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jazziejax · 2 months ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Juicy thought she could play it cool, but between Smoke’s games and Stack’s hands, she’s caught in a heat she wasn’t ready for. Good things there’s a pool party to keep things chill….right?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild sexual tension, lots of kissing, suggestive dialogue, jealousy, light cursing, let me know if I missed anything!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - my wifi is bugging….

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13, 867+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the rooftops of the neighborhood, painting the sidewalk in streaks of orange. The old wood of the Hall family porch creaked gently beneath their weight, and the heavy scent of weed hung in the air, thick and warm like the summer itself.

Mary lounged in the wicker chair, her curls pulled up high with a pencil sticking out the back. Smoke, ever the picture of calm, sat on the porch swing in a man spread, puffing on w joint with one tucked behind his ear. Stack, sat on the porch floorboards, legs laid out as he rolled the blunt between his fingers with the same precision he used on car engines. Juicy rocked gently on the porch swing, wearing a cropped Baby Phat tee and cotton shorts that hugged her hips just right, her glossed lips pursed as she blew smoke toward the sky from the blunt Smoke passed her.

They didn’t say much—just passed the blunt, breathed in the heat and let the wind do what little it could.

“Hey.” Mary spoke suddenly, flicking ash from the joint onto the rim of the pot by her foot. “Y’all heard about that pool party over at the rec center tomorrow? I think Tyrell and ‘nem throwin’ it. Word is they got a DJ this time.”

Juicy let out a soft hum and pulled her legs under her on the swing, already imagining the scene. Shirtless men with water guns, music blasting, somebody bringing their cousin who couldn’t dress, and the ice cream man pulling up just in time to cause drama.

“I ain’t heard about that.” Smoke replied, voice smooth and distant, like he already knew where this was headed.

“Well, we’re going.” Mary declared, gesturing between her and Juicy. “I told Megan we’d slide through for a bit.”

Stack gave a little grunt from his place on the floorboards. “Damn. Guess we’re goin’ then.”

Juicy perked up at that, turning toward the boys with a grin. “Y’all coming with us?”

Reluctant nods came from both twins—mild annoyance coated in curiosity. Juicy smirked, satisfied. “Well shoot.” She said, pushing herself up from the swing with a small bounce. “Now I gotta get myself together before tomorrow.”

Smoke arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder at her. “What you mean ‘get together’?”

“Gotta get my nails done, toes, hair—maybe pick out a new suit.”

Stack lifted his head just a bit, blinking up at her through lashes thick as trouble. “Didn’t you just get your nails done last Friday?”

Juicy tilted her head, one hand on her hip. “Yeah, but I need something new. You know I like my designs. Everybody’s already seen these.”

Stack didn’t even smile. He just exhaled a stream of smoke and said. “Only you payin’ attention to that.”

“Oh, and apparently you too, stalker.” She shot back, a little giggle slipping out before she could catch it.

Stack turned his head fully toward her now, blowing smoke through his nose with that same calm, hungry gaze. “You wish I stalked you.”

Her breath caught for just a second, her lip curling up in surprise. “You’d like that.”

“I would.” Stack said smoothly. “You’d like that.”

Juicy’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “What? Nuh uh.” She muttered, half-turned away, trying to play it off. “Well… I’d probably be flattered. But I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

That’s when Mary stood up and stretched, letting out a little groan. “Let’s go, Ju. You know if we don’t get there soon, we ain’t gon’ get a spot.”

Juicy followed, snatching her bag off the porch railing. The girls headed toward Missy’s car, Mary jangling the keys as they walked down the steps.

“Where y’all goin’?” Smoke asked suddenly, his voice sharper than usual. It wasn’t the question—it was the way he asked it. Watchful. Protective.

Juicy turned around with a pointed look, her lips shiny and slightly smirking. “Uh! You’re stalking too. Is that y’all’s thing now? Stalking me?”

“Yeah.” Stack said without hesitation, that devilish look in his eye. Smoke stayed quiet, but his eyes stayed on her, low and unreadable.

“Where?” He asked again, tone clipped now.

Juicy rolled her eyes a little at his shift. “I told you! I gotta get my nails did. Now you’re making me late to a walk-in appointment I haven’t set yet.”

Her arms folded across her chest, the attitude sliding into her tone before she even noticed. She glanced between them. Smoke’s stoic stare, Stack’s crooked smirk, and added quickly, “And no, we don’t need a ride. We got Missy’s car. Are we done here?”

There was then a pause, brief, but heavy. Smoke didn’t say anything. His gaze didn’t soften. That familiar warmth he usually reserved for her had gone cool, and she felt it in her chest more than she expected.

Stack, though… Stack had the nerve to look entertained. He liked her sharp tongue. He liked how her voice pitched up when she got annoyed. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips when he said, “Yeah. We’re done.”

Juicy didn’t even know what to do with the flutter in her stomach, but she gave a little nod and turned away, making her way down the steps with Mary.

Once they slid into the car and Mary started the ignition, she cut her eyes at Juicy.

“They keep a tight leash on you.” She said, adjusting the rearview.

Juicy scoffed, twisting her mouth and buckling her seatbelt. “I guess they try to do that since Martin can’t, but no. I keep a tight leash on them. They don’t run me.”

Mary just laughed and pulled out of the driveway. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, girl.”

As they drove away, Juicy dared one last glance back at the porch. Smoke was still sitting, still watching, his eyes unreadable under the glow of the setting sun. Stack was now leaned against the banister, mouthing something to his brother—but she didn’t need to hear it to know.

They might not run her.

But they were running through her mind all the same.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The nail shop had the unmistakable scent of acrylic and coconut oil, the low hum of fans swirling semi-cool air through the room as the girls settled into their usual pedicure chairs. A wall-mounted TV played 106 & Park on low volume, the sounds of a summer hit barely audible over the buzz of foot files, laughter, and idle chitchat. Juicy and Mary were regulars at Tipz & ToeZ, a pink-and-white storefront tucked between a beauty supply and an old fried fish joint.

They knew their techs by name—Tina and Mimi—who already had their tubs filled with warm water by the time they walked in. Flip-flops slid off, pants rolled up, and legs dipped into swirling bubbles. As Juicy sank back into her seat with a satisfied sigh, Mimi leaned over and plucked at her ankle.

“You let too much time go,” Mimi teased in her usual sing-song tone. “Nail polish chipping.”

“Girl, you act like I walk barefoot in the streets,” Juicy joked, giggling. “That’s just my summer hustle feet.”

The girls chuckled, falling into their usual rhythm of gossip, neighborhood news, and hushed complaints about Mimi’s cousin who borrowed her car last week and came back with it smelling like weed and disappointment.

After a lull in the conversation, nothing but the click of tools and splash of water filling the space between them, Mary tilted her head slightly and peeked at Juicy from the corner of her eye. Her voice came soft, hesitant, but laced with intent.

“Do you like…the twins?”

Juicy’s brows furrowed. “Of course I like the twins,” she said, her voice light with a laugh as if the question was ridiculous.

Mary didn’t budge. “No, I mean like, romantically.”

The smile then dimmed from Juicy’s lips, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart skipped the way it always did when Smoke looked at her just a second too long, or when Stack said something slick that she pretended not to hear. Her mind stuttered through a thousand versions of what if, but she tried not to let it show.

“Oh.” She said finally. Her voice was softer now. Smaller.

She turned to Mary and met her eyes, the air thick with something unspoken. “No.”

“No?” Mary echoed, her brow lifted.

“Yeah, no.” Juicy replied quickly, brushing the idea aside as if saying it fast enough would make it true. “I mean, they’re attractive. Anybody can see that. But I don’t think…nah.” She tried to sound convincing, even if she was talking more to herself than Mary.

Mary wasn’t buying it. “I mean, I think they might have it for you.”

“For me?” Juicy blinked, startled.

“Yeah. Especially Smoke. I know Stack’s always flirting, but that boy flirts with every girl, hell, and probably with his reflection in the mirror. Smoke though? He don’t look at nobody the way he look at you. It’s like you the only girl in the world to him.”

Juicy’s stomach flipped, warmth blooming in her chest despite herself. But a part of her wilted too—the part that heard Stack’s name tossed out like he was just playing a part. Like he didn’t mean some of the looks, or those slick little comments that lingered longer than they should’ve.

“I don’t know.” Juicy murmured, letting out a shaky breath and laughing it off like she wasn’t falling into a spiral.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Hey, there’s no shame in trying. I get it. You’re scared it’ll mess things up for your friendship. But if a fine-ass man like that looked my way, girl, I’d dive headfirst. Even if it’s just to fuck.”

“Mary!” Juicy hissed, looking wide-eyed toward the techs working on their toes.

“What? I’m serious,” Mary whispered, grinning.

“Oh, I know you are.”

Mary waved a hand like she was swatting a fly. “Anyway, I only asked because Monica told me Anika’s been sniffing around. Says she’s on the hunt since her and Donavan broke up. Again. Says it’s for good this time but we all know that’s a lie.”

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That girl’s always on the hunt. She’d prowl her way into a church function if she smelled cologne.”

“And Yalonda said she don’t even care which twin she gets. Just wants one.”Mary added, her lip curling in disgust. “Like, what kind of thirsty behavior is that? Not even caring which person you want, you just care that they’re sexy so you’ll take either. This isn’t a damn store.”

Juicy hummed in agreement but didn’t say much. Her chest felt tight, the thought of other girls sizing up the twins—her twins—leaving her strangely defensive.

“I mean, if I had to pick…” Mary trailed off, her voice laced with mischief.

Juicy turned to her sharply, caught off guard. “Pick?”

“Yeah. I think I would choose Stack. Stack’s more rugged, bold. I like that. Smoke’s too chill for me. He’d probably make me second-guess myself every five minutes.” Mary laughed, then grinned. “But if I was greedy—which I am—I’d swoop up both and leave these bitches mad as fuck.”

Juicy blinked. Her heart pounded again, louder now, her cheeks warm.

“Who would you choose?” Mary asked innocently, turning to face her with that knowing look.

“I—uh—I don’t know,” Juicy muttered, glancing down at her feet. Tina was painting her toes a soft, pastel yellow, but she couldn’t focus on that. “That’s a hard question.”

“Girl, just answer.” Mary groaned. “It’s just us. I ain’t about to go runnin’ to them with your secrets.”

Juicy took a long breath, let it out slowly. She thought about Stack’s grin when she got annoyed. About Smoke’s eyes watching her like they saw things she didn’t even show. She thought about how her heart never picked a side. And then she said it, quietly, like it didn’t mean everything.

“Both.”

Mary’s eyes widened, a big smile breaking out on her face as she leaned in. “Both?”

Juicy didn’t answer.

Mary gasped dramatically. “Juicy!”

“What? You told me to answer.” Juicy shrugged, still avoiding her gaze, but her lips twitched into a small, guilty smile.

“I know, I just didn’t know you were such a freak like that.” Mary grinned. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m not a freak.” Juicy said with a small smirk as she leaned back in the seat before turning to look at Mary. “Just why have one when you can have both?”

Marin’s grin widened as she looked at her best friend next to her, the sweet and innocent Juicy almost unrecognizable as she looked at her. And she couldn’t stop her grin from widening, almost in pride.

“Exactly.”

As Tina began the second coat on her toes and the shop filled with the chatter of another customer walking in, Juicy leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling fan above them. Her heart was still racing, but her smile—subtle and soft—lingered. Summer was just getting started.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline as tires rolled to a gentle stop at the curb. The cicadas still singing under the thick and sticky veil of southern summer heat that was finally softening into something a bit more bearable as Mary’s car pulled up to Juicy’s driveway. The street was dim, the soft yellow of porch lights glimmering against humid air. Mary turned to Juicy with a knowing smile, her glossed lips shining faintly under the dome light of the car. The AC had been blasting the entire ride, a faint trace of the nail salon’s lavender lotion still lingering in the air. They were both loose-limbed from their pedicures and still giggling over Mary’s bold claims and Juicy’s reluctant confession.

“Alright, babe,” Mary said, slipping the car into park and turning in her seat with a knowing grin. “Don’t act brand new next time I bring up the twins.”

Juicy rolled her eyes with a laugh, already gathering her little purse and salon flip-flops. “Whatever.”

“You know I love you, girl,” Mary said, leaning in. They exchanged their signature goodbye—cheek kisses, one on each side, exaggerated and dramatic. “Mwah. Mwah.”

“I’ll call you later.” Juicy said, pulling the door shut behind her.

“You better.”

Juicy stepped out into the warm evening air, her eyes lazily drifting across the street. Only one car was parked in the twins’ driveway and her chest gave the smallest deflated sigh at the sight of the familiar cutlass absent. Either they were both out, or—more likely—Smoke was gone. Not that she was disappointed. Not really. She turned her attention to her front door, keys already in hand.

Inside, her house welcomed her with the cool hush of an AC unit humming low and the faint scent of lemon cleaner. She slipped off her white flip-flops with the little rhinestones and flexed her freshly done toes on the cool tile. Her body relaxed, ready for a shower and some water—only for her ears to perk up at the unmistakable sound of the TV murmuring in the living room. She blinked, her brows furrowing as she padded softly across the hardwood floor.

When she turned the corner, she froze.

There on her couch, sprawled comfortably like he paid rent, was Stack, the glow of The Wayans Bros lighting up his face in flickers of sitcom chaos. Remote in one hand, legs stretched, and a bag of chips resting casually on the armrest. The volume was low and he turned his head lazily just as she stepped in, both of them locking eyes beneath the dim yellow hue of the side lamp. The air shifted immediately.

“Hey.” He said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey.” She replied, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching your TV.” He barely even looked sheepish, starting it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And Juicy just let out a breath of a laugh, shaking her head as she walked further into the room. “I can see that.” She said saintly. She didn’t ask for more than that. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was easier to just… accept the warmth that settled in her belly at the sight of him there. Comfortable and at ease like he belonged there normally. It was nice to see.

Stack leaned forward a bit, his eyes skimming over her. “Let me see the nails.”

Juicy arched a brow but held her hands out, fingers spread. “They’re just French tips with a little bling. Nothin’ wild.”

“Yeah.” He said, taking her hand, turning it slightly to catch the light. “But they’re not your usual.”

She tilted her head. “You know what my usual is?” She asked with a small smirk, and Smoke copied her grin as he raised his eyes up to meet hers. “I pay attention.”

Her smile twitched wider at that. He let her hand go, but his gaze didn’t move far.

“Let me see the toes.” He added casually, though there was something in his voice that sent a flicker up her spine.

Juicy laughed again, but leaned back against the couch, swinging her legs into his lap with a teasing look in her eyes. She wiggled her toes, freshly polished with the same glossy French tip, tiny gems them as well.

“Be still.” He murmured with a grin, wrapping his hands around her ankles and lifting one foot to examine it like it was art. His fingers were warm against her skin, rough in all the right ways, and it sent a low, subtle shiver up her legs as he handled her feet like it was the most natural position for them. “You like?” She asked, her voice dipping low, almost instinctive. Soft. Sweet. Sultry.

Stack’s eyes lifted to hers, his smile slower this time, eyes gleaming. “Oh, I love.”

Juicy’s breath hitched just a little, and it surprised her. She tried to mask it with a smile, but there was something about the way he was looking at her now. Like she wasn’t just he and Smoke’s childhood friend or the neighbor or the girl he teased sometimes for fun. There was a weight to his gaze.

His fingers moved in slow, absent circles over her arch, rubbing without thinking, like it was second nature. She shifted slightly, trying to keep her breath steady, but the tension in the room was undeniable now. The TV might as well have been turned off.

The room went quiet, the TV nothing more than background noise now. The air thickened, their energy humming beneath the surface like static before a storm.

“Is… Smoke mad at me?” Juicy asked suddenly, voice quiet.

Stack looked up, his brow lifting just slightly, which emptied her to continue. “He seemed a bit irritated at the way I was acting earlier.” She added, eyes dropping to her lap. “I guess I was being a little…much.”

“Yeah, you were a brat.” Stack said plainly. Juicy frowned at his words, her lips pushing into a pout. “I know.” She sighed. “And I don’t know why.”

“Because you’re spoiled.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock offense. “I am not spoiled!”

Stack chuckled. “Yes you are, Juicy.”

She moved to protest again, but he lifted a finger, silencing her with a teasing smirk. “You’re the youngest girl in your family. You did everything mommy and daddy dearest wanted, no matter how wild they acted back then. To them, you were the good one. The golden one. Compared to your drug-dealin’ brother and your teen-mom sister, you look like a damn angel.”

Juicy wrinkled her nose but wasn’t sure if she could even fully deny it.

“I blame me and Smoke.” Stack continued, rubbing slow along her heel with one bad while the other toyed with her anklet. “We used to do whatever you said. No matter how crazy it was. Then it rubbed off on everybody else. Mary, Missy… hell, even strangers do what you say.”

“Well.” She said sassily. “You could’ve said no.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “And see that pout? Oh baby, you know I couldn’t.”

He lifted her foot and placed a kiss on it—quick, but lingering enough to make her toes curl. Juicy giggled and half-kicked him, not hard, more playful than anything.

Silence fell again, warm and full.

“But no, he’s not mad at you.”Stack finally said. “At least, not for long. You know how he gets when people don’t listen.”

“Yeah, I know how you both get.”Juicy said with a small roll of her eyes. “You just be glad I like that attitude you give me.” Stack said, gaze sharpening just slightly. “Or else we’d have some issues. Issues I’d have to fix, real quick.”His tongue swept across his bottom lip slowly, and Juicy’s breath caught in her throat. She shifted, thighs clenching slightly, something that Stack caught and made him grin.

“You got real soft feet.” He murmured, eyes dropping again.

“I know.” She said, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies blooming in her chest.

“You get ’em done for someone?”

Her eyes searched his face, trying to figure out if it was a joke or something more. “You.” She said after a beat. Stack eyes made their way back to his, his brow lifted slightly. Juicy simply smirked, letting the words hang in the air. “And every other fine man who might be watchin’.” She added.

Stack laughed then, that low and deep sound that made her knees feel weak even though she was sitting down.

“Well.” He said, setting her feet gently back in his lap, “You definitely got my attention.”

Their eyes locked again, and this time, neither of them looked away.

The TV flickered in the background, forgotten. The ceiling fan hummed low overhead. But all Juicy could feel was the heat between them, thick as the summer night outside, and just as electric.

Stack’s fingers lingered just above her ankle now, the circles slower, heavier. Like he was remembering the feeling of her soft skin under his. Juicy swallowed hard, the thrum in her chest matching the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, blowing out warm air that didn’t help cool her flushed skin.

Stack hadn’t said anything since his last comment, but his eyes were still on her. And his gaze was so heavy and intense that she felt a heart eat start at the lower part of her body. He didn’t stare at her in that way boys used to look at her when she walked by in low-rise jeans. He did it in that way that made her feel seen. He was peeling her open with a glance, figuring out where to press, where to touch, how to unravel her.

Juicy sat up a little, her legs shifting so her calves rested across his lap instead of just her feet. A bold move, maybe. But it was hot. And his hands were warm. And that look in his eye made her forget how to second-guess herself.

“You good?” Stack asked, his voice low, like velvet soaked in heat.

Juicy nodded, slow. “Mhm.”

He raised a brow, but the corners of his lips tugged into a knowing grin. “Alright then.” His hands moved again, this time sliding from her ankle to her shin. His thumb brushed the curve of her calf, just slow enough to make her squirm. She looked away for a second, then back at him, only to catch his eyes already there—watching her reactions. He was closer to her legs now, and he watched as she took a sniff, and the way his eyes closed briefly had her wanting to clench her thoughts together.

“You smell sweet.” He stated as his large hands rubbed against her legs, squeezing her thick calf every now and then. “This the lotion they put on you at the salon?”1 He asked, voice playful, but the rasp in it gave him away.

Juicy licked her lips. “No, it’s the one I carry with me. Gotta stay soft.” She shrugged.

That earned a chuckle, low and deep, and his fingers didn’t stop moving. Now they were tracing the line behind her knee, then higher. She felt her breath hitch, but she didn’t stop him. Her body was humming. Like her skin was remembering the nights she used to dream of this exact thing and pretend she didn’t.

“You tryna drive me crazy?” He murmured, his fingertips brushing along her thigh now—just below the hem of her little shorts. It was light. Barely there. But it lit a fire under her skin.

“I thought I already did.” She replied, voice dipping, almost shy but not really. Stack smiled. That slow, lazy smile that said he liked where this was headed. His hands slid further north, one staying on her thigh, the other moving to her waist, like he was trying to anchor her and set her on fire at the same time.

“Juicy…”

She looked at him, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips. “Yeah?” She asked breathlessly.

“You ever think about us?” He asked, thumb stroking just under the band of her shorts.

Her heart thumped. “Like what?”

His gaze was heavy now. Weighted with meaning. With memories of all the late nights they’d danced around each other, shared jokes a little too flirty, lingered in the same room just a little too long. “Like this.” He said simply. “Like… me and you. No frontin’ or nothin’ like that. Just us.” He said, and the way he was speaking, that soft voice like he was begging, had Juicy’s heart beating hard within her chest.

Juicy’s throat felt tight, but she nodded. “Yeah… I think about it.” She said, her eyes wide and twinkling as she stared into his eyes. “Me too.” His hand drifted further, palm cupping the outside of her thigh now, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip. “All the time.”

His touch turned more confident, the tease of it replaced with intention. He leaned in slightly, close enough for Juicy to smell the faded cologne on his neck—something warm and woodsy that clung to him even through the heat.

Her hand found his chest, soft at first, then gripping the front of his white tank like she needed something to hold on to. Stack leaned forward, his mouth brushing her shoulder before his lips pressed there, then higher—up her neck, slow and deliberate.

“You want me to stop?” He whispered, his voice sending a shiver straight down her spine.

She shook her head, breathless. “No…”

That was all he needed.

His hands moved with more purpose now, dragging her closer until she was nearly straddling his lap. One arm hooked around her waist, the other dipped lower, beneath the hem of her shorts. She felt his hand explore the curve of her thigh, the hush between them thick as the moment stretched.

Then… he slid further, his fingers brushing against her clothed heat. Then he pressed against her, his large fingered rubbed her through her panties.

Juicy gasped—quiet, startled, but far from unwilling. Stack’s eyes never left hers, watching every flicker across her face, gauging her every breath and reaction as his fingers moved in slow, deliberate rhythm. His mouth brushed hers, feather-soft, like he was asking for permission even as his hand spoke for him.

She gripped his tank tighter, her eyes fluttering shut as she subconsciously, slowly rocked her hips against his hand.

