as you stare down into the cup. “Is this…?”

“It’s tea and no I didn’t poison it.”

“What was wrong with the tea I had?”

“Stale tea leaves don’t make for a good cup of tea.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No, I’m not a workaholic. I like to clean, and I get paid for it. Plus, I’m left alone. Usually.” He grumbles the last part, but you don’t detect any hostility in his voice.

“Well, I’m not either. A-a workaholic, I mean.”

“No, I suppose not. Just a people pleaser then?” His statement makes you splutter on the tea you had just sipped on. Despite it going almost everywhere, the bitter taste of the dark leaves bite at your taste buds. It’s unsweetened and you can’t keep the slight look of distaste off your face. Luckily, it’s covered up by the glare you shoot his way.

You don’t say anything back at that, knowing any denial would have been a lie but you didn’t want to confirm it either. However, you can’t hold back the annoyance that simmers in your chest at such a presumptuous statement, from someone you hardly know, no less.

“Beats being disliked by everyone.” You mutter finally, setting your mug on the floor next to you. Your eyes drift to the floor-to-ceiling window you were both sitting in front of. The last dreg of golden sunlight warms your face as you stare out into the bustling city as they prepare for the evening.

“You say that like it should bother me.”

“Shouldn’t it though?”

“Why would it?”

“Don’t you want people to like you?” You whisper softly, dragging your gaze over to his face. There’s no readable expression on his face as he sips his tea out of the top of his thermos lid. He’s holding it in a way you’ve never seen before – long fingers gripping the metal from the top rim and tilting it back into his mouth.

“I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.” He says finally as he gives you a side eye.

You’re not sure if your surprise at his callous attitude is warranted or not. Your interactions with him have been few and far in between but that night he got you dinner, you thought maybe he was a little more caring than that.

“Why do you care if people like you anyway?” He leans back on a hand, his other cradling his cup.

“I just- well. I don’t know.” You say simply. You do know.

“I read this thing about people-pleasers. It said that they’re great manipulators. They bend and break just so that others tolerate and like them, pretending to be something they’re not. Are you trying to get something out of it?”

Your eyes snap to his, feeling the heat behind your stare at his insinuation. Where did he get off calling you a manipulator? A pretender? Despite the subtle rage dancing in your eyes, you give him a smile and push yourself off the ground, grabbing your mug on your way up.

“Thank you for the tea. I really must be going now.” You say politely, voice coming out higher than you meant.

“Tch.” Is all you get back.

With that, you turn on your heel and head back to the break room to pour your tea out and rinse the mug, leaving it out on the rack to dry. You’re quick to gather your things before practically running down the aisles to the elevator, down to the front door, and towards home. A lump in your throat stays even after your shower and still when you lie down for the night.

After your last encounter with the janitor, you find that you’re rushing home as soon as you can. You aren’t necessarily mad at him for telling you a hard truth, but the rumination of having someone being annoyed at you doesn’t go away.

Your evasive tactics work for a while. Your office was in between projects and jobs so no one had come to you for help for anything. But of course that didn’t stay that way for long and your luck would run out as it always had as the quarter was about to close. Your supervisor came to you early on a rainy Tuesday morning to tell you that some freak accident had happened to the last reports which made the data you spent days organizing completely disappear.

You don’t know what was more frustrating: the fact that your hard work from the last week had completely vanished or the fact that no one in the office offered to give a helping hand when you needed it the most.

Your supervisor apologized and said the entries needed to be done by the next morning so they could be submitted in time for the quarter review. With a forced smile and false-positive voice, you agreed and got started on it right away.

This was about 12 hours ago.

The only thing that brings you solace is the knowledge that the janitor was not due for your floor for a couple days so at least you could work on it without worrying about running into him. And thankfully for you since you were semi-prepared for being held back, you ordered pizza for dinner before the front doors locked for the evening.

For some reason, you find yourself sitting on the floor in the same spot you had shared bitter tea with the janitor. You’re lying on your back with your phone hovering as you scroll on it mindlessly, a more than half filled pizza box next to you with the lid propped open slightly. There’s a vacation photo that pops up from one of your acquaintances that makes your chest tighten from envy.

“You’re in my way, brat.” A voice from above rings out. It startles you so much that your fingers loosen on your phone, and it comes smacking into your face with a loud slap. Your eyes scrunch shut from the stinging pain radiating from your nose as you groan softly.

You sit up from your position, making sure to grab your phone before it falls on the ground, and turn to narrow your eyes at the perpetually scowling janitor. You hear a subtle pop in your back as you do.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out more accusatory than you meant, and you end up clearing your throat before giving him a forced smile.

“I’m working. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“You’re not supposed to be on this floor today.”

“Says who?” An eyebrow quirks at your statement.

The words die on your tongue because even you knew that one person’s word was not enough to be reliable. You reach over to close the pizza box and gather your things to leave. He doesn’t say anything and only stares while you push yourself up onto your feet.

“I’ll just get out of your way, then.” You mumble, bending down to grab the pizza box in one hand and your empty cup in the other. As you brush past him, you can’t help but wonder if he’s still mad at you, though you can’t logically find a reason why he would be mad in the first place. And if he was, then what did you do? These thoughts are jarred as a vibration in your back pocket alerts you to a notification. Upon more buzzes and the start of your soft ringtone, you realize it’s a phone call.

Stepping over to the nearest desk, you set your stuff down and pull out your phone. On the screen is the caller ID for your mom, her faux-happy face staring straight at you as the lights around it pulse. You don’t fight the grimace that etches into your features. Hitting the green button, you regret it immediately.

“Hi mom!” You exclaim, forcing another smile on your lips.

“There you are! I really thought you had died on us.”

“Of course, I’m not dead. Just busy!” You state happily, turning around to face the windows again. A relieved sigh escapes when you notice the janitor is no longer standing where he was.

“You should call us more. You know I was talking to our neighbor about you recently! Remember Donna and her kids? Apparently her youngest just got engaged. And it got me thinking…” Your mother’s words trail off as your eyes glaze over. Your pulse is steadily picking up speed with every word, and you grip the edge of the desk tightly to keep yourself grounded.

“Anyways, both of your sisters are coming to visit with their little families. When are you planning to come by? It would be nice to have everyone home again. Maybe this time with a man on your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mom. I just started here, so getting the time off will be a little hard to do right away. But I will ask my supervisor, and see? I want to see everyone too.” Your voice wavers a little as the muscles in your face start to hurt from your smile.

“Your grandmother is asking about you, you know. I had to come up with some excuse about why you’re so far away, and single no less.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll give her a call soon.” Tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you are, honey. Oh, your little sister is calling, I need to go. Please call us more!” And just like that, the line goes silent as she hangs up.

“I’ll call tomorrow, I guess.” You whisper down at the blank screen. Setting your phone down, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes to get rid of the wetness that threatens to overflow. You practically feel your heart beating right out of your chest as your mom’s words float around your head.

