#stack x oc

[brownskincheyenne]

Everybody love Annie and smoke until it’s time to write fanfic 😭 it’s so many smoke x reader or smoke x you smoke x black female oc .. and then characters be the same as Annie with a different name 😭🤦🏾‍♀️

[decayingearf]

blk reader!!!

modern!stack who agreed to be friends with you but is still butt-hurt.— you were sitting at the twins house during one of their many family gatherings, watching as the men smoke and drank. “who you with lil lady?” one of their friends asked you before elias interrupted, “this my homegirl, why ‘s up?”. he never let you answer for yourself. not if he was around.

modern!stack who would have you glued to his hip for the rest of the night after you got hit on. — since one of elijah’s friends decided to try and get at you, elias decided to sew you two together. “stack come on now, this is ridiculous” you grumbled “but its necessary if niggas gon’ be thinkin’ you single, ain’ it?” huh?? “well according to you, i’m your homegirl” you rebutted before he swiped a hand across his face and smirked “aw c’mon now, you know ‘s different”.

modern!stack who had a little too much of everything and let his mask slip. — nobody knew about you and elias’ private affairs fucking & sucking. all that subsided when he started to feel the affects of the mixture; weed n liquor. “ c’mere mama” he told hooking his finger in your belt loop and pulling you towards him, “you think me ‘nd smoke can take these niggas money?” nodding towards the dice game. you nodded and watched the rest of the game play out with stack all over you.

[bluudsucka]

cherry waves - stack m. x fem!reader x mary

summary: struggling with a serious case of writers block you find yourself desperate for inspiration for your next novel. deciding to take a stroll around the bustling city at night you find yourself lounging within a bar, a strikingly enigmatic couple offers you a chance of a lifetime to write their story...what could go wrong?

word count: 14k

warnings: smut, threesome (f/f/m), porn with plot, implied poly relationship dynamics, unprotected sex, oral sex, squirting, breathplay, dirty talk, overstimulation, size kink, choking, rough sex, spit kink

author's note: this was suppose to drop last month during pride but it's been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. so for those who waited here it is bookie! this is for the bisexual/pansexual girlies! still workin on requests the next fic that will drop will be a smoke fic and whewww it's too good till then i hope ya'll enjoyed this much love <3

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It was a foggy night within the bustling streets of Louisiana, the cobblestones still glistened and slick with rainwater from the thunderstorm that passed over the southern state, leaving behind only a thick mist that curled around pedestrians and lingered under the ember glow of street lights. You heels clicked against the pavement - sharp, intense, and purposeful. There were no stumble within your steps as you gracefully sidestep over puddles and potholes that lingered onto the wet pavement.

With a roll of your shoulders, you took a long drag from the cigarette that hanged loosely from your cherry stained red lips, not bothering to pull the cigarette from your mouth as you exhaled the thick smoke that nipped at your lungs. Grey smoke plumed in front of you, but you didn't break your stride - walking within the smoke cloud until you were met with breathable air again.

The box had been full this morning; buying it when you walked back from the local library. Now the paper box was empty, you told yourself that you wouldn't do this - chain smoking to the point were it wasn't even enjoyable anymore but the pressure was eating away at your already fried nerves.

You hit a wall...The words that use to flow from your brain grinded to a halt. You had nothing to write about and it been like that for months. The emails from your editor sat within your computer unopen, you dreaded even holding the damn thing, it stung like an infected cut but you knew you were dragging out the inevitable.

"You're wastin' our time..."

"If you don't give us somethin' concrete - somethin' good, then we'll just have to cut our losses and move on."

Those were the words you editor told you over the phone since you've been avoiding his emails like the plague. His tone wasn't harsh, but they dripped with impatience and disappointment. You understood his frustration - he had a job to do and if you didn't do your job then he wouldn't get paid. You took another stressful drag of the cigarette, this time pulling it from your lips, the yellow filter stained red from your lipstick as you continued your mindless walk.

But then your steps slowed.

And then they stopped.

Red neon lights bled through the open door of a bar, cutting through the hazy streets, and the sign above buzzed slightly - flickering as if it had a life of its own.

Smoke's Place.

Strange name for a bar yet something about it pulled you in, beckoning for you to enter and have a drink or five. The neon from the sign painted over your brown skin and the black dress you wore in hues of crimson, it was as if you were covered in blood, a wave of eeriness shuddered down your spine. You should continue your walk, not bothering to entertain the idea of entering this hole-in-a-wall bar, but the need to find inspiration was stronger than your discernment.

Tossing the butt of your finished cigarette onto the wet cobblestone, you stepped on the flickering filter, crushing it with the bottom of your heel as you made your way towards the bar. Walking past the threshold your eyes scanned the red surroundings. The bar wasn't empty - yet it wasn't full either. A few patrons nestled within booths, nursing drinks and chatting amongst each other, others sat at the mahogany bar listening to the soft hum of music fluttering in the air.

Blues.

You always loved the sound of it. Slow, sweet, tender, and mournful. The kind of music that made you feel waves of emotions that you never knew you could feel. Feeling pleased with the sultry environment; you made your way towards the bar, slipping onto the red velvet stool you made eye contact with the bartender. He gave you a quick nod, signaling you to place your order.

A rum and coke.

He nodded again and moved with purpose as he started to make your drink. The soft yet melancholic melody caressed your ears as you rested your chin within the palm of your hand, you gazed blankly at the liquor bottles that lined up neatly behind the bartender, and the beat of isolation hung over you like an overbearing hug. You should be at home right now working, even if you came up with a half-assed and flimsy idea - it was better than nothing.

You were so wrapped up in your stressful thoughts that you didn't notice a pair of eyes lingering on you the moment you stepped foot into the bar. A woman sat across the room, legs crossed with a wine glass in hand. With a teasing smile she took a long sip from the glass and she stood up. Walking with long and seductive strides, her hips swaying without a care in the world, and without warning she sat right next to you. The sudden presence of her made you practically jump out of your skin.

She laughed at your action, amused that you looked scared - even if it was for a split second. With a sigh she took another sip from her wine glass, your eyes lingered on her movements. She was beautiful, she was gorgeous. Her dark brown hair fell loosely, framing her face as effortless brown waves stopped just below her jawline. Her skin was a pale olive hue, smooth and cool toned, as if she was sculpted out of stone and came to life. But you couldn't help but to look at the beauty mark that rested high on her cheek, slightly underneath her left eye.

Her eyes...

They watched you intensely without blinking. They were dark brown, a deep dark brown. Too deep. It felt like you were looking into a bottomless pit - as if she held the abyss within her gaze. There was something off about the stranger's flirty gaze, it made your skin rise in goosebumps, but you couldn't look away from her even if you tried too. The red neon lights made her brown irises shimmer, enhancing the mimicking of life within them.

"I ain't never seen you in here before," the woman said, tilting her head as her smooth southern accent filled your ears like music. "How you find this place?"

Leaning back slightly to create space between you and the woman you spoke: "I walked...Just stumbled across this place and needed a drink, is all."

A small yet pleased smile tugged at the woman's lips from your honest answer, her knee brushing gently against yours underneath the bar. You couldn't tell if it was an accident or deliberate - but you didn't pull away from the woman's touch - in fact you leaned back into it. Her gazed lingered a bit longer until she extended her hand towards you, palm up awaiting for yours to be placed within hers.

And you did.

"Name's Mary." She smiled. She asked you about your name, which you gladly told her. She repeated it slowly, dragging out each syllable in a singsong tone. What you didn't expect was her lips to press against the back of your hand, the kiss was careful and tender, a gasp of shock rushed out of your lungs from her actions.

Her lips were soft...Yet cold.

Pulling back, Mary's grasp on your hand didn't dissipate, in fact she held onto your hand as if you two were longtime lovers. You watched as she reached for her wine glass again, this time you really paid attention to what's really inside of the glass. At first you assumed that it was some kind of red wine - but the way the liquid clung onto the glass, how thick and dark it was - you knew that it wasn't alcohol. You also noticed each time she drank the canines within her mouth were sharper than the average.

The bartender placed your drink in front of you, and with a turn of his heel he went to serve the other patrons, with a shudder you reached for your drink. Mary's intense gaze made something within you bubble with nervousness, fear, and need. Without thinking you chugged the booze, not even taking sips like you planned on doing in the first place. Mary's eyes widen at your action and blurted out: "Whew, I hope you don't got work tomorrow mornin'."

"I work from home." You replied as you slammed the now empty glass down, the clinking of ice filled up the beat of silence that lingered between the two of you. Her interest were piqued at this leaning forward just enough to show off her cleavage to you she asked you what you do for work, which you simply stated that you were an author, you told her of the most recent novel you've written and her face lit up so damn quick you thought she saw Jesus himself.

"That's you? I knew I recognized that pretty face! Oh, I love your work...What're doin' here in Louisiana? I assume you'd be cruisin' on a yacht in the middle of the ocean!"

"No, no, no...That ain't my thing. I mean, I do enjoy vacations, but I prefer not to blow all my money on shit like that," you laugh at Mary's sudden excitement which earned a chuckle from her too. "I'm here for work actually; startin' a new book."

"What about?" She asks as she leaned in, scanning your features as if you were a painting that hung within the most prestigious museum. Her fingers traced small shapes over the back of your hand, and you could tell that her touch meant something more than just idle tracing.

"You tell me...I got no idea what yet. I hit a wall, nothin' really speaks to me anymore and everyone's expecting me to deliver but I...I got nothin' left to say." You mumbled and the same nagging feeling of stress rattled within your brain again. So much for drinking away that unbearable feeling. Mary's face twisted with sympathy as she soaked up the words you spoke. Even if she just met you moments ago, she felt like she knew you - she spent hours reading your books. It grounded her when she's reminded of how her life got flipped upside down, how she was damned here for the rest of her existence - force to live within the shadows and fest upon the living.

Your words were her salvation.

Something shifted inside Mary and her once sympathetic expression melted into that of mischief a light had flick behind her cold, bleak eyes. Leaning in closer, invading her personal space you noticed a sweet scent of her perfume. It was floral and fruity, her scent reminded you of a hot summer's day lounging on a beach gorging yourself on peaches and mangos. You inhaled her scent deeper this time but you noticed a metallic undertone - the undeniable scent of blood. The sickening smell clung within her hair yet it didn't bother you; It only made you more interested.

"Can you keep a secret?" Mary whispered. The question was heavy - almost strange. It was as if Mary was testing some sort of boundary you both shared that you had no clue about. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, your laugher tinged with discomfort and curiosity. Maybe it was your desperation of finding something to write about, maybe it was the alcohol numbing your inhibitions, or maybe it was the way Mary looked at you as if you were some sort of goddess?

Either way you knew you wanted to see where this goes.

"Yea'..." You whispered back, which earned a toothy grin from the woman. She down her last sip of 'wine' and placed the glass onto the bar, sitting up from the velvet stool. Her hand was still holding yours but her grip slightly tighten.

"C'mon, I wanna introduce you to someone," Mary spoke in a giddy tone, pulling you up from the stool. "I bet we can help you find that spark again. Your words bring be comfort - so think of this as me givin' back."

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Mary led you with determination and purpose, weaving through the bar's shadowed backend as if she'd done this a thousand times. Pushing open the door that read 'Staff Only' in bold lettering she cut through the narrow hallway that was cluttered to the brim with liquor bottles, cleaning supplies, and miscellaneous crates that stacked on top of each other haphazardly. Then came the stairs, narrow and wooden just like the hallway you were led to. With each step that you and Mary made the moans from the staircase echoed off of the tight walls that grazed your shoulders with each movement you made.

This was a bad idea.

Following a stranger, doesn't matter how pretty they were, in a part of a bar that clearly wasn't meant for the public sent a wave of doubt within your chest. You didn't even know what her intentions were - this could honestly be a setup of some sort. You were mentally kicking yourself for even entertaining this notion of being alone with her in the first place. But just as quickly as your fear of potentially being robbed and/or extorted filled your thoughts, they were soothed as Mary glanced back, her fingers interlocked with yours as she gave you a warm and reassuring smile. You could tell that smile was genuine, that or she was just a really good actress.

At the top of the staircase was a door, so plain and extremely well hidden. The lighting within the small hallway was dim and dark, you could barely see your hand without squinting your eyes and holding it close towards your face. Mary didn't knock; she just turned the knob and walked in the room like she belonged there.

She most likely did.

It was an office that clearly belonged the person that owned this place, framed certificates and liquor licenses hung onto the dark red walls quickly gave that away. But what truly caught your attention was the art. Afro-surrealist paintings, rich with vibrancy and textures your sure that the paintings would come to life. The brush work was bold and dream like, you also noticed a record player that rested between the paintings, this person was a big Sammie Moore fan that's for sure.

But the nice decor within the office didn't make you breathless, oh no it didn't. It was him that did that. He stood at the open balcony doors, tall with broad shoulders, just by how his expensive clothes hugged his frame you knew that the man had a strong build. A toothpick rested between his lips and he tilted his head towards you and Mary with lazy interest. The midnight sky held a dark velvet hue, mixed with the harsh red neon from the bar sign below, casting him in an intense yet ethereal light. His brown skin shimmered, you wanted to run your hands across his body, not out of lust. But because this man was just so damn handsome - you were sure this could possibly be a dream and you'd wake up drenched with sweat in your bed.

But this wasn't a dream...

He didn't move a first, just chewed slowly on the toothpick as his eyes narrowed at you and Mary, and those eyes. Deep brown just like Mary's and equally lifeless like hers too. Both of their eyes held nothing but had the answers to everything, you couldn't look away from them, and the stranger was the first one to break eye contact from you. Leaning off the open doors of the balcony, the man quickly stroked his moustache and goatee, both were neatly trimmed and taken care of. His dimples flashed when he finally spoke, and the booming sound of his voice made you flinch back into Mary's touch.

"What you want this time, girl?" The man asked, his question was directed at Mary. And without missing a beat he spoke again. "And who this?" His gaze now glued onto your form. You open and closed your mouth in quick successions, trying your best to find the words you wanted to say. But Mary spoke for you, she sang out your name with pride, the grip on your hand tighten as she did so.

Mary explained the reason of you being here: you were an author, her favorite one, and you needed help finding inspiration. The man shook his head, a sarcastic laugh rolling off his tongue as he looked between you and Mary, and a long yet intense pause lingered over the conversation. Looks were exchanged between the two and you were sure that they were communicating without speaking a single word - as if having a whole conversation within each others minds without you hearing a thing.

"You really are that bored...Or dumber than a bag of rocks."

"Fuck you, Stack. Don't talk all that hot shit with me just cause we got company around, you ain't impressin' nobody." Mary stepped closer to the man now known as 'Stack', her grasp on your hand disappearing as she wrapped her arms around herself. Stack raised an eyebrow at Mary's sudden energy shift, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth as she gave him a look that held something raw, something that you couldn't quite understand.

"This isn't some impulsive shit, okay?! This could help you - could help us!" Mary shouted, motioning to you without breaking the intense gaze she shared with Stack. "If we talk about it - if we can finally put it in words - we can move on. We don't gotta keep dancin' around it till somethin' happens to one of us."

"So, what? You wanna use her as some kinda couples therapist but with extra steps and shit?" Stack asked with an slightly amused grin plastered on his handsome features.

"She's a writer! She can do what we can't," Mary pleaded, her hands that were once rested on her hips held onto Stack's strong arms. She closed the distance between them, their body pressed firmly against each other. "She can carry it and shape this ugliness into somethin' beautiful. We've been holdin' onto this hurt for years, it's rottin' away at us, and you know it is..."

Silence followed Mary's pleas soon after, thick and drawn out, you could cut the tension with a knife. Your chest began to tighten and your throat dry, the buzz from the liquor you chugged quickly dissipated, and all that was left were your fried nerves. Stack stared at you, unmoving while Mary eyes flicked between you and Stack, her face twisting with desperation.

"We're vampires, ma." Stack dryly sighed out. No buildup, no dragged out drama, it was as if he confession to something mundane such as taking the last slice of pizza or something. His words of confession echoed through the thick air and you blinked. He must be joking, right? There's no such things as vampires - this had to be some sort of elaborate prank or some weird fetish the couple shares together.