And in the sweltering quiet of that summer night, Stack got to work—steady, focused, and with the kind of confidence that told Juicy he’d been waiting a long time to do this right.

The air felt heavier now—thick with something unspoken but deeply understood. Juicy’s breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could hear was the slow hum of the fan and the soft rustle of Stack’s hands as they moved against her skin.

He kissed her again. This time just beneath her jaw, then down to her collarbone, letting his lips linger. Like he was memorizing her. His hand, still tucked beneath the waistband of her shorts, moved with a deliberate rhythm that had her thighs tensing and her hips subtly shifting, almost involuntarily. A slow, languid ache built low in her belly, and her fingers slid across his cornrows, gently tugging at the long end as if to ground herself in something.

“Stack…” She breathed, barely able to get the name out.

He looked up, eyes hooded and warm, his smile crooked like he knew exactly what he was doing. “You good?” He asked, the rough edge in his voice betraying how much he wanted to keep going.

She nodded—maybe a little too fast—but she couldn’t help it. Her voice was soft when she answered, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

That smile deepened, and he kissed her again, this time on the mouth—slow and full, with tongue, like he wanted to make her forget any man who ever kissed her before.

Stack’s hand was slow and sure, trailing up the outside of Juicy’s thigh with the kind of care that made her nerves hum. The couch beneath her felt too soft, too warm, like it was melting beneath them, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears louder than whatever was still playing on the TV. His fingers moved with ease, confident and patient, making her body respond before her brain could catch up.

Juicy let her head fall back as Stack nipped at her neck, her breath coming out in shallow little sighs, eyes fluttering shut. Every inch of her felt like it was waiting on him—like her whole body was leaning into the moment, breathless and trembling.

Then—

Click.

The sharp sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the air like a lightning bolt. Juicy’s eyes snapped open just as Stack’s hand stilled beneath the soft cotton of her shorts. For a beat, neither of them moved, suspended in disbelief.

The door creaked open, and Juicy practically leapt up, pulling her shorts down as if they’d betrayed her.

Stack sat back with a groan that was barely audible, raking a hand over his face as Juicy scrambled to look like she hadn’t just been caught on the edge of sin.

Into the doorway stepped Sinclair, her arms full with a sleeping Tyson slumped against her shoulder, his little curls damp with sweat. She didn’t step fully into the living room, but her gaze drifted—just for a second—over to Juicy, who stood awkwardly next to the couch with her curls a little too messy and her tank top slightly askew.

Sinclair didn’t say anything, but one brow arched ever so slightly.

“Hey.” Juicy said quickly, voice too high. “Y’all back already?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sinclair hummed, tired but alert. “Tyson crashed on the way. Figured I’d just carry him up.”

Stack stood up then, brushing his hands on his jeans, and Juicy caught the faintest smirk playing at his lips, like he found the whole interruption funny. “I’mma head out.”He said casually, his voice warm but cool. Not too rushed, but not slow either.

“Yeah… okay.” Juicy said, following him toward the door, trying to smooth out her curls as they went.

Sinclair disappeared down the hall without a word, but Juicy could feel the suspicion lingering in the air. She knew she probably wasn’t going to get questioned later but whatever just happened would linger between them until it was bright up again.

The porch light buzzed faintly as she stepped into the doorway while Stack stepped outside. The warm night wrapped around them like a slow, sticky blanket. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and the faint scent of grilled meat still hung in the air from someone’s barbecue earlier.

Stack turned to her, hands slipping into his pockets, his tall frame backlit by the porch light. “You alright?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

Juicy rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I was, until somebody got me caught.”

“You wasn’t caught.” He murmured, stepping just a little closer. “She ain’t see nothin’. ’Sides… you the one that got all flustered.”

“I was not flustered.” She argued, eyes narrowing.

“You are flustered.” He leaned in even closer now, his voice low and lazy like syrup on a hot day. “Still got that little red blush right here…” He tapped her cheek lightly, and Juicy swatted his hand, but not really. They both laughed softly, the kind of quiet, private laugh that was meant to only be shared between two people in close quarters.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed lightly over her chest, watching him. “I’m grown.” She said, her usual sassy attitude coming back as she smoothed what we gloss she had left on her lips.

Stack’s gaze flicked down to her lips—quick but not shy. And then back up to her eyes. “Trust and believe I know that.” He said, his eyes training over her again. Juicy bit at the inside of her lip at that, looking up at him. “I should go.” He said, but made no move to leave.

“Mm-hmm.”Juicy hummed, still watching him with those big, round eyes. “You should.”

And yet… neither of them moved. The space between them tightened like a rubber band stretched too far. Then, without warning, Stack leaned in.

His lips found hers—warm, full, and hungry.

Juicy didn’t think. She just melted into him, her arms coming up to rest against his chest as his hand slid around her waist. The kiss deepened fast, hot and breath-stealing, like all the tension from earlier had been waiting for permission.

Then his hand, so bold and certain, slipped lower, gripping her behind in one smooth motion.

Juicy gasped into his mouth, the sound soft and shocked, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he might float away if she didn’t.

Stack broke the kiss then, just barely, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavy.

He looked down into her face, those dark eyes searching hers. She looked wrecked in the prettiest way—lips parted, cheeks flushed, her curls wild, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He kissed her again, quick and tender, right on her slightly open mouth. Then his hand slid slowly from her behind, the warmth of his touch still tingling against her skin.

“Have a good night, Juicy.”He said softly, his voice lower than before. Something about it sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed and whispered, “Goodnight, Stack.” She said, but she wasn’t even sure the words made it past her lips.

She watched him walk down the steps, his tall frame cutting through the quiet of the street until he crossed over to the porch across from hers. He didn’t look back, not before she went quickly slipped inside and shut the door, pressing her back against it. Her hand went to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

She stared up at the ceiling for a second, completely dazed. Then, finally, the words slipped out in a breathless, disbelieving whisper.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The morning sun had just begun to stream through the gauzy curtains of Juicy’s bedroom, casting a warmth across her floor. The summer air was already thick with heat, promising a sweltering day ahead. She stood near her dresser in nothing but a black tank top and her favorite pair of boy shorts, the soft cotton clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was up in a bun with a silk scarf wrapped around the base, though a few strands were curling down the side of her face as she rubbed sunscreen onto her arms. The scent of coconut filled the room, mingling with the faint trace of her vanilla perfume.

She paused mid-rub, her eyes drifting toward the door as she remembered something.

Sinclair.

She needed to tell her sister about the pool party. Dropping the sunscreen onto the vanity, she wiped her hands on a towel and padded barefoot down the hall. Tyson’s door was slightly ajar, but she walked right past it, heading straight for the largest room in the house. Sinclair sat cross-legged on her bed, meticulously going through Tyson’s diaper bag, organizing bottles and wipes like she was preparing for war.

“Hey.” Juicy called softly, catching her attention.

Sinclair looked up from a pack of baby wipes. “Hey, what’s up?”

Juicy stepped further into the room, her bare legs brushing against the side of the bed as she smiled down at the toddler who sat surrounded by soft toys, babbling to himself. “Mary and I are gonna hit the pool party at the rec center in a few. Martin might be there, so I thought maybe you and Ty could slide through. Make it a family affair.”She said, reaching down to scoop up the baby.

Tyson squealed with delight, giggling as Juicy peppered his chubby cheeks with ticklish kisses. The baby’s laugh was contagious, filling the room like sunlight.

Sinclair’s smile was tentative. “Uh… yeah, I can see if we can do that.” She said, but something in her tone held hesitation. “It’s just that—”

Knock knock knock.

A knock at the door cut her off.

Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get it.” She said quickly, gently placing Tyson back on the bed before heading down the hallway.

She didn’t ask who it was, didn’t pause, didn’t peek cautiously through the side curtain like she normally would. It was almost like she knew who was there form the knock alone, even the presence.

As she pressed her eye to the peephole, her breath caught. There he was. Those familiar full lips she knew better than her own name, framed by the smooth lines of a face she could spot even in a dream.

She opened the door, slow and unsure.

Smoke stood on the other side, tall and still and undeniably handsome, his expression unreadable but his eyes glued to her.

“Hey,” He said, voice low, intimate.

“Hi.” Juicy’s throat tightened, her breath catching. It was the first time they’d seen each other since her impulsive outburst yesterday. She’d sent two texts last night, trying not to sound too desperate, but they’d gone unanswered and call her an over thinker but know she didn’t know where they stood.

“Can I come in?” Smoke asked gently, watching her closely.

Juicy blinked, shaking off the trance. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Come on in.” She said, stepping aside.

He moved past her into the house, his presence immediately grounding, immediately consuming. She shut the door behind him and took his hand without thinking, leading him down the hallway to her bedroom. The house was still and quiet, Tyson’s babbling just a murmur in the distance.

Once inside, she closed the door behind them. Like he’d been here a thousand times, Smoke crossed the room and sat on her bed, picking up one of her pink decorative pillows and resting it against his knees. His eyes scanned her slowly. Her bun, her bare arms still glistening with sunscreen, the tank top that hugged her chest just tight enough for him to see the curve of her nipples underneath, and the boy shorts that left little to the imagination.

She stood with her hands on her hips, heart thudding against her ribs. “You mad at me?” She asked, lips pouted.

Smoke shook his head. “No.”

“Well…”She dragged the word out, tilting her head.

“…Were you mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you, baby.” He said, that low rasp in his voice drawing her in like a magnet.

That last word—baby—settled right in her chest and melted whatever walls she’d tried to put up. She exhaled softly, stepping forward until she stood between his knees. Her arms wrapped around his torso, pulling herself closer to him. “You didn’t answer my messages.” She murmured, her voice small and vulnerable. “I thought you were mad after what I did yesterday.”

Smoke’s arms slid around her waist, grounding her. His hands rested gently on her lower back, fingers drawing soft circles there.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He said. “After you dipped out to get your nails did, I had to handle some business. Came back late and crashed. I was tired.”

Juicy lifted her head just enough to look him in the eye, glancing down at her hang as she toyed this his gold chain. “So you weren’t mad at me? Not even a little?”

“Baby, no.” He repeated gently, then his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shorts, teasing the bare skin of her hip. “But you better never talk back to me like that again.” He added in a low, commanding voice. “Or else you’re due for a punishment. Am I understood?”

A sharp thrill ran down her spine at the firm warning.

“Yes.” Juicy answered breathily, her thighs instinctively pressing together.

“Mmm, good.” Smoke said before leaning in to kiss her, slow and possessive, his hands traveling downward to rest on the curve of her ass. His words and touch made her heart skip. She felt a slick warmth pool between her legs at the way he claimed her without even needing to undress her.

“I been thinkin’ bout you.” He muttered, lips brushing hers. That thick sexual tension, so thick it could choke, melted into something else—still hot, still heavy—but now softer. Sweeter and longing.

She kissed the corner of his mouth with a feather-light touch. “I missed you.” She confessed, voice tight with emotion. Smoke tightened his hold with another soft him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. “I missed you too.”

They stayed like that, tangled in each other’s limbs, in a moment so intimate it felt like time slowed. The outside world ceased to matter. All that existed was this boy she’d grown to crave and the way his body molded perfectly to hers.

Juicy’s chest tightened, her heart blooming into something dangerous. Something real, and that she wasn’t sure she ready to name, but couldn’t deny.

“I was worried.” She whispered, afraid to say it out loud. She practically spoke the words into his mouth since didn’t want to pull away, but he didn’t seem to mind as his around her tightened.

Smoke tilted her chin gently, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “You don’t have to be. I’m here.”And for a second, she believed him. Fully and completely. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, touching the warm skin of his stomach. Her voice was soft. “You better come to that pool party later.” She said.

Smoke smirked, that lopsided grin she both hated and loved curling on his lips. “I might pull up. Depends on how good you look in that swimsuit.”

“Oh, I’m gon’ look good.” She grinned, tilting her head. “So you better be there.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then I’ll be there.”

And just like that, the tension returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncertainty or doubt. It was anticipation. It was summer heat, sticky and sweet, and the thrill of knowing something good was coming.

Before they could Steele back into the heat of their moment, Sinclair knocked twice before easing the door open, her hand resting lightly on the knob as her eyes scanned the room. The first thing she noticed was Smoke, sitting casually on the edge of Juicy’s bed like he’d always belonged there, while Juicy was bent slightly at her dresser, sifting through clothes. Her back was to the door, unaware of her sister’s entrance at first.

Sinclair paused mid-step, almost doing a double take when her gaze landed on the man lounging comfortably in her baby sister’s bedroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She said slowly, eyes narrowing just a bit, like she couldn’t decide whether she was suspicious or surprised. Juicy, halfway through tugging open a drawer, turned and blinked. Her brows pulled together at the same time Smoke’s did, the pair of them mirroring each other like they were already synced without trying.

“He knocked a few minutes ago.”Juicy replied plainly, but her voice held the faintest trace of dry amusement. She stood up straighter, one hand still resting on the dresser as she looked back at Sinclair.

Sinclair’s eyes darted between them, then shifted toward the floor as her toddler son, Tyson, who came bumbling in with soft patters of his feet and the sweet sound of baby banter falling off his tongue. He wore a lopsided grin, his little hands reaching for whatever was nearby—his mother’s jeans, the air, the bed frame—giddy from just being seen.

“Oh, yeah.” Sinclair muttered, rubbing the side of her forehead as the memory finally clicked into place.

“Damn. I think the mom brain is starting to get to you.”Juicy said with an arched a brow, lips twitching with a small smile.

“Yeah, me too.”Sinclair let out a low sigh and adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Anyway.” She started, a hesitant note sneaking into her tone. “We might pull up to the pool later, but first I’m taking Ty to see Mom and Dad.”

Juicy’s expression shifted, just barely. She was careful, giving her sister nothing but a sharp nod, her mouth set, and a blink. “Oh.” She said with a quick uptick of her chin. “Okay.”

But there was a new stillness in the room. One that Smoke picked up on instantly, his eyes flicking from Juicy to Sinclair. Something unspoken had entered the air. Sinclair’s eyes stayed on her sister for a moment longer, trying to gauge the exact temperature of her reaction. Then she spoke again, casually.

“They haven’t seen him in a while. And neither have I, so…” She trailed off with a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance, but even Tyson seemed to slow in his babbling, sensing the shift in his mama’s voice.

Juicy hummed, soft and brief, not looking directly at Sinclair as she turned back to her drawer. “Okay.” She repeated, her tone light but not warm. Her hand paused over a folded orange swimsuit, fingers tapping the fabric once before picking it up. Smoke didn’t say a word. He sat still, observing, but his jaw flexed slightly, like he could feel the tightness forming under her skin.

Sinclair gave a weak smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. She nodded once, lips pursed. “Alright.” She said, stepping back toward the doorway. “See y’all later.”

Juicy finally looked up again, flashing a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See ya.” She waved.

Then her gaze dropped to the little boy now holding onto the seam of his mother pants and grinning up at her with his two tiny bottom teeth showing. Her whole face softened.

“See ya, Ty!” She grinned, leaning down a little to wiggle her fingers in his direction.

“Say, ‘See ya, TT,’” Sinclair cooed in that syrupy baby voice as she leaned down beside him. But Tyson only giggled at the attention, waving his hand in a messy arc and showing off those same little teeth like he knew he was the moment.

Juicy laughed softly, the sound light and brief, but Smoke could tell her mind wasn’t fully in it. She was still stuck in whatever thoughts Sinclair had stirred up.

Sinclair gave her sister one last look, her eyes lingering a second longer than necessary on the man behind her. She clocked the way he sat—comfortably, as if this wasn’t his first time in that room. And something about that seemed to settle, or unsettle, in her chest. Then, without another word, she stepped out, gently guiding her son with her, and pulled the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Silence bloomed in the room like smoke after a match strike.

Juicy stood there, still holding the swimsuit, but her shoulders had stiffened. Smoke watched her quietly for a moment, studying the way her jaw tensed ever so slightly, the way her fingers gripped the bright orange fabric too tightly.

He didn’t speak right away. Just let the moment breathe. The silence between them was the kind that said a lot without either of them needing to say a damn thing. Summer heat curled in through the open window, thick and lazy, stirring the edges of the sheer curtains and gliding across her skin.

“You alright?” Smoke asked finally, his voice low, careful.

Juicy blinked like she’d just come out of a daze, turning to face him with a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Smoke didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push—not yet. Instead, he let the moment sit. Let the tension hum like the faraway cicadas outside. He didn’t say anything for a second, just tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”

She gave him a softer smile then, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, just surprised me is all.” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser, sifting through neatly folded swimsuits. “I didn’t know she was going over there.”

Smoke leaned back slightly, palms pressing into the mattress. “You not cool with that?”

Juicy shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “I mean… it’s whatever. It ain’t my business.”

But the edge in her voice betrayed her. Smoke caught it.

“She told you about taking him over there?”

“Nope.” Juicy popped the ‘p’ as she pulled out a swimsuit—bright orange with gold detailing—and tossed it onto the bed without looking at him. “But like I said, it’s whatever.”

Smoke nodded slowly. He didn’t push, just watched her for a beat longer. “Your folks… y’all not on good terms?”

Juicy paused again, her hand resting flat on the dresser, nails tapping rhythmically. The pause stretched out a little too long before she answered.

“We cool. Just… history, you know?” She said vaguely, grabbing a pair of shorts to go with the swimsuit. “It’s nothin’ new.”

Smoke hummed low in his throat, but didn’t press further. He could feel the wall going up in real time. Whatever the story was, she wasn’t ready to unpack it right now—not with her sister freshly gone and her mood already shaken.

He stood, walking up behind her slowly. “You don’t gotta pretend with me.” He said, voice softer now. “You don’t wanna talk about it, fine. But don’t do that ‘I’m fine’ shit.”

Juicy looked at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she gave a small smile—this one a little more real.

“Noted.”She murmured.

Smoke leaned down, pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Good.”

For a while, they stood like that. Quiet. Though everything unspoken still buzzed beneath the surface, but neither one of them needed to say anything. Outside, the world was still alive with chatter, sprinklers, and the faint bass of someone’s car rolling down the street.

Juicy finally pulled herself away from the stillness, tucking the different swimsuit options and shorts under her arm. “I’m gonna change real quick.” She said, tilting her head toward the bathroom. “Don’t peek.”

A slow grin began pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I ain’t say nothin’,” He murmured, voice rich and playful as he moved and sat back down on the bed. “I’ll be here.”

She raised her brows at him with a small laugh, disappearing into her bathroom with a soft click of the door behind her.

She gave him a quick glance before disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind her. And as soon as she was gone, Smoke leaned back on his hands again, his gaze drifting toward the closed door.

Something in her sister’s visit—and Juicy’s too-calm reaction—lingered in his chest like smoke that wouldn’t quite clear. Whatever it was, he figured it wasn’t just history.

It was something more.

And he had a feeling that it wasn’t done showing its teeth.

Inside the bathroom, Juicy peeled off her tank top and shorts, stepping into the cool lining of her black-and-white gingham bikini set. The top had a halter neckline that hugged her curves just right, and the matching mini skirt hit high on her thighs, barely grazing the bottom curve of her cheeks. It was more fashion than function—more for looking good than getting wet. She had no intention of swimming today. Just a little sun, a little music, a little flirtation. Maybe a drink or two, maybe a little dancing. And with Smoke around… maybe more of the last one.

She smoothed down the skirt, adjusted the top, then stood back to glance at herself in the mirror. Hair still fresh from her wrap the night before, she slicked her high bun back with her fingers, adding a pair of gold hoops to finish the look. A swipe of glittery gloss, a spritz of body spray that smelled like coconut and vanilla, and she was done.

When she stepped back out into the bedroom, Smoke sat up a little straighter. His mouth opened slightly like he was about to say something slick, but no words came—just a long, appreciative glance that traveled from her glossy lips to her honey-toned thighs.

Juicy caught it and smirked. “What?” She teased.

He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “Ain’t nobody even gon’ make it in the pool wit’ you lookin’ like that.”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the little blush that crept up her neck. She crossed the room to grab her sandals, bending just a little too slow when she picked them up, and when she straightened, Smoke was still watching her.

“You tryin’ to be funny.” He said, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“I’m tryin’ to be fine.” She replied with a wink, slipping on her sandals and tossing her purse over her shoulder.

“Mission accomplished.”

They shared a grin as well as a laugh, something more easy and light, as if yesterday’s tension had been blown away with the breeze rolling through the window. Whatever that conversation had been, it didn’t follow them now. This was a new rhythm. A new beat.

As they headed out the door, Smoke opened it for her. “After you, Miss Juicy.”

Juicy giggled, flipping her silk scarf, which she now wore as decoration, as she passed. “You gon’ call me that all day now?”

“Yup,” He said, trailing behind her. “Miss Gingham if I’m nasty.”

She swatted at him as they walked down to his car, laughing. The heat had crept up since the morning, and by the time they got in, the leather seats were already warm under her thighs. She shifted, adjusting her skirt with a little tug.

The drive through the neighborhood was quick, familiar streets lined with porches and sun-faded cars, kids running through sprinklers and old heads playing dominoes under shade trees. Mary’s block was alive with the sound of a Saturday in May.

As they pulled up to the curb, Juicy leaned out the passenger window, scanning for her friend. She barely had time to blink before the screen door flew open and Mary burst out onto the porch, her high ponytail bouncing behind her and her gold sandals clacking against the wood steps.

“Y’all ready?!” Mary shouted, waving both arms like they hadn’t seen her in years. Her swimsuit was loud and proud, a bright yellow with white flowers, and a sheer cover-up that fluttered behind her as she jogged down the walk. “Let’s gooo, I been waitin’ since eight o’clock!”

Behind her, Missy stood on the porch, arms crossed and a faint smile on her lips. She was still in her house dress, a phone in one hand and the news paper tucked under had arm. She raised her hand when she spotted the car.

Smoke leaned a little, giving her a respectful nod after a quick blow of the horn in greeting. Juicy lifted her fingers in a wave, and Mary grinned, turning around to blow her mom a kiss.

“Be good!” Missy called, though her voice held no real warning. “And tell Sinclair I said hey!”

“I will!” Mary and Juicy called back.

The woman waved one last time, then disappeared inside with the slow creak of the screen door behind her.

Mary slid into the backseat, breathless and already pulling a tube of lip gloss out of her bag. “Okay. Playlist ready? Vibes set? Let’s go, I need to feel fine today.”

Juicy turned in her seat, grinning over her shoulder. “You always fine, girl.”

Smoke laughed softly, pulling off from the curb as the music kicked in, Ashanti’s ‘Rock Wit U’ floating through the speakers like the soundtrack to a perfect afternoon.