“I see where it comes from now.” The janitor’s deep voice comes from the right of you. When you pull your hands away to look at him, he’s holding out a steaming mug to you. Hesitantly, you take it. The color of the liquid is lighter in color and smells slightly floral. A mile’s difference from the last thing he shared with you.

“Where what comes from?” You mutter before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s hot but not unbearably so. The taste is gentle and has a touch of sweetness to it. It’s pleasant, and not something you were expecting.

“Your people-pleasing tendencies.” He leans against the half wall next to him as he eyes you.

“Please do enlighten me, as I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” You reply back in a monotone voice. You were tired in more ways than one. Slaving away at this project that you were only 80% done with. Staying late, lack of sleep, and now your mother calling. You were tired and you can’t mask anymore.

“Let me guess.” He raises his hand and taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Middle child. Your parents always apologized for what you lacked. Always felt like you had to put in extra effort to be seen and walking on eggshells so that when you are seen, no one pulls away. You’re starving for real, positive attention.” Again, none of his words come out malicious but they really sting. This man hardly knows you and yet he’s spreading your entire childhood out like it was nothing.

You’re tired.

“Yeah. Exactly that. And it’s infuriating. Not to drag on my sisters because they’re doing their best and they have the same parents I have but it’s like…” You take another sip of the honey liquid before continuing, feeling the heat of not only the tea but also anger burning in your chest. Your eyes drift back to the front window.

“I can’t stop myself from doing above and beyond on the off chance I might be liked and appreciated. I’m putting in all this hard work and still it doesn’t matter. I’m just so tired.”

The sun is all but gone and is replaced by the city lights that illuminate the indigo sky above. The janitor stays quiet through all of this as he takes in your words. You’ve never told anyone any of this before, and part of you feels liberated. The other part feels guilty for putting something so heavy on someone who probably doesn’t even care.

“So, what if it doesn’t matter? Why are you putting so many expectations on yourself? You’re just one person.” He stands up from the wall and walks around it so that he’s face to face with you. His arms are folded across his chest again as he eyes you warily before continuing.

“I spend everyday cleaning after you shits and no one sees that. And yet, what I do matters because otherwise this place would be a shithole. You do not have to bend over backwards so people can see your accomplishments, they still exist whether they see it or not. But, say they approve of your help, then what?”

“What do-” Your fingers grip tight on the handle of your mug.

“They say thank you for doing what they asked you to do, then what? Do you keep up with their demands?”

“If I have to.”

“And what do you gain from that outside of exhaustion?”

You want to lie so bad. You want to say that you get a lot of enjoyment from making others happy. That you gain happiness for making others smile because you did what they ask of you. But you realize that putting yourself out there for the sake of others is wearing you down. And you aren’t actually happy.

“I don’t.” Your voice cracks and when you blink next, your sight is blurry.

“That’s what I’m saying. You bend and you bend for these short bursts of attention but you don’t need it. The only thing that should matter to you is your wellbeing. The rest comes after.” His voice retains the same dryness as it had before, but there’s an unmistaken lilt of tenderness.

You look away from his gaze and wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand as you take a shaky breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much about me?” You offer him a small smile to hopefully deter any ill will that statement could bring up.

“Tch, don’t get me wrong, you’re still annoying. But, I can’t stand watching people tear themselves down for the sake of others. You’re here to live for yourself, not for them.” His steely eyes roll to the ceiling before landing back on you.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep that in mind.” You smile at him, a genuine one that squeezes your eyes closed. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, even if your words are a little rough.” He huffs at that then nods curtly, tapping his foot on the ground.

“On that note, I need to-“

“Will you stay with me?” Your words come out faster than you can stop yourself. A sudden burst of warmth blooms into your face. “I-I mean, if you want. I just have this pizza left and-“

“Do you want me to stay?” He stares hard at you as he reads your reaction. You have a feeling he’s testing you.

Do you want that?

Yes, you do.

“Please stay?”

He considers you for a moment before relaxing, his arms falling to his sides.

“Okay.”

Once again, you find yourself on the floor with the janitor, knees tucked into your chest as you’re lost in thought. He sits a few feet away, slowly chewing on a just heated up piece of pizza while he stares out into the night. Your eyes never leave his face, watching the way his long eyelashes tickle his cheekbones and the way his hair falls in his face. You notice the dark circles that bruise the underside of his eyes.

“Do you ever take time off?” You ask softly.

“I never needed to.”

“You look really tired.”

“That’s just my face.” You laugh at that and he gives you a side eye. He wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Where would you go if you ever took time off?” You ask despite the fact he might ignore you as he didn’t seem the type to indulge such stupid questions, but he surprises you.

“Home.” He says without skipping a beat.

“Home? Really? Are you not home that often that you miss it more or something?”

“It’s quiet and all of my things are there. Where else would I go?” He stares at you with a perturbed expression. His dry voice adds to his comment and you find it very endearing. You think you see his lip twitch, but it might have been your imagination.

“What about you?”

Leaning back on your hands, you stretch your legs out with a soft groan and stare out the window. By this time, it’s well into 9pm and you still have work to do. But with the janitor staring at you, you find yourself pushing the thought of work away for now.

“Don’t laugh. But I really want to experience a day in that park off of Centennial. I heard it’s really nice in the afternoon because of the trees and little river that cuts through it. I would love to just sit out on a blanket and draw for a bit.” You say wistfully. You can already feel the heat of the sun against your skin.

“You’re an artist?”

“Yeah, struggling and starving as most are. But I draw when I can.”

He hums softly. “That sounds like a good day.” He says, wiping his hands on the towel that was tied to his utility belt around his waist.

You beam over to him at that. You again think to yourself of why people don’t like him. He was blunt and a little tactless, but he was caring and empathetic. Something you wouldn’t see from the outside. You liked him for just being himself with you.

Realization dawns on you at what his words meant earlier. Just being you was enough. You matter.

“Thank you.” You say simply, a toothy grin pointed his way.

A month passes and you find yourself steadily settling more into your job. You haven’t seen the janitor much since that one night. When you got home after that conversation, you made a promise you would only do things that you wanted to do for the sake of yourself and not others. The next time your coworker came to you for help, you were able to put your foot down and tell them no. Your voice and hands shook the whole time, but since then you haven’t been bothered. Unfortunately, you helped your supervisor when asked but you are proud of the progress that you made with your boundaries.

And now, here you are on a blanket in Centennial Park on a Thursday, lying on your stomach with your sketchbook propped open in front as you pop grapes into your mouth. There’s dark charcoal smudged along the side of your hands but you can’t find yourself caring as you finish a hooded eye with a flourish. It’s a nice day with a light breeze that helps keep you cool and soft music flows through your ears from your earphones, quiet enough so that you can be aware of your surroundings.

You’ve been at the park for so long that you’re almost done with your drawing and you’re thinking you should have brought a book to read when something kicks your foot. It makes you jump and your head twists behind you to see who or what it was. You assume it’s a child that kicked their ball too far as that happened earlier, but instead you scrunch your eyes to make sense of the figure in front of you.