Your mind stalled, went blank, and the once disbelief turned into strained humor. A low snort escaped your lips and your hand raced to cover your mouth in an attempt to hold in your laughter, but the chuckle grew into a cackle - laughter that couldn't be contain. The kind of laughter that a person has when something so absurd happens that your body short circuits.

"I-I'm so sorry ya'll," you breathed out between the fits of laughter. You slightly doubled over as the giggles grew more strained. "You're what now, vampires? And what am I a fairy or somethin'?"

But Mary didn't smile and neither did Stack. They both just watched you laugh with a straight face and you noticed that their serious demeanor didn't waver in the slightest. Your thunderous laughter slowed, then it died, you stood there in awkward silence now as you scanned their face to find some kind of humor within their look.

But there weren't any...They were serious.

Stack tilted his head slightly, so subtle that if you weren't paying attention you wouldn't have noticed. Mary's face was still, but her lips were parted ever so slightly, and her teeth already sharp became even sharper by the second. Their cold brown irises melted into something pale - something sinister. Stack's eyes resembled the icy moonlight that shimmered brightly with sliver while Mary's eyes where a blazingly bright copper - almost feline like in nature.

Their once casual presence changed, it felt like the already tense air was being thinned by the second, and it was harder to catch your breath. Stack's golden capped teeth were impossibly sharp, not just fangs but maws. He was like a wolf wearing human skin - a hunter that could easily kill you.

With pure instinct you jumped, your feet moved before you could even think, stumbling backwards only to crash into the hard leather chair behind you. The sudden collision sent you falling back into the seat, so ungraceful, so panicked. You tried to push yourself forward but it seemed like the chair itself was holding you in place, all you could do was grip the armrest for dear life. Your chest heaved in rapid successions, your breathing coming in going in jagged short bursts, and the thunderous heartbeat from your fear echoed through your entire being.

They just stood there watching your movements and their eyes glowing faintly through the dimmed light of the office. But the way that they looked at you didn't hold an ounce of malicious intent. No threat, no hunger, and no anger. Just waiting and curiosity, and somehow that made you more fearful than ever before. They could've easily killed you right here and right now.

But they didn't.

"It's alright, darlin'. We ain't gonna hurt you." Mary said softly, stepping forward from Stack to kneel down in front of you, leveling herself within your terrified gaze. You couldn't form the words you wanted to say, it was as if your voice was trapped within your body. Mary tilted her head to the side and her glowing vampiric eyes soften at your fearful expression.

"Remember what I asked you earlier? About you keepin' a secret?" A pause lingered over the conversation as Mary waited for you to answer her, with a gulp you nodded your head which earned you a wide smile from her. Kneeling up again she began to waltz around the room. "Well, darlin'. This is what I meant..."

The sound of her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor with each graceful step she took, stopping at a painting to run her fingers over the thick paint strokes. Popping her hip to the side she spoke again, this time in an attempt for you to understand her and Stack.

"We ain't monsters, you know...We just people who didn't die when we should've. People who've seen to much - done too much."

"Don't go romanticizing this shit, Mary. We vampires, cursed, the damned, end of story." Stack blurted out, leaning against his desk as he stared out the open balcony doors, playing with the lighter in his strong hands. The soft clicks from the lighter slightly cooled your nerves, and it seemed like Stack noticed this - which made him drag out the flicks from the lighter in an attempt to sooth you.

"We got stories, things we never spoke about out loud before. About what we lost, how we got here, and what we became..." Mary's voice dropped lower, more intimate as she waltz towards you again, her hand slowly placed on your shoulder. Her touch was soft and feather like, and she leaned down to face you. Her face was inches away from yours and you couldn't help but to gaze between her fierce eyes and kissable lips.

"You a writer, right? You can take someone's pain and turn it into somethin' worthwhile. In exchange of hearin' us out you'll have a story. A real story..." Mary whispered and her fingers slowly grazed the hot skin of your cheek, tracing your features with the pads of her index finger until she stopped at your jawline. "Somethin' raw, passionate, and deeper than some tired idea you could come up with on your own, no offence."

You nodded your head as the expression of awe danced across your face, Mary smiled at that and planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling away from you again. This time she stood in front of you, leaning on the opposite side of the desk that Stack rested on, his eyes never leaving the two of you, and you could see a small semblance of hunger and something else within his gaze.

"We got rules, though." It was Stack's turn to speak as Mary held up two fingers. "One: you can't use our real names, use aliases. Change some details if need be, can't have no one know it's us." Stack explained as Mary put down her middle finger, only her index finger was held up now. You nodded again but alas, that wasn't enough for Stack.

"Use your words."

"Y-Yes, I understand. Aliases only..."

A pause lingered and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. But he spoke again - this time more firmly. "Two: you never talk about this shit to anyone, y'hear? Not your editor, not your publisher, hell not even a pet goldfish. No one. If they ask just say you made the shit up - say it's fiction. Because if you do..." He stopped flicking the lighter and stared directly into your eyes. "We ain't gon' be as polite the next time we see you."

A chill raced down your spine at Stack's heavy words. He didn't say it as a threat, there was no kind of violence or malice within his voice, yet that fact alone made you feel worse. It wasn't a threat nor a warning. It was a promise and if you fucked up in anyway, shape or form, the punishment would be your life. Mary put down her index finger, signaling to you that was the end of their rules. With a sweet smile she extended her hand out to you and without thinking you held onto hers, shaking her hand, sealing the deal you made.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

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A few days had past since your encounter with the vampiric couple, and during those days you've gathered enough courage to go through with their deal. Half of you thought about ditching Louisiana and forgetting about that weird night entirely, but the other half of you remembered Stack's words. It seemed like he had the power to find you even if you dropped off the face of the earth, the way he reminded you to keep your mouth shut gave you that impression.

With your purse sitting beside you on the velvet couch you stared at the couple across from you. They invited you into their home, a two story house that was tucked deep within Louisiana's bustling Bourbon Street, of course vampires like them would live amongst the most visited spot within New Orleans - they could feast on people in plain sight. Their shared home was expensive but not overly gaudy.

They had taste.

Their home smelled like sultry incense and aged wood with a slight undertone of bleach. It seemed like they always cleaned up, which made your gut twist with fear. They definitely 'ate' here frequently and it made you wonder just how many people they lured here - how many people were still looking for those poor souls. Candles burned low amongst the few dimly lit lamps, the flickering ember glow from the candles and lamps danced across the dark red walls within the living room you three resided in.

Bookshelves lined almost every corner of the living room, floor to ceiling dusty mahogany shelves towered over you, and books from different genres were packed tightly in the multiple bookcases. Your eyes danced over the neatly lined up hardcopies until they stopped on something familiar.

Your books.

Your whole series, lined up together on a high shelf, and the spines of the books seemed worn. A soft smile ghosted on your lips, Mary wasn't lying - she was a fan of your writing. You could tell those books were most likely read multiple times by her. A yellow notepad rested within your lap, a black pen held tightly between your fingers as your mind raced with caution and curiosity. You needed to find a balance, to ask them question without pissing them off and becoming a meal for them tonight.

Mary and Stack sat closely together on the couch opposite from you, her hand rested lazily on his thigh while Stack's arm draped around her shoulders in a way that felt natural - as if they've done this a hundred times over. You noticed that their outfits were vastly different from the night you've met them. Stack wore more jewelry - a large gold letter ring that read out '$TACK' and a multicolored Coogi sweatshirt. Mary ditched her dress with a pair of denim jeans and a black crop top and her hair was in a high ponytail.

Clearing your throat you rolled up the sleeves of your grey sweatshirt, and with three clicks of your pen you blurted out your first question: "So, let's start from the beginning...How were you two turned?"

Mary let out a soft breathy laugh, cutting through the tense conversation like a sharpen knife. "Straight to the meat and potatoes, huh?"

You blinked at Mary's comment quickly rushed out an apology, telling her that she can start wherever she wants within their story. Calmy she waved off your apology and with twinkling copper irises she spoke again. "It's fine, baby. But let's just start from the actual beginning; before all the blood and gore."

"We were childhood friends, me and Stack grew up in Mississippi together. Back when signs told you where to sit, what train you were allowed to ride. Jim Crow was hell - I don't miss that part of my childhood." Mary explained. Your writing on the thick notepad halted as your eyes met hers, questions flooded through your mind at her statements and without thinking you asked: "H-How was that possible? Ain't you--"

"White?" Mary finished, raising a well arched eyebrow. She went into detail about her background, how during those times the 'one drop rule' was still in place. Her grandfather was a biracial Black man which meant her mother lived around in a predominantly Black neighborhood. Her mother helped Stack's mother birth him and his twin, nursing the two of them when she ultimately passed away. Your writing halted again.

"You a twin?" You asked Stack, which he nodded his head confirming your question. "And where is he? Is he a--"

"Nah, he ain't like us...He gone." That was all he said and you could tell that topic was a touchy one for him. You asked Stack about his twin, tiptoeing over his death. His nickname was Smoke - now the name of the bar makes more sense. The more questions you asked about Stack's brother the more you sense his once guarded demeanor melt away. They were close, his brother was the oldest by only fifteen minutes, and he also picked out Smoke's clothes ever since they were kids. The older twin was more stoic, had stronger convections, and always protected Stack.

Even from their own father.

They were enlisted in the military together, after that they fled to Chicago and joined rival gangs, posing as the same man in an attempt to rob both sides blind. Your hand couldn't keep up with his words and without missing a beat you placed the notepad down on the coffee table that rest between them, digging in your purse to pull out a tape recorder. Stack's once prideful stories about him and his brother slowed, halting to a grinding stop as Mary's once casual gazed harden with worry.

"Nah, you can't record this. Not apart of our deal, ma." Stack said.

"I won't share this with anyone - I'll only use this as reference, I need to make sure I'm not missin' anything. I'll destroy them after, I promise." You reassured, but Stack only shook his head in disapproval.

"I'm older than your grandparents. I know better than to trust a promise like that. Tapes can get stolen, leaked, all that shit..." He leaned back into the sofa, his hold on Mary loosening slightly, leering at you with each word he spoke.

You stared in a slight annoyance at Stack words - but he was right. These tapes could somehow get stolen or lost, and you didn't want to risk that, your life was on the line after all. But recording their story was more potent that notes, it can capture their true feelings about the situations they've experienced - their inflections and pauses. It gave you some sort of access to the real them; the raw and ugly truth that'll slip out the more they spoke.

Mary eyes flicked between you and Stack, her free hand rested on his chest as she let out tired sigh before speaking. "Let's make a new deal. You can record...But you gotta keep those tapes here - with us." She smiled which earned a head shake of displeasure from her 'deal'.

"I can't do that, I need to replay them when I'm writin' - I can't memorize everything ya'll say. That's impossible..."

"We don't give a damn. Write faster if that's a problem for you." Stack shrugged, not giving you an ounce of sympathy at all. You rolled your eyes at his harsh words, he was starting to be an asshole, and even though he was a vampire you were biting your tongue - stopping yourself from cursing him clean out. You explained to them that writing their story would take some time, that it'll be a few months for a rough draft to be finished. Silence hung over the room like smog and then Mary sat up, as if she had the most brilliant idea on the planet.

"Stay with us! Live here until the rough draft is done, that way you can have access to the recordings and we can have a peace of mind." Mary smiled brightly, pleased with herself at the absurd idea of you moving in with them, she must have forgotten you only met them a few days ago. You blinked in disbelief and replied with: "No, not happenin'. I don't even know ya'll like that - I have all my stuff back at my apartment. My computer, clothes, everythin'."

"So? Bring 'em here. I'm a great host so think of this as a vacation. You know you ain't doin' nothin' else anyways..." Mary shrugged, snuggling against Stack as he chuckled at her idea.

"Damn, now we finna kidnap her too? This shit is comedy right here." Stack joked, his dimples prominent as ever as he stroked his facial hair, trying his best to stifle his laugher from his lover's actions. The look on your face only made his beautiful smile of amusement grow larger, his gold teeth shining within the dark ember light.

"You crazy? I'm not livin' in a house with two vampires I just met!" You shouted as your voice dripped with concern and annoyance. It was like talking to a brick wall with these two, once they made up their mind there was no changing it. Mary sighed as she pressed her face into the crook of Stack's neck.

"Then the tapes stay here, sorry darlin'. I just don't think leavin' you with them is a smart idea." She replied calmly. You cannot believe that she was strong arming you into staying with them, you lean back and tossed the tape recorder on the table. Your face twisting with aggravation and your expression only made the two smile more.

They seemed to both enjoy getting under your skin.

With half-lidded eyes and a cross of your arms you gave an answer.

"Fine...I'll stay."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

A few weeks passed ever since that night you agreed to stay with them, packing a duffle bag and a few suitcases with most of your belongings - not to mention the heavy box that contained your computer. Every night you'd stay up with them, writing down the stories they told you about their past, the tape recorder catching every word they spoke. Sometimes they'd laugh, sometimes they'd argue, and sometimes they'd fight back tears. When the sun came up you'd type away on your computer until sleep nipped at your eyes - staying with them ruined your sleep schedule.

You stayed in the guest room, just down the hallway from their room. And the thought of them being so close to you alarmed you greatly at first - you were too terrified to sleep for a few days. But what shocked you was how they treated you. They didn't look at you like a pest nor a meal, they treated you like a guest, like a long time friend. You often wake up to the smell of food - real food.

They'd cook you meals like gumbo and other soul food dishes that made your mouth water, anticipating dinner each time you ate their delicious cooking. The three of you would sit at the dinner table, listening to Blues as you ate, they 'ate' too. Mary would sip from her wine glass while Stack would sip from his, you never asked them were they got the blood from - you honestly weren't ready for their answer yet.

They started to ask you questions too. About your life, how you got into writing, what drives you, your failed relationships, and your likes and dislikes. You would answer them all with honesty and sometimes those innocent questions would turn risqué as the night went on. They'd ask when the last time you had sex, if you were interested in women, your favorite positions, and what was your type. At first you shut down those questions, but the more you got to know them, the more open you became.

There was no denying that you found Mary and Elias aka Stack attractive. And it seemed as if the feelings were mutual, often times they'd sit right next to you, Mary on your left while Elias was always on your right. When Mary would laugh she would place a hand on your thigh, leaving it there as she stared deeply into your eyes, her hand rubbing up and down your leg with each question you'd ask. Elias would drape his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer towards his strong frame, sometimes resting his head on top of yours as he remanence about his past.

The sexual tension between the three of you were growing by the second. You remember one night of accidently walking in on them fucking each other in the living room. You forgot your notes after the nightly interview, waltzing down the staircase only to freeze in your tracks at the sight of Mary's hands and right knee on the wooden coffee table, her back arched while Elias was behind her, bucking his hips into her as the raunchy wet sounds of her pussy swallowing his member echoed through the living room. Her breast bounced with each rock of his hips, both were fully nude, and your eyes met with Mary's.

An open mouth smile danced across her gorgeous features, her sharp fangs bare as her moans grew louder at the sight of you. Elias's hands held onto her hips firmly as he's once shut eyes open, he was staring at you too - neither one of them stopped there movements. In fact it seemed like they sped up their thrusting, the look in their eyes beckoned you to step closer, to join them.

You stood there with blown pupils, mouth hanging slack with shock, and without thinking you raced back upstairs and towards your bedroom. Arousal nipped at your loins at the sight, you wished you would've joined them that night, kicking yourself mentally for chickening out and retreating towards your room.

Pulling yourself out of those thoughts about the two, you sat across from Elias. It was just you and him tonight, Mary had left hours prior to manage the bar, something about shipments not arriving on time. The air was awkward between you and Elias, well awkward on your part, he seemed cooler than a cucumber not phase that you saw him having sex just last night. The tape recorder clicked on, its quiet whirring droning on within the background.

Elias told you about the night he was turned, how he open a Juke Joint with his twin brother, and how it all went to shit. He was turned by Mary who was bitten by some ancient vampire named Remmick, he was lured there from the music his little cousin Sammie played, now it made sense with all the Sammie Moore records he owned.