The sun was high now, casting long shadows and soaking the world in a white gold. And with Smoke behind the wheel, Juicy in the front seat in her barely-there skirt, and Mary gassing herself up in the back, everything about this moment felt exactly right.

Summer had never looked better.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The car rounded the corner and dipped onto the long gravel road leading to the city pool, tires crunching beneath the heat. The closer they got, the louder the music became, the bass vibrating through the thick, humid air like a heartbeat. Juicy leaned forward in her seat, peeking out the windshield as she caught sight of the blue glint of water and the crowds already swelling behind the black barred fence.

Smoke nodded toward the commotion. “Stack said he’ll meet us here. He on his way now.”

Mary perked up in the backseat, tugging her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Oop—Stack comin’? Say less.” Her voice danced with excitement, and she reached for her strawberry-scented body oil, giving her legs a quick gleam.

Juicy glanced at Smoke, smirking. “So this really gon’ be a thing, huh? Y’all going everywhere with us?

He shrugged, amused. “I just drive the car. I don’t ask no questions.

Mary rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Please, you always ask questions.” Then she leaned forward between the seats, grinning. “But thank you for the ride, Mr. Chauffeur.”

“You welcome.” Smoke replied coolly, pulling into a shady patch near the edge of the lot. He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, watching the scene unfold beyond the windshield. He then furrowed his brows, looking over at Juicy. “Dwait, didn’t y’all ask us to come?” He questioned.

“I thought you didn’t ask questions?” Juicy asked as she popped a piece of him in her mouth, smiling at him as Mary hopped out of the car to get the party started.

Despite the official Parks & Rec flyer calling it a “Family Fun Day,” the vibe was anything but kiddie. Sure, there were toddlers splashing in the shallow end and a few aunties under the pavilions eating BBQ on Styrofoam plates, but most of the crowd was teens and twenty-somethings, all fresh fits and flip-flops, drippin’ with baby oil and bottled water, posted up in every corner of the pool area with red solo cups.

The scent of grilled hot dogs and chlorine mixed with the blare of Chingy’s ‘Right Thurr’ booming through a set of old speakers someone had dragged to the edge of the pool deck. It was hot, it was loud, and it was everything summer was supposed to be.

Juicy opened her door and stepped out, the sun immediately warming her legs. She tugged her mini skirt down on instinct, though it didn’t do much. The fabric barely covered her, and when she turned, Smoke’s eyes flicked upward. She caught him.

“You lookin’?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“I ain’t say nothin’,” He replied, voice smooth as syrup.

“That’s not what I asked you.” She shot back with a wink, then reached into her purse to pull out her lip gloss. “Just know I seen it.”

Smoke chuckled low in his throat, closing his door and nodding toward the gate. “Let’s go before it get too packed. Some lil boy already doin’ flips by the ‘No Diving’ sign.”

Sure enough, as they stepped through the open gate, a boy with plaits came sailing through the air in mid-cannonball, splashing a group of girls who screamed and laughed while holding their phones and purses above their heads. A tangle of floaties bobbed along the edges of the pool, and people were posted up on every available inch of concrete—some laid out on towels, others perched on plastic lawn chairs with drinks in hand.

Juicy spotted a mutual friend of her, Lamont, almost immediately.

He wasn’t hard to miss. Shirtless in red trunks, chain swinging against his chest as he grinded behind some girl in a lime green bikini. One hand held a red cup, the other was suspiciously low on her waist, and he looked like he hadn’t seen a lifeguard whistle in at least twenty minutes.

Mary laughed when she saw him. “Lord, Lamont really acting like he ain’t on payroll.”

“Girl, he never act like he on payroll,” Juicy said, adjusting her hoops. “He only work here for the free hot dogs and attention.”

Up in the high chair, their homegirl Megan sat post, stoic as ever with her arms crossed, and clearly unamused. Her mirrored shades hid her eyes. She tapped her whistle once, loudly, then pointed at the boy gearing up to dive again.

They walked deeper into the party, weaving between coolers, foldout chairs, and sunbathing bodies. Juicy felt the eyes on her immediately—she always did—but today, with the sunlight catching her skin and the black-and-white gingham hugging her like it was made just for her, she felt it too. She wasn’t trying to swim. Wasn’t here for the water. Just the vibe. The music. And maybe the way Smoke’s hand brushed the small of her back every now and then as he guided her through the crowd.

Mary skipped ahead to greet a few friends already camped out by the edge of the pool, but Smoke and Juicy lingered by one of the empty loungers. He gestured to it, offering it like it was her throne.

“You tryna sit, or you gon’ stand here and let the sun hit you like a sexy model on a magazine cover? Cause I wouldn’t be mad at it if you stood in front of me.”

Juicy rolled her eyes and sank into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Magazine cover, huh?”

“Yeah, girl. You’re my Jet Beauty of the Week.” He said smoothly. “But better.”

She laughed, tipping her head back, and for a second, everything else disappeared—the splashes, the laughter. It was just them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Juicy lounged like she belonged in a music video. Her legs glistening from the shimmer lotion she dabbed on earlier, ankles crossed, chin tilted just enough to keep her glossed lips in the sun. Her magazine was open across her lap, pages fluttering in the breeze, catching her on a spread of luxury heels. Delicate strappy numbers from Jimmy Choo, those Miu Miu platforms she’d been eyeing since March, and some throwback Gucci slingbacks in cherry red. She licked her thumb and flipped the page lazily, humming along to “Frontin’” as it poured from the speakers set up by the snack stand.

Mary, meanwhile, was perched up next to her in the chair beside the lifeguard chair where Megan sat post—legs swinging, sunglasses halfway down her nose as she leaned in to whisper.

“No, like—he really tried to play in my face.”Mary said, voice low but clearly animated. “He called me from a random number and said he was at his grandmas. I called back a day later and some bitch named Tamika answered.” She scoffed.

Megan sis the same, disgust tracing her features. “He bold and dumb. That’s a deadly combo.”

“He’s a clown.” Mary muttered, adjusting her top. “What’s wild is I really liked him for a second. Like, I was plotting playlists for this man in my head. That’s how far gone I was.”

“Playlists?” Megan echoed, horrified. “Girl.”

“I know.” Mary groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I almost burned a CD.”

They both gasped dramatically in unison, and that was what caught Juicy’s attention. Her gaze shifted over the top of her magazine, brows lifting. “What? I wanna know.”

But neither girl responded. They just stared past her, toward the pool’s entrance, mouths parted in small, stunned expressions that leaned more into irritation than awe.

Juicy, never one to be left in the dark, lowered the glossy pages and followed their line of sight.

And there they were.

Anika and her crew.

Like clockwork, the pool gate creaked open and the temperature seemed to shift. The girls stepped through like they owned the pavement, all matching energy but not outfits. Anika’s hair was freshly pressed, as always, bouncing with every calculated step. She wore a coral bikini that looked expensive, her top tied perfectly above a flat, glistening stomach. Her girls followed close behind, equally beat—each with a fresh press, glossy lips, designer shades, and earrings that sparkled like the pool itself.

Their heels clicked against the concrete, like a warning shot.

Juicy turned her lip up slightly.

They were beautiful, no doubt. But that little flash of insecurity never even got the chance to rise—not after what Mary had whispered to her at the nail salon yesterday. About how Anika had openly talked about wanting to fuck either Stack or Smoke, like it was a game of eeny meeny miney hoe.

So Juicy didn’t gape like the others. She just squinted, unimpressed. “They not even dressed to swim.” She mumbled, flipping through her magazine with one hand and shrugging to herself.

Mary, without missing a beat, said, “Neither are you.” Glancing over at her.

Juicy’s eyes cut sharp to the side, a little grin curling at the corner of her mouth even as she rolled them. “And?”

Mary tilted her chin like Exactly, and turned back to Megan.

Juicy sighed and folded her magazine carefully, placing it in her chair. She stood, smoothed down the hem of her gingham mini skirt, and sauntered across the hot concrete until she reached the edge of the pool. It was packed—teenagers doing cannonballs, couples lounging waist-deep, kids with floaties. But she found a spot and slipped her sandals off, dipping her freshly-pedicured toes into the cool water.

She lowered herself until she was perched on the edge, knees drawn up, arms crossed as she turned back to Mary, who watched from afar like a proud big sister.

“Is this good enough?” Juicy asked, sass dripping off every syllable.

Mary stood from the lifeguard chair, smirking. “Nope.”

Before Juicy could respond, Mary marched over and without hesitation, slid right into the pool. A soft splash echoed, water rippling around her as she dunked everything but her hair. When she emerged, she slicked water down her arms and looked up with a wide grin.

“You gotta have more fun, girl.” She called.

Juicy answered with a very matter-of-fact middle finger, flashing her acrylics. Mary cracked up, kicking away and floating backwards into the deeper part of the pool.

Juicy couldn’t help but smile. Not the tight-lipped kind she reserved for strangers or polite moments, but something softer and much more easy and natural. Even in the middle of a party, with Anika’s clique parading around like they were filming a music video feature and the sun beating down like a spotlight, she still felt good. Still felt wanted.

Juicy let her legs sway gently in the water, toes flexing as they sliced through the shimmering blue. The sun warmed her skin, and the air smelled like cocoa butter, grill smoke, and chlorine. Her elbow rested lazily on her knee, her chin tucked into her palm as she scanned the poolside crowd with a dreamy kind of smile. Laughter rose in waves around her. Somebody hollered across the deep end. Girls squealed when a boy cannonballed too close.

Juicy’s eyes wandered, taking it all in—the summer buzz, the unapologetic joy of being young without weighing responsibility as if right now. For once, she wasn’t worried about how she looked or who was watching as she enjoyed the setting around her.

Until she saw Smoke.

He was crouched near the back corner where a group of guys surrounded a towel spread with bills and dice. Martin and a couple of his boys were laughing, talking shit, slapping palms between rolls. And Smoke was in his element, white wife pleaser clinging to his back, gold chain swinging low as he leaned in and watched the dice tumble.

Then he scooped the money up with one hand, the other brushing against his waves. He then glanced up and caught her in the middle of ogling.

His smirk deepened, shifting from cocky to slow and dangerous. His eyes roamed lazily, pausing at her bare shoulders, her shiny thighs, the subtle bounce of her curls in the heat. He looked like he was remembering things he shouldn’t be thinking about out in the open.

Juicy’s breath caught. Her lips parted slightly before she caught herself and looked away, cheeks warming as she let out a soft, involuntary laugh. That was all Smoke needed. He licked his bottom lip slowly and turned back to the dice game, but not before letting that smirk linger in her direction a few seconds longer than necessary, even if she wasn’t looking at him. He knew she felt the weight of his gaze.

She shook her head to herself, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks.

And then the gate creaked open again.

Juicy glanced up just in time to see Stack walk in, and if Smoke had her heart skipping, Stack had it full-on backflipping.

Unlike his brother, who stayed in his tank top, Stack came shirtless, and Lord—he knew what he was doing. The sun kissed every inch of his chest, his abs sculpted but not overdone. His torso glistened a bit, but she knew it wasn’t likely from the lotion or oil he slathered on before leaving the house, she could see the sweat beads he built up over time out in the Mississippi sun. Though the sheer did make the tattoos on his triceps pop, as the muscles flexed with each step he took. His black basketball shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers peeking just above.

Juicy sucked in a quiet breath.

Jesus.

She didn’t even try to look away. How could she, when he walked with that kind of confidence. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily as he chewed gum, one hand dragging over his jaw before they landed on her.

And he smiled.

Stack didn’t bother to hide the way he looked at her. His gaze dropped, lingered on the way her thighs spread against the concrete, the glint of her new belly ring catching the sun— a tiny gem that matched the brightest star, little gold rays hanging. He didn’t even pretend not to notice the way her top lifted when she leaned back, or the way her lips parted ever so slightly at his gaze. She looked so good, he almost turned around and left, just to come back in again for the drama of it.

She had on something soft today, he realized. Not just her outfit, but her. The makeup, the lotion, the faint shimmer on her collarbones. Maybe it was the memory of last night, of his hand gripping the round of her ass while they kissed under the light of her porch. Maybe it was the way she said his name like a secret she wasn’t ready to share, breathing into his mouth as his hands exploded under her shorts. Either way, she was glowing, and he felt every bit of it hit him in the chest.

He winked.

And Juicy practically melted. She fumbled her gaze back to the water like it had answers, heart thudding as if the sun itself had reached down and tapped her on the shoulder.

Stack moved on toward his brother, the two of them meeting halfway with a dap and a shoulder bump. Juicy couldn’t hear what they said, but the way they laughed together, easy and familiar, made her stomach twist. It was strange, watching them like that—like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t kissed one of them in the dark the night before.

Like she hadn’t kissed the other one in broad daylight this morning.

Her fingers curled over the edge of the pool, nails tapping lightly. The music thumped on behind her, girls laughed, somebody cracked open a soda nearby—but her thoughts had narrowed to one singular sentence, loud and clear.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into.”

And no amount of summer sun was gonna answer that for her.

By the time Mary had slinked back to the spot Juicy at the edge of the pool, her body was soaked and glistening, water droplets clinging to her skin like diamonds under the sun. Her pony was slicked back, her bikini clinging to her curves as she dropped beside her friend with a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Girl, that water feels so good.” She said, wringing a bit of water from the end of her pony tail as she leaned back on her elbows. “You better stop being cute and come float with me.”

Juicy smiled faintly, her attention still half-watching the crowd. “I’ll think about it.”

“See? That’s your problem now. Always thinking about something.” Mary teased, nudging her with a damp foot. “Loosen up, it’s a pool party, not a courtroom.”

They both laughed softly, that lazy, sun-drunk kind of laughter, the kind that only came when your skin was warm and your stomach was full of the content of the splendid afternoon.

But the someone walked by and ruined it all.

Her heels clicked lightly against the pavement, despite the pool setting, and her glossy lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk as she passed the two girls.

“Hey, Juicy.” Pearline said, voice syrupy-sweet with just enough venom beneath it to sting. She barely paused, her eyes flicking over them with a casual kind of shade.

Juicy just looked at her, chin lifted slightly. Her mouth stayed closed, her eyes cool and unimpressed. Pearline didn’t wait for a response—didn’t need one, apparently. Her smirk deepened like she expected it.

Mary blinked after her, eyebrows furrowing. “Well damn.” She muttered, loud enough to be heard. “I’m here too, but okay.” She scoffed, causing Juicy to finally let out a soft laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ain’t nobody worried about ole girl.” She said, physically waving her off.

Mary hummed as she side-eyed the woman that walked away from them. “Not since she switched up soon as Anika rolled in with that fake ass Fendi, a different accent and a fresh silk press.” Mary said, shaking her head as she thought about how it all blew over. “Tragic, really. Anika can’t even speak Spanish and she’s supposed to be half Dominican. That was, like, all of her appeal.” She said, more to herself now as she scoffed.

Juicy didn’t answer right away. She was too busy watching Pearline strut away, heels clacking. That same old ache stirred in her chest, that old mix of resentment and something else—something deeper. Something she didn’t want to name.

She and Pearline hadn’t talked since junior year. Not since Pearline switched up on her, started rolling with Anika like she’d been born in Queens herself. Like she hadn’t once shared Kool-Aid in Juicy’s granny’s kitchen, or whispered about first crushes under the oak tree in Mary’s backyard. Or gossiped with them at the Friday night games.

And Mary knew. Mary had been there for the fall. For the way Juicy cried that night after Pearline left them at the dance, choosing Anika’s afterparty instead, not before leaving a nasty note and some hurtful words to the chubby girl. She’d been there when Juicy admitted that it wasn’t just about friendship—it was heartbreak. The kind that came when a person knew too much about your body, your laugh, your secrets. Pearline wasn’t just a best friend.

She was Juicy’s first almost. Something she’d never try aging after the hurt she faced.

And maybe that was why Juicy didn’t say anything now—just stood, brushing off her thighs as she grabbed her phone.

“I’ll be back.” She said quietly.

“Where you going?” Mary asked, concerned.

“Bathroom.”

Mary nodded, letting her go without pushing. She watched her friend disappear into the crowd, her expression softening. She knew what day this was turning into.

Juicy crossed the pool area quickly, dodging wet feet and floating beach balls, slipping into the public restroom near the concession stand. The moment she stepped inside, she grimaced.

The air was damp and sour. One of the sinks had a paper towel shoved in the drain, and water pooled on the floor like the aftermath of a middle school fight. The stalls were questionably clean, one of them with a door that hung off the hinge.

Juicy stepped back, shaking her head in disgust. “Yeah, no.” She mumbled to herself, turning right back around.

The better bathrooms were inside the main building, where the events coordinator worked and the lifeguards took breaks. She’d been in there once before—clean tile floors, working soap dispensers, and air conditioning. She needed that now.

She opened the back door and stepped outside again, sunlight smacking her full in the face as the bass from the music rattled the patio furniture. She squinted against the brightness—and that’s when she saw it. Juicy hadn’t even made it three steps back outside before the sight hit her square in the chest like a punch she wasn’t ready for.

Her steps faltered.

Anika.

She was walking—no, floating—across the concrete pool deck like it was a runway. Her long legs glistened with cocoa butter under the Mississippi sun, her flowy blouse flaring behind her like a flag of war. Her glossy lips curled into a slow, practiced smile as she made a beeline straight toward him.

Smoke.

Juicy stopped, dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing beneath her oversized Dior shades. Her fingers curled around the edge of her phone, the plastic digging into her palms as she watched the scene unfold in front of her like a movie she didn’t want to star in.

Anika reached him first, tilting her head in that way that always seemed rehearsed—chin dipped, lashes low, like she was some music video girl. In her manicured hand was a red solo cup, and she extended it to him like it was a gift.

And Smoke took it. He didn’t even seem to hesitate.

And that smile she knew so well—the one that tugged at just the left side of his mouth, the one he gave her that time—it was there. But it wasn’t for her.

It was for Anika.

Juicy’s stomach twisted so hard she felt dizzy.

She couldn’t hear what was being said, not from across the pool, but she didn’t need the words. The body language told it all. Anika touched his arm, ran her fingers down it with a softness that was far too familiar. And Smoke—he let her.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t step back.

Whatever he said made Anika laugh—loud, hand to her chest like he’d just told the funniest joke on Earth. Her laugh was sharp, but Smoke didn’t flinch, he simply looked at the woman before him.

Juicy stood frozen, legs locked, sunglasses slipping down her nose. And for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She swallowed hard and turned, walking stiffly back to her lounge chair. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck, but it wasn’t from the sun.

Mary glanced over from her seat, noticing her face immediately. “Girl. What happened?”

Juicy dropped down beside her, yanking her towel across her lap and pushing her shades all the way up to hide her eyes.

“Nothin’.” She said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

Mary blinked, followed her line of sight. “Wait. Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“And he’s talkin’ to her?”

“Yep.”

Mary let out a long whistle. “Oh, she was t playin’.”

Juicy didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because from where she sat, she could still see it all—the way Anika leaned against the fence, the way she kept angling her body so Smoke had a full view of her chest every time she flipped her hair. And worse, the way he looked.

Relaxed.

Entertained.

Interested.

It made Juicy’s throat tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper.

Just this morning, he was grabbing her by the waist in her bedroom, whispering things in her ear that made her knees weak. She thought—hell, she felt—like something was building between them. Slow. Intense. Real.

But now he was out here laughing it up with a girl who wore matching designer bikinis and had two-toned highlights like they were still in a 702 music video.

And all Juicy could do was watch. It’s what she always did. What she bad grew accustomed to do.

“You good?” Mary asked again, voice softer this time.

Juicy forced a smile, but it barely held. “Course I am. Why would anyone be? I ain’t worried about no dude.”

But she was. And she hated herself for it.

Because no matter how hard she tried to sit still, her eyes kept flicking back to them. Anika was talking with her hands now, and Smoke was nodding, sipping whatever was in that damn cup. His gold chain glinted in the sunlight as he gave a smile again.

And maybe that was the part that stung the most.

He didn’t look mad anymore.

Didn’t look bothered about her walking away yesterday. Didn’t look like he even remembered.

She watched Anika press a hand to his chest—flat palm, fingers splayed like she was claiming him—and Juicy’s body tensed.

Maybe he really was feeling her. Maybe Smoke really was the type to flirt up a storm and move on the second a girl made him work too hard. Maybe all of their tension, all the flirting and teasing and late-night phone calls, meant more to her than it ever did to him.

She clenched her jaw and leaned back in her chair, trying to act like she didn’t care. Like she didn’t just see the boy who made her heart beat faster let another girl touch him like he was hers.

But inside, she was fuming.

And worst of all—hurt.

The kind of hurt you can’t even name out loud, because it’d mean admitting you care more than you said you did.

So instead, she crossed her arms. Pressed her lips into a hard line. And kept her eyes forward, pretending like she didn’t notice when Anika threw her head back in another laugh.

But she noticed.

She noticed everything.

If you would like to be added to the taglist, comment here!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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j0ysyndr0m3 · 19 days ago

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LIFE OF SIN, stack x oc! reader

rosetta ‘rose' thornton finally returns home to the delta after touring for nights as a singer and is surprised to see her former lover, elias 'stack' moore has returned after 7 years in chicago. as the bitterness subsides and past feelings still linger for each other, unbeknownst to them, an even greater evil follows them back home.

warnings — violence, religious trauma, strong language, smut, talks of infidelity, depictions of southern accents, time period drama, mary slander, talks of racism, use of the n word. these are incredibly flawed characters being written. if you don’t like it, don’t read,

all i need in this life of sin, is me and my girlfriend...

elias ‘stack’ moore

down to ride ‘till the very end, just me and my boyfriend...

rosetta ‘rose’ thornton

divider by @uzmacchiato

( if you would like to be tagged, please comment here )

wattpad vers.

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

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enticingmelanin · 3 months ago

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Masterlist

Welcome to my box of smutty goodness. Grab a drink, a towel, a toy, or just your trusty hand, and settle in for the ride...xoxo

Aaron Pierre Fics:

Around The Park (Terry Richmond - Rebel Ridge) More content to come...

The Best Man

Work Husband

Royal Blood Series

Kelvin Harrison Jr. Fics:

Coming Soon...

Michael B. Jordan Fics:

Savor Series (Smoke x Annie - Sinners)

The Reckoning (Stack - Sinners) NEW!!!

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notapradagurl7 · 2 months ago

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His Woman.

Black Fem! Reader x Elias “Stack” Moore.

Summary: After one night of drunken sex with Stack, he couldn’t let you go. He was possessive in the worst way, and ready to kill any man who tried to talk to you. But that slick mouth of his was surely a sin and had him crawling back to you.