Your eyes trail up to find it's a man dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, with a pair of oversized headphones circling his neck and sunglasses covering his eyes. The shades are dark but you can only assume he’s staring down at you. In his hands are two hot to-go cups.

“Can I help you?” You ask up to the mystery man, not hiding the annoyance in your tone.

“So she does take a day off. It’s nice to see you away from the computer screen.” The voice is familiar and you find yourself scrambling up to your feet, staring at him hard. He’s the same height as you and you notice his lips are all too familiar. They’re the same ones belonging to the drawing you just finished.

“You’re the janitor! What are you doing here?” Your annoyance quickly changes into surprise.

“Took the day off and I’m meeting a friend.” He raises one of the cups which you assume must be his friend’s. “And you can just call me Levi, by the way.” He grumbles the last bit. You only now realize you never asked for his name in any of the interactions you’ve had with him. Your face flares in embarrassment.

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me to have never asked.” You tell him your name as well but he just nods.

“I know who you are, and it’s fine.” He shrugs, tone dry as ever.

“You know my name? But how?” You don’t remember telling him your name. Nor has he ever been around to hear it be said. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have a plaque on your desk.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.” You run a hand through your hair as you laugh at that. You don’t notice the way his eyes flicker from your sweet face to the sketch behind you on the ground. He huffs softly at that.

“Well, I can’t keep them waiting so. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmurs before turning on his heel in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Levi!” You yell, taking a few steps towards him. His head tilts back in your direction so that you see his blue-gray eyes side-eying you from behind his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” You ask quickly. Your voice wavers slightly with anxiety as you shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure you don’t have other people’s work to complete first?” You laugh at that.

“No. I don’t think that will be a problem.” The sides of his mouth twitches.

“Then sure. Only if you bring your mom’s cookies again.” He raises his cup at you before turning his back to you and walking down the hill.

You sit back down with a grin, staring down at your finished sketch of Levi leaning against the doorframe of the break room.

Doing things for yourself has never felt so good.

I'm adding my taglist to this bc I'm actually quite proud of this one?

-> taglist: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @nube55 @svftackerman

The link to my taglist is in my pinned post on my blog!!

#sky's summer event #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #modern au #asks #answered #cw parental trauma #janitor!levi ackerman #janitor!levi #hurt/comfort #fluff #eri.moots

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ackermans-freedom-inc · 5 years ago

Note

I need a comforting Levi helping a reader study for exams😭😭 reader is stressed to no end about trying to do well so Levi helps them study. It can be a fix or HC! Love the blog❤️🥰

A/N: ANON. I NEEDED THIS. WE ALL NEEDED THIS. This is for all of y’all with exams coming up. love u all we will get thru this together!!!!

Stressed - fluff! modernAU

To say you were stressed was the understatement of the year. Exam season had crept up on you, and between the 7am lectures and recorded classes, to say you were behind was also the understatement of the year.

You had an exam the next day, and you couldn’t focus. The class was full of high achievers, scholarship students, and upper years. You cursed yourself for selecting the course in the first place as you pressed that 1.75 speed button on the recording playback yet another time.

The professor’s voice droned, sounding just slightly like a mouse as you tried to focus. The anxiety swirled in your stomach, making it impossible to focus. What if your internet died? What if the exam software doesn’t work?

You had done practice question after practice question, practice exam after practice exam, yet nothing would quell the churning your stomach made as you had to rewind the lecture back nearly twenty minutes. You hadn’t heard a single word of what your professor was saying.

The door opened to your apartment, and Levi walked in, hanging his coat on the hook as he shrugged off his bag. He took one look at you, one pajama leg high and the other low, your tshirt wrinkled from the amount of times you had clenched your clammy hands in the fabric, your hair half in and half out of your hair-tie, and the frazzled blank look in your eyes and he knew.

He sat you down in your chair, putting on your favourite study soundtrack as he handed you your highlighter and flash cards before walking away, his sweater sleeves pulled just past his forearms as he donned an apron adorned with hearts.

Soon, your eyes got bleary after highlighting what seemed like every word of your notes. Your hand was tired, and your brain was bursting with information you tried desperately to remember. Just when you were about to have another breakdown, you felt gentle hands shaking your shoulders. You looked up to see your boyfriend, now changed into his home clothes, hand outstretched. It was dinner time.

He made your favourite, curry with pork katsu, and as you munched, you could feel the slight spicy tinge of the curry tickling your throat. Turns out, food did wonders for calming you down, and as you patted your tummy after the meal, handing your empty plate to Levi, he smiled down at you. He sent you back off to your desk, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head with the promise that he would be there soon.

The whirring of the dishwasher going hinted at his arrival, and soon your ever-attentive boyfriend was indeed right beside you. Taking the highlighter from your hands, he got you to sit back and close your eyes, running through your huge stack of flash cards one by one. Term, definition, what is its significance.

With every definition you got correct, you felt a little bit of control coming back into your life. As the definition of each term flashed in your head as Levi mentioned the word, you felt your anxiety melt slightly, the churning in your stomach settling.

By the time the pile was depleted, you only had a small handful of terms that landed in the ‘not so sure’ pile. Levi helped as he handed you your notes, helping you skim for where you had written in your cute little letters about that term you weren’t sure about.

Before you knew it, everything was accounted for. All the terms memorized. Suddenly you felt a rush of tears coming to your eyes and before either of you knew it, you had jumped from your seat and was gripping Levi hard, rubbing your nose against his cheek. You thanked him for getting you to calm down. You thanked him for dinner, for cleaning up, and helping you from breaking down over an exam where it turned out you had total control over the material.

After recovering from the initial shock of your outburst, he had pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before taking your hand and standing up.

“Come on brat, a good night sleep is just as important as studying hard. Let’s get to bed.”

Needless to say…you got your A.

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crimson-snowfall · 5 years ago

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Like You Better Like This

Theo Route Announcement Celebratory Fic

Word Count: 1400

Pairings: Theo x Arthur (Theocona)

Genre: NSFW ModernAU (Detective!Theo x Vigilante!Arthur)

Warnings: BL, gunplay, blowjob. Please note that this fic focuses on a suitor x suitor pairing, and this is your friendly reminder that warnings exist for a reason and that you are responsible for the content you choose to consume.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts in wait for Theo’s route announcement for quite some time now, and I haven’t written BL smut for like 2 or 3 years now and this is my first attempt on a modern AU... so yeah, I hope it just turned out okay at least?

The investigation department broke out in mayhem as reports of the sabotage of two privately-owned armored trucks came in-- this would make it the third incident within a span of a month. Theo kicked under his desk, burying his face into his palms as he mentally cursed the perpetrator that he unfortunately knew all too well, but couldn't do anything about.

That's why he'd chosen not to get involved in these cases, and as a result, since most of his colleagues were more interested and invested in the recent sabotage cases, Theo had been working overtime for weeks now on the regular cases that no one else was interested in.