He talked about how it felt being connected to Remmick and the others who were turned - how he lost himself within the short madness he experienced, shame tugging on his face with each word he spoke. He explained that he was in a trance, listing to the orders that Remmick filled his mind with, and the only way he snapped out of it was seeing the death of Annie - his brother's lover.

"After all that shit went down, my brother locked me inside the Juke, he saved me from the sun..." He mumbled as he clenched his jaw, the bloodied memories tormented his mind greatly, you could tell by how he shuffled within his seat. "When the sun came down, I saw him. Saw what those sorry ass peckerwoods did to him...But he saved me again, one last time. The Klan showed up and he gunned them all down, killed every last one of 'em. He went out with a bang, my big brother." He finished as nothing but pride dripped within his tone.

"He sounds like a good man - a great man." You replied, which earned a nod of agreement from Elias. The tape recorder flashed a small red blinking light, signaling to you that it was still recording, silence fell over the both of you like a weighted blanket and without warning Elias sat up from the couch.

He moved with purpose as your eyes followed him, he reached a safe that was in the corner of the living room, nestled between a tall bookcase and the wall, he kneeled down and twisted the knob of the safe entering the combination. With a click the small door open and he rummaged inside, once he found what he was looking for he closed the door shut, spinning the knob to reset the lock. Walking back towards you he claimed a seat right next to you, not sitting on the couch across from you. You looked down at what he was holding and a gasp fell from your lips.

Dog tags, his brother's dog tags specifically.

The chain was long and rusted due to age and the tags were dull. But staring at them felt like a knife twisting at your gut, they were old, but something about them held so much beauty. Your hand move without thinking, reaching for the tags, but you stopped. Your fingers hovered over Elias's hands and your gazed met his.

"Can I?" You asked your voice soft and tender.

"Yea', yea you can..." He whispered back passing the rusted metal towards you, his grasp on the tags were so delicate, as if these tags were some sacred artifact. And honestly, they were. "Thank you, 'Lias." you said, his nickname that you gave him a few days ago rolled off your tongue so naturally, the sound of it made the butterflies in his stomach grow stronger. Your eyes scanned the tags, his brother's name piercing through the rusted metal.

Elijah Moore.

Of course their names would be similar and a soft smile tugged at your lips. A wave of inspiration crashed into you like a tsunami, you could practically feel the energy radiating off the the dog tags, resting your hands in your lap still holding the tags with respect your eyes locked onto Elias's tender gaze on you. The sensation of your heart racing beneath your ribs made your body tingle in raw need and you were suddenly aware with how close Elias was. He was close to you before, but Mary was always there, this was different now.

It was just the two of you.

Your lips were parted, painted in the same cherry red lipstick you'd always wore, but without thinking you licked your bottom lip nervously. That action earn Elias to look at your mouth his eyes were brown instead of his pale vampiric irises and you couldn't help but to be drawn into those deep abyss that were his eyes, just like the first night the two of you met. Slowly you leaned in and Elias didn't move, the feeling of his lips ghosting over yours made your skin prick up with goosebumps. Then finally, he closed the gap between the two of you.

The kiss was soft at first, it was as if the two of you were testing the waters. He tasted like tobacco, peppermint, with a subtle hint of iron and danger. You shouldn't be doing this, everything in your body told you to pull away, your nerves telling you that this was more trouble than its worth. But you just couldn't give a fuck anymore - you needed to feel his hands on you - and you needed to touch him. The once gentle kiss grew deeper as Elias pulled your closer towards his chest, pulling you in his lap as you rested the dog tags onto the couch. You were straddling him as your tongues danced across each other, desperately licking into each others mouth as a groan of pleasure ripped through you.

His strong hands that held onto your hips snaked their way up your sweatshirt, cupping your breast as his fingers traced the lace lining of your bra. Grinding yourself onto him your hands cupped his face, the feeling of his beard ticking the palms of your hands slightly, the kiss was passionate and his plump lips made your head spin in need. Pulling away his mouth was slightly covered in your red lipstick, but that didn't seem to bother him none. He reached for the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head with your help and his mouth attacked your breast, collar bone, and neck.

You held his face against your neck as you tossed your head back, the sensation of his lips suckling at the sensitive spot on your neck made you whimper out in pleasure. But like a crack of thunder realization ripped through your body. He's not yours, he's someone else's man. He belonged to Mary who invited you into her home, who trusted you with their secrets, their stories, their truth. Guilt bloomed within your gut as Elias continued to kiss at your neck and breast, his moans made you feel sick with shame.

"Elias, wait..." You whispered, pulling away slightly from him, but you were sitting in his lap.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he tried to kiss you again, but you dodged his lips. You swallowed as you avoided his needy gaze, you knew if you stared at him too long your convictions might crack.

"This ain't right..."

"It's 'ight. It's fine, ma. I promise."

"No, its not fine." You gasped rising from his lap as if he touch alone burned you. With shaky hands you reached for the tape recorder, pressing stop on the tiny machine, and the faint whirring sound died into awkward silence. You quickly gathered your things as Elias watched, slightly startled by your sudden change of demeanor. "This was a mistake, please forget about this." You begged, holding your sweatshirt close to your body, shielding your half nude frame from his intense gaze.

"Forget about what? You ain't did nothin' wrong, we ain't did nothin' wrong...I noticed the way you've been lookin' at me, we both know you want this." Elias reassured but you were already moving towards the steps, your socks making you glide a bit with each rushed and uneven steps you took. What's gotten into you? You weren't the kind of person to entertain anyone who was in a relationship - you've always hated cheaters. Always condemning the kind of person who would break their partner's trust in such a way.

But you were a kiss away from being the one thing you couldn't stand. Slamming your bedroom door shut your mind raced with worried thoughts about your actions. Was this book truly worth it? You could just tell them that this wasn't good idea, leaving all of your notes, recordings and even your computer in their possession and leave.

Half of you wished that you didn't pull away from him.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The tape recorder groaned out a small click and whirred as your thumb pressed the play button - again. Elias's soothing voice muffled from the tiny recorder, his southern accent was slightly static from the cheap device yet you could still feel that passion with each word he spoke. His words about his story, about his brother, and his life truly moved you. But now those tender words were tainted with guilt. A long static pause pushed from the tiny speaker and then unmistakable sounds of kisses, of groans, the quiet thud of your sweater dropping on the floor.

You winched at the noises, cursing yourself out within your head. Your thumb hit the stop button, followed by the rewind button, and lastly pressing play for the hundredth time. Listening to the same words Elias spoke, listening to the same pauses and cadences. You kept listening to the recording as some sick form of punishment or reminder of your transgression.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, the blue cotton nightgown you wore clung onto your slightly damp legs, you decided to take a bath after the kiss - hoping that the warm water and floral scented soap would wash away the betrayal. You thanked the gods above that your bathroom was connected to your bedroom, you haven't left your room in hours now. Mary had been home, you knew this as you heard shuffling from downstairs, and the sunrays that slipped past the thick curtains gave you the clue that she left the bar. Her and Elias always arrive home before the sun could catch them.

The smell of breakfast curled through the air, slipping underneath your door, and tickled your nose. The slight pain of hunger nipped within your stomach. The smell of grits, eggs, bacon, and pancakes with sweet syrup made your mouth water - and you knew that Mary cooked them just the way you liked it.

But you're not leaving your room anytime soon.

Pressing rewind on the tape recorder again, soft knocking reverberated through your room, making you jump in surprise. Your eyes glued onto the wooden door, widening like deer in the headlights. Maybe if you stayed quiet they'd cut their losses and leave you alone. But then another round of knocking came soon after, making you spit out a 'fuck' under your breath.

"I know you're up, it's me!" Mary sang out, her voice was bright, light, and lacked any hurt you might've suspected she had. But maybe it was a front to lure you out so she could sink her teeth into you for messing with her man. You didn't answer as you pressed pause on the tape recorder and tossing it onto the bed beside you, your wide eyes still lingering on the door.

"I made breakfast, I figured you would've joined us by now. We can still eat, though. Maybe in the sunroom? it's cloudy and the trees blocks out the sun..." Mary spoke calmly as soft chuckles escaped her lips after uttering the word 'sunroom', normally you would've made a joke about vampires even owning a house with such a room that they couldn't even enjoy. But you didn't say a word. A beat passed, no footsteps, Mary hadn't walked away.

Damn was this lady persistent...

With a loud and dramatic sigh Mary spoke again, her voice dripping with playful annoyance. "Come on, sweetpea. Don't make me come in and drag you out! You know I will..." She mumbled, dragging out the nickname she gave you days ago. Sweetpea, that was what she called you, and the nickname always made you feel fuzzy inside whenever she sang it out to you.

Standing up from the bed you shuffled towards the heavy door, reaching for the golden doorknob you twisted it reluctantly, opening the door to become face to face with Mary. She stoon there casually, her arms crossed over her chest while her hip popped out to the side, putting all her weight onto her right leg. She wore a silk soft pink robe that accentuated all of her curves, the silk stopping mid thigh while her brown hair was was wrapped in matching pink rollers.

Her face lit up when she saw you, her caring expression made your heart sank. "Finally!" She gasped out, leaning in slightly as her smile danced wider across her beautiful features. "I was seconds away from kickin' the door down."

You tried to smile at her casual demeanor, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Your gazed dropped to your bare feet, curling your toes nervously, and you hoped that the wooden floorboards would open up and swallow you from this awkward situation. Mary's cheerful expression shifted and her arms lowered to her sides, leaning on the door frame her eyes scanned your body.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice soft and full of concern. "What's wrong?"

"I kissed Elias..." You blurted out, it's best to just get it out the way than to drag it out. Your voice cracked with each syllable you choked out as your eyes clashed with Mary's brown irises. "I didn't mean to, it just happened. It was stupid, I-I feel awful I'm so sorry."

Mary stood there and her expression went flat, her plump lips forming a straight line. Then her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as if she was digesting your words, and without missing a beat a toothy grin was plastered on her face.

And she laughed.

Placing a hand over her chest her laugher grew, it was as if you just told her a joke, not the fact that you kissed her lover. You blinked at her in shock, confused and wondering if she heard you or lost her mind. "You laughin'?" You asked your hand still gripping the doorknob just in case she tried to charge at you, slamming the door in her face, it wouldn't do a damn thing but it gave you some comfort.

Mary waved her hand through the air, simulating swatting away smoke as she spoke in between fits of chuckles. "I-I'm sorry, sweetpea, haha! It's just--Damn, that's why you've locked ya self away in this room? Ya scared of big bad Mary?"

Her expression then shifted again, a teasing pout forming on her lips, tilting her head to the side. "Wait, wait...Did ya'll two--"

"No! No, never that. It was just a kiss, that's all."

"Shame. Was hopin' to hear more about ya'll. He's handsome, ain't he? Smart mouthed, passionate, and tough...It's the grills that do it for me. Is it the same for you?" She asked casually, which made you slightly reel back from her words. She wasn't upset that you kissed Elias. She was upset that you didn't go through with it. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water - everyday that past these two always surprise you in the strangest of ways.

"But I--Ain't y'all together?" You questioned.

"We are." Mary replied, crossing her arms around her chest again, biting her lip as her eyes became half-lidded. Her gaze was unreadable to you now. Was she joking with you or was she flirting with you? It seemed like a mixture of both with something else lingering beneath the surface. Pushing herself from the doorframe Mary shot you a wink, turning on her heel as her hips swayed seductively with each step she took.

"Your breakfast is gettin' cold, darlin'. And I ain't gonna reheat no bacon."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Rain poured down steadily, turning the garden outside into a shimmering blur of greens, blues, and greys. Calming pitter patter of the raindrops beat against the screens and windows of the sunroom, the sound creating white noise that made the space you shared with Elias and Mary much more intimate. You sat between them at a small, mosaic round table, your plate was nearly finished save for a few more bites of grits.

Mary leaned back in the metal chair, her legs crossed as she twirled a cherry flavored candy in her mouth. Her tongue clicking and popping around the sweet as her eyes gazed up at the sheer roof, it was as if she was in a trance, deep in thought about something you weren't privy to. Your eyes lingered onto Mary for a split second before looking back down at your plate.

"I was wondering...Can ya'll eat? Like, human food?" You asked. Elias was the one to answer your question with a roll of his broad shoulders, his voice deep and rich with a southern drawl. "Only in moderation, eat too much an' we get sick, same with drinkin' from somebody with an illness."

Mary nodded at his words in agreement, the bright red candy bulging at the side of her cheek as she chimed in on the conversation. "I just like suckin' on sweet things - satisfies the craving...Sweetpea." She then looked at you, sending you a wink that made your cheeks tingle. Surly she was just talking about candy...Right? Clearing your throat, you wiped your face off with a napkin, inhaling the thick air before you spoke.

"I just wanted to say, to the both of you, I'm sorry for the kiss. For oversteppin' and makin' things messy..."

"We been messy way before you were even a thought, you ain't do nothin', ma." Elias said in a jesting tone, but you could tell he was sincere with his words. Even being graced with their forgiveness, your heart couldn't stop racing - not out of fear, but with something much more stronger. Much more passionate, much more needier. And it didn't help that Elias was sitting right next to you in nothing but low rise sweatpants and a gold chain, the Jesus piece resting against his bare chest. His muscles flexed with each shift he made, and the soft sheen of the cloudy skies illuminated his brown skin, making him shine within the grey atmosphere.

Elias was temptation in the flesh and Mary was the snake that beckoned you to take a bite.

"So, since we're on the topic of Elias kissin' up on our guest. I gotta know - how did she feel?" Mary purred, a mischievous smile danced across her face, you choked on your orange juice at her words. Coughing, your eyes landed on Elias, who seemed to be unfazed by Mary's question.

"She felt nice, real nice." He said simply. His strong hands scratched at the side of his face, fixing the stray hairs within his neatly trimmed beard. "She got the softest lips and she taste sweet...Like candy." Your breath was caught in your throat, they were talking about you as if you weren't even there. But the way that Elias spoke about kissing you and the way Mary's hips slightly rolled from him recalling the memory made your core tingle with desire, your pussy was clenching around nothing, you desperately needed to be touched and stroked.

And these two will gladly deliver.

The cherry flavored candy clicking loudly between Mary's fangs. "Well, ain't that just precious...But now I'm curious." Her voice was like velvet and she leaned forward towards you, eliminating the space between the two of you as her eyes flicked between your open mouth and hazy irises. "How do you taste, darlin'? You as sweet as my Stack says?"

Before you could even think about answering her, Mary plucked the bright red candy out of her mouth, and planted a heated kiss onto your lips. Her mouthed moved against yours with a feverish rhythm, demanding your attention more than asking, her lips were sweet but the kissed you shared with her wasn't. It was possession in its purest form, it was nasty, and it was passionate. She licked into your open mouth, swallowing the gasps that slipped past your lips as if she was starving for you. Her kiss was different from Elias - it was hungrier and she was in charge with how your lips and tongue moved against hers. Kissing Elias felt like dancing, kissing Mary felt like entering a fight that you didn't mind losing.

Your hands trembled slightly as you cupped Mary's face, trying and failing to steady her kisses, your eyes shut as you pulled yourself into Mary's embrace. Your breast laid flush onto hers, and the feeling of her nipples hardening and rubbing against yours made your head spin. Your heart was pounding wildly within your chest and your legs squeezed together tightly to ease the aching throb of your core. The cotton fabric of your nightgown was bunched on top of your pussy, and you rolled your hips against the rough fabric, your clit jumping at the sensation of the cotton pressing against it.

But it wasn't enough.

With heavy lidded eyes you gazed at Elias who just watched on with pure amusement, lazily slouched back with one arm hooked around the back of the metal chair. His mouth curled up into a mischievous grin that oozed with lust, his golden capped fangs shining brightly through the grey atmosphere within the sunroom. Those dimples, the same ones that you've been obsessed with the moment you saw him deepen as his smile grew, his eyes were locked onto yours as Mary skilled tongue massaged over yours - pulling yet another moan out of you.

Back away from the kiss, the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip with Mary's snapped, the thin spit clinging on your chin. You tried to lean in to kiss her again, but she pushed you away by your face, her hand gripping your jaw firmly which made your lips pucker in a pout.