WC: 2,637k.

Warnings: angst, praise, choking kink, cursing, spanking, possessive!Stack, use of the n-word, dirty talk, consensual intimacy, violence, unprotected sex, murder, doesn’t follow the flim’s timeline, AU where Stack doesn’t even meet Mary, protective!Stack.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1 @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @secret89sblog

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereinawrites @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @wanderingrein-blog @kindofaintrovert @marley1773

—————

Your deep brown eyes remained intently fixed on the polished bar top, meticulously wiping down every nook and cranny with a black washcloth. The warm amber-orange glow from the ceiling lights spotlighted the sheen of your melanated skin.

On the small stage, a soulful black band filled the air with a sweet, melodic harmony, while a plus-sized black woman with rich, dark brown skin stood confidently before a gleaming silver microphone. Her hand grasped the slender stand as she swayed gently, her hips moving in time to the rhythm.

Around you, black men and black women gathered at sturdy brown tables, their laughter and spirited conversations blending seamlessly with the music.

Many held beer glasses high, some spilling a mix of hard and light liquor onto the polished brown hardwood floor, causing their shoes to click rhythmically with every animated gesture.

The moonlight poured through large windows, casting a silvery glow on their melanated skin.

Adorning the walls, pictures of joyful black couples and legendary black singers, juxtaposed with a mounted Moosehead.

She sang a sweet song of love, and having a hold on the person she talked about, it was as if she was speaking from your perspective and Stack’s.

“Don’t you know that love I had for you? Ain’t I the one the you chose? I’ve got a hold on you,” Lucinda sang sweetly, the subtle rasp in her voice.

It was as if you tried to wash away the remnants of the lustful night with Stack, you were telling yourself and him that it was a one-time thing.

But Stack couldn’t let you go, hook, line and sinker.

His touch, the way he treated you, and the passion behind his kisses lingered in your mind.

Stacks had a dangerous charm that could lead to his demise, yet he had evaded death repeatedly. He was prepared for violence, making death wary of him and Smoke.

He made it clear to you that his woman, he didn’t want any confusion on your parts but you tried to tell him at least twice since he was a pimp.

His woman, his girl. Beloved one.

“Hey there, sweetheart, can I trouble you for ‘nother drink? I’m out of liquor…need a refill, and who knows, maybe I can take you out after,” the old man called out, his voice a harsh rasp that cut through the hum of conversation.

As a bartender, you learned to navigate the unpredictable ways of the bar, where the cocktail mixing was often paired with the unwelcome advances of patrons.

Catcalls and crude remarks came with the job, like an unwanted haze. Each time, you brushed off the advances with practiced ease, reminding them, and yourself, that you were spoken for—Stack was your anchor in this chaotic sea.

The mere mention of his name usually silenced the rowdy men; his reputation was enough to keep unwanted trouble at bay. You only said his name to keep these men away from you, as far as possible.

Your face twisted up in disgust at his remark, “No, there’s a drinkin’ limit, and I’m taken. I’m Stack’s woman, Go on about your business, now,” you shot back, wiping the glass in circular motions.

“Hey! You ain’t talkin’ to me, girl? I said that I need a damn drink,” The old man yelled in a harsh tone, his voice was raspy, breath reeked of cigar smoke.

The heavy brown lumber door swung open with a creak, revealing Stack as he strode into the bar.

His crimson red tailored suit clung to his form, the confidence radiating from him. The scene shifted abruptly; bartenders paused mid-pour, patrons halted their conversations, and even the band’s melody came to an abrupt stop, replaced by a tense silence that hung in the air.

Gasps of fear rippled through the crowd, but you remained unaffected, just as the old man sitting at the corner table did.

Stack walked in like he owned the place, each step deliberate and echoing authority.

He closed the door behind him with a deliberate, eerie creak that punctuated the stillness.

With a fluid motion, he pinched the thin fabric of his fedora red hat and tipped it toward you, revealing the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

They locked onto yours with an electrifying gaze that sent a jolt through you, compelling you to look away.

But the moment was short-lived, as his focus shifted to a foolish man trying to push his way too close, igniting a flicker of irritation in Stack’s face.

Stack dashed to the bar table swiftly, his face etched possessiveness and fury. He couldn't permit any man to touch you or speak to you; just the idea of it made him seethe with rage.

Before he could touch you, his hand was yanked and twisted behind his back. A bone cracking noise fills the bar. A gut-wrenching scream left the old man's lips, and hissing in pain.

A gold grill glistened in his evil grin, “You deaf, nigga? She’s my woman,” Stack barked at him.

The old man’s eyes wide in fear, body quaking from Stack’s southern twang, and rasp in his deep voice, everyone in Mississippi feared the twin brothers and when their names were heard, they could have sworn that demons escaped from the depths of Hell.

“S-Stack?! I’m sor—“ The old man tried to apologize but Stack cuts him off immediately.

It always seemed like eveytime you were trying to move forward, Stack was pulling you back. The vicissitudes of life were always there to strike without warning, you need to get away from him.

“Now you sorry? When a man steps up but don’t a nigga ever listen to a woman? Bitch ass nigga, Back the fuck off my woman, who the hell you think you talkin’ to?” Stack yelled back, smacking the back of his head.

Stack’s hand yanked the man by the back of his collared tee shirt, pulling him back and threw on him on the brown hardwood floor with a loud thud, he grunted in a pain.

“No! Please! I ain’t mean no harm!” The old man pleaded in softened voice, holding his hands up in defense.

Stack snatched his pistol from his back pocket of his pants, switching his gun off safety as his evil grin curled upon his face. “Now you wanna beg for your lil life? When mess with her, you do!” He darkly chuckled, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Stack! You’re causin’ trouble, take that shit outside!” You called out to him, pointing to the door.

Just as you told him, he carried the old man outside to the vast forest with the other two men walking beside him, you sighed in disapproval.

You briefly spoke to your boss, as she gave you a glare, and you ran outside to see Stack aiming a gun at the old man, your breath caught in your throat.

“Tell the devil I said leave me and mines the fuck away, Satan don’t want no problems with me or my brother,” Stack declared with authority, aiming his gun toward the man.

Stack’s finger squeezed trigger twice, the gunshot echoed in the night sky as the bullets pierced his heart and skull, and blood splattered out as the men picked up the body, and cleaned up the mess. As they walked away, you approached him.

Stack turned to you with that sinful smirk of his, while you gave him an unfazed glare.

“Elias, I’m glad that his weird ass is dead, but I told you that it was one night?” you replied back, your tone calm.

Now it was his turn to remain unfazed by what you said, even though you called him by his real name which meant that you were serious. He stepped closer to you, towering over you.

“So you ain't feelin' the same way? You tellin’ me that you found ‘nother nigga that can beat up that pussy like I do? Take care of you like I do?”

Your cheeks flushed from his smooth words, and your clit pulsed in response. You tried to speak, but nothing emerged from your lips; instead, images from that night overwhelmed your thoughts, quickening your breath.

He simply took your arms and drew you in, bringing your bodies together so closely that you could sense each other's heartbeats.

“Y-you’re a pimp and I'm not one of your hoes, I'm a workin’ woman, and I don't people thinkin’ any kind of way, Elias,” You said, looking away from him.

Stacks shook his head disagreeing, dipping his head to meet your gaze and brought your face to his, “You’re mine, and I'm yours, fuck what folks say or think. You feel that? Our hearts are in sync, baby,” he whispers to you.

Your breath shudders from his voice, as your hands grip the fabric of his tailored red suit. “You fell in love with me that fast?” you asked him, looking up at him.

“It’s been damn near two weeks since that night, I don't plan on givin’ you some dick and dippin’ Y/N. I'm all in,” He replied back, sincerity in his voice.

You couldn't believe that you were falling for this man, you told yourself you wouldn't be like this. But Stack was in the same boat as you, sailing along the same ocean. You weren't alone at all.

“That slick mouth of yours is gonna get you into some trouble, sweetie. Don't you think?” You flirted playfully, smirking at him.

“If it’s you then I don't mind it, you're worth that trouble. Do you want to make up and go back to my place or yours?” he asked, smirking back.

“How about my place as always?” You spoke up, biting your lip.

Those words from you made him smile, crashing his lips into yours, you responded by kissing him back, lips latching onto his. Tongues battling for dominance, as you moaned softly. “Mmm..”

After that, he was back nestled in your cozy creaking bed. Clothes littered across the floor, the sound of lips colliding and skin-to-skin slapping filling the room, your loud moans in between.

Your back leaned back on the soft bedsheets with Stack’s hips thrusting into your pussy forcefully, as he hovered over you. “You always take dick this good?” he mewled, peppering kisses, his hands gripped your hips tight, drawing out uncontrollable moans from you. You were too busy drooling on the pillow to even remember what you were angry about, your mind was blank. “Fuckk..Elias!”

He clenched his lip, attempting to keep the sounds at bay. Flipping you onto your side, he pushed his dick in further and slapped your ass. "Don't wanna talk no shit? I told you that I'm yours…” he groaned, his eyelids closed tightly once your wet walls gripped around him. You couldn't respond back.

Elias had to be the one to remind you with every relentless stroke, his dick was coated in your cum ever so completely, and he wanted to get every drop. “Damn, tell me what you want,” he grunted, his hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you in for a kiss.

His pace quickened, and you felt the delicious friction build as he hit all the right spots. “More, please… harder,” you pleaded, your body craving more of him, more of this connection.

With a grin, he obliged as his hips snapping against yours, sending you spiraling deeper into bliss. “You’re beautiful, too good for me,” he murmured, admiration and desire lacing his words.

He was right, you were too good for him. You didn't pay much attention to his words, but you could do was moan his name. As he thrusts into you, he gripped your asscheeks to keep you still and for his dick to keep hitting that spot, your mind was hazy, tears falling from your eyes, “Elias…c-can’t take it..” you mumbled off.

The bed creaked underneath both of you with the your nails digging into his back as you felt your climax approach quickly. “I know, baby,” he reassured, his breath warm against your ear as he continued to drive into you, relentless and passionate. Something felt so right with him, why could you try to let him go?

Knots tightening in the pit of your stomach on cue, eyes rolling back. You felt him push even deeper to hit that sweet spot that made you twitch, you loved it. “Cumming!”

You came undone on his dicm without warning, your body shaking underneath him as your back arched, he followed suit by pulling out of you, releasing his thick jets of cum onto the bed sheets. “Fuck,” he groaned raspily, holding your hand gently.

After that, you slowly rose from the bed, the gentle warmth of the covers replaced by the cool air of the room.

Stack, ever attentive, offered his hand to help you up, his touch reassuring as you found your footing.

You made your way into the bathroom, where he guided you beneath the cascading water of the shower, helping you to wash away the remnants of sleep and your night together.

Once you were refreshed, you slipped into your soft purple nightgown, its fabric delicate against your skin. A yawn escaped you, You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against Stack's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin as you bid him farewell.

As he prepared for the night ahead, Stack stood before the mirror, carefully adjusting his tailored suit. He caught your gaze through the reflection, his eyes sparkling with love.

"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?" he asked, his voice steady as he met your eyes in the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of skepticism in your tone as you responded, "Like a date?"

Stacks chuckled lightly, nodding his head. "It is a date, and I want everyone to know that I belong to you, and we’re a couple,”

A warm smile spread across your face as those familiar words floated through the air, your lips gently biting in anticipation. “So, it’s a date then! But where are we headed?”

With a playful glint in his eyes, he replied, “It’s a special surprise. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Agreed! I can't wait,” you responded, your heart racing with excitement.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. As he pulled back, he tipped his hat with a charming flourish, a playful grin crossing his face.

Stepping out of your house, you watched him glide to his car, adding a playful wink as he hopped inside and revved the engine.

A pang of longing swept over both of you as he drove away, leaving you both with a sweet ache of seeing each other for the evening to come.

—————

#black!reader #black fanfiction #sinnersfanfiction #sinners fanfiction #sinners fic #michaelbaejordan #michael b jordan #black romance #black stories

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cherryxhaze · 25 days ago

Text

Indulgence of the Flesh

Remmick x Fem Reader

Summary: In your darkest hour, a figure approaches as a glimmer of hope. He is no man, but a creature, a monster, with pretty promises on his lips. Promises that do not prepare you for the pleasures of the flesh he will bestow upon you. WC: ~9.1k Tags: MDNI! 18+, plus size reader, no use of y/n, manipulation, depression, stalking, brief mention of insecurities, smut, vampire sex (claws, fangs, and all), unprotected p in v, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, remmick is a switch, sub and dom remmick, squirting, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, breeding, praise kink, possessiveness, spit/drool kink, blood drinking, and anal play (fem receiving). Notes: Please keep your kitties indoors! This is my first Remmick fic and the longest smut I've ever written. Enjoy! Shout-out to @eternalstrigoii @spikedfearn @madkingcrowley @confetti-cakemix for their help with inspiration and ideas. gif credit to @stray-cat-with-internet-access AO3 Link

You step out into the night and onto your front porch, bare feet padding along the worn wooden planks. A slight and welcomed breeze caresses your freshly clean skin, sweat and dirt from a long day of work forgotten down the drain of your shower. You wish the stream of water could’ve rid you of more than just the consequences of living in the Mississippi Delta. With each step you take toward the old porch swing that’s been a permanent fixture throughout your life, you feel the heavy tightness in your chest, the exhaustive haze clouding your mind.

You sigh deeply and close your tired eyes as you sit on the swing, the wood creaking in protest. You’re sure one day it’ll break, catch you off guard and give out under your weight, but thankfully it’s not another thing to add to your list of misfortunes for today. You stretch your legs across the bench of the swing, propping your elbow onto the back to hold up your weary head. With your eyes closed, you try to focus your senses on the late summer night around you. The constant hum of the cicadas mating calls fill your ears, mixing with the familiar symphony of chirping crickets. You feel the warm breeze brush against the bare skin left uncovered by the thin linen nightgown adorning your body. Even then, the nature around you does little to keep your mind from drifting, returning to the events of the day and the feelings that have burrowed themselves and made a home in your chest.

You feel utterly and truly alone.

It seems like life is constantly reminding you of it. The home and farm you’ve lived your whole life, once filled with life but now only contains memories of your loved ones that are long gone. A home once filled with a vibrant albeit sometimes chaotic family, now only houses a young woman, struggling to find her way in a world that seems to stack the odds against her favor.

As if on cue, you hear a gentle merp from your side, beckoning you to open your tired eyes to see the black ball of fur that is your companion, Jack.

“C’mere, boy.” You coax the feline with a small smile and a pat on your thighs, to which he eagerly obliges, already purring as he jumps onto your lap. He rubs his face and entire body against your belly and chest, marking you with his scent and seeking affection. You gather him into your arms and hold him close, inhaling his familiar scent. The feeling of his warm fur and purrs vibrating throughout his body and into yours provides you with a little bit of the comfort you seek.

“It’s been such a hard day, boy.” You murmur into his fur, your voice cracking along with your walls that struggle to hold back the emotions stewing inside. Your nails gently scratch his head as you close your eyes, feeling them begin to burn with rapidly rising tears. You’re too tired to hold them back, deciding to let them fill your waterline before streaking down your round cheeks and into Jack’s fur, though he doesn’t seem to mind it.

You let yourself sit in it. Tears flowing, mind freely drifting to the small heartaches of the day that built up to become too unbearable. Hateful hearts held behind judgemental gazes, grueling work under an oppressive heat, and a new girl on the arm of a man you thought you’d have it all with. A deep, shaky inhale flows into your lungs, nose sniffling as you gulp in an attempt to swallow some of the emotions down your throat.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Your wet eyes fly open, head shooting up from where it’d been buried in Jack’s fur at the sudden sound of a masculine voice holding a southern twang. The moonlight shines against his back, outlining the strange man’s figure.

“Ya alright?” His tone is gentle, carrying the undeniable twinge of concern. You sniffle and clear your throat as your eyes take in his figure, fixed on the edge of your front yard and taking cautious steps closer. He wears dark trousers held up by suspenders, fashioned over a clean light blue button up shirt, the top left unbuttoned where you can barely make out the glimmer of a small chain hanging over his chest.

“I’m fine.” You assert, despite the words croaking slightly from your dry throat. You straighten your spine as you watch him skeptically. “Who are you, exactly?” You challenge with narrowed eyes, mentally questioning how quickly you could run into the house and grab the stashed away shotgun if needed. It isn’t often people randomly roam along this gravel road at night, let alone knowing what intentions the ones that do may carry.

“Aw I’m sorry, Darlin’. Where are my manners? I’m Remmick.” The words drip from his tongue like molasses, slow, heavy, and warm. You watch as he raises his hands placatingly, palms facing you. He’s close enough now for the porch light to cast a faint, warm glow over him. Dark strands of hair hang over his forehead, curling at the ends. With a better view of him, you notice he’s quite handsome.

Suddenly, Jack jumps off your lap with a high-pitched, inquisitive meow, scurrying across the porch, down the steps and right to Remmick’s feet. Your lips part, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you watch your skittish cat rub against the stranger’s legs, meowing and gazing up at him. The very same cat that runs and hides on the rare occasion new people come around.

Remmick looks down at the cat, shadows of the night hiding the smirk on his lips as he watches Jack sniff him, searching for the familiar scent of fish. No doubt expecting his recurring treat Remmick has been sneaking to him in the dead of night to gain his trust, and eventually yours when he finally decided to make his move on you.

No fish tonight, boy. Remmick chuckles softly to himself as he bends down to pet the feline on his head. Jack accepts the pets with each, but once he realizes that Remmick has arrived tonight empty handed, he turns away and prances off into the dark. Remmick straightens back up and when his eyes fall to you and take in your surprised expression, a prideful satisfaction fills him. Numerous nights while you slept, he spent gathering small fish, coaxing Jack to come closer and closer until he readily ran up to him, and it paid off. Your shoulders are less tense, your gaze isn’t so harsh, and just as predicted, your defenses have lowered. He’s sure his charms can handle the rest.

Your eyes follow Jack until his body disappears into the dark of the night, then settles back onto the strange but handsome man who seems to be the only person to make an instantaneous friendship with your wary feline. Remmick’s hands have moved to settle in his pockets, his eyes and smile soft and warm as he looks up at you.

“Do ya always wander around in the dark and startle people, Remmick?” You question him with the faintest hint of humor lacing your words, cocking an eyebrow as you cross your arms over your stomach.

“Well that certainly wasn’t my intention, miss. You see, I just moved to the area, down the road a ways. And well, I like walkin’, and I like the night. ‘S quiet, peaceful.” He explains with ease, slowly stepping closer and closer to the porch where you sit. “Just happened to be passin’ by when I noticed ya. You seemed upset… Sure you’re alright, darlin’?” He asks again, concern etched across his face as he leans against the stair railing of your porch.

You can’t recall seeing or hearing about any of your distant neighbors moving, but then again you tend to keep to yourself anyway. Surely you’d just missed any news of a new person in town. You find your body relaxing a bit, easing back against the swing as everything about him seems to disarm you. You shake your head, sharply exhaling through your nostrils, the trails of tears on your cheeks already dried.

“I’m fine. Nothin’ I’d want to burden a stranger with anyway.”

“Well considerin’ we’ve already introduced ourselves, technically speakin’ we’re not quite strangers anymore, are we?” He flashes you a warm and charming smile, noticing the way you’ve already relaxed to his presence so quickly. “Besides, who better to talk to ‘bout yer problems than someone uninvolved, yeah?”

He cocks his head to the side, tempting you to let him in. To divulge your pain and worries to this handsome man you barely know that stumbled onto your property in your time of despair. A brief silence hangs between you as you contemplate the repercussions of such, eyeing him standing at the bottom of the porch steps as his own gaze at you with nothing but tenderness. It’s been a long time since anyone looked at you like that, let alone offered to do something as selfless as listen to your problems.

“May I?” He nods toward the space on the swing that your legs currently occupy, requesting to join you.

You briefly consider him before sighing, wordlessly moving your legs to free a spot for him. He smiles and ascends the porch, his movements confident and at ease as he approaches and sits next to you, making the swing sway back slightly. His arm stretches out to rest along the back of the bench, fingers mere inches from the bare skin of your shoulder. Every nerve ending in your body stands at attention with him now so close, in your space. His scent invades your nostrils, earthy with the faintest hint of cologne that’s faded throughout the day.

“Now, what’s got you so upset, darlin’?” His voice is low and honeyed, you can practically feel it reverberate through his chest and into yours. You shift and let your eyes flutter down to your lap, unsure of how to handle the sudden intensity of his undivided attention. You ponder just how much you should say. While part of you is begging to unburden yourself and release the pent up despair inside of you, the other is wary of revealing too much to a stranger, formality of introductions aside.

“A collection of things over time, really. Buildin’ up. Today was just the cherry on top, I suppose.” You finally answer, glancing back up to catch the way his brows furrow and head leans closer, waiting for more.

More of everything. Of you. Not just the heartaches that plague your mind. Your essence, your joys and sorrows, your pleasure and pain, your soul and entire being. There’s only so much he can learn from observing you these last few weeks. He wants it all. His fingers twitch with resistance, lingering so close to your exposed skin that he’d barely have to move an inch to touch you. To finally be so close to you, within grasp, has his whole body buzzing and coiled tight. He can’t, he won’t squander it.

“I saw my, uh…” You pause, taking a deep inhale as you search for the right words to say. He certainly wasn’t a boyfriend, no, his intentions were far too shallow and brief for such a title. “My ex-lover today. Out around town, with a new girl on his arm.” Prettier. Skinnier. Wealthier. In public. You leave the rest unspoken, the comparisons you’ve made on impulse.

You can’t help but shake your head at yourself, feeling silly for letting a man so unworthy hold power over you. But ever since you saw the new couple together, images from that night a few months ago pass through your head. The private flirtations that led to a meager, unsatisfactory act of sex. The other side of your bed left empty the next morning. The cold shoulder, diverted glances, and radio silence ever since. The unfulfilled promises of something more, of love, of family, of belonging.

“It’s not that I love him or miss him for that matter, it’s just…” Your voice trails off, gaze cast out into the expansive dark openness of the fields around your home, the occasional flicker of a warm yellow glow from lightning bugs catching your eye. It’s a welcomed sight filled with a nostalgic comfort that reminds you of childhood, but does little to dispel the heaviness that’s settled in your chest.

“Wonderin’ why you weren’t good enough? If you’ll ever have what your heart desires?” He sucks his teeth, shaking his head with a sigh. “That’s a real hurtin’ feeling, darlin’. Yeah…” Your gaze immediately snaps back to his, caught off guard by how truly and easily his words speak to your pain.