"That klootzak is so dead to me," the detective grumbled under his breath as he sorted through the pile of cases stacked on his desk, the thought of the long work weeks ahead of him already wearing him out.

It was already past midnight when Theo trudged into his apartment unit-- which, under normal circumstances, he should be the lone occupant of, but the television noises coming from the living room made it evident that he wasn't alone that night. Considering the recent turn of events and the fact that his beloved brother would never be so rude as to enter his unit uninvited, Theo didn't hesitate in throwing his briefcase over the couch he just knew this uninvited guest was lounging at, and hearing the ensuing yelp of pain made him wish he had another suitcase he could hurl at the man who'd peeked at him from couch.

"Long day at work?" Arthur asked whilst soothing the side of his head where Theo's briefcase had hit him.

"You're really asking me?" Theo's sharp retort cut through the living room, but as always, it didn't have the intended effect on the other man.

Arthur approached Theo with a mischievous grin, and although the latter had been scowling so hard at the former that his brows were practically touching, he made no effort to stop the other man from taking off his coat.

"I brought some pudding. It's on the fridge," Arthur casually revealed as he made his way to hang Theo's coat on the coat rack. The detective obviously didn't appreciate the change of topic, but he was starving at the same time. He opened the fridge and saw that one compartment was filled with what may be a couple of week's worth of his favorite pudding and other desserts.

"I've told you countless times that I can buy these on my own," Theo grumbled as he dug in on a blueberry pudding.

"You're welcome, my dear Theo. I see that you like your compensation as always?" The comment earned Arthur a cold, hard glare from Theo, one that he met with his own unwavering convictions.

Their history goes all the way back to their high school days, and ever since then, they have been inseparable as they even ended up pursuing the same career. Somewhere along the way though, Arthur had become severely disillusioned with the 'flawed, inefficient justice system that actually bred more social inequality,' and after years of failed attempts to convict those who had cheated society but had the wealth to evade punishment for their crimes, Arthur finally quit the job.

Nowadays, he masquerades as a forensic biologist while he's actually involved with the top brass of one of the largest vigilante groups that target those who had risen into wealth and power through illegal means.

"You were the one who behind this operation, weren't you?" Theo firmly inquired, cup of pudding neglected on his hands as his glare bore holes into Arthur.

"What gives?" Arthur asked in amusement as he snatched the half-eaten pudding away from the grumpy detective.

"That man was on the last case you were on before you left, and I know you've had your sights set on him since then. Also, that's my pudding," Theo tried to retrieve his dessert, but the ex-detective had other plans. Taking in a spoonful of the pudding, Arthur swiftly closed the distance between them, capturing Theo's lips with his own, parting them with his tongue and feeding him the pudding in his mouth.

"What are you talking about, Theo? I've never had my eyes set on anyone else but you," Arthur's eyes shimmered with need and longing; their conflicting situations had put a strain on their pre-existing relationship to the extent that they could only meet like this every once in a while.

"Quit it, Arthur. You know what I'm talking about."

Arthur snorted derisively. "Then are you mad at me?"

"All I know is that you're better than this."

"So do I, Theo. That's why it's a wonder how you could put up with that sorry excuse for a--"

"Like I said, it's not up to you or anyone to do these kinds of things!" Theo roared in aggravation, leaving Arthur speechless for a moment. After a while, he quipped back with a cocky smile,

"...You say that, my dear Theo, but then, isn't it up to people like you to capture and turn in people like me who take matters into their hands?"

"Seriously, why are you-"

"I wonder why, oh dear detective," Arthur's hands began to wander all over Theo, finding their way to undo his tie, "...if you hate what I'm doing so much, then why don't you--"

And just as when Arthur was about to bind Theo's wrists with his tie, Theo had pinned him down on the couch and rammed the barrel of his pistol into his mouth.

"Shut up," Theo sternly warned, his own eyes burning with a pent-up medley of desire and frustration. He's been feeling conflicted enough as it is, and the last thing he needed was Arthur rubbing it on his face that the reason why he's feeling as such is that because they're madly in love with each other.

The novel look of shock on Arthur's expression only lasted for several seconds, though Theo had already committed it to his memory. He didn't exactly dislike the perverted, masochistic glint in those eyes that were only a few hues brighter than his own. Rather, he actually found it an alluring sight to behold, watching it spiral from eagerness to desperation as the night goes deeper.

With one hand keeping the pistol's barrel in Arthur's mouth, Theo proceeded to grind their clothed erections against each other.

"Keep your mouth shut, and I'll show you exactly the answer you're looking for," Theo's voice rasped as he built-up the pleasure between them, and Arthur purred in approval.

Slowly, the buttons on Arthur's shirt came undone in the wake of Theo's feverish exploration, and the former bit down on the barrel in his mouth as the latter flicked his hardened nipples.

"What a manwhore," Theo taunted him as he hastily freed his own erection, retrieving and tossing the pistol aside in favor of shoving his cock inside the other man's mouth.

They held each other's heated gazes as they partook in their debauched, mutual pleasure. Theo held no reservations as he vigorously rammed his cock into that familiar warmth of Arthur's mouth, and as he always does, Arthur skillfully massaged his tongue over the bulging veins of Theo's thick, hard length.

"Yes, that's right, you damned klootzak," Theo hissed as he firmly gripped on Arthur's hair, "I like you the best when you can't run this filthy mouth of yours because it's filled with my cock, did you know that?"

In response, Arthur swallowed the entire length of Theo's cock-- or at least, he had made the attempt to do so given that it was physically impossible due to its impressive size. He didn't really have to wait that long either before his mouth was overflowing with Theo's rich, warm essence as he felt the fierce throbbing of the cock in his mouth, and Arthur made sure not to waste not even a single drop as he licked every inch of it clean on its way out of his mouth.

"What now, Theo? There's nothing keeping me from running my mouth now," Arthur taunted with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Then I'll just have to make sure to keep you occupied until I can kick you out in the morning, right?"

True to his words, Theo had kept Arthur thoroughly occupied all night long until dawn.

I don’t know who wants to hear this but I always feed Ikevamp KR Theo with the blueberry pudding because he always seems to like it. So yea fun fact KR Theo likes blueberry pudding.

#ikevamp theo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #theocona #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen fanfic #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire fanfiction

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emotionalsupportfiction · 5 years ago

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ModernAU – Roommates

Hi everyone, it been a while! I’ve been adjusting now that uni has started but that doesn’t mean I won’t have updates, they just won’t happen as often. I wanted to work with the collegeAU and expand on it. Plus, who knows I might gain more confidence and write a short reader x RGB fic in the future.