"Uh, Uh girl. I'm the jealous type, focus on me, and only me unless we say somethin' otherwise." Mary tutted out in her normal sing song tone. You were caught between the scorching heat of Mary's attention and the intense weight of Elias's stare, you felt yourself unravel by the second. In the back of your mind, red flags and warning bells were firing off, but your lust was stronger than your inhibitions.

With the candy still within her fingers, Elias leaned forward, he was sitting behind you, and his mouth wrapped around Mary's delicate fingers. Licking them and savoring the artificially sweet cherry flavor that clung onto her pale olive skin, slowly he pulled his mouth away with a wet pop - the candy was gone, it was now in his mouth. Mary's fingers were slick with spit and slightly sticky from the candy, your breath hitched in your throat as she wiggled them in your face teasingly.

"Go on, Mary. Stop pickin' on her..." Elias spoke as he sucked on the hard sweet. A giggle fell from Mary's swollen lips and she whispered: "Pull up that nightdress for me, sweetpea. I wanna see that pussy weep." With a rushed nodding of your head you did as you were told, pulling up the fabric and bunching it around your waist, your bare sex exposed under the needy gaze of Mary and Elias. Her fingers that were slicked with Elias's spit reached down to stroke you, earning a whimper from your lips. It's been too long since you've been touched like this by another person, and it seems like your body realized this, you were already soaking.

"Shit, so fuckin' pretty...Pussy fat as hell, you've been hiding her under all them clothes, tragic." Mary whispered, biting her lip as she dragged her slicked fingers over your folds, pulling your wetness up towards your thumping clit. You squirmed under her touch, leaning back against Elias's strong chest. Instinctually you closed your thighs shut, which made Mary's hand that rested on your jaw land on your knee, prying your legs open as she dipped her ring and middle fingers between your wet pussy lips.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in place, while another was pressed between the soft mounds of your breasts. Elias's hand rested on your throat, not tight yet, but his grasp on your neck still held pressure. He could feel the fast paced pounding of your pulse under his calloused fingers, the feeling of it made him strain against his grey sweatpants, placing tender kisses on your cheek and the shell of your ear he whispered.

"You heard what she said, ma. Watch her stroke that pretty pussy, you ain't ready for me yet."

And your glassy eyes peered down at Mary trying your best, and failing, to ignore Elias's hot kisses on your skin. Mary's slim fingers rubbed tight circles on your sensitive bud, breaking the circular movements sporadically to rub your clit from side to side, earning a raunchy wet from your cunt. Mary gasp as she felt you grow wetter under her hand, your hips rolling to catch up with her mean strokes against your sex, and slowly her fingers crept down to your slick opening. She dug her nails into the soft skin of your knee, earning a painful mewl mixed with pleasure from you, and she chuckled as the tips of her fingers pressed inside of you.

She didn't push all the way in, only stopping at the second joint of her fingers until she pulled out of you, rubbing your clit again. Your face twisted in primal need as your hips bucked forward and your hands scratching at Elias's strong forearm that was wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Damn, you hear that? She's wetter than a fuckin' pool." Elias said against your ear as he watched Mary's fingers turn you out.

"Mhm, music to my ears. I wanna taste her, I wanna show her what you taught me, Stack..." Mary replied with her eyes locked onto his, as if asking him permission to continue giving you pleasure.

"Do it, ma. Put that tongue to work."

Then she lowered her head, slipping out of the chair she resided in, and slinked onto her knees. Propping your legs over her shoulders, her tongue slowly licked you from your aching core towards your bundle of nerves, fluttering her long eyelashes with each long stroke she made with her skillful tongue. Sucking on your clit as if it was the same piece of candy she held within her mouth moments prior. You grinded against her face, which made her flatten her tongue, allowing you to fuck yourself on the pink muscle.

Whimpers, whines, and groans rolled out of your mouth with each lick Mary had made over your soaking pussy. Her hands held onto your thighs, holding them open to make sure she truly tasted every inch of your sex. The hold that Elias had on your throat tighten, but the mild pain only added to the intense pleasure Mary was giving you. Elias whispered praises in your ear, telling you how good you're taking Mary's tongue, how pretty your moans sound, and how he couldn't wait to fuck you next.

"Oh, fuck. Y-yes, like that..." You sighed out, your voice fraying at the end of the sort sentence. Mary's soft lips wrapped around your clit before pulling away with a wet pop, her tongue now licking at you with fever, her tongue dragging figures across your dripping cunt.

And then it hit you.

She was spelling her name out with her tongue.

On your pussy.

Nasty. That was all you could muster to think and you loved it. You wondered what great deed you've done to end up being rubbed, licked, and sucked on by two beautiful people. The sharp feeling of Elias's fangs scratched the shell of your ear slightly, earning a shiver to race down your spine. Mary circled around your clit with her tongue faster, sliding in her fingers inside you again, this time she pressed them all the way in stopping at her knuckles. Your pussy squeezed around her nimble digits, her fingers making a scissoring motion inside your wet core, making you yelp out in pleasure.

Your hands that were once on Elias's forearm rested on Mary's neck, you tried your best not to grip at the rollers in her hair, your legs shaking around her head which earned a chuckle from Elias. He was enjoying the view greatly, he knew you were close, squeezing your neck to earn that fuzzy feeling that nipped at your brain. A breathy sob fell from your open mouth as your eyes shut tightly, holding your head back Elias's lips crashed onto yours, kissing you as your orgasm ripped through you. The cherry taste from the candy still in his mouth flooded your senses, his tongue pushing the hard candy past your plump lips, making you suck on the sweet in delight.

Mary pulled away from your spent pussy, her plump and swollen lips shiny and covered with your juices, but she swiped her tongue across her bottom lip shaking her head in approval at the taste of you. "You are sweet, baby. Stack wasn't lyin' - not one bit," she laughed as her fingers helped you ride out your orgasm, slowly fucking into your twitching pussy. "Such a sweet pussy, I'm glad I came up with that nickname for you. Sweetpea, it's fittin' for you."

Still trembling from reaching your climax, Mary lifted herself from the ground, planting a open mouth kiss onto yours. You could taste yourself on her lips as you deepened the kiss, holding her face as your tongues danced, you were getting use to her intense kisses. It was your turn to turn her into a moaning mess, gasping for air.

"Damn, nasty as fuck. She love the taste of her pussy on ya mouth, I like that, we ain't even have to train her to do this." Elias spoke with reverence as he watched the two of you makeout with each other, Mary hummed against your lips at his words, pleased to know that you weren't as uptight as you lead on to be. Her tongue fished for the candy that rested within your cheek, dragging it out of your mouth and into hers. Pulling her lips away from yours, Elias's squeezed your throat again, hard this time. Your eyes fluttered in pleasure as tears pricked within the corners, your mouth was open slack in an attempt to inhale a bit of air, but Mary hovered over your gasping mouth with puckered lips.

A thick string of drool slipped past her slicked wet mouth, landing right into yours, earning your eyes to roll back. The taste of artificial cherry and your pussy juice made your head spin, swallowing up her spit as if it was holy water, Mary bit her lip at the sight. She was happy that she saw you in the bar weeks ago, she knew you would be trouble, and she couldn't wait for you to ruin her and Elias during the rest of your stay here. Reaching for her silk robe, Mary slipped it off of her petite frame, letting the soft fabric hit the ground with a light thud. She stood in front of you and Elias naked, she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Both ya'll not wearin' any panties under your pajamas is drivin' me crazy," Elias sighed as his grip on your neck loosened, allowing you to catch your breath. "Ya'll planned this out?"

"Nah, baby. She just freaky as hell, just like me." Mary tutted out. Your eyes soaked up her nude body, toned and curved at just all the right places, it was as if her body was chiseled by master artists - a fucking Greek statue of a goddess coming to life. That's what she looked like, and your mouth watered at the thought of holding her in your arms. Elias noticed your staring and he smiled proudly.

"You like that, huh? She pretty ain't she? Go on, taste her too." Elias urged, helping you out of the chair you resided in, landing a smack against your ass with his strong hand as you sank onto the ground. A hiss escaped your lips from the action, but you still followed his orders, looking up at Mary with adoration. Your hands roamed her thighs, stopping at her waist to pull her closer towards you, making a gasp fall from her lips. Without missing a beat you latched your mouth onto her clit, your tongue lapping up her pussy like it was a delicacy. She was dripping, and the thought of her getting this wet just by eating you out made your loins burn with desire.

Rolling her hips Mary grinded her pussy against your tongue, you flatten it enough for her to use it to her liking, only stopping to suck at her swollen clit. Leaning back onto your knees you stared at her glistening sex, and with a pucker of your lips you spit onto her sensitive bud. A low and guttural moan escaped from Elias at the sight, he was shocked with how natural all of this was for you, as if you've done this with them a thousand times by now.

Mary cupped her breast, pinching her nipple as your fingers rubbed her clit, pressing down slightly with each stroke you gave. Sliding in a finger you began to fuck into her and her head whipped back with pleasure, attaching your mouth back onto her clit you began to suck harder, your finger pumping into her faster.

"So damn tight, your pussy is grippin' me...Swallowin' me, baby." You muttered against her wet cunt, your raunchy words earning desperate buck from her hips. Your sucking on her clit grew faster and you added another finger inside of her, Elias stood up from his chair now, walking towards Mary and placed a sloppy kiss onto her mouth. He held her face within his strong hands and she moaned into his mouth, his tongue licked past her lips, he was practically devouring her whimpers of pleasures. You, still on your knees watched in awe, sucking and rolling your tongue on her twitching clit.

Mary grabbed the back of your head, her breathing fast now, you could tell she was close with how her hips wildly grinded against your face. Elias sucked at her neck, leaving behind bright red hickeys, earning mewls of pleasure from her. Mary's legs began to shake uncontrollably, her weight slowly pressing against your mouth, and without warning she pulled your mouth away from her creamy wet sex. Her eyes rolled back as you watched her tremble above you and you licked up her juices off of your fingers with delight.

Elias broke away from the passionate kiss he shared with Mary, pulling you up from the hard floor of the sunroom, and in his tender embrace. Your lips crashed into his, fighting for dominance as Mary watched on in hunger, catching her breath as she came down from reaching her orgasm. Her lips were added in the intense makeout session, she was kissing you while you kissed Elias, and Elias was kissing her. All three of you were desperately trying to taste each other in the heated exchange of tongues.

With teeth bumping against each other and the taste of Mary's savory pussy juices on your mouth, you moaned with pleasure as she pushed the hard cherry flavored candy back into your mouth, the candy was now smaller than the last time you sucked on it. The sweetness of the candy still held the taste of you that made your head spin.

Mary's hands ripped at the collar of your nightgown, the sharp sound of tearing reverberated off of the screen walls within the sunroom, the cotton that once covered your body now hung loosely over your frame, you were nude now too. Elias pulled off the blue nightdress from your shoulders, goosebumps forming on your skin as the cool air hit your naked frame. The tattered nightgown fell onto the floor as Mary snaked behind you, placing kisses onto your neck and jaw, her hands roaming your body as if memorizing your every curve.

Pushing the plate that carried your breakfast onto the hard floor, the shattering sound of glass made you jump into Elias's arms, Mary sat onto the mosaic table. Stepping back into her embrace your swollen lips danced with Elias's, both of you humming into each others mouths at the sweet taste of Mary's pussy and the candy on your lips. Biting his bottom lip you pulled away from the kiss, leaning on Mary as her hands cupped your breast.

"That ain't fair, baby. We both naked and you got these sweats on..." You said as your hands traced down his toned body, feeling every dip and valley of his muscles, stopping at the waistband of his grey sweatpants. "She right, take those off." Mary chimed in, rolling your nipples between the digits of her fingers, the sharp yet pleasurable pain raced through your body and straight towards your needy pussy.

Without speaking a word Elias pulled his sweatpants off and your eyes widened.

"...'Lias." You whispered out his nickname at the sight of him, you were at a loss of words as your hazy eyes landed on his hard dick, and Mary laughed at your reaction. He was long, thick, and heavy. The veins pulsed down his girthy shaft and his dick curved a bit to the side, he was the biggest you've ever seen, and you're sure you'd be walking with a limp after this. You weren't sure he could fit inside of you and you clenched your legs together instinctually. It was as if Elias read your mind and he calmy stated: "Imma go slow until I know your pussy can handle me."

"And besides this won't be the last time he fucks you. Right, sweetpea? We'll make sure you get use to it." Mary reassured as she planted a soft kiss onto your cheek, twirling you around so you faced her. Elias held onto your waist, lifting you up into Mary's lap, you were straddling her now and she leaned back holding you in place. Her hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as your hands rested behind her, your breasts pressed firmly on hers.

Mary's thighs were pressed on the back of yours, making sure to keep you steady, and the both of you looked over your shoulder at Elias. Slowly he rubbed his tip against your wet folds, the sensation made you shiver in anticipation. With a kiss on your shoulder Elias entered you, his face twisting in ecstasy at the feeling of your soft walls pulsating around his thick member.

"F-fuck, you feel too damn good, ma." He groaned, his hands held onto your hips, the feeling of your velvety wet pussy clenching against the veins on his cock almost made him come right then and there, catching his breath he pushed himself inside of you to the hilt. The feeling of his thick dick stretching you out made you whimper, tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes fell onto your warm cheeks, which made Mary lean forward to lick and kiss them away.

High pitched grunts fell from your lips with each mean thrust he made, and it didn't help that Mary held your ass cheeks open, his dick drilling into you deeper. Your legs were turning into jelly as he hit that sweet spot inside of your pussy. Sucking onto the candy in your mouth you tried your best to stifle your whimpers and cries, your face was covered in tears and spit as Mary lapped up your salty teardrops, humming out in bliss at the taste - she was enjoying seeing you come undone from Elias's dick pounding into you.

"Keep cryin', ma. Shit--You so fuckin' tight." Elias praised as his hand that was once holding the softness of your hip rested at the back of your neck, his calloused fingers pressing firmly around your neck, your heavy breathing becoming deliciously strained from the pressure. A creamy mess was quickly formed between you and Elias due to the friction and your wetness, the raunchy wet sound of his dick fucking into you was music to Mary's ears, her hand reached between your flushed bodies as she rubbed tight circles on your clit.

The metal legs of the small circle table scratched against the floor with each buck of Elias's hips. Your head went fuzzy again from the overbearing sensation of Mary's fingers playing with your pussy, Elias's dick fucking into your g spot, and his strong hand restricting your airflow that you didn't realize what you were whimpering out.

"Fuckin' break m-me!" You cried as Mary's hand moved with the speed of light. "Please, please, please..." The feeling of Elias's cock twiching inside of your pussy from your request made you back up into him, meeting his hips halfway with a lazily smile plastered onto your face.

"Fuck! You hear her, baby?" Mary asked, as she watched Elias's eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth hanging open slack. "Why settle for a few months when we could have her forever?"

"I can fuck this pussy forever, d-damn. You like that sound of that, ma? Forever with us?" Elias muttered as his hips snapped into you sporadically. Your mind was clouded with lust and the desperate need to be released that you weren't fully grasping what they were talking about, only breathy sobs came from you.

But that was enough for Elias.

With one last long mean and nasty thrust his release crashed into him like a wave, finishing inside of you as his hips rocked into you with force, making your weight rest on Mary's chest. Your body trembling at the warm sensation of being filled to the brim with his seed, he was giving you his everything and the creamy mess of your wet sex mixed with his come froth between the two of you, dripping down towards Mary's soaking pussy.

The sensation of Elias pulling out of you slowly mixed with the skillful fingers of Mary stroking your clit made the knot within your stomach tightly wind up and snap. The burning hot feeling of your orgasm rattled through your bones, making you squirt all over the mosaic table, Elias's abdomen, and Mary's thighs and pussy. It was like a faucet that wouldn't stop and the candy that was in your mouth was crushed into tiny pieces from your teeth. Elias gave your core a playful smack with the shaft of his dick, soaking up your pussy juices that was now everywhere.

"You so messy, ma. So filthy..."

"Good job, sweetpea."