“A feelin’ a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to hold.”

“You’re too kind.” You exhale a dismissive scoff, even as the corners of your lips curve up into a smile. He’s merely being kind, chivalrous, responding in the way anyone who’d want to make a good impression would.

But he doesn’t brush it off and move on, he pushes further.

“Naw. I mean it, sugar. You’re beautiful. Ain’t your fault he couldn’t appreciate what was right in front of ‘im.” His voice holds no humor, his eyes intense and serious. You could almost swear there’s a flicker of longing in their dark depths, but you dismiss that too.

“But I can. I can save you from this pain in your heart, your mind.” He shifts, his upper body leaning closer toward you.

You go still, surprised by his forwardness and the implications of his words, his body and touch drawing nearer. Your brows furrow, scrunching together in skepticism before a short chuckle slips past your lips.

“Is that so? And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I can give you what you need. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Acceptance, Love, Fellowship… A family.”

You’re sure you must be dreaming or at the least your sanity has finally cracked. A man you met no more than 10 minutes ago offering you all of your heart’s desires. There’s a little voice in the back of your head telling you that something is off, that this isn’t normal. Danger is creeping in like a dark fog, spreading tendrils reaching out to grasp and pull you in. His presence and words are captivating, damn near intoxicating, and you find yourself caught between needing to run away and lean into him.

“You don’t even know me.” Is all you can muster saying. Pointing out the obvious, glaring flaw to such a proclamation as outlandish as his.

“Oh, but I do. You were callin’ out to me, lurin’ me here. Your soul singin’ a sad, yearnin’ song I know too well. See, I’ve been watchin’ you…” He can’t hold himself back any longer and closes the scant distance between his hand and your body, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder and working up toward your neck with a slow, teasing caress. Your breath catches in your throat, his touch awakening every nerve with a warm tingle that cascades down your body.

“I know you better than he ever did,” He spits the word out as if it burns his tongue, flames of jealousy blazing at the thought of another man touching you, let alone not appreciating the gift of it. “better than anyone in this town does.”

“I…I don’t even know you.” Your voice grows less confident and weaker with your resolve as his pull becomes stronger. You wet your lips, gulping down your dry throat, chest rising and falling with each breath that comes heavier.

“We are the same, darlin’. In here.” He lifts his other hand, placing his palm gently over your heart. He feels it pound against his palm, chipping away at his rapidly declining control over himself. “And when we merge as one and come together, you’ll know everything there is to know about me. But for now…”

His eyes follow the movement of his fingers, trailing from over your heart to the middle of your chest, sliding down the exposed skin of your sternum. He watches with satisfaction as goosebumps rise along your skin in the trail of his touch, the way your breaths hitch and quicken. “I’m from another place and another time. Everything I’ve done, everywhere I’ve been, it’s led me here… to you.”

His hand falls to your knee, creeping up the bare skin of your thick thighs left uncovered by your nightgown. Finally feeling your warm, plush flesh beneath his hand hits him like a wave, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut with a choked, muffled groan. You feel his soft grip, his fingers growing longer around your flesh as he loses his last bit of restraint, nails like claws subtly digging into your skin. When he opens his eyes to meet yours, they’re no longer dark from the shadows of the night, but glowing red.

You suck in a breath that catches in your throat at the sight of his mask finally slipping. He is no man, but a creature of some sort. A creature that’s looking at you as if it wants to devour you and savor every bite.

And you just might let him.

“What do ya say, sugar? You gon’ let me make ya mine?” You spot the sharp ends of fangs peek out from behind his lips as he murmurs the question, drool slipping past them and down his chin. His fingers squeeze into the meat of your thigh, massaging the flesh and slowly creeping higher. The unmistakable feeling of arousal courses through your body, pulsing between your thighs that you can’t stop yourself from parting slightly.

That little voice in the back of your head warning you of danger begins to fade until it’s completely snuffed out, overtaken by longing and desire. Maybe if you weren’t so tired, if you weren’t so lonely and teetering on the edge of hopelessness, you’d have the right mind to listen to that voice. To be frightened and run into the safety of your home screaming. To feel shame for the way your body is responding to him. To see this as a trap, as a serpent tempting you with forbidden fruit.

But you’re just reckless enough not to care, and he knows it. After all, what do you have left to lose… except your soul.

Your eyes lock onto the drool dripping down his chin and your own mouth salivates at the sight. You don’t answer him with words, but with your body as you lean closer toward him to close the distance. He closes his eyes expecting for his lips to meet yours, only to press against your cheek. Your tongue darts out, slowly dragging up his chin to the corner of his mouth, collecting the drool on your tongue and swallowing it deep.

You feel a shudder run through his body, a rumbling groan that almost sounds like a whimper escaping his parted lips. He turns his head toward you, red eyes smoldering with unbridled desire. A beat passes before his hand moves from your shoulder to thread his claws into your hair at the base of your skull and his lips crash against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. His mouth muffles your soft gasp, but you return the kiss with equal desire. Your hands reach out and grasp onto him, fisting the fabric of his shirt and holding onto his neck.

He hitches your leg over his, spreading your thighs wide as his tongue parts your lips, delving in to explore the depths of your mouth. Your moans as your tongue meets his pushes him farther, hand sliding higher up your high to feel the heat radiating off your core. Your tongues lick and lap at each other, swirling around in feverish, filthy dance. Your hips buck with a whimper when his hand slides beneath your gown to cup your bare, wet heat. A growl rumbles in his chest, a single digit gliding through and parting your wet folds before settling on your clit.

“So wet for me already, baby.” He rasps against your lips with the subtlest hint of condescension in his tone, but it only makes your pussy throb and clench, squeezing around nothing and aching to be filled. The rough pad of his finger begins to circle your clit slowly, working you up even more with every pass over the sensitive nub.

He revels in the way your body responds to him so eagerly, the way your hips chase his touch, coaxing him to press harder and move faster, the way your pussy grows slicker with each passing second, coating his claws in your arousal. His mouth eagerly swallows every moan and whimper his touch pulls from you, every pretty, wrecked sound making his cock grow harder and strain against his pants.

Remmick pulls his lips from yours, needing to taste and explore more of you, needing to hear your moans unstifled from his mouth. Your name escapes his lips like a desperate prayer as his lips move along your jawline, pressing a trail of open mouthed kisses toward the tender skin of your neck.

His tongue slips out to lick a long stripe from the base of your neck to your ear that sends a shiver down your spine, making it arch and pressing your chest harder against his. Your body trembles against him, head swimming with the pleasure of his mouth and fingers working you with ease.

“Invite me inside, darlin’. Need to worship you proper.” His voice is utterly wrecked and desperate as he practically begs for entry, his breath fanning against your neck with heavy pants. He could take you right here and now on the porch, but he wants to do this right. To worship every inch of you, to pull every bit of pleasure he can from your body in the comfort of your bed. That, and he needs to hear you verbalize what your body is already telling him, that you need him.

You nod eagerly without hesitation, your ears barely registering the creaking protests of the worn wooden swing with every grind of your pussy against his fingers. Surely it wouldn’t survive if things moved farther.

“Yes, Remmick. Come inside.” Your voice is a wavering, pathetic plea, but you’re already too far gone to care.

He wastes no time in scooping you into his arms and rising to his feet, encouraging your legs to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the ease and speed at which he lifts and carries you with an unexpected strength, sending a thrill through you. His shoes thump along the wooden planks of the porch, swinging the screen door open to freely step inside your home and hearing it slam shut behind you. All the while his mouth never leaves your neck, kissing and sucking, marking the sensitive skin as his. His sharp teeth grazes you almost teasingly, but never digs in hard enough to break skin. Not yet.

Remmick moves throughout your home, following the path to the bedroom as if he’s done it numerous times before. He knows where it is, he’s spent enough nights peering through your window to admire your sleeping form, fantasizing about all the things he’s about to do to you. Remmick lets your bodies fall onto the bed, his own pinning yours down against the sheets as his mouth finds yours again, lips and tongues clashing in a sloppy, wet kiss fueled by uninhibited desire.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock pressed firmly against your core, rocking your hips to seek friction, rubbing your slick folds against his straining bulge. His hands work their way up your thighs, claws catching on your gown as they glide over your curves. His touch is reverent, savoring the feeling of you beneath him and memorizing every inch.

He pulls away from your lips with a groan, chest heaving with ragged breaths as he sits up and takes a moment to admire your disheveled state beneath him. Warm and flushed skin, kiss swollen lips, the marks that are already forming on your neck, the outline of your hard nipples. His eyes rake down your body, hands caressing your thighs before grabbing onto the hem of your gown.

“Gotta taste you, sugar.” His voice is husky and strained through heavy breaths, red eyes locked onto your core as he pushes your dress up. The sight of your soaked folds draws a choked moan from his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips, more drool pooling in his mouth. His hands continue to push your gown up, revealing more and more of your skin. Just as the fabric begins to push over the soft swell of your belly, a wave of shyness crashes over you and your hands grab onto his, stalling his movements.

“Wait-” You blurt out breathlessly, a confusing mix of nervousness and arousal coursing through you. Past experiences and hurt from others come to the forefront of your mind, clouding your judgement even farther. Assuming this man, creature, whatever he is- that has pursued you so diligently could be dismayed by your bare body.

“Naw, baby…” He shakes his head side to side as his eyes flash up to yours, his gaze intense and eyes glowing in the full moonlight shining into the bedroom. “Don’t hide from me.”

He looks back down to where your hands have stilled his over your hips and pushes past them, continuing to expose more and more of your naked form. You watch, captivated as his body sinks between your parted legs, stretching out across the length of the bed. His eyes flutter closed and his lips follow the path of his hands, kissing and licking your newly exposed skin.

“You’re a goddess…” His voice rumbles, muffled by your flesh as he kisses the stretch marks etched onto your stomach. You let out a sharp, shuddering exhale, overwhelmed by such attention and praise toward your ‘flaws’. His tongue drags along your sternum, your nipples perking as he exposes them to the light breeze filtering through the open window. His eyes flutter open to meet yours, half-lidded, “Told you I was gon’ worship ya, and I meant it.”

His mouth latches onto one of your nipples with a nearly pathetic, whimpering exhale, tongue lapping at the hard nub as he suckles onto it. The stimulation makes your back arch off the bed, gasping “Ohhh!” as your fingers thread into his hair. He lavishes your nipples with attention, flicking his tongue, swirling it around and sucking hard, sending sparks of pleasure through your body and down to your pussy, making your clit throb with need. You force your eyes open to look down and watch as he feasts on your flesh, the sight alone almost as arousing as the physical pleasure he’s bringing you.

Remmick’s glowing red eyes flicker open to lock onto yours and he bares his mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth. You gasp, grip tightening on his hair as his teeth close in around your pebbled nipple, biting just gently enough to tease you. You should be repulsed and frightened by the sight, but you only feel a sick thrill from the sight and your folds grow slicker. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat at your reaction, taking joy in the effect he has on you before he soothes the sting with his tongue and moves to give the same attention to your other breast.

“Feels so good!” You whimper as a shudder runs through your body, thick thighs tightening around his hips. The sweet sounds he’s pulling from you chips away at his patience, making him needier for more. He pulls away from your breast with a wet pop and a grunt. His saliva covers your nipples, making them harden as the night air turns cool against the sensitive skin.

He begins to descend down your body with a trail of open mouthed kisses, hurried and desperate until his face hovers above your core. One claw slides up the back of your thigh, hooking around the back of your knee and pushing it back toward the bed. A thick rope of drool slips past his bottom lip as he watches your soaking wet folds part for him, the needy way your entrance clenches around nothing and he sees you’re just as desperate for him.

“So wet and ready for me… so perfect.” He rasps, low and ragged before he dives in, his tongue flat as it slowly licks up through your pussy, collecting your essence on his tongue.

“Fuck!” You gasp softly, back arching with a flick of his tongue against your clit. His tongue curls, diving into your fluttering hole. He’s messy and hungry, burying his face into your cunt like a man on a mission, lapping up every drop of your juices.

You expect him to just give you a few chaste licks before moving on and shoving himself inside you, but it’s clear he’s not going anywhere just yet. His arms slide under your legs and clasp over your stomach, holding you against the mattress as he eats your pussy like a starving man digging into a full feast laid out before him.

“Oh… this is the closest I’ll ever be to the gods. Right here between your thighs, darlin’.” He murmurs against you, guttural and strained. His tongue moves from your entrance to focus on your sensitive clit, alternating between circling and flicking his tongue against it. He watches the way you react, the way your thick thighs begin to close in around his head, the way your hips jerk when he sucks the bud between his lips.

“Remmick… fuck, yes!” You cry out as his cheeks hollow with a hard suck, your thighs trembling, toes curling, and fingers tightening their grip on his hair. The sounds of his slurping and suckling meet your ears as the spikes of ecstasy radiate throughout your body. You never knew a man’s mouth could feel this good, could fill you with so much bliss that you can’t focus on anything else but him, devouring you as if he knows your pussy better than you do.

Your hips rock against his mouth as he sucks and licks, chasing the rapidly building pleasure in your core. Remmick’s hands slide up your stomach to find your breasts, long claws tweaking and tugging your nipples, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

“Oh god.- ’m gonna cum!” You whine as you feel yourself barreling toward the edge, your breaths coming in short and fast. You’re a writhing mess beneath him as he rocks his own hips to seek friction, grinding his clothed erection against the mattress, precum staining his pants. He only answers you with a groan that vibrates through your core, too focused on sending you to your climax to even dare speak.

Your body begins to tighten and tense, your grip on his hair stinging as you reach your climax before it crashes over you like a tidal wave. A string of high-pitched moans fall from your parted lips, your limbs shaking as ecstasy courses through you, your hips stuttering and jerking against his mouth that doesn’t let up in its assault on your tender clit. He moans against you, watching as you come undone because of him with a deep satisfaction. Your juices begin to soak his chin and as your body starts to relax from the intense climax, his tongue slides down to lap it up eagerly like a reward, like melting soft serve dripping down an ice cream cone.

“You… are… perfect.” He declares through a hoarse and strained voice, drunk off your essence and body, but the look in his glowing eyes and the way he sits up to rip off his clothes tells you he’s nowhere near satiated.

Your half-lidded eyes follow his movements, the suspenders falling from his shoulders, the claws that rip open his shirt, buttons carelessly flying across the wooden floor, his belt quickly following. You try to keep up, pulling your gown that’s bunched up near your neck over your head and discarded onto the floor before he is back on you.

Remmick’s mouth crashes onto yours, tongue delving in and forcing you to taste yourself from him, and god does it turn you on. The waning bliss from your orgasm rekindles into arousal, still yearning for more of him, all that he’ll give you, more of the same pleasure no other man has been able to draw from your willing body.

He pushes his pants down past his hips, kicking them off before his arms slide underneath you, hands wrapping around your waist. Without parting from your lips, he hoists you into the air and flips you over with a speed that knocks the air from your lungs. When your mind catches up, you realize you’ve switched places and recognize the feeling of his bare cock nestled between your folds. A shiver of anticipation travels down your spine, coaxing your hips to rock back and forth.

A breathy gasp slips past your lips as his tip rubs against your clit, still sensitive from your orgasm. Your hands fall to Remmick’s chest to support yourself as his rub up and down your sides, kneading the supple flesh along your thighs, hips and ass. His sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes locked on the way his cock slides through your slick lips.

“Go on and ride me, sugar. Want you to take it all out on me.” The glowing red orbs finally meet yours as his hands settle on your hips, grip tightening slightly and long nails digging into the meat of your ass. He doesn’t need to elaborate or explain, you understand instantly and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. All the pain and sorrow that’s plagued your days, he wants to be your method of release and freedom from it all. “Take what you need from me.” He adds on breathily, nodding in encouragement as his own hips rock up against you, leaking tip nudging against your sore bundle of nerves again.

You move one of your hands from his chest, sliding down his body to wrap around his cock, slick with your juices and his pre-cum. He’s thick and girthy, long enough to kiss your cervix when it’s buried deep and your pussy clenches in anticipation. You lift your hips off his enough to stand his cock up below you and line his tip with your entrance.

You inhale sharply, eyes closing and mouth falling open as you slowly sink down onto him, his swollen tip breaching your entrance. He grits his sharp teeth, sucking in a shaky breath through them. His head falls back against the pillow and a long, drawn out groan lifts from his throat as you sink further down onto him, inch by painstaking inch. He feels your warm, wet walls fluttering and squeezing around his thick girth and it takes everything in him not to thrust up and fully sheath himself inside you.

But you’re soaking up every second of it, giving your cunt the time to adjust and take him in. Your walls throb with a delicious ache as they stretch around him, accommodating his size. It makes you feel like it’s your first time all over again, but so so much better.

“So big-” you whimper breathlessly, hands gripping onto his chest.

“That’s it. Take it all, baby.” His raspy praise hits your ears like smooth honey as you fully seat yourself on him, hips flush against each other and his cock buried deep.

You take a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you so full before you begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding on his cock.

“Oh… Oohhh, yes!” You cry out softly, letting your head fall back. Your hips move on their own accord, chasing the building pleasure in your core. His hands remain on your hips, guiding you as you ride him, the patch of hair at the base rubbing deliciously against your clit.

Remmick struggles to keep his eyes open as you lose yourself, but he fights the urge to close them completely. The sight of you on top of him, filthy sounds falling from your open mouth, tits bouncing with each roll of your hips, lost in bliss from his cock, is far too good to miss.

“Shit, look at you. That’s my girl.” He pants, watching you with a mix of awe and hunger. His fingers dig into the fat of your ass, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip as he rocks his own hips up to meet the roll of yours- urging more pretty moans to fall from your lips, losing himself in the feel of your gummy walls wrapped around him so tight.

His praise only encourages your movements, rolling and rocking your hips harder and faster. The bed begins to squeak beneath you, nails gently digging into the flesh of his chest. In the chase of your high, you shift off of your knees and to your feet in a squat, earning a strangled groan from Remmick. The change makes your walls grip him even tighter, and eases your movements as you begin to bounce on his shaft.

Your palms are flat against his chest to support yourself, breasts bouncing, and your ass smacking against his heavy balls. The feeling of his cock gliding through your walls is heavenly, knocking the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Fuuuuck… love the way you ride me, baby.” Remmick groans deeply, his southern accent faltering slightly to introduce an unfamiliar melodic tilt, his native Irish brogue breaking though as he succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure of your body. His thick neck flexes as his head falls back against the pillow, lips parting to release short pants and moans, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight.

He’s losing his grip on himself, pleasure rapidly building in his balls with each bounce. You just feel too goddamn good, making him feel the best he’s felt in centuries.

So soft. So warm. So wet. So tight.

“Shit. Stop, sugar…Stop.” He mutters through clenching teeth, the sound nearly pathetic. His grip tightens almost painfully on your hips, stilling your movements.

Your heart drops as a wave of insecurity flashes through your mind. Were you not doing a good job? Did you do something wrong? That is until you look down at him and his tense state. The veins in his neck protrude and pulse, shaky deep inhales through his nostrils. With pleasure still buzzing inside you, your walls squeeze around him unintentionally, drawing a rough whimper from his throat.

“Don’t do that.” He begs with a rasp, low and breathy, his grip tightening even more as if he could stop the sensation. A slow grin begins to spread across your lips and you squeeze around him again, soaking up his reaction. His eyes squeeze shut tighter and a short grunt passes through his clenched teeth.

“Why not, baby? Don’t you like it?” Your voice is teasing, sickly sweet honey dripping over him. He growls in response, but it’s weak, not holding the threatening power it usually would. A thrill buzzes up your spine, power and confidence thrumming through your bones. To have such power over this man, this creature, for your pussy to reduce him to a pathetic mess begging not to bust too quickly. You could oblige him, give him a breather to collect himself to last a little longer, but where’s the fun in that?

You don’t hold back as you continue to squeeze him, warm and wet walls pulsing rhythmically around his thick girth like a heartbeat, your pussy trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He flinches and tenses, lips parting and mouth falling open with a strangled call of your name before a drawn out groan as he climaxes. You moan in return, feeling Remmick’s cum explode and fill you up, leaking out to mix with your own slick at the base of his cock.

You observe him with satisfaction as his climax flows through his body, the changes in his expression, the heaving of his chest, those beautiful sounds from his lips that make you pulse around him once more. Your teeth sink into the fat of your bottom lip in a futile attempt to stifle your wide, shit-eating grin, but as Remmick’s breathing evens out and his eyes slowly flutter open, he sees it. His brows furrow, claws digging into the flesh of your ass as something like determination builds in his chest.

“Think that’s funny, do ye?” He questions with a heavy exhale, Irish accent flowing through as his eyes squint, studying you.

“Not at all. I found it quite cute, actually.” You retort, giddy energy pulsing through your body as your hands caress over his bare chest reassuringly.

“Cute, aye?” He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. You can’t help but giggle innocently in response, drawing a rumble from his throat. “Oh, you’re goin’ get it now.”

His threat sends a tingling shiver down your spine, turning into heat at the base that spreads through your core. He pulls a hand away from your ass before it lands back down onto the flesh with a resounding smack, a sting spreading across the tender skin. A choked moan bursts from your throat as the pain mingles with pleasure, his hand rubbing and soothing reddening skin.

He shifts, maneuvering your body with a dizzying speed and strength, pushing you off of him and onto the mattress on all fours. Behind you, both of Remmick’s hands grip the meat of your ass, kneading and groping the flesh as his still erect cock rests between your spread cheeks.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout having you like this for a long time, darlin’. Bent over, this perfect ass in the air, achin’ for me.” Another resounding smack punctuates his words, making your body jerk before you push yourself back against him, willing and eager for all that he’ll give you. His eyes are fixed to the way your flesh jiggles with the smack, one hand continuing its caress while the other smooths up your spine, guiding you to arch into him.

Remmick’s hand leaves your ass to wrap around the base of his cock. He pulls back enough to see the way his cum drips from your cunt. His tip nudges your clit before slowly sliding through your folds, collecting his seed to stuff back into your pussy with a hard thrust. You exhale a high-pitched moan, your chest pressing down against the mattress and fingers curling to grip onto the sheets. Your pussy missed the full, stretched feeling of him in the short time of absence, gummy walls eagerly welcoming him back in with a warm grip.

His thrusts start slow and deep, tip nudging your cervix before he pulls out to push back in again. You feel his lips along your spine, pressing a trail of reverent kisses up your shoulder. His bare chest presses against your back, breath fanning over your ear, hand sliding to softly wrap around your throat in a possessive motion. His speed picks up and hips shift to angle his cock, hitting an undiscovered spot along your walls that makes you gasp and cry out, an intense pleasure blooming and radiating throughout your core.