Lukas • The house they all rent is a 2-story house, his room is on the first floor. According to the previous owner, it used to be a part of the living area but was section off into two extra rooms • Lukas chose this room because the lighting is great. It’s also so he can find out if Python comes home late, also if Python brought any company • He has the neatest room. Has at least two bookshelves filled with books of different topics and genres • His room has minimal color. Most of his furniture (a study table, the shelves, bed frame, dresser, and nightstand) color match (probably also from Ikea). • The only thing that stands out in his room is a burgundy executive desk chair that he got from his father • His room smells faintly of clean laundry or coffee. • As a roommate, Lukas is the best you could have. He isn’t too noisy, helps around the house, knows how to keep the peace, and he doesn’t eat other people’s snacks. He is guilty of finishing the coffee and sugar. • Lukas meal preps. Don’t touch his food without permission • Also, don’t go into his room without his permission. Python tried once, Python will never try again.

Python • His room is on the second floor, closest to the stairs. He used to stay on the first floor but got noisy when he games and it bothered Lukas, so he had to move. • His room’s furniture is mismatched (it's just a dresser, desk, and desk chair). He doesn’t even have a bed frame, just an old pallet he repurposed. It all comes together and looks alright • Python built his own nightstand out of some old crates and plywood. Will he do it again? Hell no. • Said nightstand contains some “necessities” for when he has company over (let’s be real… Python fr*cks) • The most expensive thing he owns is the Gaming desktop he built from scratch. While it’s the not highest end, it still plays games on medium settings and he’s proud of what he’s built. • His room is actually on the cleaner side but he does have that plastic chair on the corner where he chucks his used clothes • Also, Python isn’t a fan of bugs, that’s the main reason he cleans his room. The other reasons are to prevent Lukas from reprimanding him and so he doesn’t embarrass himself when he has company over • Python does his best to find out the other two’s schedules and plans for the week to know when he can have someone stay overnight • He keeps his room on the dimmer side because bright lights make his headaches or hangovers worse. • His room has a more forward smell of clean laundry most days of the week. Friday and Saturday there’s the scent of beer

Forsyth • He also stays on the second floor, in the room right next to Python’s • Sadly… Forsyth has heard a lot of things…. Things he wishes he’d never heard • His room progresses into a mess as the days go by, reaching maximum messiness on Fridays then pristine on Sundays. After that, the cycle begins anew. • He has a sofa bed. Forsyth also owns a body pillow and no… not THAT kind of body pillow. Python gives him so much grief for this pillow going as far as to suggest some “saucy” pillow covers. Forsyth has violently declined all suggestions (look up “dakimakura” be warned its NSFW ) • The focal point of his room is his “achievement” corner. It’s all his awards, recognitions, and certificates. He also has a corkboard full of pictures of him and his friends. • He has a bookshelf that’s close to full. Forsyth has a few books on history, a few self-help, a lot on both criminology and law, and mystery novels. • His bookshelf also has a space for books he hasn’t read yet but wants to read. (The stack of shame) • His room is always bright, he loves the morning sun. • While he doesn’t really have a favorite color, he just owns a few green items. He might as well match his hair color. • He has a few plants in his room, he tries very hard to keep them alive. Green hair does not equal a green thumb. He’s thinking of buying the “How not to kill your plants” book • A bit embarrassed to let people in his room because he thinks it looks boring and plain. Also, he won’t let anyone is on Fridays and Saturdays when it's at its peak messiness. • On most days his room has a faint smell of hair gel and his body spray but on his messy days, you’d get a hint of used gym clothes. • There’s a big stuffed teddy bear he hides in the corner, he was supposed to give it to the upperclassman he liked but was rejected. • He LOVES shoveling the snow off the walkway during winter. • Forsyth also loves decorating for the holidays

#fire emblem echoes #fire emblem echoes: shadows of valentia #Fire Emblem Lukas #Fire Emblem Python #Fire Emblem Forsyth #FE Python #FE Lukas #FE Forsyth #Forsyth Fire Emblem #Python Fire Emblem #Lukas Fire Emblem #fe python headcanons #fe Lukas headcanons #fe Forsyth headcanons #maanrambles #fire emblem echoes headcanon #Fire Emblem Echoes fiction

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moonaaara · 2 months ago

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modernau!smoke & stack headcanons

➠ notes: when sinners is such a wonderful movie metaphorically, cinematically, and emotionally, that i start writing again. wow....

smoke. ⭑ he's a businessman that leaves your apartment for days at a time, but when it comes back to you, he's all elijah and no smoke. you're his peace, and when he hugs you, his arms snake around your lower back as he takes in your familiar scent.

⭑ he calls you his lady when he's outside. makes sure everyoneee knows y'all go together real bad.

⭑ he's normally so stoic, but when you're in his lap, he's incredibly unrestrained. gets kiss-drunk reallll easy. immediately flips your position to kiss you stupid too so you're grasping at him and rolling your hips closer to him. "girl, you a damn distraction. keepin' me away from my work... you miss me?"

⭑ definitely has a sleeve tattoo.

⭑ he loooves r&b. definitely has a vinyl player in his house. he listens to sade, d'angelo, musiq soulchild, brandy, lauryn hill. on occasion, he'll put on some j. cole or kendrick. he listens to the type of music where you're like "whatchu know about this?"

⭑ looooves it when you hang onto his arm in public. he be trying to hide his smirk.

⭑ enjoys taking down your braids with you and washing your hair. he finds the intimacy of it so peaceful.

⭑ very intuitive to your needs. he can sense when your mood shifts on a dime.

⭑ he's a person who adores acts of service even though he would never admit it to you. his frown deepens when he gives you a black card of his, and he gets no notification of it being used.

⭑ he realized that you were the one the day he opened up to you frfr. he was talking about his father and other people that have hurt him, and you kissed his chest because "it was the closest i'll get to kissing your heart." that day he knew he wanted to take care of you the same way you adore him forever.

stack. ⭑ he tries out an assortment of nicknames on you to see which ones make you flounder a little, let out a small sigh of contentment. he settles on angel, pretty girl, and the occasional drawl of baby. if you send him a selfie of you that's particularly striking, he'll call you his dime piece.

⭑ loves a brat. ohhhhh, he adores the chase. the eye rolls, the lash flutters, the teasing— it excites him. the more you pout and sass, the wider he grins. he likes it when you yell at him (playfully.) when your glossed lips start to move a bit faster and there's a fire in your eyes.... his dick twitches a little.

⭑ y'all have matching grillz.

⭑ this nigga loves physical affection. always has a hand on you, whether it's your lower back when you're wearing a sundress or your ass in the jeans he bought you. when you two are cuddling at night, he would literally climb into your skin if he could.

⭑ y'all be weird as hell together... when he's in the privacy of his own home, stack's weird as fuck. he lets you "bite" him. the better phrase for it would be lightly sinking your teeth into his bicep, but his ass will narrow his eyes and stare at you as if he didn't shove you off of him. "my girl a freaky lil' shit..."

⭑ he has the music taste of a whore. i'm talking partynextdoor, brent faiyaz, smino, don toliver, dvsn, and miguel. he kisses his teeth whenever you put your playlist on in the car, but you can see him vibing to it regardless. (he will never ask you the artist name himself though.)

⭑ loves to text you the most dirtiest things. i will not be providing further context.