Your breathing was rapid and your body slick with sweat, it felt like you've been running a marathon, your body was so weak and fucked out. But the one fact about vampires that still amaze you rattled through your dickmatized thoughts: they had stamina. Mary's arms wrapped around your waist, earning your legs to wrap around her waist in the process, she guided the two of you on the soaked ground with the help of Elias.

"Ya'll gotta clean this up." Elias spoke casually, his dick still twitching from reaching his orgasm. Still within Mary's sweet embrace your trembling hand reached for Elias's girthy cock that was drenched in your wetness, your tongue dragging across the thick vein that raced towards the tip of his dick. Mary joined you, her tongue working at the base of his dick stopping to plant small kisses at his tip, your mouths and tongues bumping into each other.

Elias looked down at you two with a cocky smile, two beautiful women lapping up his dick would make any man fill with pride. With his hand tangled into your soft coils he raised up his other arm, flexing his bicep as a booming chuckle of pure gratification fell from his lips, you couldn't help but to roll your eyes at his arrogant display. Pulling your mouth away from his dick you placed a bite onto his v line, he hissed at the action, but his smile only grew wider.

Those fucking dimples will be the death of you.

Mary cupped your cheeks gently, turning your head to face her as she planted a soft and tender kiss onto your lips. This kiss wasn't primal like the others she gave - it was grounding. It seemed like she was making sure that you were okay, that you were still here. Breaking away from the kiss she rested her forehead onto yours, her beautiful deep brown eyes that you easily got lost in peered into yours.

"We're serious about out offer," she hummed out, biting her bottom lip as she wiped away the tearstains from your cheek. "We can do this forever, sweetpea. It's up to you, of course."

"I-I'll think about it." You mumbled, which earn a nod of understanding from her. Turning into a vampire was a daunting idea, being banished from the sun and having to survive off blood seemed like a burden that you weren't willing to comment to.

Yet.

"Good things come to those that wait; and we'll wait eternity for you, ma." It was Elias who said that. You and Mary lifted yourself from the ground, your arms slung around Elias's broad shoulders while Mary pressed against your backside, hugging you from behind. Your bodies tangled in the raw afterglow and your once foggy mind was set ablaze. Calling Elias and Mary your muse was an understatement of the century - they're your brilliance, your new found obsession, the passion behind each and every stroke of your pen. You didn't just feel inspired; you felt fulfilled.

You felt whole.

And you couldn't wait to write the next chapter.

[theegoldenchild]

Chapter One: Dreams or Nightmares

Authors Note: Yeah so… I have a habit of starting something new while working on something else… Enjoy my coochie muffins!

Warnings: 18+ | Angst | Slow burn | Smokie Smoke is MEAN :/ but it’s lowkey justified | Stack is a grown toddler | OC x SmokeStack Twins | Of course this story is going to be freaky. Can’t you tell by the header?

By the time Alexandria Watkins stepped into her penthouse, the night had settled over Los Angeles like a veil of lies, thin enough to let the city’s light bleed through, but heavy enough to feel suffocating if you stood still too long. The glow from her skyline view flickered across the glass walls like a heartbeat, pulsing with the life of a city that never slept, even when she desperately needed to.

The soft click of the door behind her was the only sound in the apartment. No greetings, condescending voices, clinking glasses or microaggression congratulations. Just pure silence.

Her heels tapped against the polished marble floor with a rhythm that felt foreign to her ears now, echoing in a space designed to impress but not to comfort. The second the lock turned behind her, something in her spine gave out. Not physically… but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Her shoulders dropped, her posture dissolved, and the woman she carefully performed as all night unraveled in deliberate threads.

She stood there, motionless, for a long moment. Still in the shimmering midnight-blue gown that clung to her figure like it had been painted on. Still wearing the smile she’d forced through every conversation, every camera flash, and every tight-lipped exchange with producers who wanted to “talk numbers” but kept looking at her breasts instead of her eyes. Still reeking of expensive perfume and polite applause and the sour, invisible stench of a man who’d embarrassed her in front of everyone.

Adam.

The name tasted rancid on her tongue. She had watched him. All fucking night. Watched his hand linger just a little too long on the curve of his assistant’s hip. Watched the corners of his mouth tilt in that smug little smirk he used when he wanted to make someone feel chosen. She’d seen it before, back when it was still being used on her. The worst part was that no one knew about their split. Not her manager, her PR team, or even her friends. No one knew she and Adam were done. And this wasn’t their typical fight or just “taking a break.” No, they were completely finished. And because no one knew, she didn’t have an outlet to vent her frustrations.

Admitting the breakup out loud meant opening the door to questions, pity, and sly whispers that she couldn’t afford to trail behind her name right now. Not when her first major film was finally on its way to the theaters. Not when people were beginning to call her “a force.” So she smiled through it all. She nodded, posed, and she swallowed the humiliation like a jagged pill and let it catch in her throat while she played the part of the adored, the accomplished, and the unbothered.

But now that she was home, she peeled it all off.

The zipper groaned as she yanked it down her back, the fabric loosened like a secret exhaled into the dark. She stepped out of the gown with a quiet grunt, letting it collapse onto the floor in a puddle of sequins she would tend to in the morning. Her skin prickled with leftover adrenaline and her breath was shaky with the effort of keeping herself composed for hours on end.

She moved in silence letting the soles of her feet guide her to the kitchen. Her mid-back, jet-black curls still held the memory of tight red carpet glamour and were finally frizzing at the edges. She reached up and roughly gathered them into a pineapple bun at the crown of her head, letting the weight of it sit heavy. Loose curls spilled over her forehead and temples, framing her face with a messy kind of honesty she hadn’t allowed herself all night.

She walked over to a dining chair and grabbed her favorite shirt that was draping over the side. It was an old, oversized thing with faded lettering from a film festival she’d once been too broke to attend but swore she’d headline one day. She tugged it over her naked frame, relishing in the cotton softness against her bare skin. Her nipples hardened beneath the fabric and the chill of the penthouse finally caught up to her now that her mask was off. Next came a pair of fuzzy socks. They were pink and mismatched and one of them had a tiny bleach stain near the toe. Nothing about them screamed “Hollywood,” and that’s exactly why she loved them.

She wandered to her bar cart and selected the darkest red she owned. Didn’t even glance at the label. She poured it into a glass that was definitely too big for a single serving and brought it to her lips. “I need a fucking vacation,” she spoke like the words tasted as bitter as her drink of choice.

She moved to her couch that was a wide, curved velvet thing the color of dried roses, plush and dramatic and far too large for someone who spent most nights curled up alone. She dropped onto it unceremoniously, the wine sloshing a little in her glass as she pulled her legs under her and reached for her phone.

The screen lit up and showed multiple missed calls.

Adam.

Five of them. One right after the other.

Persistent bastard, she thought, rolling her eyes before tossing the phone across the room. It hit the far end of the couch with a dull thump and tumbled between the cushions like it had the good sense to be ashamed of itself.

For a moment, she just sat there breathing and letting her mind wander. The city beyond the windows kept moving. Cars zipped across the hills like fireflies. Somewhere, someone was proposing. Someone else was crying in an Uber. Someone was having the best night of their life. And Alexandria was just… here. She wasn’t crying or screaming like a typical heartbroken woman, but she also wasn’t okay. She felt suspended in a quiet that felt like it might devour her if she let it.

Her fingers tightened around the stem of the wineglass. Her throat burned from the heat of the alcohol, but she took another sip anyway. This kind of pain was something she could understand. She leaned back, closed her eyes and let her mind continue to drift. Not to her film, not to the critics, not even to Adam—but to something else. Something unreal. Something dangerous. The only thing lately that made her feel remotely alive: Smoke and Stack.

Two fictional men from a movie she’d watched too many times. Characters she’d written about late into the night, fingers flying over her keyboard, breath caught in her throat as she imagined the rough timbre of their voices, the weight of their hands, and the danger in their eyes. Alexi’s lips parted slightly as the thought lingered. She finished the rest of her wine in one long unapologetic gulp and let the glass fall to the plush carpet with a careless thud. It didn’t break, because nothing ever did in her world unless she wanted it to.

She pushed up from the couch and drifted toward her bedroom. The lights were low, casting soft shadows across the white oak floors of her bedroom and modern art hanging on the walls. Her bare thighs brushed against the hem of her oversized shirt as she moved, wine-warmed and restless. There was something electric building beneath her skin. A low hum of obsession that refused to quiet down no matter how tired she pretended to be.

She climbed into her California king bed and dragged her laptop onto her lap. The screen lit up painting her mahogany brown face in pale blue light, highlighting the dark crescents under her eyes and the soft crease between her brows. Her desktop background was a still from Sinners—the one where Smoke and Stack lean against the car and share a cigarette, their silhouettes outlined in danger and vengeance. That scene had branded itself into her memory the first time she saw it. And the second… And the fiftieth.

She opened her latest fanfic doc and began typing.

Ryan Coogler deserves every fucking award for what he did with these two.

No, seriously.

This man cracked open some dusty-ass door in my brain and summoned two men who’ve ruined every real man for me. I’m a writer. I create characters for a living. I’m good at it. But I haven’t been this crazy about a fictional man since I was watching Black Panther on repeat wishing Erik would climb out of the TV and claim me.

Her fingers flew across the keys, each word pouring out of her like a confession. She wrote about the way Smoke’s hand flexed around the grip of his pistol when he got angry. The glint of Stack’s gold tooth when he smiled right before doing something that should’ve landed him in Hell. She gave them more than just lines. She gave them purpose, pain, and power. She breathed life into every slow-burning stare, every drawled threat, every moment of brutal tenderness between them and the girl who could finally bring them to their knees.

The wine made her bolder and the silence made her reckless. She didn’t stop writing. Not when the clock struck midnight. Not when her eyes began to sting. Not even when her fingers began to cramp. She kept going until the lines between her fantasy and her reality blurred into something deliciously sinful. And finally once exhaustion took over, her laptop slid off her lap and landed beside her on the bed as sleep took her.

The sound that woke her wasn’t gentle.

It was sharp, metallic, foreign and completely out of place in the curated calm of her penthouse. Something slammed against the marble floor in her kitchen, followed by the distant scrape of movement. Then came the unmistakable clatter of glass hitting the ground.

Alexi’s eyes snapped open. Her room was a cave of shadows, faintly illuminated by the screen of her sleeping laptop. Her limbs were stiff from sleeping half-upright, her shirt twisted around her body, her curls now a wild mane around her face. For a moment, she thought it had been part of a dream. Until she heard it again. A heavy footstep… one… two… maybe three.

Every nerve in her body lit up with fear and she scrambled out of bed, disoriented with her heart thundering in her chest. Her eyes quickly scanned her room in search of her phone. She needed it to call help, she needed to—

“Shit.” Her voice was a strained whisper as she remembered how she threw her phone angrily after seeing Adam’s missed calls. It was somewhere across the living room possibly dead and definitely out of reach. Barefoot and breathless, she moved to her closet and yanked the old aluminum bat from behind her coats. It felt ridiculous in her hand, like a toy. But it was better than nothing.

Her penthouse was extra silent now, the kind of silence that pressed against the walls like it knew something she didn’t. She crept down the hallway and every step felt like a mistake. And then she saw the light spilled across the polished floor from the kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she inched closer with her bat raised. She peered around the corner—and froze.

Two men stood in the center of her kitchen. They weren’t dressed like intruders. No masks, no frantic searching for valuables. No tools or backpacks or signs of panic. They were dressed like legends.

Both wore deep black three-piece suits that looked pristine, heavy, and cut in a style that belonged to another era. Smoke’s jacket hugged his frame, shoulders broad, chest commanding. Stack’s coat was open, revealing a pressed vest and blood-streaked white dress shirt beneath. Their shoes were scuffed but polished. Their suits were tailored, but dusty. Like they’d walked through a battlefield in their Sunday best. And in their hands—pistols. Not modern handguns. They both had antique revolvers, polished to a dull gleam, gripped tight like they were still warm from being fired.

Alexi’s bat hit the floor and her heart seized as she felt her legs lock. This was too much and her brain refused to process what was going on.

Smoke, who was standing closest to the stove, looked up first. The dim light in the room made him look larger than life. His stare was menacing and he looked like chaos with a pulse even in a state of confusion. Next to him, with a slightly looser and cockier silhouette stood Stack. He was fiddling with a pot and glanced up from it like it just swindled him out of money. “What in the cotton pickin’ hell…” Stack’s voice bristled, caught between doubt and fascination. “This ain’t no Mississippi.”

They both turned toward her at the same time. A lost breath left Alexi’s lips unsealed. Her vision blurred and her knees wobbled. And then she did what anyone in this situation would do… she laughed. It started in her belly, light and breathless, then exploded upward into her chest until it cracked out of her mouth in full, echoing peals.

“Oh my God,” she choked, gripping her stomach. “Oh, this is a good one.”

Stack looked over at Smoke with a face full of confusion. “Is she alright in the head?”

“This is definitely a dream,” Alexi said between gasps, wiping tears from her eyes. “Jesus, I really outdid myself this time.”

Neither man moved. Their pistols stayed lowered, but ready.

Alexi took a few steps forward, still smiling. Her oversized shirt hung just off one shoulder, exposing smooth brown skin and the curve of her collarbone. Her fuzzy socks slid slightly across the tile as she moved. “Usually when y’all show up it’s way more romantic,” she mused. “Lot more kissing and licking. But you look good.” She eyed them slowly, boldly. “So… who wants to take a turn first?”

That stopped everything. Smoke’s brows furrowed sharply. Stack’s head tilted, confused and vaguely entertained. Neither man smiled.

Alexi raised her arms, twirling once. “I’m guessing this is my subconscious playing out one of the older drafts. The suits? The guns? You boys here to teach me a lesson?”

Stack blinked. “…Elijah, is this woman touched?” Smoke didn’t speak. Instead, he slowly raised his pistol and leveled it at her forehead.

Alexi didn’t even flinch; she just grinned wider, like the muzzle of a gun was a compliment. “Dramatic. I like it. You gonna rough me up a little, Big Daddyyyy?”

Stack’s jaw twitched. But Smoke’s stare stayed fixed. His voice was even and he didn’t find this exchange entertaining. “You got five seconds to tell me where we is,” he said. “Or I’ll put a fuckin’ bullet in ya pretty lil’ head an paint this shiny floor red.”

The words landed like a slap and the amusement drained from Alexi’s face. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a scene. The gun pointed at her was real and the man holding it was not playing with her. Her breath caught as she blinked in confusion. “Wh… what?”

Smoke took one step forward. “Four.” The weight in his voice was unbearable, like judgment and death wrapped in bourbon and thunder.

Alexi’s hands shot up, her words tumbling over each other. “W-WAIT! You’re in Los Angeles. You’re in my penthouse—I swear—I didn’t bring you here—I don’t know how you got here—”

Stack tilted his head slightly and he squinted. Suspicion threading his glare. “Los Angeles? We out west?”

“Y-Yes! And it’s 2025,” Alexi whispered.

That stopped them… kind of. Smoke’s pistol faltered, just for a moment. Stack turned slowly, scanning the space again. He took in the high ceilings, the clean, sterile light, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a skyline like stars poured into glass.

“This…” Stack muttered, “this really ain’t Mississippi.”

“I know,” Alexi rambled, overwhelmed. “Because you’re not supposed to be here. You’re fictional.”

Smoke’s jaw ticked and his finger hovered over the trigger.

Stack blinked. “Fictional?”

“You’re from a movie!” she cried, chest heaving. “A movie called Sinners! I wrote about your characters. I know everything about you… your birthday, the scar behind Stack’s ear, the way Smoke clenches his jaw before he kills someone… I-I didn’t make you but I definitely added on to who you are.”

Stack looked like Alexandria had grown a second head.

But Smoke… Smoke just stared. His eyes darkened, not with fear. “You sayin’ we dead?”

“No!” she said, backing up. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I just… I was writing… I fell asleep—”

Smoke took a step forward, gun still in hand.

Stack caught his arm. “Smoke,” he said quietly, “if she’s tellin’ the truth…”

“We ain’t in Clarksdale no more,” Smoke spoke through clenched teeth, tone sharp as a switchblade before lowering the weapon. His eyes still fixed on Alexi.