“Oh god, yes!” A choked moan rises from your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails scratching against the cotton sheets.

“Yeah… Not so smug now are ye?” He taunts through heavy breaths, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Fuck, this pussy was made for my cock.”

Goosebumps spread all over your skin with his words, everything about him taking over your senses and making your head swim. His teasing yet praising words, his skin against yours, his southern twang mixing with an Irish brogue, his long thick cock plunging into your throbbing walls relentlessly.

One claw remains wrapped around your throat as Remmick leans back to get a better view of you. He moans at the sight of your ass jiggling and bouncing off his hips, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your wet folds. His eyes zero in on your puckered hole presented so eagerly to him. He bites his bottom lip as a grin spreads across them, sliding his free hand down your back until it rests on the jiggling flesh of your ass. His pad of his thumb brushes over the puckered, unused hole before pressing against it firmly, rubbing circles into it.

“Remmick!” The action earns a gasp and wrecked whimper from your lips, your pussy gripping him tight. You have a white knuckle grip on the sheets below you, the foreign sensations and newfound pleasures are almost too much to bear.

Remmick groans at the feeling of you gripping him even tighter before letting out a low, amused chuckle. “Oh, you like that, don’t chu? Filthy girl.” He chastises teasingly, continuing to thrust against the spongy spot in your walls and prod your tight little asshole.

“Oh fuck, yes! Yes!” A string of unrestrained and desperate cries of pleasure fall from your parted lips, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. A symphony of filthy sounds fill the bedroom and your ears; your combined moans, the headboard repeatedly hitting the wall, the wet slapping of your flesh.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, baby? Give it to me.” Remmick demands, after already making you cum on his tongue he needs to feel you unravel on his cock like his lungs need air.

The building pressure in your core erupts into an intense wave of pure ecstasy, hitting you like a freight train. A choked scream rises from your throat and your body tenses, jerking and trembling as you ride out your climax. Remmick watches as your pussy gushes around him, walls squeezing him with a vice grip and juices squirting against the base of his cock, dripping down his balls and onto the sheets below. He moans at the sight and feeling of you coming undone, reaching new heights of pleasure because of him. He swears he’s never seen anything more erotic or beautiful in his life.

Remmick releases his hold on your throat, letting your head fall and slump against the mattress. His hand soothes up and down your back as the last waves of your orgasm begin to fizzle out, leaving your body limp and panting heavily. “Good girl.” He praises with a soft whisper, earning a faint whimper from you. He slowly pulls his drenched cock from your pussy, marveling at the mess you’ve made.

Gently, he grabs your hip and rolls you onto your back to face him. Your eyes are closed, a small blissful smile on your lips, and your chest rises and falls with each attempt to catch your breath. He leans over you from between your thighs, kissing along your jawline before his lips meet yours. You sigh happily, kissing him back slow and deep. It’s not rushed and full of hunger like earlier. Though a hunger still remains, this kiss feels more affectionate and sensual. Your fingers thread into his messy hair as your tongues swirl lazily.

Remmick presses a deep kiss against your lips before he pulls back, just enough to let his eyes soak in your features. “You look so beautiful like this… all drunk on my cock.”

Your soft giggle turns into a breathy sigh as his lips return to your skin, kissing along the other side of your jaw and down to your neck. He can feel the blood coursing through your veins, the pulsing of your heartbeat against his lips.

“But I ain’t done with ya yet.” His voice grows deeper, rumbling against your throat. His still hard and throbbing cock slides through your soaking folds, making your hips jerk slightly and reigniting the fire of desire in your core. “Think you can give me one more? Just one more, baby.”

You whimper softly in response. You know he’s not really asking, he’s telling you. Even if you don’t think you can, you don’t doubt he has the power to pull another earth-shattering orgasm from your cunt. He’s already done what no other man could, giving you more intense orgasms than you’ve even been able to give yourself. But he needs to hear you say it, needs to hear how wrecked he’s already made you and the desperation for more in your voice.

“Okay.” You nod weakly, gulping as you feel his tongue and teeth pressing against your neck. Your voice is soft and breathy, strained from the sounds he’s already pulled from you. “Yes. Please.”

Remmick groans in approval, inhaling your scent and the ever so tempting allure of your blood with a shudder. His dick slides through your combined juices once more, soaking up your little gasps as he rubs against your bundle of nerves. He notches the tip at your entrance before sinking himself to the hilt with a deep groan. The way your body responds to him, opens up and welcomes him so eagerly, wraps around him so snuggly, he’s not sure he ever wants to leave the bliss of your touch.

“So good for me…” He purrs against your ear, thrusting with long and deep strokes. Your hands travel to his back, gripping onto the sweat slick skin as your walls flutter and tingle around him. Thick thighs wrapped around his hips, you hook your ankles together over his ass, encouraging him to go as deep as he can. You know you’ll always crave this, that you’ll never get enough of him stretching your walls to the brink, of fucking you so deep and hard you swear you can feel him in your guts.

“This pussy belongs to me.” Remmick rasps as he picks up the pace, pistoning into you harder and faster. “All mine.” His breath tickles your ear, his possessive words making your cunt squeeze around him in agreement.

“All yours.” You echo his sentiment with a moan, stating what you both already know to be true.

Your words align with what your body has already told him, spurring on his desire to feel you unravel beneath him once more.

“Forever.”

A claw gently scratches down your chest and stomach to where your bodies are joined. The wet squelch of your cunt taking him over and over again is a filthy sound, making his cock throb inside you. The rough pad of his thumb finds your clit as his palm presses down on the fat of your mons, forcing his shaft to rub against your g spot with every stroke.

“Ohhh, fuck! Remmick!” You let out a shuddering cry at the feeling, your walls clenching around him from the added stimulation. The sensations are overwhelming, almost cruel, and he grunts at the feeling of your nails digging into his back. He wants your marks on his skin, just as his will soon decorate yours.

“Goddamn… ‘m gonna breed this perfect little pussy. Yer gonna be leakin’ me for days.” He can already feel you teetering on the edge, the pressure in his heavy balls rising as they smack against your ass. “Would you like that, baby? Tell me.” He demands breathlessly as he free hand grips onto the sheets by your head, claws digging in and starting to tear the fabric.

“Fuck, yes! Please. Please. I need it!” You beg through whimpers and cries of pleasure as you feel yourself beginning to lose your grip, his thumb circling your clit and cock abusing your spongy spot sends you barreling toward the edge of bliss.

Remmick feels the telltale signs of your climax approaching, your body beginning to tense and tremble, the grip of your hands and legs tightening around him. Just as a strained sob leaves your throat and your juices begin to flood his cock, he growls. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he bares his sharp, jagged teeth and sinks them into the tender flesh of your neck. A guttural moan rumbles in his chest as your warm, coppery blood fills his mouth. His eyes roll back at the taste, at his full consumption of you. He doesn’t bite with the intent to kill and turn you, not yet, he just needs a taste. For now.

Your back arches off the bed as his teeth sink into you, making your orgasm crash over you like a tidal wave. A choked scream is ripped from your throat, but it’s not a scream of fear or pain, but of ecstasy as the feeling of his teeth and mouth sucking your blood mingles with pure, unbridled ecstasy. Your nails scratch down his back, leaving red lines along his pale skin.

He stills his thrusts, holding his dick as deep inside you as he can go. Your cunt clamps down and spasms wildly around his shaft, gripping almost painfully and milking him for more of his seed to fill and seep into your womb. A deep moan of absolute rapture leaves your lips as you feel the warmth of his cum explode inside you. Your vision blurs and is overtaken with stars as a dull ringing fills your ears, drowning out the sounds around you.

You’re so out of it and lost in the throes of pleasure that you don’t register when his teeth leave your neck, tongue gliding over and soothing your new wound, licking up the last drops of blood.

“We were meant to find each other, darlin’.” He groans reverently against your neck, panting heavily as the last waves of his climax pass through his body and throbbing cock. The feeling of his lips peppering your skin with kisses begins to pull you from the haze in your swimming head. Your heart pounds against your chest and your tired eyes flutter open to peer at him.

Remmick presses a soft but passionate kiss to your lips, the taste of your blood seeping onto your tongue. He’s unable to remember the last time he’s felt this content, this right. The weight and pain of his own past and loneliness no longer weighs so heavily on his shoulders.

When your lips part, he sighs deeply as his eyes memorize every feature of your face, fingers brushing away the sweat slick strands of hair clinging to your skin.

“I’m not gonna change you just yet. No…” He mutters more to himself than to you, in your fucked out state. Your brows furrow slightly in confusion just as a small smirk tugs at the side of his lips. “Wanna see if my seed takes root first, then we can have ourselves a real family.”

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-harmonytbh · 2 months ago

Text

the wayward kind still love deep

summary: Smoke returns to the Delta after years of war and silence, he seeks the woman he never stopped loving, but the past, both sweet and bitter, won’t let them move on without a fight. (angst, longing)

pairing: smoke x black plus sized!reader, platonic!stack x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of war, sexual tension and suggestive content.

author's note: wow, I was not expecting all the positive feedback lol thank you to everyone who took the time to read, and I hope y’all like this next part <3

Part One

Part Two

“Hey, baby cakes,” Stack shouted as he ran across the yard at her, causing the chickens meandering around her feet to scatter in different directions.

“Elias Moore, as I live and breathe!” She called back with laughter in her voice and a tear in her eye. When he reached her, he lifted her easily and spun them around a few times, pulling easy giggles from her lips.

“Missed you gal,” he admitted, placing her back onto the Earth, “Lemme look atcha!”

He took a dramatic step backward, still clutching her left hand turning her this way and that. Stack let out a low whistle, and she swatted playfully at his shoulder.

Yup, he’s still Elias.

She tipped her head quickly over his left shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of Smoke. They had left things…well. It was a bright new day in the delta, and she was determined to make the most of it. Elijah Moore be damned. Stack relayed tales from all over God’s big green world, enchanting her and also terrifying her. He told her stories of battles they’d fought, schemes they’d pulled, and to her great annoyance, all the many women he’d loved. Stack was a lot of man, and he definitely didn’t see kindness in sparing the women of the world a chance to have the Elias Moore experience. They chatted easily, swapping a pail of boiled peanuts back and forth as the afternoon stretched lazily into a sticky pink dusk.

“How’s yo Ma an’ Pa?” He asked when they’d finally run out of new things to say. She smiled lightly and peered over at him.

“Both good, went down to Natchez to see ‘bout my Aunt Nancy. She’s ole an’ ailin’ now, needs someone there tuh look after her evr’yday,” she said back, still turning her head looking for Smoke. She and Stack had been sitting on her porch for hours and aside from Cornbread and Therese, no one had stirred the gravel.

“Where is—”

“You outta know that better’n me baby doll. He left this mornin’ ‘fore sunrise an’ I ain’t seen em since,” Stack interrupted, tipping the mason jar of water she’d brought him to his lips.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she wondered where in the hell Smoke could’ve been all damn day. They’d returned from their foray into the woods as the last of the golden sunrise peeked over the pines and said a terse and polite good day. She’d watched him march across the yard taking those slow and measured steps he was known for. Never in a hurry, never unsure. Strong, statuesque—Smoke.

“Well, as much as I just looove yer company, I need tuh put somethin’ on my stomach sweet thang,” Elias said suddenly, rising from her porch steps and leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Now Elias Moore, ya know I would never let ya leave my house wit an empty belly. Set back down, I got some fresh catfish already marinating,” She smirked back, knowing he saw them when he went inside to fetch the water basin she was using to soak her feet.

“I laid it on a little too thick, huh?”

“As always, but I know you fulla mo’ shit than a Christmas turkey so I love ya all the same, Stack,” she giggled, patting her feet dry.

“Gon’ home an’ wash up. See if you can find yer brother, and I expect both of ya here in bout an’ hour.”

Through the webbing of her creaky screen door, she watched as Stack strutted toward their house, back tall and strong. Sinewy muscles moved with grace and whispered of a powerfully built and agile man. Clicking her tongue, she shook her head. One was enough trouble, but God had to go and make two of em just to show off.

Back in her kitchen, she set to work getting all her fixings together for catfish po boys, something she’d learned to make from Titus. Speaking of Titus, he’d been eerily quiet today himself. Usually by now, he’d come by with a sweet word and something for her. A flower or a stone, sometimes fresh fruit. He was tender with her like that, a gentleman. But now there was Smoke. What they’d shared during the wee hours of the morning on the bank of her Papa’s creek wouldn’t leave her mind, though she willed it to.

earlier that morning

“If only I was that lucky, baby.”

Kissing her teeth, she reached down for a pole and began baiting her hook with ease. He’d taught her well all those years ago, had used his large warm hands to guide her movements while enveloping her body with a warmth that set her teenage sensibilities into a tailspin. As he watched her hook the worm and cast her line into the babbling creek, he remembered that day vividly. How she had peeked at him under her lashes as he mumbled instructions against the shell of her ear. This was in the before time. Before he had told her his true feelings, before he had made her a woman.

“So, ya back for good, Elijah?”

He loved the way she said his name. EE—LIE—JAH, like it was an incantation, like it was raw Mississippi honey dripping from her tongue. He didn’t really know how to answer her. He could say I’m back for as long as you’ll have me. He could say come with me away from all this and start over.

“Mmm, can’t call it,” he said instead, casting his line downstream like he always did to avoid catching more fish than her. He loved to see the twinkle in her eye when she took the lead over him, hoisting fish after fish into her pail and grinning at him proudly. Deep down she knew he was letting her win, but she didn’t mind. Just wanted to see that proud way he gazed back at his pupil.

“That sound like a Smoke answer if I’ve ever heard one,” she said back bitterly, tossing her line back out after tossing the wriggling catfish into her pail.

“Stack wan’ stay. Said he tired of the north, missin’ home. Figured we come back here an’ see how it fits,” he shrugged, trying to pretend that that was the full truth of why they came back home. She grunted and shook her head, sending a whiff of jasmine, clove, and sweat his way. His body hummed.

“Umm hmm. Stack,” She said back, not making eye contact with him.

They stayed this way for a while, basking in the comfortable discomfort that had developed around them. So many questions left unaddressed, so much history charging the air they breathed. Neither chose to broach any of the myriad of subjects they would need to eventually face head-on. They both resigned to continue this familiar ritual of theirs: fishing and longing, yearning and earning. She stole a glance at him as he focused on the dark water flowing in front of them, studying the strong line of his jaw and the stiff way he clutched the fishing pole.

“Loosen up,” she said quietly, lowering her line and ambling on shaky knees toward him.

She wanted him, needed him really. When she reached him, she placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. Turning to gaze at her, his eyes clouded over with all that he couldn’t say but was deeply feeling. Naïve she may have been all those years ago before he left, but now, as a grown woman, she could see all of that in his eyes was real. It was raw. It would burn her up from the inside out if she let it.

“Don’t tell me all those years in the city made ya lose ya touch, Lijah,” she chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension, “Lemme show ya how it’s done, city boy.”

She pried the fishing pole from his large hands and pretended not to notice the way they trembled. Stepping in front of him, she leaned back against the hard line of his chiseled body and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist instinctively. His heart beat rapidly at her back, and she could feel every one of her nerve endings standing on end. But then again, she also felt a peace and comfort wash over her unlike anything she’d felt for the past seven years. Her body moved around restlessly on its own volition, causing her to come in contact with the rising tent in his pants more than a few times.

“You gon’ kill me if ya keep fidgeting gal, I’m tryna be polite here,” he spoke into the crook of her neck before taking a deep inhale of her scent.

“What if I don’t wan’ you to be, hmm?”

present

“Hey, gal. I’m comin’ in, and I bought the ole man wit me,” she heard Stack call from the front porch, interrupting her reverie.

“In the kitchen,” she called back sweetly, using the back of her hand to wipe cornmeal from her cheek and adjusting the dusty apron at her waist. Dammit to hell, she thought she’d have more time to get presentable before they came back. As promised, the men filled her tiny kitchen with their overwhelming presence before she could take two shaky breaths.

“Ya got it smellin’ good in here, gal. I can’t wait to eat. I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s cut,” Stack exclaimed reaching at the food on the table.

She popped his hand and pointed him toward the basin to clean his hands. He chuckled sheepishly and went around the corner to do a rushed job of it, no doubt. Smoke leaned sullenly against the door jamb watching as she moved easily around the kitchen preparing everyone’s plate and pretending she didn’t feel the heat of his gaze on her.

“Ya look beautiful like this,” he finally said, kicking himself away from his spot and easing up behind her, “We can make this here an evr’yday thing if you’d seriously consider what I asked you this mornin’, baby.”

“Smoke gone somewhere wit that, I haven’t changed my mind,” she grumbled, turning around to face him but not moving away from his embrace. His hands traced lazy circles at the base of her spine and damn her if she didn’t lean into em. The low smolder in her belly ignited into a wildfire of desire for this vexing man in front of her, and her eyes latched on to the perfect sight of his pouting bottom lip.

“You ain’t give it enough thought!”

“I don’t have to, the answer is still no,” she replied quickly, finally moving herself from his hold as Stack rounded the corner. He looking quizzically between the two of them easily noticing the shift in both their energies and deciding then and there that it was none of his goddamn business, especially if it would get between him and the steaming plate of food at his favorite seat at her table.

“Alright mama, my mitts are clean, can I eat now?” Stack asked, pecking her on the cheek and flashing his damp hands at her.

“Yes Elias, help ya self,” she giggled.

They all sat down to eat, and they were transported back to the easy way they all used to be with each other before the sweet embrace of childhood fled, leaving them disoriented and disjointed with one another and themselves. Stories passed easily between them as they recounted the good old days spent cutting their teeth in the dusty roads of the delta. It was comfortable. She’d forgotten how life with the twins around felt. How just being in their presence filled you with warmth and giddiness. For the first time in a long time, the loneliness was at bay, and she wished she could capture this moment forever. Later, she watched amused as they tidied the kitchen and peacocked for her attention, Stack more so just to get a rise out of Smoke.

“Sweet thang, ion know why ya waste ya time with this ole coot anyway. Evr’ybody know the second model is better than the first,” Stack called out puffing out his chest and flexing his muscles proudly.

“Yeah, keep on talkin’ and I’ma knock ya so hard, you’ll see tomorrow today,” Smoke replied sending a dirty look in Stack’s direction. She laughed raucously, and the sound echoed from the walls and pierced Smoke’s heart.

“Well well well, this must be the SmokeStack twins I’ve been hearing so much about,” a male voice called from the doorway. Smoke and Stack both reached to unholster their weapons, on high alert. Her eyes bucked as she turned toward the sound.

“Titus!”

“An’ who in the hell is Titus?” Stack asked, watching her rise and walk toward the tall gentleman engulfing her kitchen entrance. She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and hugged him sweetly. Smoke shot daggers at them both, turning to Stack with pain, envy, and shock in his eyes.

“Well, her fiancé of course.”

#michael b jordan x reader #elias stack moore x reader #smoke x reader #smokestack twins #smoke and stack #sinners x reader #sinners fic #sinners oc #sinners x black reader #smoke x black reader #smoke x black oc #sinners imagine #elijah moore x reader #elijah smoke moore #elijah smoke moore x reader #Elijah moore x black reader

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lionizingheathen · 10 months ago

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Masterlist By Character - Updated 8.21.24

I DO TAKE REQUESTS

Draco Malfoy

Miscommunication

Edging Sub!Draco after you catch him flirting with someone else in public

Precious

Draco finding release after a day in the office

Request

"Domdraco smut please??? I mean maybe with handcuffs and some kinks?"

Ginny Weasley

Take It Out On Me

Helping Ginny unwind from a stressful quidditch practice

Ron Weasley

Take it

"Are you sure you can handle it, baby?" Ron visiting his long distance girlfriend

Request

Hey, can you do an scenario with you and Ron Weasley under a blanket around your friends watching a movie and Ron decides to finger you quietly without anyone knowing?

Sirius Black

Quickly Now

Sirius hooking up with his best friend

Prove It

Sirius eating out his FWB

Just for You

Giving Sirius a handjob in front of friend

Request

"I really need jealous fwb Sirius after that last fic, I NEED it"

Request

"hey im new to your blog but I LOVE the way you write sirius, could we have more sirius content pLEAES (soft, dark, fluff, smut, ANYTHING you can give us pleaseee🥺🥺🥺)"

Request

"Anything with FWB!Sirius Black PLEASE!"

Request

"This is my first time making a request but can you do more of fwb Sirius x reader pleaseee I love your writing btw!! Thank youu"

Hermione Granger

Quietly

Fucking Hermione in the stacks of the library

Lily Evans

Roses

Eating Lily Evans out

Relax

Strapwarming Lily Evans

James Potter

Everything

Making boyfriend James Potter be rough with you for the first time

Think About It

Giving James a blowjob

Request

"james potter smut!! i love ur writing sm"

Request

"Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)"

Request

jealous fwb sirius but what about jealous fwb james???

Request

"love ur writing!! can I request riding james potter plssss"

Remus Lupin

We Always Have Time

Remus taking you against a wall

Agreement

Giving your flatmate, Remus Lupin a blowjob to help him relax

Request

"can you do a part 2 from Flatmate!Remus Lupin? Thank you <3"

Request

"Angsty request. Post! James and Lily’s death, reader/oc was Sirius’s girlfriend/fiancé but feels lost after his arrest. All she has left is Remus and they… uh… work off post-war stress with each other."

Regulus Black

Request

"you are the best smut writer i’ve ever come across im literally speechless. can you write more about sirius fwb or maybe even regulus i will take anything you write omg."

Pansy Parkinson

You've Earned it

Sub!Pansy Parkinson x DomFem!Reader

Harry James Potter

Request

"if you write for harry potter can you do harry potter smut? i love your fics :)"

Request

"umm face riding with harry?? pleaseee"

Luna Lovegood

Love me

First time sleeping with Luna Lovegood

Group

Request

"OK NOW I CANT STOP THINKING OF REMUS ACTUALLY LETTING SIRIUS (plus james maybe) HAVE A GO WHILE WATCHING HHHNGGGF??!??"

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mrsknowitallll · 2 months ago

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Soon As I Get Home

Elias Moore “Stack” x Black Plus Size Reader

Summary - After 7 years of being separated from the love of his life Stack has a lot of making up to do.

Warning: Filthy smut

A/N - For once I don’t have much to say, this speaks for itself, enjoy! 😉

You hummed to yourself, patching up a hole in one of your clients dresses, needle and thread flowing smoothly through fabric.