⭑ he looks away when you ask him for something, because if he looks directly at you and your soft, glowy skin, he will in fact cave immediately.

⭑ loves taking photos of you. you when you're dressed up, you when you're just in his shirt, you when you're out in complimenting outfits. he keeps a polaroid of you two together in his wallet. "baby, what are you doing?" "i have the prettiest damn woman."

#sinners x reader #modernau!stack #modernau!smoke #sinners au #sinners fanfiction #stack x reader #smoke x reader #smoke x black!reader #stack x black!reader #sinners x black!reader

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szatears · 2 months ago

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inked all over, stack.

summary: stack comes back to you with a new surprise, one that you must say suits him a little too well.

pairing: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, use of the n word, descriptions of reader.

notes: modernau!stack has finally arrived! ever since i made that post about smoke and stack w tattoos i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are! also switched up the pov to third person for this one. ignore any errors, did not proofread at all. smoke version coming soon :)

"Goddamn, you said how long?!" Stack's eyes widened as he leaned back in the tattoo chair, sat opposite his tattoo artist, Deuce.

"We're looking at 'bout six hours?" Deuce laughed seeing the expression on his client's face.

Stack was always at Deuce's parlour when he wanted a piece done on his body, he didn't trust anyone else to do it for him. Same with his brother. Today, he walked in wanting to get something he had on his mind for months.

"Six hours? Nigga, I'ma need you to cut it down to like, two and a half. My lady already pissed I ain't wake her up with a kiss this morning," he blew out a breath, thinking about the messages his wife had left him a few hours ago.

He'd been up since the early hours, and it was almost 4 o'clock now. He was only meant to be out running a few errands with Smoke and some by himself, but he just couldn't get the tattoo out of his mind.

Deuce laughed, nodding his head as he placed the drawing of what Stack wanted on his forearm. "This good for you?"

Stack looked down at the placement, a faint smile on his lips. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to this. "Yeah, it's good."

He knew how the process would go, he just hoped he'd be back home at a reasonable time to not get his ass chewed out. Mrs. Moore didn't play like that.

He made himself comfortable, his arm out on the extendable part of the bed to allow Deuce to do his work. Many Men by 50 Cent played through the speakers, and Stack pulled his phone out of his pockets before Deuce started tattooing.

He already had a few tattoos, but he still wasn't too used to the pain. Smoke on the other hand? Stack would say "you could tattoo that nigga's eyeball and he won't even flinch."

Stack had put a lot of thought into this piece. It would be the beginning of a sleeve he hoped to complete later on, but to him, this was the most important part of it. It had the typical designs of a sleeve ─── shaded clouds with the sun peeking through, cursive writing with some red for that pop. But it was what was written that held the most meaning to him.

With time, Stack came to realise that one of his wife's favourite ways of expressing her love to him was through words. It could be something simple, like telling him she was proud of him or that he was doing well with everything. Or it would be more, like a note in the morning before she left to go somewhere, or one of the many texts she sent him throughout the day.

One of these letters stuck with him the most. In it, she wrote about how he'd become such an important part of her life, the tie that held them together growing stronger each day. The exact words he was getting tattooed on his arm were "you're my favourite person and my forever person, i got you always," something she never failed to mention to him.

It was obvious how in love the two were. You rarely saw them without the other, and even if they were, it wouldn't take long for either to mention the other.

Along with the words, Stack added her lipstick print that she always signed her letters off with. He knew he'd be making a joke soon enough about how her lips were always gonna be on him now.

The rest of the piece had some other smaller yet intricate designs, he told Deuce he could freehand whatever, he trusted him like that.

Surprisingly, Deuce actually managed to cut his estimated time in half, finishing the tattoo almost three hours later. As Deuce finished taking pictures and wrapping Stack's arm, his phone rang, looking down at the caller id to see his wife's name with a heart next to it. He accepted the facetime, smiling at the mug on her face.

"Why are you smiling? You must like playing with your life..." she mumbled, fixing her hair in the camera frame.

"I can't be happy to see you no more?" He chuckled, watching her fight back a small smile. "You look good."

"I know," she leaned her face closer to her camera. "Where are you? Come home already."

"I'ma be home in a minute, mama, I'm at the shop with Deuce," Stack turned his camera to face the man who was tidying up his supplies as he held up a peace sign.

"Hey, Deuce. So you're the reason my man's out til these hours when he said he'd only be gone for two tops?" Her head tilted as Deuce laughed.

"It ain't my fault he picks the tricky designs."

"Design─── Baby, you got a new piece?" All of a sudden the frown on her face was wiped off, replaced with a smile.

"Yeah, I did. Look at you, smilin' over there," Stack laughed as he got up from the bed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a stack of 50s, handing it to Deuce.

Before he could even complain about being given too much money, Stack gave him a look. "You really gon' make me argue with my lady on the phone?"

"No, sir," Deuce smiled, putting the money away.

"Aight, til next time Deuce."

He grabbed his coat and left the shop, opening the door to his car that was parked right at the front. "You need me to bring anything, baby?" he looked down at his phone as he put on his seatbelt, seeing his wife already staring at him. The smile that graced his face was just his natural reaction to seeing her; he couldn't get enough of her,

"Could you get some more fruit from Mama Glo's corner? If she's still open."

"Yeah. You gon' stay on the phone?"

"No, I'm gonna take a shower real quick. But I'll see you soon, handsome. I love you," she kissed the camera.

"I love you too."

Stack came back with a brown paper bag containing the fruit his wife had asked for, closing the front door with his foot. He slipped his trainers off, walking to the kitchen and placing the fruit on the counter. When he didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming down to greet him, he tilted his head, making his way up the stairs.

He found her lying on their bed, dressed only in a bra and a small pair of shorts. She turned her head to the door when she heard the floorboards creak, a smile on her face as she set her phone down on the bedside table.

Stack smiled at her smile, his hands resting on her waist as she stood in front of him. His frame slightly towered over hers, his head dipping down a little to kiss her lips.

"Nice of you to come home, Elias," she hummed into the kiss.

"You know I could never be away from you for too long." His words were like music to her eyes as she used the hands that were around his neck to softly run her fingers over his skin.

"I got your fruit," he told her, tapping her hip twice so she'd let him go briefly, letting him take off his shirt. It was only when he took off the black muscle t-shirt that he wore, that she let her eyes run over the tattoos that adorned his chest and back before she remembered the reason he went out.

She let her eyes wander over him whilst he put his phone on charge, finally spotting the wrapped part of his right arm. Stack glanced at her, noticing how quiet she'd gotten. "You wanna see it?" he laughed at how eagerly she nodded in response to his question.

He stepped closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she stood between his legs. He slowly took off the wrapping of the tattoo, much to his wife's impatience. When he finally revealed the finished work of art, the look on her face made his impulse decision ten times worth it.

He let her gently run her hands over the ink, waiting for to notice what made it even more special. He watched her face closely as her eyes flickered over his forearm, holding it with so much care. It wasn't until she turned his hand over so his palm was facing her, that she saw the writing.