She collapsed to the floor, hands shaking. The sterile floor was cold against her skin, a cruel contrast to the heat flooding her body. Her knees hit first, then her palms. She didn’t care how she looked, didn’t care that her oversized shirt had risen high on her thighs or that her body was quaking with disoriented doubt. Her mind was a cyclone of disbelief and rising terror.

Smoke was still watching her silently and unblinking. Like a wolf trying to decide if the rabbit at his feet was already dead or just playing dumb.

Stack lowered his pistol completely now, sliding it into the shoulder holster beneath his jacket as he took a cautious step forward. There was a strange glint in his eye that wasn’t cruelty or even suspicion, it was akin to childlike intrigue. A hunter trying to figure out what kind of trap he’d just stepped into.

Alexi’s brain itched for answers. Her voice came out thin and breathless. “This isn’t possible.”

Stack crouched slowly, resting his forearm on his knee, eyes level with hers now. His voice, when it came, was low and coaxing, a balm compared to his brother’s edge. “Start from the top, sweetheart.”

“I told you.” Her voice cracked. “You’re from a movie. A film called Sinners. It came out this year… 2025. You’re both in it. You’re fictional characters played by a really talented actor. But I’ve been writing stories about you… in my spare time. Fanfiction… A lot of it.”

Smoke’s lips curled around the word like it was poison. “Fiction.”

“I didn’t mean to bring you here,” she rushed on, words tumbling over themselves. “I don’t know how you got here. One second I was writing about you, and the next…” She looked up, eyes wide and unfocused. “There was a crash,” her voice slipped out like a ghost. “And then you were here.”

Smoke scanned the room like it might offer him answers. His fingers flexed around the grip of his pistol, but he didn’t raise it again. “This some magic shit,” he grumbled low, letting the words barely escape.

Stack let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You been writin’ spells, baby girl?”

“No!” Alexi shot back, sitting up a little straighter. “I write romance. Angst. Sometimes smut… maybe a lot of smut… B-But I don’t write portals!”

That made Stack blink. Then his eyes drifted to Smoke, who looked like he was resisting the urge to shoot the floor just to hear something familiar.

Alexi dragged herself back to her feet, wobbling slightly as she leaned against the kitchen island. Her voice dropped, quieter now, the fear finally catching up to her. “How did you get here?”

Smoke’s voice cracked like embers in the dark. “Last thing I ‘member, we was collectin’ on a debt.”

“Lil whiskey runner out in Lambert’s Creek,” Stack added. “Owed us for three weeks. Thought he could run.” His eyes narrowed, distant. “We was just about to make an example of him.”

Alexi’s heart skipped. “And then?”

“There was this… sound,” Stack said, frowning. “Low. Wrong. Like thunder inside ya’ skull. Next thing we know, we here. Bright lights an a kitchen full of glass that ain’t hold no food.” Alexi’s gaze darted to the kitchen island where a few pieces of broken glass glittered on the floor. She followed Stack’s gaze to her refrigerator, to the sleek stovetop, to the glowing digital clock above the oven. “Where we come from,” he muttered, “none of this shit exists.”

Smoke leaned against the counter now, finally slipping his pistol into the back of his waistband. His voice was dangerous like there was a blade behind every syllable. “An you expect us to believe we just appeared here ‘cause you was scribblin’ stories ‘bout us?”

“No,” Alexi whispered. “I don’t expect you to believe anything. I can barely believe it myself.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Then Stack, always the lighter of the two, turned his head and looked at her with something like wonder. “If you did write us… that mean you wrote this, too?”

Alexi blinked. “This?”

He gestured at his own body, then Smoke’s, then the suits. “These clothes. These scars. The way he talk. The way I smile.”

She swallowed hard. “I… yeah. I mean, I took inspiration from the movie, but the rest… yeah. I wrote all of it.”

Smoke’s eyes were flint. “Then you better explain why you brought us here. ‘Cause I don’t take kindly to bein’ yanked outta my life foe’ a lil girl daydream.”

Alexi cut her eyes to Smoke and her lips were still trembling with a mixture of emotions. “I didn’t bring you here on purpose! You think I would’ve done this to myself voluntarily? I thought I was dreaming when I saw you. Hell, I still think I might be dreaming.”

Stack smirked. “What kinda dreams you usually have ‘bout us?”

Alexi didn’t bother answering. Her silence said more than words could. Smoke’s gaze cut between them, and the heat in the room thickened. “You… you’re not gonna hurt me, are you?” That question hung in the air like a lit fuse.

Stack tilted his head and greedily took in Alexi’s figure. “Depends.”

“On what?”

Smoke answered, his voice a low, lethal hum. “On whether you keep lyin’.”

“I’m not,” she huffed, dragging the words out like a spoiled child. “I swear I’m not.”

The silence that followed was long and awful. Then, at last, Smoke exhaled deeply and reached up to loosen his tie. It fell away from his collar like a sigh. “We need answers, lil girl,” he said. “An ‘till we get ‘em, we stay here.”

Alexi’s brows lifted. “Wait. Stay? As in… here? With me?”

Smoke didn’t bother answering her right away. His eyes cut sharp across the room before taking in every inch of her. Weird colored socks planted stubbornly on a weird floor, arms crossed tight over her chest in a weird looking nightgown, and a mouth twisted in disbelief like she didn’t know how to address a man like him. She wasn’t like any woman he was used to dealing with and he was becoming more annoyed by the second while pulling off his coat.

Alexi’s breath snagged. “You can’t be serious,” she blurted. “This isn’t a boarding house. I don’t even… WAIT! Look, I can pay for you to stay somewhere else, okay? I’ll get you an Airbnb—nice view, clean sheets—”

“Air… what?” Stack murmured, his brow crinkling.

“‘Bee an bee,’” Smoke echoed, low and disinterested. He tossed his coat over the back of her pristine couch, already turning away like her words were gnats buzzing near his ear.

“It’s a rental! A place to sleep that isn’t my home!” Alexi whined, spinning on her heel to follow him as both men began to move through her penthouse like they owned the place. “You can’t just… HEY! STOPPP! This is MY space!”

But they didn’t stop. Stack’s polished shoes tapped across her floor as he trailed his twin, fingers giddily gliding across her countertops, poking into drawers, plucking items like a child in a toy store. He turned her electric kettle upside down and shook it like it owed him money. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s not a weapon, it’s for tea!” she barked, yanking it out of his hands. “Jesus! Stop touching everything!”

Smoke said nothing. His steps were slow and deliberate and his gun was already back in his hand. Not pointed, but heavy and ever-present in his palm as he swept into her hallway.

Alexi stormed after them, her oversized shirt swishing angrily around her upper thighs. “You’re both out of your damn minds! I don’t know what sort of Wild West fantasy you think this is, but this is my apartment and you are not allowed to just squat here!”

“You talk too much,” Smoke muttered, tone dry as dust. “Shut the fuck up.”

She halted mid-step. The words cracked across the air like a whip. He didn’t even glance back, just opened a door, peeked in, checked corners, and moved on. He treated her like she was background noise… like she wasn’t even there.

Stack turned to her with a lazy shrug. “He don’t mean it, sweetheart. He just don’t like unknowns. Ain’t nothin’ personal.”

“This is personal,” she growled. “He’s in my goddamn home with a gun telling me to ‘shut the fuck up’!”

“Exactly.” Smoke’s voice came from further down the hall now. “Which mean it’s mine an you listen to me ‘til I say otherwise.”

She chased the sound, catching up to find him standing outside her bedroom. Smoke’s hand reached for the doorknob and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“No!” Alexi darted forward and threw herself in front of the door, planting both hands on the frame like her, ‘pilates every other Tuesday’ body could stop him. “Absolutely not. You DON’T get to go in there.”

Smoke’s gaze slid down to meet hers, dark and silent. She could feel the air constricting, coiling tighter and tighter. Then, without giving another warning he raised his pistol and the barrel kissed her forehead. She felt her soul leave her body as her spine went rigid, her heart started to hammer like it was going to jump out of her chest, and her throat became dry as ash.

“Move lil’ girl.”

Her voice caught in her throat, but she held her ground. “I told you… no… you don’t get to go in there… And I’m not a ‘lil’ girl!”

Stack, behind him, tilted his head in interest and instigated the situation. “Maybe she got a man in there, Smoke”

“If she do, I’ll shoot him,” Smoke said flatly, eyes still locked on Alexi’s.

“I live alone,” she hissed. “There’s no one in there. It’s just my space and it’s private.”

His finger ghosted over the trigger. “You want me to believe you?” he asked, voice as sharp and filled with disbelief. “Then you let me see foe’ myself.”

She didn’t flinch. Not even as the cool metal pressed deeper into her mocha skin. Her eyes blazed. “You want answers?” she whispered. “Then stop acting like a fucking villain and ask like an adult.”

For the first time, something flickered in his stare just for a breath. Recognition, maybe. Or rage. Who knows. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by that same calm brutality. “Stack,” he said.

His brother moved up beside them, suddenly all charm gone from his face. There was a hidden message in the way Smoke said his twin's name. He was watching her too now. Serious and coiled like a predator ready to toy with its prey.

She stood alone, but she still didn’t move.

Smoke exhaled. “Three seconds.”

“Or what?”

“One—you get shot. Two—ya’ door get kicked in. Three—”

“Stop!” she shouted, stepping aside at last. Fury, fear and exhaustion came crashing down all at once. “Just… go. But if you break one thing in there, I swear to God…”

Alexi stood just outside her bedroom, arms stiff at her sides while her fingers twitched with the effort of not clawing the doorframe. From inside, she could hear the low thump of drawers opening, the scrape of hangers sliding across the metal bar in her closet, the rustle of fabric being disturbed by hands that didn’t belong in her space.

And then, she heard a sound… that sound… a faint high-pitched hum. Followed by silence so sharp it pierced the air like a sword. Her blood froze before she shoved open the door. Smoke stood in the center of her bedroom, a hulking shadow in the lamplight, backlit by the faint silver spill of moonlight and city backdrop through the sheer curtains. In one hand, he held her pink vibrator. The long, curved silicone shape looked obscene in his large palm. It was out of place, too modern, too intimate. His thumb rested on the base, where a single button still glowed faintly red.

He was staring at it. No—studying it. Like a weapon. Like a quantum physics equation that needed to be solved.

“PUT THAT DOWN!” Alexi’s voice tore from her throat before she even knew she was moving.

She lunged for him, arms outstretched, but Smoke being a soldier was faster and stronger. His arm extended smoothly, raising the toy just above her reach and he didn’t even have to shift his weight. She collided with his chest, hands scrambling to reclaim what was hers, but it was like hitting a wall of stone.

“Back the fuck up,” he warned, low and quiet.

The air in Alexi’s throat snagged like silk on thorns. She took an instinctive step back, eyes flashing. Her heart was slamming so hard against her ribs she could feel it in her neck.

“That’s mine,” she hissed. “It’s private.”

Smoke’s eyes drifted back to the toy. The faint buzz had stopped, but his attention remained fixed.

“What is it?” Stack’s voice came from behind her now. His posture was still lazy but his eyes were sharper than before.

Alexi’s cheeks flamed. “It’s none of your business.”

Smoke didn’t even look at her. “It move,” he said, almost to himself. “Got a hum in it. But it ain’t no weapon. Ain’t no blade. Ain’t got no trigger.”

“It’s not a weapon,” Alexi spat, arms crossed tight over her chest. “It’s a damn vibrator.”

Stack squinted. “A what?”

Smoke finally looked at her. Really looked at her. His eyes moved over her like a clock ticking down. He finally noticed the oversized shirt clinging to her curves. Her bare legs that looked soft enough to sleep on and that fire in her glare.

He held up the toy. “What’s it foe’?”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Alexi clenched her jaw, heat crawling up her neck, and said through gritted teeth, “It’s for pleasuring yourself.”

Smoke blinked once before tilting his head, as if trying to make sense of a foreign language. “Pleasurin’ yaself?” he repeated, voice flat.

“Yes,” she said, arms folded tighter. “It’s mine. It’s for me.”

A beat of silence passed and then Smoke laughed. It was a quiet, joyless sound that didn’t touch his eyes. He took a step forward, still holding the device, and stared down at her like she was some kind of sick joke.

“You that pretty,” he said, voice like bloodily thorns, “a you layin’ up in this glass box gettin’ off with toys?” Alexi didn’t respond and he pushed the issue further. “Ain’t got a man?”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice cracked. “No.”

“You fuckin’ lonely,” he muttered, more to himself than her like he finally cracked a code. His mouth curved, not into a smile, but something darker. “Makes sense. That why you keep talkin’ to me like I won’t put a bullet in your fuckin’ skull? Must be why you brought us here.”

Her nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, voice low. “No man in ya’ bed. No discipline in ya’ mouth. No sense in ya’ head.”

Alexi laughed at Smoke's audacity. “You think I need a man to control me?”

“I think you need somethin’,” he said, stepping into her space again. “You act like a damn child. Spoiled. Loud. And very disrespectful.”

Alexi’s spine stiffened. “I don’t owe you shit,” she barked. “You teleport into my house, you threaten me, you wave guns around like it’s 1920 and I’m supposed to what? Shut up and smile? Be grateful you’re ransacking my room instead of putting a bullet in my head?”

Smoke didn’t blink. “I’on like the way you talk.”

“And I don’t like the way you breathe, nigga,” she snapped. “Wanna start counting again?”

Smoke’s voice dipped into a register so cold it made the air shift. “You ain’t nothin’ but a beautiful waste of woman. I see why you lonely.”

A slap came from her hand and it landed across Smoke’s cheek before she even realized she’d done it. The sound cracked like a whip in the air. Stack, who was standing behind Alexi, went completely still and Smoke didn’t flinch. He sucked his teeth slowly, then turned his face back toward her, eyes narrowing just slightly. He didn’t raise his hand. Didn’t reach for his gun.

But the air between them died. And when he spoke, it was quiet. Razor-sharp. “You value ya’ life?”

Alexi swallowed, but didn’t look away. Her lips were still parted, her chest heaving with breath.

“You wrote me,” he said, voice low and lethal. “That’s what you said, right, lil’ girl? You wrote me.”

Her throat tightened.

“Then tell me,” he continued, gaze slicing through her like a scalpel, “did you write that I’d let a woman lay hands on me an live?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“I killed a man for talkin’ outta turn,” he said, almost conversational now. “Slit another’s throat for steppin’ in my way. Shot a boy through the eye just ‘cause I ain’t like his stare. You think I wouldn’t kill you for hittin’ me?”

Alexi took a step back and was met with the muscled wall of Stack.

“You think I give a fuck ‘bout ya’ softness? Ya’ lips? You think ya’ little bare legs an smart mouth make you untouchable?”

Stack’s voice cut in low but thunderous. “Smoke.” And then he stepped forward keeping his eyes on his twin. “That’s enough.”

Smoke’s jaw ticked. His eyes were still on her.

“She don’t know where the line is,” Stack said, voice like gravel. “But we do.”

Smoke’s lips parted. A breath passed between his teeth like a dragon cooling itself down before setting a city ablaze. Then he turned and dropped the vibrator on her bed without looking at it. Let it fall limp and silent into the rumpled sheets like it was nothing more than a joke that had run its course. Alexi stood in the same spot, her heart pounding so loud she could barely hear anything else. Her palms were damp. Her knees were shaking.

Smoke passed her like a shadow, shoulder brushing hers as he moved. Stack lingered a moment longer. His gaze, once playful, was sharp and focused. He looked at her not like a fantasy but like a woman who had just stepped into the jaws of something she couldn’t tame.

“You talk like you ain’t ever been put in ya’ place,” he said quietly. “But if you keep on, sweetheart… one of us might teach you.” Then he followed his brother into the hallway, and the door closed behind them.

Alexi stood alone in the middle of her bedroom, the silence wrapped tight around her throat. She knew something had changed. She hadn’t just brought killers to life. She had summoned storms.

.

.

.

.

.