You owned a small boutique, "Josephine's" named after your late mother who passed it down to you. You sewed all the clothing by hand, just as she did.

You perked up at the sound of the bell on the door ringing, signaling the arrival of a customer.

"Welcome to Josephine's, i'll be right with you." You shouted from the back room, quickly placing your sewing supplies down.

"How can I help you..." You trailed off words getting caught in your throat as you stared at the man before you.

“Elias.” You breathed out.

“Missed me baby? Cause I sure did miss y-” You slapped the words from him mouth.

“7 years and you couldn’t pick up a god damn phone? Write a letter? Then you waltz yo black ass up in here expecting everything to be all sunshine and rainbows, uh uh i ain’t with it Stack.” You brushed past him, flipping the sign in the window to closed.

He approached the door, locking it and pulling down the blinds.

“I left to make something of myself, to make some money so I could build a better life for you, for us.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Seems like all you thought about was yourself, you left me in the dust, I waited for you, waited for a sign that i still meant something, that you still thought bout me as much as i thought bout you. The day my mama died I just- I.” You began to get choked up, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Oh baby no, no no no.” He stepped towards you holding your face in his hands, his calloused thumbs brushing away your tears.

“I thought about you every god damn day from the moment I left. There wasn’t a single second that passed where you didn’t cross my mind.” He stared deeply into your eyes, hurt flashing in his own.

“You know what kept me going throughout my darkest days, all those times I thought i’d never make it back here? That i’d just be a distant memory to the Delta? You know what got me through?” He questioned.

You glanced up at him expectantly.

“You baby.” He laughed.

“The sound of your laughter, your smile and the way it’d light up even the dimmest of rooms, that look you’d give me when you’d feel me start to slip away, when i’d start to succumb to the darkness and let it overtake me, that look of determination, like you’d part the heavens and the earth to pull me back up, to keep me from sinking. My love for you, your love for me is what kept me going, it’s what gives me purpose, a purpose to live.” He unleashed his heart, placing it flat on the counter, walls tumbling down.

Tears began to pool in your eyes but this time for a different reason, you were overjoyed, filed with so much love for the man that stood before you that you swore you could burst.

“I don’t know how I could ever question your love for me. Elias Moore I bet you’d snatch the sun from the sky for me if I asked.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pecking his lips sweetly.

“Damn skippy.” He kissed back, deeper, softer.

“Now will you please let me show you how much I missed you?” He grinned wolfishly showing off his gold grills.

“Do as you please.” You breathed against his mouth.

He waisted no time scooping you up, arms hooking beneath your fat thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there for a moment before he set you on the counter, hiking your dress up.

He dropped to his knees, fingers hooking onto the waist band of your panties, pulling them off slowly, teasing.

He parted your legs, eyes hooded as he took a glimpse at your core slick with arousal, your clit glistening like a pearl, a little prize just for him.

His fingers circled it gently, your wetness warm and sticky like honey.

“This another thing I couldn’t get off my mind, been dying to taste you again.” He looked up at you for a moment, gaze heavy.

Your breath hitched as he licked a strip through your folds, and another, and another until he was completely ravishing you, licking and sucking on you as if you were his last meal, one he planned on savoring, etching the taste into his memory.

You had his head in a death grip, the tips of your fingers sinking into his kinky tresses, your head thrown back in pleasure, chest rising and falling rapidly, lewd moans leaving your mouth in a chorus.

“Gonna cummm” You managed to get out before you were convulsing against the counter, grinding onto his face, chasing your orgasm as if it’d slip away from you at any given moment.

When you finally did cum Stack didn’t let up, lapping your juices up like a dog dying of thirst, not stopping until he got every. last. drop.

Your eyes followed him as he stood, chin soaked, lips glistening with your essence.

“You know i ain’t done with you yet.” He smirked kissing you again, tongue slipping into your mouth allowing you to taste yourself.

You moaned as he slipped a digit inside of you, stretching you out, warming you up.

You let out a small hiss gripping his forearm as he added another.

He immediately stopped shooting you a worried glance.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” His brows furrowed in concern.

“A little but it’s not your fault it’s just… been a while.” You looked down in shame, face heating up.

He grabbed ahold of your chin, titling your head back up so you could look at him properly.

“That ain’t nothing to be embarrassed bout, hell it actually got me hot.” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, laughing too.

“No but seriously i’m glad you ain’t just been giving this pussy up to anyone, cause it’s mine and if these other niggas even think about claiming it i’ll kill em where they stand, no hesitation.” His eyes darkened, tone rough.

You bit your lip getting more aroused by the minute.

“That’s right I ain’t been with nobody else, my loyalties have always lied with you but can you say the same?” You quirked a brow.

“I ain’t touched nobody else since i left here and ain’t nobody touched me, honest to god.” He whispered against your lips.

“Oh yeah?” You questioned.

“Yeah, nobody could hold a candle to the way you make me feel, nobody could excite me as much as you.” He grabbed ahold of your hand placing it on his crotch.

His dick was so stiff in his pants you were surprised the seams didn’t burst, his length rock solid and heavy against his thigh.

You felt heat rush over you, words spilling from your lips before you could stop them.

“Fuck me, please I need you.” You begged palming him through his dress pants.

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you.” He kissed you hungrily, mouth trailing down your neck.

“You got way too much on.” He grabbed the hem of your dress slipping it over your head. Fingers unclasping your bra and tearing it off of you in one swift motion, your breast bouncing as the collided with your plush stomach, falling as if they’d been holding up the weight of the world.

Stack gathered them in his hands kneading them, mouth latching onto each nipple and sucking eagerly, biting down softly causing you to whimper.

He grabbed your hips pulling you closer toward the edge of the counter, aligning himself with your entrance and slipping inside of you, groaning as your warmth surrounded him.

“God almighty.” He mumbled peppering kisses along your jaw.

He thrusted into you slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, snug, secure.

He picked the pace up after a while, hips snapping against yours, skin colliding with skin, the sounds of your love making bouncing off the walls.

“So close.” You mumbled breathlessly into his ear.

“Wait for me baby.” He rested his head on your shoulder, mouth nipping at the skin there.

“Gone fill you up real good with my babies, want some mini me’s running round here, hope they have yo eyes, those pretty orbs.” He rambled as he pounded into you.

You whined at his words, the idea of a family with him causing you to choke up, the knot in your stomach loosening bit by bit.

“Cum with me baby, let it all out.”

You squealed as the dam broke again, your orgasm washing over you in waves, eyes rolling back, nails digging into his back, piecing skin.

Stack quickly followed suit, head lolling against your shoulder lazily, chants of groans flowing through your ears as he spilled inside of you.

The two of you huffed and puffed attempting to catch your breath, sweaty bodies clinging together.

“How long you plan on sticking around this time?” You spoke up after a while, fingers kneading through his loose hair.

“For as long as you here, as long as you’ll have me.” He whispered.

“Well it looks like you ain’t ever leaving my side then.” You smiled.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.” He pecked your lips lifting you off the counter, carrying you toward the back room.

Tags - @eclecticblkgirl @alphabetically-deranged @sinnersappreciation @sassymemoryelixir

#sinners #sinners 2025 #plus size reader #black plus size reader #elias moore x black plus size reader #elias moore #stack moore #stack moore x black plus size reader #stack oneshot #elias stack moore #elias stack moore fanfic #micheal b jordan #mrsknowitallllwrites

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melancholymetropolis · 2 months ago

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“I heard the twins were back in town."

My husband’s voice floated about the room as he dried his hair. Bill was only wearing his pajama bottoms and his chest was bare. Stray droplets of water dripped from head, down his pecs and along his abs. I broke my gaze once he pulled a shirt over his bare skin, disturbing my view.

"They are," I sighed, rubbing lotion between my palms. "I saw Stack near the station, while I was picking up the shipment. Along Mary and Preacher Boy."

A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of her name from my lips. I had tried my best to avoid her at all costs. But, just like Stack, she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. She sent letter after letter to my house. Begging and pleading to have a conversation. Claiming that her guilt was eating her up something fierce and she could barely sleep.

That was right after Maddie was born.

She even tried to come over to my house, but Bill stopped her before she could get too close to me. Practically tore her a new one for disturbing my nap after nursing the ever-hungry newborn.

I knew right then that I wanted to marry him.

Through the mirror on the vanity, I could see him rise from the bed. His fingers pressed tightly together and a deep frown on his lips. He took small steps toward me, hesitation oozing from his being. Several deep breaths fell from his lips before he met his gaze in the mirror.

"He spoke to you, didn't he?" The look of sadness deepened to one of sorrow. Almost like his soul was aching at the statement.

“He did,” I said, massaging the cream into my neck. “But, your daughter called him ugly and sent him away with a glare.”

The smile turned into a sad smile at the statement. “Fearless little thing. She gets it from you.”

I hummed softly as he reached for the cream and took a dollop from the top. He rubbed it between his palms just like I had moments before. With a firm grip, he kneaded the lotion into my shoulders. My eyes rolled closed as I leaned into his touch and moaned.

“Baby, I need to ask you something,” Bill said, after a silent moment. “Promise me you won’t be upset.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

I shot from the bench of my vanity and spun around to face him— causing him to stumble back a few steps. “William Chow, explain yourself this minute!”

He raises his hands in surrender and takes another step back. “Baby, you knew this would come up. You always said they would come back home eventually. Part of me thought that meant you wanted to see him again.”

“No,” I snapped back. “That meant that I would have to explain to your daughter why she looks damn near identical to an absolute stranger. Not that I was in love with him!”

“Y/N, we never talk about it,” Bill rebutted, his tone softer than mine. “Not since we first got married. You pretend like the man doesn’t exist and it has left me wondering a few things.”

“Like what?” I interjected. “I will take Maddie and run away with him?”

Bill flinched like I slapped him, but didn’t say a word.

That was exactly what he thought I’d do.

A lone tear rolled down my cheek as my lip began to quiver. I turned my back to him and placed both palms on the edge of the vanity. A million thoughts swirled in my mind. Images of Stack laying his head on my chest, Mary gloating about how he did the same thing to her, Bill holding my hand during my delivery because Anne was too far away and my baby girl crying for the first time after 12 hours of labor. The vow that I made to her that I would choose a better daddy than her lying, cheating sperm donor. Someone that was kind, patient and full of love; ready to give it away at any moment.

Someone like William Chow, Bo’s baby brother. A Malaysian immigrant turned baker, damn near identical to his kin with hair past his shoulders. His strawberry and cream donuts were all I ever craved while pregnant. I would gather as much change as I had to snag two at the end of the week, he would alway sneak me an extra one. Bill was the only one to speak to me after it became very obvious I was pregnant. The whole town knew it was Stack’s, since our relationship was hardly private. But, when he left, everyone treated me like spoiled goods. Barely made eye contact and snickered behind my back. Fearing that Stack would shoot them where they stood for looking at me funny.

But, Bill was not scared of any of that. Stack loved his strawberry donuts just as much as I did. Meaning, that Stack would rather cut off his own pinky than cross Bill or the Chow family.

“After all this time, you still think he has a hold on me?” I whispered as another tear rolled down my cheeks. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“Honey, he can give you things I can’t,” Bill countered.

The silent part hinted loudly: He could give you more children.

That was William’s only fatal flaw, if one could even count it as such. He was impotent. The possibility of having children together was slim to none, which was why he remained single all that time. Some women wanted a family and others needed a kind of pleasure only a certain an could give. But, that didn’t matter to me. Sex wasn’t a deal breaker for me. I had learned that sex didn’t mean love, nor affection. It was a simple pass time that felt good. It didn’t hold emotion, unless you wanted it to. And like an idiot, I held enough emotion for Stack and I both. Yet, it still wasn’t enough to make him stay.

We had tried all kinds of herbs, old wives tales and remedies, but it hardly ever worked. His member would stiffen, but not long enough to really have fun. Still, I didn’t care. Bill more than made up for it with his mouth and fingers. He would have me screaming all the way to sunrise.

I turned to face him. I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. His tanned skin turned a faint red, as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his whimpers. Bill’s shoulders shook with sadness as his chest rose and fell rapidly. The sheer thought of losing me, of losing Madeline, was tearing him apart at the seams. I had never seen him cry until that moment and it broke my heart.

I took several strides over to him, leaving a foot of space between us. “Can I hold you, baby?”

“Please,” he sobbed, lifting his head.

I took a final step and pressed my body against his. My head resting on his shoulder and my arms hugging his upper back. Bill gripped my waist with a pressure that was almost painful, but it didn’t bother me. I knew he needed me close.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lose you two,” he whimpered into my hair. “I don’t think I would survive, Y/N. I truly do not.”

“I would’ve been maggot food if it weren’t for your generosity all those years ago,” I said, rubbing his back. “No man was willing to marry an already pregnant woman. Let alone the broken possession of the Moore twins. Only you would talk to me. Not only talk, but smile. God, your smile would be like sunshine on a rainy day. It kept me warm for hours.”

Bill’s whimpering stopped, but his hold was still firm. “You don’t have to lie, Y/N.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Bill. Not once since we’ve met,” I said, drawing circles on his back. “I’m not about to start now. I love you far too much to let a criminal come between us.”

He pulled back gently and faced me. Tears streaming down his face, he looked at me like I was his entire world and it broke my heart. I brought a hand to his face and placed it on his damp cheek. He leaned into the palm and placed a hand atop mine. His eyes fluttered closed as a shaky breath fell from his lips. Bill's entire body relaxed at my unwavering presence. The floodgates were completely lowered as the tears continued to fall from his eyes. But I knew they weren't for sadness or desperation, like before. These were tears of relief and compassion.

“I love you, William Chow,” I said once our eyes finally met. “More than you'll ever know. More than I can put in words.”

“You are my world,” he replied, pressing his forehead to mine. “And Madeline is my sun. I would be dark and lonely without you both.”

A tear spilled from my eye, which he caught with his thumb and swiped away. His lips were on mine before I could blink. Our bodies pressed together so tightly we could crack an egg. He held me in his arms if I would disappear at any given moment. Kissed me like I would be stolen away from him. The action made the tears pour faster. Our hands gripped each other's clothes before the desire to tear them off struck.

My hands slithered up his pajama top slowly. Fingers brushing his toned abdomen and structured hips. My touch moved from front to back— I dragged my nails against his lower spine. Bill shivered at my touch and moved his kisses from my lips to my neck. A gasp escaped my mouth as his tongue licked a sensitive part of my neck. A moan followed shortly after as teeth found that vein and dragged it across it. A lovely nip earned him another moan. His hand kneaded my soft rear as he sucked the delicate skin of my neck. His hips ground into mine and I felt his member between us. Stiff and ready to use.

“Tell me how you want me, suga,” he purred in my ear. “My head between your legs.” Bill’s hot tongue ran across my ear. “You sitting that pretty pussy on my face.” He gave it a little nip. “Or, we see if the new herbs are really up for the challenge.” He ground his hips into me once more and I moaned loudly.

“Yes,” I replied, breathlessly. “All of the above.”

------------------------

a/n: where did all of y'all come from?! i did not expect this but hey! i'm happy you're here! once again, let me know if you wanna be in the taglist. Smut will be in the next chapter.

also, bear with me. i might not be able to post regularly, but i will try my best to post often.

Part III

----------------------

Taglist

@lov4gor3 @marley1773 @thegreatlibraryofalex @beverly-991 @depressedandhornyfl @rollingraypurrr @mea-bby @heyyimmisunderstood @harleycativy @childishgambinaax @mskirara @bishhhitsaurion @daughterofapollo-7 @thickianaaaa @capswife @hrlzy @melodyofmbaku @skywalker0809 @asterizee @nooooonooooonooooo @jackierose902109 @wabi-sabi1090 @rolemodelshit @naebae14 @christinabae @thedondada05 @simpingfor-wakasa @lovesickbwnny @brattyfics @saintsir4n @abriefnirvana @tforpresz @sinflowersugar

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woodle-isbae · 2 months ago

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Having to say this is so weird..but

Sammie won't ever Date Remmick.

I get it's fiction and stuff, but there's a point where we need to think whole heartedly...Remmick talks about a WIFE, Sammie ate out pearline AND named a bar after her.

AND

Remmick becomes Sammie's oppressor towards the end of the movie. There's dark romance, and then there's just forcing unnecessary plots to feel included.

Unfortunately Sinners was not a movie for queer people, it was a movie for BLACK people.

There is 0 reason why Bo Chow, Remmick and fucking BERT!?!? of all people...have more fanfics than the main characters, the focus of the movie, the drivers of the plot🤦🏾‍♀️.

I'm an open person, I'll accept anyone for nearly anything, but it gets to a point where we can't enjoy anything because a certain...group comes in and washes out the whole point of a show/movie/book ect.

Sinners is not the media you can find queer or white representation at all. If you're looking for that, this is NOT the place for you

- Aza

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cxce15 · 12 days ago

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~ Fic recs for the year of 2025, pt. 2 ~

- Pt. 1

By @moon-fics

Tan Lines - Bob Floyd x Reader ( Top Gun )

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @shockercoco

Peas in a Pod (Pt. 1) - Elias "Stack" Moore x Reader ( Sinners )

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @soulsforsales

I Love You, I'm Sorry - Jason Todd x Reader ( DC )

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @deakyjoe

I Dream of You Even When Awake - Bob Reynolds x Reader ( Marvel )

I Got Chills, They're Multiplying - Bob Floyd x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @sunskisser

Let Go - Bob Reynolds x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @pagesfromthevoid

So High School - Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @boopsiesdaisies

Being near each other - Bob Reynolds x Reader

Being near each other (Pt. 2)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @s0urw00lf

Meeting Bob for the first time - Bob Floyd x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @bradshawsbaby

Like Peas In A Pod - Bob Floyd x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @suuuupernovaaa

Liar - Joel Miller x Reader ( The Last Of Us )

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @nervoushottee

Still Breathless And Falling (Pt. 1) - Jesse x Reader ( The Last Of Us )

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @hansoulo

Dissimulato - Cassian Andor x Reader ( Star Wars )

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @mylovelies-docx

Social Cues - Cassian Andor x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

By @padmespetal

My Love Mine All Mine - Bruce Wayne x Reader ( DC )

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Part 3

214 notes · View notes

motherismotheringggg · 8 days ago

Text

slow burn blues 🎸

summary: the very stubborn and independent reader met the SmokeStack twins in Chicago, along with their friend Bo Chow, who left quite the impression on her, so when she came down to Delta it wasn’t a new start she had to look forward to

type: plus sized black fem! reader x my best eater bo chow (single ofc)

warnings/tags: oral (f! receiving), talks of violence, blood but not in a sexual way

author’s note: mamas got a new fixation and it’s this man right here 😭😭 huge shoutout to ryan coogler for making every man in this movie an eater and/or a pleaser

The back office stank of old whiskey, gun oil, and panic.

You shoved bills into the canvas satchel, fingers trembling as you counted under your breath — twenties, tens, a crumpled five. The single bulb overhead swung in its chain, throwing long shadows over the filing cabinet and the stained wallpaper. Your heels clicked against the scuffed wood floors, pacing fast and tight between the desk and the back exit.

"Didn't I tell y'all to keep it quiet?" you snapped, eyes flashing at Stack. "Lord have mercy, I said lay low. What happened to layin’ low?"

Stack shrugged, leaning against the filing cabinet like it was just another Friday night. "Ain’t nothin’ but a little ruckus, folk get hot, that’s all." His smiled beamed as his grilled accessorized his cockiness.

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "Ain’t no such thing as just a ‘little ruckus’ when you Black in this city, Stack. Them Irish boys and dago types don’t come to just talk when they get stirred up."

Smoke stood by the door, tall and still, hand resting over the butt of his pistol, eyes scanning through the cracked glass pane. His jaw clenched tight, the way it always did when he was choosing silence over rage.

Outside, the night was thick with smoke and anticipation. The bar lights were off, the windows boarded. Somewhere down the block, tires screeched, and you all froze, just for a second, before you zipped the bag closed.

“They gon’ burn this place down tryin’ to get to y’all,” you muttered, thrusting the satchel into Stack’s chest. “Train rolls south at a quarter to midnight. You catch the last car, y’hear? Get on and don’t look back.”

Stack’s cocky grin minorly faltered for the first time that night. He took the bag slow, hands brushing yours. “Always lookin’ out for us,” he said, voice lower than usual. “Even when you oughta leave us to the wolves.”

“I oughta, but I ain’t that cruel,” you said, voice cracking on the edge of tears.

Smoke turned and hugged you first; firm, full-bodied, but still reserved. Just one arm wrapping around you. You smelled the tobacco smoke on his coat, the cologne he always wore, too and felt the hard edge of a revolver at his waist.

Then Stack stepped close, all heat and hesitation. He didn’t hug you right away. Just looked at you, real soft. “If it turns mean up here,” he said, thumb grazing your wrist, “you come find us. Down in the Delta. You got no business lettin’ this city chew you up.”

You stared back at him, heart hammering. His lips twitched like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He just disappeared out the door, melting into the night behind Smoke.

The last thing you heard before they vanished down the alley was Stack’s voice, faint in the wind: “We’ll be waitin’, darlin’.”

The train car rattled beneath you, a steady, hypnotic clatter as the tracks stretched out like an endless, silver thread. You pressed your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the Chicago skyline shrink into a haze of smoke and brick until it was nothing but a jagged memory. Your fingers traced circles in the fog your breath left behind, the chill from the glass seeping into your skin.

It’d been a week since that knife fight in the alley behind the bar. One of the Irish came at you fast, but you were faster. Didn’t mean you got out clean, though. The gash on your thigh still ached, wrapped tight beneath layers of wool and gauze. You’d fought him off and left him bloodied on the pavement, but the message had been clear — they weren’t lettin’ you stay. Not after you protected the twins.

You took what was left of the bar’s cash drawer and everything you’d managed to save. Bought a one-way ticket south with a gashed leg, a heavy heart, and no real plan beyond Stack’s promise: We’ll be waitin’.

You had no clue how you were supposed to find them — Stack always said they were big-time down in the Delta, and if that was true, maybe the wind would carry your name to the right ear. Or maybe you’d just follow the smoke and music and hope for the best.

The station platform was buzzing when you stepped off the train, warm air thick with dust, fried batter, and sweat. You were still dragging your suitcase down the steps when you heard it: the sound of a harmonica that was so rich, so full of ache and fire, it nearly stopped you where you stood.

The crowd pulled you in before you could think. You pressed through bodies, Black folks in Sunday hats, little boys barefoot and wild-eyed, travelers fresh off the train and made your way to the front.

There he was: Delta Slim.