"Elias..." she whispered, a pout on her face as she ran over the words and the copy of her lips.

"You like it?" he smiled at her, flashing his gold caps.

"Like it? Baby, I'm in love with it, oh my God," she couldn't tear her eyes off it. Throughout their relationship, Stack would always say something along the lines of "I'ma get your name tatted on my face," but this was far more meaningful.

"Good, 'cause it hurt like a bitch," he mumbled, pulling her into his lap. He kissed the side of her face as she held onto his arm. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you endlessly," she took his face in both her hands, kissing him.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

He turned his head into the kiss, letting his lips leave hers to kiss down her neck to her collar. He flipped them over, bringing her to lay back down in the middle of the bed.

Her hands ran down his toned arms, massaging his broad shoulders. She let her fingers trace over the inked parts of his skin that she could reach, having memorised where every part was.

Stack used his knee to nudge her legs apart, letting him slot in between them as he kissed her. His tongue danced with hers whilst she held him closer to her face by the back of his neck. Her soft moans only encouraged him more, as did the growing friction her hips created against his.

"Yeah, you gon' have to come up outta these," he mumbled against her lips as his hands fumbled down to her shorts, pulling them down her legs.

"Elias..." she whispered, tugging at his belt. She was almost naked whilst he was still half clothed.

He smiled at her, pulling away from her lips to kiss a trail down to her pelvis. "Hold on, baby. I wanna make you feel good first." He kissed her clit over the lacy underwear she wore, and she shuddered, leaning back further into the pillows.

Stack used his thumb to rub her clothed clit, watching how her legs started to close around his hand. "Baby, please," she whined, and it didn't take long for him to give in to her pleas, taking off her underwear.

Just as quick as he had done that, his head lowered closer to her core, his mouth latching onto her creaming opening. His tongue licked up and down, his hand holding either side of her hips as he ate her out. She let out a loud moan, her hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," she breathed out, her eyes fluttering with pleasure.

"Yeah?" he mumbled against her, the vibrations just adding to the feeling.

Stack lapped at her for all she was worth, the unholy sounds emitting from her lips and his work. He used his thumb to rub her clit as he continued to work her away with his tongue. She writhed underneath him, feeling that familiar coil inside of her begin to surface.

"Why you moving away, huh? You can take it mama, I know you can," he assured her, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he briefly looked up at her. The sight alone almost made her cum right there; his mustache and goatee coated in her fluids.

She couldn't keep it in, especially when he went back to her with his tongue, his two fingers pumping in and out just as fast. "Shit, I'm gonna─── Oh, my God," her moans aligned with her release, all over his mouth.

Stack continued to eat her out through her high, her hips grinding into his face as he sought more. "Baby let up," she groaned, trying to push his face away.

"One more, baby. For me?" How could she say no when he was making feel that good?

It wasn't long before she came again, her body letting up as Stack cleaned her up. Only he could make her tap out like that.

He finally moved his head from between her legs, hovering over her as she grabbed his face, pulling him down for a messy kiss. She licked over his lips, moaning at the taste of her on him. His hand travelled to her throat, the same arm that was newly inked now right in front of her.

Stack's tattoos were such a turn on, it was almost impossible to describe. If he wanted to make her orgasm fast, all he had to do was talk her through it, or have her analyse his tattoos. Easy.

"You not tapping out on me, are you?" he smirked, as she gave him a lazy smile. She could feel his dick through his pants at her entrance. Shaking her head, she let go of him to take his belt off, eyes on him as she pulled him out of his boxers.

He briefly got up to take them off all the way, before he settled back between her legs, hiking them up his hips. She let her arms rest over his shoulders as he pushed in, both of them groaning.

He fit so perfectly with her, and he made her feel that way every time, through sex or not. The sound of skin slapping soon took over the room, as did their moans.

Stack ground his hips into hers, his head resting in the crook of her neck, leaving small love bites where he could.

"You're doing me so good, E," she whispered lowly in his ear which only spurred him on. He picked up his pace, finding that spot of hers that had her arching into him.

"Like that, baby? Hm?" he asked as she could only not in reply, too far into it to speak actual words. Stack fucked her so good, without fail every time.

He looked down at where they connected briefly, fascinated by her precious pussy taking him in so well. "You're doing so good for me, pretty." he told her, his eyes back on hers.

She managed to keep the contact for a few moments before he had her eyes rolling at the back of her head, her muscled walls clenching around his dick.

He grunted at that, feeling himself close to unravelling. But like he always did, he wanted her to come first.

"I'm almost there, E, keep going─── Yeahhhh, just like that," she moaned, whining even as she felt herself about to come for the third time. She held his head to her face as he kissed her, groaning as she reached closer and closer to her climax.

"Fuck!" she screamed as he cum coated his dick, spilling out as he fucked her through it.

"You got it baby, shit, I'm gonna cum too, hold on," his words trailed off to a whisper as he came in her, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusted to the overbearing amount of pleasure only her man could give her.

Stack's thrusts slowed down as he pushed his seed back in her, a lazy smirk on her face as she watched him do so. He pulled out slowly, gently laying on top of her. She brought her legs around his waist, kissing his temple as they caught their breath.

"Damn," Stack sighed happily. "Might have to get my whole body tatted up now."

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#michael b jordan x reader #stack x reader #michael b jordan x black reader #stack x black reader #sinners x reader #sinners fanfiction #modernau!stack x reader

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minaaaliyah · 3 days ago

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what if I had a story that was based off sinners

#michealbjordan x reader #sinners fanfiction #michael b jordan x black reader #modernau!stack x reader #michael b jordan x reader

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szatears · 19 days ago

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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."

#michael b jordan x reader #sinners x reader #smoke x reader #michael b jordan x black reader #sinners x black reader #sinners fanfiction #smoke x black reader

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szatears · 2 months ago

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comfort zone, modernau!smoke.

summary: just smoke spoiling his girl.

pairing: modernau!smoke x fem!black reader

warnings: some descriptions of reader, cunnilingus, also munch!smoke because we all deserve it.

notes: this sinners brainrot will not leave me alone and i love it !!! also we hit 100 followers after just a couple days... i love you all so bad 🫶🏾

It was around 6 in the evening when Smoke came home to you. He'd been away in Atlanta for two days, a business trip as usual. You knew what he did, the type of people he worked with and what that came with. You didn't really care because at the end of the day, the most important thing to you was your relationship with him.

Everyone knew him as Smoke, but to you he was just Elijah. As soon as he walked through the huge doors to your shared home, he stopped being Smoke and Elijah came out instead.

Whenever he was away, you'd usually occupy yourself with something just fine. Going out with your girls, catching up on your own work, visiting family and so on. Anything to help take missing him off of your mind.

Today, as you waited for Smoke to come back, you decided to get a manicure. A little touch up on your nails could never hurt. It didn't take too long either, a half hour drive there and back in just under two hours. God, did you love your nail tech.