Authors Note: TOLD YALL KNEEGAS I WOULD FIGURE OUT HOW TO BRING THESE MEN TO LIFE… OC might be a self insert *cough* or not *cough*

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed for this series… yes… I said series…)

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theethighpriestess @imagining-greatness @hearteyes-for-killmonger @blackpantherismyish @theogbadbitch @queenofklonnie22 @underated345-blog @bxrbie1 @harleycativy @hermyowney @kcundercover0 @cleo92bitch-i-am-old @gtf-o-m-d @merranerra @afroslacks @wingedpeachjudgegiant @smutattack @solarssins @xoxodaedreams @rolemodelshit @chrisevansmentee @honggihwa @softy212 @michifilmz @hon3yjaxx @ladymac82 @fruitypatooties-blog @whysoceerious @deexoxomuah @nanamiismine @monstaxmomma0 @a4g3lstarfire @blk-afrodite @melodyofmbaku @championshipshade @aretasreads @nubiagurllll @wabi-sabi1090 @swiftscepterdragon @midnightmemoirsofher @plan3tch1ld @dutifullythoughtfulenthusiast @iceyyycapsicle @honeytoffee @joonseuph0ria @desire4ella @li-da-savage

[ceaseriaswonderland]

CREEPING IN THE LIGHT

It’s been decades since Elias has seen the sun, felt the warmth of the light. He meets Angeline, a woman whose aura sounds like the soothing lulling sounds of the moon. New in town she radiates light and everyone wants a piece.

Enjoying the pattering of the rain from outside. As people passed and went in and out. THE DELTA LOUNGE the senior low red light illuminating the room tastefully, deep red. Soft furnishings that looked more than sexual. Sliding into the smooth barstools. The liquid taking front and center on the crystal shelf, it looked way better than it tasted with any amount of sugar. The gradients that glowed the bourbon's, whisky’s and others. Everything had a place.

“Hi, I’m Marvin and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. The gentleman by the end of the bar would like to send you a drink. If that’s okay with you?” He said slightly angling his body to the end of the bar so I could see the man. The light gave almost nothing away but I could see his smile. He had a mild chocolate color that melted into a smooth pink colored lips

I don’t know, I mean he’s still a stranger I thought

you came here to live a little besides he’s not making the drink the bartender is, right in front of you.

”Yes, please but could I send him whatever he’s drinking?” I asked. He nodded his head. I watched gently as he started grabbing and pouting and shaking things together. He pouring what was in the shaker into a tall flute glass with a spiral of lemon. He told me it was a French 75.

Thanking him as he ventured off helping other people. I took out my notebook. Just a simple black color and smooth lead tipped pencil. I jotted down my quick thought before I moved over to the chairs that looked like they belonged in a lounge.

The chairs were positioned in front of the small stage. Looking over at the little wooden chalkboard that sat on an easel. Poetry night. The tall flute in my hand as I listened and felt their words. The people came and went. I liked being close to the stage.

She looked beyond gorgeous. The grace in her walk as the silk of her dress, just flows. Just fits her waist perfectly the thin band connecting the top of her chest in a smooth dark olive green. The way her sleeves were layered and flowing as if her has a house robe on. No fray in sight, the sleek shine in her hair that rested on her back. She hadn’t even noticed me unlike most women who come in here. I knew her legs were long and stunning just by the length of her dress and the pop of her skin.

“Marv, send her a French 75” It was classy, smooth and it looked like something she should have.

I watched closely as he disturbed whatever thought she may have been having as she wrote something down. She steered those big yes at me. Confusion slowly settling on her face before she found me. for the first time in decades I wanted to turn the lights on, to take off my hat and let her look over my face was much as she wanted. I don’t know what it is about her but I just wanted to be near her. I could hear her thinking it over, just by the look on her face. I felt a sudden hand on my shoulder.

“Stack, we gotta problem in the back!” Myron whispered in my ear hastily. “Ronny, whatca blackass then messed up now?” Ronny was the manager. He was the face they needed to know, of course I was the boss. And everyone knew that.

Sighing hard I stood up and let Ronny lead me to the problem.

Every step I took as I was leaving the main floor I looked for her, hopefully I’d see her again.

Then Eventually, Suddenly now.

After around 45 minutes or so had went by the clock a quarter till two am. Elias was certainly expecting for his unknown beauty to be just about gone. Coming from the back room buttoning his suits front buttons, his eyes quickly surveying the area.

Looking for her, barely six seconds had gone by before he landed on her. Once again soaking in her vibrancy. Elias didn’t know why he wanted to be around the women. Like she was lulling him toward her, kind of like a magnet.

she was siting at the same table. Hands busy writing in her little notebook.

“Thank you, for the drink it’s my first.” He calmly said with his interior buzzing from awkwardness and spinning as he scolded himself.

“he was flustered? Nah, Elias Moore doesn’t get flustered” his conscious said easing his own nerves.

And then he heard it, her laugh. It painted his insides the red his cheeks wouldn’t show, it felt like it had sent waves through him. He perked up in a way quickly sitting next to her.

the lights did her every bit of good. Her full pink and precisely lined lips. The black beauty mark under her left eye matched the one she had resting on the curve of her smile.

Her, eyes. They could make a the damnedest forget their troubles, a drowning man even at taking a glimpse into them would gently go with the bashing currents.

“You said all of that aloud, Mr. Elias Moore” she said.

“you’re an idiot stack ” his conscience laughed, at himself.

“Well, honey now you know the name and what’s yours?” He saved reaching out for her hand which she gave.

“Angeline Blue” she introduced her insides swirling, as he gently kissed the skin of her knuckles. Simply put pinching her bundle of nerves.

“Beautiful just like you, what’s such a Jewel doing on this side of ew Orleans?” He quizzed intently.

she just knew he was going to be dangerous….

@theogbadbitch

@billyjeanonthed

@aretasreads

MASTERLIST

[theegyal]

THIRD WHEEL

Chapter 6

⚠️: NSFW (slightly), Angst, unrequited love, clumsy sex, fingering, awkward

Words : Goddamn too long. (4,5 K)

Songs that shaped this chapter :

- Gnash - I love u, I hate u

- Usher & Lil Jon - Lovers & Friends

- Bedroom Boom - Ying Yang Twins

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

Blurred memories, snatches of conversations, the bitter taste of hungover. Janae woke up under the warm Sunday lights. She was curled in her bed, fully clothed of her…pajama ?

Very strange, she couldn’t remember when she put on that loose SpongeBob dress.

She closed her eyes, trying to recollect yesterday’s events, then suddenly everything knocked her into sense : The club, the man with cornrows braids, the call inside a stall, the elevator and…the kiss.

“Shit—“ that’s all she spat while jumping out her bed. Her reflection on the vanity mirror almost made her scream. Deep dark circles under-eyes, her platinum locs parted messily — everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

She let out an infuriated sigh when a flash image of Stack’s hands on her hips, coiling around her stomach, surfaced behind her eyelids.

“I’m not goin’ out of this room…Hell no” she mumbled under her nose, then pointed a shaky finger directly at her reflection in the mirror “You did a lot of mess, 22 Janae. You and I got things to deal with now !”

Laid slouched and neglected on the armchair, Mr. Jin — her old, brownish teddy bear — watched her antics like he was judging her.

She was still in a full and bizarre conversation with herself when a pungent smell suddenly hit her nose. Janae sniffed under the arm of her dress, grimaced — totally grossed out. She reeked of last night’s alcohol.

Shame swelled up, bitter and slow. It started in her gut and bloomed all over. Stack must’ve noticed how bad she smelled when he pinned her against that wall. Still he was all over her, grabbing her flesh, titillating her nipples like nothing.

Janae inhaled and exhaled before shifting back her attention to the ex-drunk self in the mirror.

“You, I, need shower now.”

Shit. She had definitely lost it.

Quickly Janae took off her dress and fill in a pink bathrobe — she had to fight an old lady at the thrift shop for that.

She ran down the small hallway, — the one that link their individual bedrooms to the common bathroom — flashing a look at Stack’s room. The door was closed and nothing except silence leaked out his space.

With one more step, Janae locked herself up in the bathroom. She grabbed her toothpaste, toothbrush and rushed inside the shower stall.

She turned on the tap and let the water run down her body. The cold kissed her breasts making her plump brown nipples hard, rise, tight and aching. The brush slid over her teeth, tongue, back and forth syncing with the way her tits —big and little saggy from weight — bounced, rubbing, squeezing each other with a teasing friction.

The classic brush-your-teeth as you wash trick. She always does that when she’s running late. Either for school or work. This morning, it was neither, she just wanted to come out clean before Stack wakes up. If she managed to shut herself in her too flashy room, it would be ecstasy.

She turned off the water and stepped out, still dripping, her skin flushed from the freezing shower. The towel clung to her as she wrapped it tight around her body, half-heartedly patting down the places that still felt sensitive. Her only mission now: make it back to her room without a sound.

Her feet glided on the floor slowly, never in her entire life Janae would’ve imagined acting like a damn thief in her own home. But, hey ? here she was !

The hallway felt longer to cross on the way back. More distance she achieved more she felt far from her safe place. As she passed the kitchen, something on the counter caught her eye— a white package with ribbon on it.

She paused. Frowned. Then took a step closer.

Janae padded into the kitchen barefoot, the fabric of her towel grazing her thighs. Her locs wrapped in a silk bonnet,

She stopped.

There it was. The package. A birthday cake. Chocolate and praline. Her favorite.

She blinked, caught off guard. A sticky note was pressed to the top:

“Don’t say I never got you nothin’. Happy b-day old lady.”

A short laugh escaped her—bitter and soft at the same time. It hurt more than it helped.

Old lady ? For real ? She shouldn’t read to much into it but overthinking was her specialty. She brushed the package thoughtfully then retracted , striding back to her room.

Here she put on a yellow top and green short.

He must have gotten up very early or maybe couldn’t sleep at all…?

Now fully awake, sobered up clean, dressed up, still aching in places she didn’t want to name, Janae found herself drifting back toward the kitchen.

A praline chocolate cake was a delicious treat she couldn’t and wouldn’t resist.

This time, Stack was leaning on the bar, his devilishly sculpted back — bare— staring at her.

Her breath caught, he heard the quick noise and turned his face to her.

“I ain’t forget,” he started, almost like an apology. “It’s small, but… yeah. Got the praline flavor…”

Janae looked at him for a long second, then back at the cake.

“You ain’t have to,” she answered, walking close and quietly. “But… thanks.”

A beat passed. Her voice was steadier than she expected. Not cheerful, not angry, neither sad. Just… brittle.

Stack scratched the back of his neck and shift his weight against the fridge. “You straight from last night?”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “It was a wild night…”

He nodded affirmatively. Open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of milk, then hesitated again.

“Look, about last night…”

Her shoulders tensed.

Something in her chest fluttered, then sank. Heat pooled low in her stomach, reluctant and traitorous. Her fingers flexed slightly at her sides, brushing the fabric of her shorts like they needed something to hold onto.

She was scared of whatever Stack was about to say about yesterday night, so she stood there — numb and silent.

“I ain’t tryna make things weird. It just—it happened. You looked good. You always do. I just… been seein’ shit different lately.”

That sudden confession took her off guard. She finally looked back at Stack, trying to decipher his real intentions, the ones he hold when saying some ‘turn-around-the-bush’ words like this.

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him, bluntly.

After a short moment, she got her eyes back on the cake, plunged a finger in its soft texture, taste the chocolate and let out a sharp , humorless laugh.

“Don’t trip,” she hummed. “I get it. Everybody get weak and accidentally kiss a drunk fat girl once in their life. Rite of passage.”

Stack stiffened, glaring at her “Janae”

She didn’t stop the joke. She needed an anchor, a shield, an armor. Something she could use to hide her wrecking feelings. To prevent the messy tight knot inside her stomach from blooming into pathetic tears. Life taught her self flagellation. She rather mock herself than being mocked. She must act unbothered, untouched by his uncertainty. It was nothing — yeah. Yesterday was just like the fucking, unworthy moment in his car, nights before.

“Y’know, something to check off the list.” She made a little gesture to imitate the movement “Clumsy kiss, awkward hug, she feels special for five seconds, then boom—back to the real world.”

Janae clenched her finger inside the creamy pastry. Still laughing.

When she realized her doings — that panic attack was gradually knocking at her door — she abruptly stopped.

Stack still troubled and hurtfully upset by the way she reacted, moved closer. Just few feet from where she was standing.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” He growled, low.

Janae headed her eyes up toward him, wearing her usual — fake — cheeky mask.

“Huh ? Why you make that long-ass expression. I’m just joking, brokey ! God forbid a girl is funny !”

“You not ugly,” he said, firm, ignoring her tentatives to act tough “You not some accident. Not some random…” he paused “…fat girl, as you said. You beautiful, J. Caring and smart.”

The words dropped between them like heavy stones.

“You been beautiful.” He repeated, as if he knew the information didn’t get into her brain yet.

On another note, he wasn’t flirting. He placed, said the words factually.

That somehow made it worse.

Janae blinked fast — tears menacing to manifest —. She folded her arms over her chest, her dripping in chocolate’s fingers staining her yellow top.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “You got your own thing goin’ on. No need to worry bout me.”

Stack hesitated. Looked down at the floor. Then, dropped himself in a chair near the counter.

“I ain’t sayin’ I’m not… caught up,” he finally admitted. “I meant that kiss…” He briefly threw a gaze at Janae before bringing his eyes back on the tiled floor. “But…there’s someone else. She… she different. Older. Got me thinkin’ in ways I ain’t used to.”

He didn’t say Mary’s name. Didn’t want to drag the dagger down deeper in her heart.

Janae looked away. Her full lips pressed somehow into a thin line.

“She got you all twisted up,” Janae smiled, hurt. “The way you talk about her…”

“I didn’t mean for it to get that deep,” he muttered. “But yeah. I ain’t gonna lie— I feel… shit. I don’t even know what I feel.”

“Must be nice,” Janae whispered.

He frowned. “What?”

“To be someone that makes people feel things.”

Stack shift his gaze to her and something in his expression changed. Guilt. Frustration. Maybe even regret.

“Janae please—“

“Sounds like you in love.” She stated. Bittersweet.

He didn’t answer. But she got the response she needed.

Janae abandoned the scenery through the window— she was looking at —, her gaze find the cake again. She reached over and picked it up gently, holding it close to her chest.

“Cake’s nice,” she said. “Real sweet of you. Cool if I ate it in my room ? The chocolate too tasty ! No worry imma spare you a bit.”

Then she turned and walked out,

Stack got up from his chair, took a step forward, like he might call after her. But he didn’t.

What if she has another panic attack ?

He needed to get her a plate ? A little spoon ? Her meds are kept in the drawer above the sink handle.

“Wait—Jan, you forgot—“

clic

The sound of her door locking welcomed his desperate attempts.

He never feared to reject any woman in his life. From high school girl’s confession to some lewd seduction at bar.

This morning however was different. He felt dejected, angry at himself. Maybe if he hadn’t met Mary that night. Maybe if he hadn’t spent weeks chatting and meeting her. Maybe—Janae ?

“Shit” he cursed before leaving the space.

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

The day dragged itself like a wounded dog. Janae spent most of it holed up in her room, half-watching old anime on her laptop, replaying every word, every glance from the kitchen. Every beat of Stack’s voice rang like an echo chamber in her head.

Beautiful.

Always been.

There’s someone else.

Around 6:47 p.m., the sky was just beginning to bruise violet. The apartment was still. She hadn’t heard Stack’s voice in hours. Maybe he was out. Or maybe just being kind enough to give her space.

She walked out of her room barefoot, the coolness of the hallway floor greeting her skin. Her pajama dress swung loosely around her knees—frog-print, oversized, and soft from a thousand washes. It was cute.

The silence of the apartment gave her room to think. Too much room.

Dana’s voice came crawling back, high and shrill:

“Someone might finally pop her cherry tonight.”

With that look on her face, all scrunched up like Janae was a rotting pear.

She just never met the one she could feel safe with. How could Janae show her nakedness — vulnerability— to someone she ain’t care of ? Or maybe someone who don’t even love her ? What if they ridiculed her for having a too fat belly ? Stretch marks that stopped fading ? Ass rounded but with cellulite ?

Sigh.

Something in Janae ached. Something deeper than embarrassment. She wanted to feel it too. I mean, sex and love. Could even take the first one without the second. On this thought her mind clouded with Stack face on it. She waved it off.