The man bent low over his harmonica, rocking with each note like the music was being dragged out of him. The sound wound through your ribs and pulled at something soft in your belly. The kind of playing that carried ghosts. The kind that made you forget you were tired, that you had no place to stay.

And suddenly, you were a little girl again, standing in your grandmother’s hot kitchen while she fried catfish and hummed songs older than the house itself. Blues tunes with names you never learned but could hum in your sleep.

When Slim finally stopped, the crowd clapped and whooped, some tossing coins into the open case by his boots. You stepped forward, dropped in a few bills. “God bless you,” he said without looking up.

You opened your mouth to thank him, but froze.

Somewhere behind you, a voice cut through the crowd: “Smoke said he’d be done ‘round sundown.”

Your head snapped around.

It was a dark-skinned woman in a plaid navy blue dress, carrying a market basket. She had cheekbones sharp enough to slice air and eyes that didn’t miss a thing. She looked just like the woman Smoke used to talk about in low, rare moments — like she wasn’t just anyone, like she was sacred.

“Annie?” you asked, stepping closer, unsure.

She stopped, instantly guarded. “Who’s askin’?” Her voice was soft, but it carried steel.

You lifted your hands, palms up, no threat. “Name’s Y/N. I knew Smoke and Stack back in Chicago. Helped ‘em get out when things turned bad. I… I came down after the Irish and Italians ran me out. Figured I’d find ‘em if I could.”

She stared long and hard. Then something shifted in her face — the tightness melted a little, and her lips curled just slightly.

“Heard plenty about you,” she said. “More from Stack than Smoke, naturally. But still.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the Delta. “We settin’ up the juke joint for tonight. I gotta make a stop first, but they’ll be awful glad to see you.”

You nodded, heart picking up pace. For the first time in weeks, you let yourself believe you might actually be safe.

————

The car groaned as it skidded around another bend in the dirt road, gravel popping under the tires like gunfire. You gripped the door with one hand and braced your good leg against the seat in front of you, praying the back axle wouldn’t snap clean off from the way Delta Slim was pushing it. The wind screamed through the open windows, whipping your scarf into your face, and the sun hung low in the sky, bleeding gold across your lap.

Slim drove like he was being chased by every ghost he ever crossed — fast, erratic, and with a bottle tucked between his knees that he sipped from like it held the secrets of the universe. The smell of corn liquor was thick in the cab, sweet and sharp enough to make your nose sting.

You hadn’t said much. Between the pain in your leg and the way Slim was flirting with death at every turn, there wasn’t much breath left for conversation.

Annie, sitting on the passenger side turned and looked over her shoulder. Her expression was calm, like she’d seen this a thousand times. “Don’t worry,” she said, tapping a small leather pouch that hung just above her chest. It bounced lightly against her sternum with the movement.

You blinked. That pouch.

You’d seen it before. Smoke wore one just like it; dark leather, worn smooth from years of wear. He kept it tucked under his shirt, said it was “for protection,” though he never explained what it was from. Seeing it now, on Annie, made something settle in your stomach.

Slim cackled then, throwing a lazy arm out the window to flick ashes off the stub of a cigarette. “Girl sittin’ back there like she expect me to drive us into the river.” His voice was scratchy, coated with booze and heat. “You scared o’ me, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, just glanced sideways at Annie, who smirked like she was used to this foolishness.

He twisted around in his seat, one bloodshot eye squinting at you. “So how you know them twins anyhow?” He offered you his cigarette.

You obliged and leaned forward to take it, the effort tugging at the self-done stitches in your thigh. “Back in Chicago. Ran my family’s bar. Smoke and Stack used to come in all the time. They eventually became suppliers until a few weeks ago, I helped get ‘em out when things turned bad.”

“Bad?” Slim echoed.

You nodded. “Knife fights. Bomb threats. The Irish tried to burn the place down. I caught one in the thigh, but I gave as good as I got.” You took a final drag of the cigarette before handing it back to Delta, whose eyes were wide with awe.

That laugh again — loud and ugly and amused. “Lord, girl! You ain’t tell me you was a brawler. I’m gon’ have to put some respect on your name. Might be more scared o’ you than them boys.”

You let your head fall back against the seat, lips curling slightly. The pain in your leg throbbed with every bump, but you couldn’t help the pride that bloomed warm and fierce in your chest.

The landscape started to shift as the road flattened — less forest now, more clearing. Sunlight pooled like honey between the buildings, and the air carried the heavy scent of river water, fried fish, and the faintest trace of honeysuckle.

Children darted between storefronts barefoot and wild-eyed, chasing marbles, tossing sticks. A woman stepped out of a seamstress shop holding a bolt of fabric to her chest, her laughter rising over the whir of cicadas. The whole town breathed like it had a heartbeat.

Then you saw the sign.

Chow’s Groceries.

Your breath caught mid-inhale. The letters were hand-painted, a little faded, but clear as day.

Bo.

It couldn’t be.

You hadn’t thought about him in months, not properly — but now it all came rushing back.

————

He’d come to Chicago once, maybe 6 or 7 months ago. The twins said he was gonna help them with a deal so he just needed a quiet place to sleep for a few nights. You gave him the back room of the bar, didn’t think much of it. Figured he’d keep to himself.

But Bo... watched.

Not the way most men do. Not with that slow-lidded hunger that made your skin crawl. No, he watched like he was reading you — like every move you made behind that bar meant something. He’d sit at the end stool, drink barely touched, just following you with those steady eyes.

And that night, well you remembered it like it was pressed in amber.

The bar had been full, the floor sticky with old beer, the air thick with sweat and cigarette smoke. A regular, one who’d had too much, reached for you when you passed. Grabbed your hip like he’d paid for it and pulled you down on his lap.

You squirmed free and went to grab your switchblade knife from your pocket. You hand grazed the handle but before you could fully draw it, Bo was behind you. Quiet. Calm.

“Baby,” he’d said, voice like warm molasses, “everything alright here?”

His hand slid to your hip — not rough, but firm. Protective. Present. The drunk’s hands went up in defense, and he muttered an apology before slinking away.

You didn’t say anything then, just kept moving.

But later, when the lights were low and you were wiping down the counter, he came out from the back. Started stacking chairs like he worked there. You paused but you didn’t stop him.

“Thanks for earlier,” you said, going back to wiping.

He kept working. “Didn’t sit right, lettin’ that slide. You hold your own. I seen it. But still...”

You tilted your head at him, teasing. “So you been watchin’ me?”

Bo smiled as he met your gaze with something quiet and serious. “How could I not?”

He came closer — close enough that the scent of sandalwood and clean cotton filled your lungs. His arms were bare, veins rising like rivers down his forearms as he placed a chair upside-down on the table beside you.

You were perched on a barstool by then, thighs aching from the long shift, apron wrinkled, hair pulled back. He stepped between your knees, eyes locked on yours. One hand drifted up your leg, slow, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh.

He reached for your hem.

Then—

Bang bang bang.

A knock at the door. Heavy. Familiar.

The twins.

You both froze like your thoughts had been read aloud. Bo stepped back, jaw tight. You fixed your skirt, heart pounding.

Nothing else was said.

————

But now, staring at the sign for Chow’s Groceries, you felt it all at once: the heat of his hand, the weight of his stare, the possibility that had lived for one long moment and never got to grow.

You stood outside caught in a trance so deep you didn’t realize Annie and Delta Slim had already gone inside. The porch boards creaked under your heels, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the hand-painted sign.

The Delta air wrapped around you like a shawl—thick, warm, and humming with life—but your thoughts were tangled up in memory. The way Bo looked at you that night in the bar, the way he made you feel seen without saying much at all. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been standing there until—

“Y/N?”

That voice—gritty, familiar, a little more worn than before.

You turned just in time to see Stack walking up, grin wide and arms already open. He pulled you into a hug that squeezed the breath out of you.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Didn’t think you’d really come down.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “Yeah, I ran into, Annie, Smoke’s wife at the station. Figured the Delta might do me some good.”

He draped an arm over your shoulder, guiding you through the screen door into the store. The cool air was a welcome shift, carrying scents of lemon oil, tobacco, and flour dust. The sound of laughter rolled from the back of the store where Smoke, Delta, and Annie were gathered around a woman you didn’t recognize—dark-skinned, with a narrow waist and wide hips, cheekbones like razors and eyes that missed nothing.

“That’s Pearline,” Stack whispered. “And that fool next to her is our cousin Sammy.”

Sammy tipped his hat. Pearline’s gaze lingered a little longer before her mouth tugged into a polite smile.

Then the group shifted slightly.

And there he was.

Bo Chow.

You could’ve sworn the floor tilted. His sleeves were rolled up over strong forearms, hands dusted with flour as he sorted through a ledger. His hair was still parted neat, his face still quiet and kind, but those eyes—those dark, steady eyes—lit up the second they landed on you.

And then he smiled.

Your breath hitched.

He crossed the room in just a few strides, pulled you in like no time had passed. His arms were solid, the kind that made you feel safe whether you wanted to or not. He leaned in close enough for his lips to brush your ear.

“Still fine as ever,” he said low, that slow, careful drawl curling around your spine.

You didn’t even hear the rest of it—blood roared in your ears, your heart thudding against your ribs like it was trying to break out.

Smoke clapped his hands once—sharp, loud, enough to cut through the noise.

“Alright. With Y/N here, she’ll be good to keep the bar running. Annie, I’m movin’ you to the floor. I want eyes everywhere, and I want 'em sharp. Ain’t no slip-ups tonight. Everybody bring your best or don’t bring nothin’ at all.”

The group talked more and then started filing out, talking plans and logistics. You followed them out onto the porch, ready to head toward Delta Slim’s rusted-out ride. Your bags were still in his trunk, and you started toward them on instinct.

But then—

“Where your bags at?” Bo asked, already coming up beside you.

You pointed with your chin. “Back of Slim’s car. I got it.”

You moved quick, hands already reaching for the straps, but Bo was faster. His hand came down over yours, firm but gentle.

“I said I got it,” you repeated, trying to shoulder one of the heavier bags.

He stepped in front of you and took the strap clean out of your hand. “No, you don’t.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Bo—”

He cut you off with a quiet look, already lifting both bags like they weighed nothing. “You been carryin’ enough,” he said. “Not today.”

You paused, caught off-guard—not by the help, but by the certainty of it. You weren’t used to that. You were used to men saying one thing, meaning another. Used to them letting you do the heavy lifting ‘cause it was easier for them to stay out the way.

But Bo didn’t move like a man who wanted to stay out your way. He moved like he wanted to make space for you to rest.

Stack passed behind you and tossed a look over his shoulder. His gold tooth flashed as he smirked. “I knew somethin’ happened.”

You swatted at his arm. “Ain’t nothin’ happened,” you muttered, but your face was already hot.

Bo opened the passenger door for you without saying a word. Just stood there, waiting. You hesitated a second, then put your hand in his. His grip was warm and steady, guiding you into the seat like you were something precious.

He slid into the driver’s side, lit a cigarette with one hand, then passed it to you after a slow drag. You took it between your fingers, felt the heat through your fingers, inhaled.

The smoke tasted of cloves and pine.

————

The car rumbled to life and bumped down the dirt road, dust kicking up behind the tires. For a long moment, you didn’t speak. You weren’t scared, but you were out of your element. Most men you knew were loud, demanding, rough in the ways they loved or claimed to. Bo didn’t press. He didn’t rush.

He just drove, eyes on the road, the silence stretching out like something sacred.

Then finally, he said it—quiet, plain.

“I missed you.”

You looked at him, sharp. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Ain’t stopped thinkin’ about you since Chicago. Swear I almost caught a train up myself a few months back. Store kept me tied up. Always somethin’ needs fixin’ or orderin’. You know how it is.”

You nodded, listening to the slow melody of his voice, the way it filled the cab like music—low and familiar.

“I was worried,” he added. “Heard what happened with the Italians and the Irish. Stack said you handled it, but still. I hated not bein’ there.”

You took another drag, eyes narrowed at the road ahead. “Held my own. Like you’d expect.”

He smiled, proud and quiet. “Course you did.”

There was a beat of silence before you added, softer, “But there’s a reason I’m back.”

That made the smile fade.

“What happened?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you reached over and gently brushed your fingers along the back of his head, where his hair gathered soft at the nape of his neck. He leaned into it just barely—like he wasn’t used to being touched so kindly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, thumb dragging slow across his skin. “I handled it.”

“As always” he completed your sentence with a dry smile, like he didn’t like his own response.

————

The juke joint was jumpin’.

Floorboards creaked and groaned under the rhythm of feet—heels stompin', bodies grindin’, skirts twirlin’ like the hem was on fire. Heat rose off the crowd in waves, thick with sweat, perfume, and the sharp bite of corn liquor. Every inch of that room was alive with bottles clinking, laughter breaking like thunder, and voices lifted in song.

Up on the makeshift stage, Pearline and Sammy were singin’ like the Devil himself was in the crowd and they meant to save every soul in it. Her voice was honey dipped in iron, his the low rumble of a storm rollin’ over the river. The two of ’em tangled their harmonies like vines, and the people hollered, clapped, swayed—caught in it.

Stack was out on the floor, two-steppin’ with a girl in a red dress, the kind of pale that made you double take. She laughed with her whole body, and Stack twirled her like he had something to prove. You had to remind yourself she wasn’t white—her curls thick and coarse under that hat, her smile quick but knowing. Still, you clocked every eye that lingered on them too long, just in case.

Smoke was up on the rafters, leanin’ over the rail, watchin’ the whole scene like a man used to puttin’ out fires before they started. He didn’t drink, didn’t dance, didn’t smile much—but his presence settled folks. Like the room itself calmed a little when he laid eyes on it.

You were where you always felt strongest—behind the bar.

Sweat beaded at your temples, and your thigh was barkin’, but your hands moved fast. You flipped a bottle, poured two at once, wiped down the counter, grinned at whoever cracked a joke—all muscle memory. Folks leaned in and said things like, “Lawd, I ain’t never got a drink this fast down here,” and “Where you been hidin’, sugar? We needed you weeks ago.”

You gave ‘em a wink, passed the jars, and kept it movin’. If your leg wasn’t actin’ up, you’d have been damn near flyin’.

Bo was somewhere across the room, duckin’ between folks, noddin’ to the band, checkin’ on tables. He moved quiet, like a shadow with good intentions. And every time your eyes searched for him, you found him already watching you—chin tilted, lips curled into that half-smile that made your stomach dip low. He even blew you kiss at one point and you had to fight off the smirk creeping on your face.

He had on his work shirt rolled up to the elbows, slick black hair pushed back neat, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. That man looked like the kind of sin folks wrote sermons about.

You bit your lip and leaned into the counter.

Your thoughts drifted back to Chicago. That night. The way he stood over you, big and careful. The way his voice wrapped around you like a warm coat. The way his fingers started slidin’ up your thigh slow, reverent like church hands.

Lord help you, if the twins hadn’t knocked when they did…

You blinked yourself back into the present, only to feel it—warm and wet against your leg. You looked down.

Damn. That cut had started bleedin’ again. The fabric of your skirt had gone dark, stickin’ to your skin. You shifted, wincing.

“Ain’t no need to look like that.”

You turned, and there was Annie, slidin’ in behind the bar with a look that saw everything.

She nodded down. “Go on. Closet in the back. I keep bandages and clean rags in there just in case. You don’t need to be pourin’ whiskey with blood on your hem.”

You hesitated, but her face brooked no argument.

You grabbed a damp rag, limped through the wall of sweat and song to the back. The closet was little more of a pantry—narrow, hot, and full of stale air and mop buckets. You sat on a crate and pulled your dress up. The gash wasn’t terrible, but it was mad. You hissed and pressed the rag to it, biting the inside of your cheek.

A knock hit the door just as you reached for the gauze.

“Give me a minute!” you called, but the knob jiggled.

“Anybody decent?” a voice came—low, deep, unmistakable.

“Bo, wait—!”

Too late.

The door creaked open and in he stepped. He took one look at you—skirt bunched, thigh bleeding, breath caught—and his whole body shifted.

“Hell,” he muttered. Then louder, “Why didn’t you say somethin’?”

“I was handlin’ it,” you muttered.

But he was already movin’. The door clicked shut behind him and he reached out a hand to help you up. You grabbed it and he hoisted you onto the table so he could help you. He dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands were steady as he took the rag from you and started cleaning.

You bristled. “Bo. I said I got it.”

“And I heard you.” He dipped the cloth in a bowl of clean water and wrung it out. “But I ain’t leavin’ you to patch yourself up in a broom closet like some stray.”

You rolled your eyes but your breath hitched when his fingers grazed your skin—tender but sure. He wrapped the bandage slow, careful not to tug, his thumb brushing your inner thigh to smooth the gauze.

“You always this bossy?” you asked, voice softer now.

He glanced up, a smile ghostin’ his lips. “Only when I care.”

When he was done wrapping you up he looked up at you like you were some rare bloom he wasn’t sure he deserved to see twice.

“Thank you,” he said, voice rough like gravel but sweet on the edges.

You huffed a laugh. “For what? I’m the one leakin’ all over the bar.”

He chuckled, but didn’t move.

“For lettin’ me tend to you,” he said. “Ain’t a thing I know you take lightly.”

That settled in your chest like something dangerous.

“I should be thankin’ you,” you said.

And in that little hush, that pause where everything else in the world pulled back, you weren’t in a closet anymore. You were somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. Somewhere that made you believe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for longer than a moment.

You meant to move.

Meant to hop off that table, tug your skirt down, and march back out there like nothing happened. But Bo was still kneeling, still starin’ at you like you were somethin’ to be held tender and tasted slow.

His thumbs brushed the outsides of your thighs, slow as molasses, not bold yet, just curious. Testing. Seeking permission.

“You always look at folks like that?” you asked, your voice low but steady. “Cause it’s powerful rude.”

His smile ticked up, crooked and warm. “Ain’t lookin’ at folks,” he murmured. “Lookin’ at you.”

And then he stood — easy, unhurried, like a man who’d already decided where this was going. He filled the space in front of you, hand coming up to trace your jawline, rough fingers gliding soft over your cheek. You didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when he leaned in slow enough for you to change your mind, but you didn’t.

His lips touched yours — soft, like a question. And you answered it.

You kissed him back, mouth parting, your hands gripping his forearms as you tilted up into him. He kissed like he fixed things — patient, exact, but sure. Like he wasn’t about to rush a damn thing unless you begged him to.

Then he kissed your jaw, trailing the heat down, down, until his lips were ghostin’ your neck.

“Bo—” you whispered.

“Mm?” he hummed against your skin. His breath was warm, his voice thick.

His teeth grazed your neck — slow, deliberate. Then he bit. Just enough to pull a gasp from you. A wince, sharp and involuntary. Your thighs twitched around him.

“S-sweet Lord—” you hissed, half scolding, half desperate.

He pulled back, eyes dark with something that made your heart knock against your ribs.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, not sorry in the slightest. “But I can make it better.”

He dropped again to his knees — the same place he’d been moments ago, only now his hands didn’t hesitate. He gripped your thighs and eased them apart like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You always gotta be the strong one, huh?” he said, voice low and reverent. “Always takin’ care of folks. Lettin’ ‘em lean on you.”

You swallowed, already breathless. “Somebody’s gotta.”

“Maybe,” he said, inchin’ your skirt up again, kissin’ the inside of your thigh like a prayer. “But tonight, let me carry some of it.”

Then his mouth found you — slow, open, tender. And you stopped thinkin’ about the juke joint. About the blood. About Chicago. About anything but Bo, and the way he worshipped with his tongue like he’d waited his whole damn life to learn your taste.

Bo’s hands were warm, steady as they parted your thighs—one guiding you gently, the other firm at the back of your knee, coaxing it over his shoulder like it belonged there. And maybe it did. Maybe this whole moment had been waitin’ on you both to catch up to it.

“Relax f’me,” he murmured, voice honeyed and low, almost like a song. “Ain’t gon’ rush. Let me taste what I been missin’.”

He leaned in slow, breath warm against your bare skin, and kissed the inside of your thigh again—closer now. You gripped the edge of the table with both hands, eyes flutterin’ shut as his mouth ghosted over your center, not touchin’ yet, just breathin’ you in. That alone made your hips twitch, made your breath catch in your throat.

Then he licked you.

Soft, slow, and low—just one long drag of his tongue, like he was learnin’ you. Worshippin’. You let out a broken little sigh and felt his hum vibrate against you, pleased and hungry all at once.

“Sweet,” he muttered, barely liftin’ his head. “Goddamn, you sweet.”

His tongue circled your clit, gentle at first—just a tease, just enough to make you melt further into the heat risin’ off your own skin. Then he flattened his mouth and sucked, slow and full, and your legs clamped around his shoulders before you could stop yourself.

He liked that. You could tell. His grip tightened on your hips, holdin’ you right where he wanted you while he worked—firm strokes, deep licks, his tongue movin’ like he meant to undo you one breath at a time.

“Bo,” you whispered, not even sure if it was a warning or a prayer.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed against you, the sound rumblin’ right through your core. His tongue flicked faster now, more deliberate, and you felt yourself unravelin’—little by little, tension leavin’ your shoulders, your chest, your hands. All of it leakin’ out through the way he kissed you.

And Lord, he kissed you there—like he’d missed your mouth and settled on the next best thing. Like it was a favor to him, not a gift for you.

He paused for a moment, just to look—his mouth slick, his eyes dark as syrup, lips swollen from the work. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he said, voice rough and reverent. “You deserve to be looked at. Tasted. Taken care of.”

You could barely speak. You just nodded and leaned back, and when his mouth returned, he wrapped both arms under your thighs to hold you open—locked in now. No runnin’.

He went slower this time—steady, rhythmic, pulsin’ against you like the bassline of a blues song. Your stomach tightened. Your back arched. You felt it coiling deep and low, that pressure threatenin’ to split you in half.

“Bo—Bo, I’m—” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, lips grazin’ you. “Give it to me. Let go.”

And you did. Right there in that closet, dress hiked up, sweat on your skin, hands buried in his hair. You let go with a cry you couldn’t bite back—and Bo held you through it, mouth never leavin’, like he needed every last bit of you to stay alive.

When you finally sagged back, chest heaving, thighs trembling, he pulled back and kissed your inner thigh like he was thankin’ it.

Then, voice soft and hoarse, he asked, “I told you I missed you.”

#publishing this while im finishing my dinner in chipotle 💀💀💀💀💀#anyway enjoy #also my new bo tag will be #my BEST eater #bo chow #bo chow sinners #bo chow smut #bo chow x reader #bo chow x you #sinners smut #sinners fanfiction #sinners fic

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