You had them done blue, Smoke's favourite colour on you.

You lounged around the house waiting for him, your only other companion being the small rottweiler puppy that Smoke had gifted to you. He whined as you patted him, rolling over next to you.

"I know, baby, daddy's coming home soon." You frowned, scratching behind his floppy ears.

The sound of keys turning in the door had those floppy ears turning straight real quick. Before you could even turn your head to the door, your puppy was already there, scratching at the back of it whilst Smoke attempted to get through.

"Man, move───" he muttered, trying to get through with a bunch of shopping bags and a puppy nipping at his legs.

You smiled, a part of you exhaling a sigh of relief that he'd come back to you in one piece.

It was never easy to see Smoke leave, the thought of him never coming back to you was always looming over your head. But just like he always reassured you he would, he came back seemingly fine.

You walked towards them, Smoke's facial features gradually relaxing at the sight of you. "Hi," you spoke smoothly, your arms around his neck as you pulled his face towards yours, kissing his lips.

You took a moment to run your hands over his body, the black compression shirt that he wire doing wonders for him. It always drove you crazy.

"Hey, baby," he kissed you back, dropping the bags gently on the floor giving his hands space to grab at your ass. "You been good?"

"Mhm," you answered, letting your nails scratch gently at the back of his neck. That always did the trick. You looked down at the puppy by your feet, breaking away to pick him up. He was getting heavier as each day went by.

You held him up to Smoke's face. "Say hi to your son, Elijah."

"That ugly ass thing ain't my son," he kissed his teeth, waving you off as he started moving the bags into the living room.

Laughing, you carried your puppy to its playpen, giving you snd Smoke some peace of mind for now.

You came back to find him emptying his pocket contents on the coffee table: gun, wallet, keys, and stacks of money. Instead of putting the money on the table with the rest of his stuff, he walked over to you.

He pulled the strap of the tank top that you wore, using it to tuck the money into your bra.

"What's this for?" you smiled, looking up at him. He was always giving you money randomly, various amounts for various reasons.

"For looking pretty," he kissed your cheek. "That's for you too," he nodded his head towards all the shopping bags that he brought in.

Your eyes followed to the bags, feeling so much appreciation overwhelm you. Smoke's love languages were most definitely gift giving and acts of service; he would use any and every opportunity to spoil you, but the minute you bought anything for him, he'd be telling you off for spending your money on him.

"You didn't have to," you pouted, sitting on his lap as you kissed all over his face. "You spoil me too much, I don't even have space for it all."

"I don't spoil you enough," He mumbled, kissing you back. "Come on, do your lil' try on thing you always do for me." He tapped the back of your thigh.

You giggled, "You mean a haul?"

"Yeah, that."

And that you did. Smoke had gotten you bags, clothes, lingerie, new makeup products... things you already had but according to him, could never have enough of.

You tried on each item, except for the lingerie. You said you wanted to surprise him with it another day, and he wasn't complaining.

At the end of your haul, Smoke helped you put everything away, making a comment to himself about having to expand your walk in wardrobe.

Now you two lay on the bed, cuddled up as a random show was on the TV. You loved moments like these, when he was yours. Not the rough Smoke that everyone else knew him as, but as your soft and loving boyfriend.

"You good?" Smoke stopped rubbing his hand gently on your body when he noticed you let out a sigh.

"I'm more than good," you smiled dreamily, like you were drunk just off of his affection.

He took your word for it, lifting your body onto his. His hands wrapped around your lower back whilst your chin rested on his chest, looking right at him.

"You know I love you, right?" He said.

"Yeah. I love you too."

Smoke smiled, his large hands squeezing at your ass. "And I love this ass too."

"You can never stay serious, can you?" You laughed, reaching back to move his hands. Instead, he flipped the two of you so he was now on too, your hands pinned on either side of your head.

"You know damn well how serious I can be."

And that you did. There was only a handful of times when Smoke had gotten serious with you, times when he was more Smoke than Elijah with you. One of the things he loved most about you was that you brought out the side of him that didn't immediately resort to violence, the one that still had hope that he could be loved like he once thought.

He leaned down, kissing you gently, softly. You kissed him back, your hand pulling his head even closer, nails grazing over his low cut. He caught a flash of blue as he pulled back from the kiss, removing a hand from your side to look at your hand properly.

"Look at you repping me," he teased you, running his fingers over your nails.

"Had to let 'em know," you shrugged.

"Damn straight," he mumbled against your lips. He could never get enough of you, you were like a drug to him.

He kissed from your lips down your neck, to your collarbone, nipping and sucking as he went. He loved marking you, you don't know when it started but you knew sure as hell it wasn't gonna stop.

Smoke let his runs run all over you, until you tugged at his shirt, frowning. "Why you poutin', baby?" He tilted his head, knowing the answer but wanting to drag it out of you.

"Take it off," you said.

"Yes ma'am."

As he pulled his shirt off, you watched on, smiling at your man's toned body. You let your hands rake over his abs as he leaned back down to you. "Your turn," he tapped your side.

You sat up a bit, pulling down the straps of your tank top before taking it off, no bra underneath. Smoke wasted no time, latching onto your breasts before you could even lay back down.

You let out a loud moan, like you haven't felt his touch in ages. Whilst he worked on your breasts, sucking and biting, he let his hand slide inside the shorts you wore, grazing over your clothed pussy. He could feel how wet you were just from a few touches.

"Fat ma missed me, huh?" he joked. You kissed your teeth, groaning as he rubbed gently.

"Elijah... do something," you moaned.

"Aight, baby, lift up for me." he took your shorts off when you lifted your hips, along with your panties. He settled in between your legs, lying down so he was face to face with your seeping pussy. He looked at you, knowing he was absolutely about to devour you.

The first lick had you throwing your head back, your thighs immediately closing around Smoke's head. If he could've died right then, he would've died a very happy man.

As he licked up and down, sucking your clit, you writhed underneath him, struggling to stay still with how he was doing you.

He gripped your hips, forcing you to stay in one spot. "If you keep moving, I'ma stop." he mumbled with his lips still on you, sending vibrations through your body.

You nodded, knowing he was dead serious about that. One thing about sex with Smoke? The overstimulation was real.

He continued to lick bold stripes up and down your fold, kissing at deeply as he went. You could feel that coil deep in you about to snap, your whimpers and moans getting louder as Smoke used his fingers to rub your clit.

"Fuck, baby, I'm almost─── Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" you moaned as you came, but Smoke still didn't let up, lapping up all your juices as you rode out your high.

You panted, trying to push his head away, already feeling like you could tap out. But when he looked at you, his moustache and goatee coated in your cum, you knew this was only the start.

"You boutta tap out on me? Hm?" he asked.

You shook your head, guiding him back to your folds. You felt his smirk on you, his lips going back to doing what they did best.

You always did love when he came home to you.

#modernau!smoke x reader #michael b jordan x reader #sinners x reader #smoke x reader #sinners #sinners x black reader #smoke x black reader #michael b jordan x black reader

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