Out of habit, she grabbed the remote and sank onto the couch. The living room was bathed in the amber light of the low evening sun. She flipped through channels. A soap rerun. Commercials. Music video. Then…that.

She couldn’t remember the last time she saw something like this. Maybe when she was fifteen and accidentally stumbled across her cousin’s hidden stash of DVDs. Maybe once or twice out of curiosity. Never for herself.

She swallowed, unsure if it was nerves or nausea building in her throat.

The flickering images made her thighs parted slightly, under her frog printed dress. The porn video was already mid-scene : A black couple. The man was lying on his back, abs tight and…his cock wet with spit.

Jesus ! This is so big, that what Janae thought, her eyes widened in shock.

The actor partner — a dark-skinned woman with box braids was riding him, grinding her hips in deep. Her tits bounced with every thrust, and her mouth stayed open, she couldn’t stop moaning. The ebony slapped her own peary fat ass, spreading her cheeks so the man can see the mess between her thighs. He grabbed her waist and started bucking up into her.

Janae’s face flushed hot.

She should’ve changed the channel or better, turned the tv off. But instead, she choked a sob, her once parted thighs, squeezed together, swollen and needy. She licked her lips without realizing it.

The woman on the screen arched her back and screamed, “FUCK—yes, yes, fuck me harder—”

The volume wasn’t even loud, but it felt like it filled the entire apartment. Janae’s chest rose. Then fell.

Her hand moved without permission.

First over the dress, grazing her inner thigh. Then under it, palm slipping into the heat between her legs. Her cotton panties were damp, embarrassingly so. She hesitated a minute then pushed the fabric aside.

With trembling fingers she touched herself. She started by caressing her folds, then poking awkwardly at her clit. The feeling made her shiver—not from pleasure at first but from sheer shock. Her button was too soft. Too sensitive. Too…good ?

She tried another way, rubbing it with care, circling around the pink mushy flesh.

Her hips twitched. She didn’t know if she liked it or hated it. But she was already wet — syrupy liquids flowing from her moistened pussy— slick with something her brain wasn’t ready to name.

She pressed again. Rubbed faster. Then slower. She stopped. Started again. Her eyes rolled up. Her mouth watered. Her brown nipples ached from grazing over the fabric of her dress. Her free hand gripped the cushion, trying to steady.

On the screen, the woman had flipped over now—on all fours, being fucked from behind, her pussy stretched wide and glistening. The man was slapping her ass, making her cheeks wiggle. As he pounded her, squelching wet noise filled the space. Her cries were loud, hair clinging to her back with sweat.

Janae bit her lip hard and pushed two fingers deeper between her folds, searching. She’d never done this before. It felt so clumsy and awkward. She gasped when her fingertip slipped in—just barely—and her body clenched around the intrusion. Her walls fluttered, tightened around the fingers.

She exhaled through her teeth. Her toes curled.

Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?

She thrusted in again— deeper. Her cherry was soaked. That much it made it easier to thump farther in her vagina.

Janae brought her fingers to her mouth, sucked, tasted herself, then went back down again. Her clit throbbed when she brushed it, and suddenly the shame was louder than anything.

“Mmh—Fuck Janae ! What are you even doing—” she whispered to herself.

Clic

Bad timing. Without warning, the front door flashed open on Stack.

Janae scrambled upright like she’d been burned. Yanked her hand out from under her dress. The remote nearly flew across the room. The TV was still moaning. The actress on screen was begging to be choked now.

Stack stood in the doorstep, backlit by the hallway light, keys still dangling from his hand. He didn’t move. Totally in awe.

His eyes landed on the screen, then snapped to her— her messy hair, her thighs still parted, dress bunched high. Fingers soggy,slicked with a slight sheen on them. The very air sucked tight.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. And re-opened it.

“I just… left my shit. Didn’t mean to—” He waved his charger awkwardly, like it could explain everything. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Janae stared at him like he was the final nail in the coffin of her self-worth.

“I wasn’t—” she started, but her throat betrayed her.

“It’s cool.” He replied, almost teasingly.

“Huh— huh what ?”

“It’s normal.” He simply stated “everyone do that. Best choice of vids by the way. All black everything” He joked, trying to eased up the situation.

Still, watching her was embarrassing. Not that she wasn’t sexy or he didn’t find the situation pretty exciting — I mean, she was stroking herself ! — , but he felt unwelcome like he got the worst timing and barged into something too much intimate to be shared.

“Ah—oh— hm. Good evening !”

She shouted before storming off the couch to hide under the safety of her bedroom.

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

She slammed the door behind her, but it didn’t land with the force she meant. What was that ? Talking shit about ‘it’s cool’ ? And—didn’t he went out ? He could’ve at least knock at the entry being getting in. Lords above ! For sure he got every right to not do such a thing, he lives there and pay the fucking rent too…

Janae stood there, shaking, her hand still hovering over the knob. Her chest felt small— lungs too tight for the air to keep up.

Her frog-print pajama dress clung damply to her back, where the heat of shame hadn’t cooled yet. Her fingers… God.

She wiped them on her thigh and buried her face in both hands.

What the fuck was she doing ?

She felt humiliated, exposed. She was so dumb. If she wanted that bad to explore herself she could have just do it here, in her room or locked in the toilet.

Janae sank onto her bed, yanked the covers up to her chin and inhaled, exhaled thrice. Short breaths to calm her nerves.

Stack wasn’t supposed to see that. Now she looked like the kind of miserable — alone girl — who only know to dunk in her flower to feel loved.

But—damn, he did. She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids. Tried to rub the memory out.

What funny is that she ain’t even come.

Thirty minutes later, Janae pained to cool down. The skin between her thighs still burning hot, her nipples kept threatening her dress fabric.

Half under her blanket, breathing slow and deep, Janae heard soft knocks. She answered, “…Yeah?”

The door cracked open, a thin line of warm bathroom light spilling in.

Stack stood in the doorway, skin still dewy from his shower. Water beaded down the sharp slope of his chest. A gray jogging pant hung low on his hips, and it didn’t hide much—his dick curved down one thigh, thick, long and heavy, barely contained. Janae’s heart stuttered.

He didn’t come all the way in. His gaze latched on her. Not rude. Not even cocky. But almost… entranced.

“Damn,” he played, trying to lighten the mood. “You really sleep in that goofy-ass frog thing?”

Her lips parted. “Don’t make fun of my dress” she mumbled, adorably. “It’s cute.”

“I ain’t disagree.”

“Why are you here, Stack ?” she asked, voice small and guarded.

His lips curled out of a bittersweet smile. He left her threshold, stepping in languidly, giving her time to protest. She didn’t.

Stack sat on the edge of her bed, his thigh inches from hers. The mattress dipped. Her whole body tensed.

“I wanted to check on you. You good ?”

She didn’t answer.

“You left kinda fast. Wishing evening that quick.”

“You walked in on me jilling off in the middle of the living room. What am I supposed to do? Offer you popcorn?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with what you were doin’ Jan. It’s normal. Wanting to feel good. Wanting to know your own body. Ain’t nothing shameful in that…”

Janae straightened from under her blanket. Her throat burning. “Don’t—“

She looked at him. His pecan-colored skin glowed under the broken white light of her room. Drops of water still rolled down his neck, his shoulder. His pants did nothing to hide the fact that he was getting hard just sitting this close.

Janae caught it. She saw the movement in the fabric, the way his cock pressed against his thigh, the bulge thickening and growing.

She bit her lip. “I’ve never… done that before. Not really.”

He nodded. It explained everything. Her awkwardness, the fact she let the sound on, the way she ran without shutting off the video. Stack chuckled, melted. “You looked good.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. If she was looking that good he would’ve try something with her, long time ago. Been more than three years they lived together after all…“Don’t say that.”

“I could help. If you wanted.” His voice softened, just above a whisper.

Janae’s stomach flipped. Her heart pounded so loud she could hear it in her ears. “How?”

He leaned in, not touching her yet. Stack’s voice dropped, close to her ears like honey into a wound.

“Lemme show you.”

She didn’t answer. Just lay there, still shocked by his sudden indecent but horribly enticing suggestion.

“Only if you want,” he said again.

She nodded. Just barely.

That was all he needed.

His hand disappeared beneath the blanket, moving slow — enough for her to stop him if she needed.

When she didn’t pull away, his fingers brushed, grazing over the cotton fabric of her frog dress. Her legs parted instinctively. She turned her face to the wall, mortified, ashamed.

“You perfect like this. Don’t hide.”

She was still wet, still sticky from earlier. He pushed the hem of her dress up then traced her pussy over the drenched cotton of her panties.

“Damn,” he breathed. “You’re so wet, Jan.”

Janae’s whole body jolted.

With two fingers he hooked the fabric aside, exposing her swollen folds. She tensed—he paused.

“You okay?”

She nodded, still turned away. Her voice was thin. “Just… don’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

His fingers traced her slit slowly, mapping every contour. He caressed her labias. The small and big lips. Spreading her juice all over — even up on her pubis. Her hips jerked.

“You so sensitive,” he murmured, “No one ever touched you here?”, he asked gently, humming hot and excited.

She shook her head. Couldn’t speak.

“Mmh—you gon’ let me be the first baby ?”

His index finger found her spongy spot. He circled slow on it, pressing sensually her button. When his thumb joined to stroke her meaty clitoris, Janae gasped. Her hips twitched up toward his hand.

“Easy,” Stack said. “Just feel it.”

It wasn’t like earlier. This was—focused. Deeper. His touch was practiced but patient, not trying to make her come quick. Just teaching her, showing her. When she clenched, he slowed down. When her hips rolled, he followed.

“You like that?” He groaned, his steamy lips gliding along her neck.

She nodded, breath caught in her throat.

He dipped lower, fingers sliding between her slick folds. His middle finger teased her vagina entrance. “Fuck—You’re so tight.”

Janae whimpered.

“Relax. Let me in.”

She tried to breathe through it. He nudged his finger inside, just an inch. Her walls clamped down like she was trying to hold him there. Her eyes fluttered shut. He stroked her walls, shallow, working her pussy, letting her adjust.

“You’re doing good, baby. Just breathe.”

She did.

Stack leaned over her then, chest hovering. The blanket still covered them both, warm and close. His dick was hard as hell, straining his jogging. He didn’t press it on her, but she felt it against her thigh.

“Feel good?” he hushed.

“Yeah.” She replied, panting.

Stack fat cock continued to skim along her thigh, gliding close to her ass.

In the film she watched earlier. The woman groped on the man’s length.

Maybe, she must do that too…?

Shyly, Janae slipped her hand backside, trying to hold Stack’s lengthy cock. With his free hand, he stopped her mid-way.

“Shh that’s your moment Jan. Leave that shit here” he caressed her hand, “…or maybe you ain’t like to feel my dick touching your ass baby girl ?”

Between two sobs, Janae shook her head nervously.

Inside her pussy, Stack’s second finger had joined the first. He thrusted them inside her core, curling them, finding that soft patch inside her.

He stretched her cunt, hardening his ramming. Her breath hitched.

“Oh—shit—Stack—“

“That’s it,” he moaned, lips by her ear. “You deserve to feel like this. Ain’t nothing wrong with needing it.”

He kept fucking her with his fingers, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Wet sounds filled the space under the blanket. Her pussy was fluttering, clenching tight, slick dribbling down between her ass cheeks.

Stack kissed her temple, still moving inside her.

Janae’s legs quivered. She was close—closer than she thought she could get.

“Let go for me babe,” he whimpered, still inside her pussy, thrusting her deep and hard. “I got you.”

She still hearing his words, choked in moans.

“You’re perfect like this.”

“I love how you sound.”

“Let go, baby. You deserve to feel good.”

She didn’t know when she started crying. Just a few tears. From the overwhelm. From how good it was.

Her thighs shook.

Her body pulsed tight around his fingers.

Then—She came. Messy. Her juices spilling over the sheet.

“Oh no—shit—I’m peeing” she shuddered, ignorant.

“Shh— no baby you ain’t. This not piss. Let it go mama—Fuck—“

Damn—she deliciously ruined his fingers. Soggy, sticky and creamy.

Stack felt her juice flowing more, waterfalling on his palm.

Her orgasm crashed through violently. Her walls spasmed around his fingers, hips rocking helplessly against his hand.

He let her ride it out.

Then, without a word, he kindly pulled out and licked on his fingers.

She jolted her face close to his and sobbed, her inside still burning sweetly.

“Ha—what the fuck—yo—you doin’ ?”

Stack didn’t answer. He simply licked her creamy sauce his fingers, flicking his tongue suggestively.

“Mmh—can’t help it. You taste fucking sweet Jan”

He adjusted her dress back down, and held her knee like it might keep her from floating off.

Suddenly his phone started ringing. This time he let it sing.

Tag list

@lilbitt @-harmonytbh @solarssins @rkiiives @harleycativy @thelifeoflagab @juniooox @tadjoa @shamansha @brownskincheyenne @freelandgoddess @Ib-xci @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @iammyownlover @stormynovashambler @summrsovrinterlude @prettygirl2800 @puffmamaa @harleycativy @jasssdee1 @itstayleigh @queenofklonnie22 @bigjh @tadjoa @Isc72 @forzaferrariii , @blxckberrie @avidreader73 @partylikemajima @lolalikesgames @ultralspblr @post-woke @jasssdee1 @lizbehave @rkiiives @underated345-blog @thefutureemmywinner @chknnwffls @maddyf22 @jackierose902109 @iiiheartfayee

A/N : again, if you want your name removed from the tag list just tell me !! ❤️

[j0ysyndr0m3]

i didn’t forget abt yall…COMING SOON 🥀 💵

[cinnamonlouu]

Sweet like honey 🍯

Chapter Three

Delilah stood at the edge of the garden with her hands clasped behind her back, soft sunlight spilling through the trees and dappled across her shoulders.

The sound of the gravel drive crunching made her lift her head.

She smiled.

Hazel was early, just like always.

The car her friend always borrowed from her brother came into view, tires bumping gently over the stones. Delilah smoothed her dress and brushed her fingers across her curls as the car came to a stop.

The door opened, and Hazel stepped out like a shot of color in the pale morning.

A yellow sundress that hugged her curves. A thick braid of hair slung over one shoulder.

“My god, it’s hot,” Hazel huffed, fanning herself with a floral handkerchief.

Delilah met her with a soft laugh and a quick hug.

“You wore heels?”

Hazel pulled a face. “Mistake. I forgot how long your drive was.” Then she squinted past Delilah, her smile flickering with curiosity. “You didn’t say your babysitters were men.”

Delilah blinked. “What?”

Hazel angled her head. “Men, Delilah. Grown. Tall. Broad. Scary in a way that makes women do stupid things.”

Delilah turned and saw what Hazel saw.

Stack leaned against the porch rail, arms folded, silent as stone. Smoke stood a few steps below, his hand casually resting on the post, cigarette between two fingers. Both of them in fitted shirts, both with that same coiled stillness like they were waiting for something. Or watching.

They were watching her.

Hazel raised both brows. “You didn’t tell me you were living in a fantasy novel.”

Delilah flushed.

“They’re just here while my father’s away.”

Hazel hooked her arm through Delilah’s. “Mm-hmm. And I’m just here for the plants.”

Delilah’s garden had always been their haven—shaded by old trees, bordered by wild lavender and rosemary, little wooden benches tucked between rose bushes. Today, Hazel took the shaded bench near the lilacs and crossed her legs dramatically.

“Alright,” she said. “Spill.”

Delilah knelt by her thyme, trying to stay focused on trimming the edges. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Hazel scoffed. “Two grown men show up to live in your house, and you’re telling me you haven’t noticed one has forearms carved from marble and the other looks like he could melt steel with a stare?”

Delilah bit the inside of her cheek.

Hazel grinned. “You have noticed.”

Delilah shook her head, cheeks warm. “But it’s not like that, they quiet.”

Hazel snorted. “Quiet men are the worst ones. They’re the ones you find in your bed without remembering how they got there.”

Delilah’s hands froze mid-trim.

Hazel leaned closer, whispering, “That one what’s his name?” She said pointing toward stack.

“Stack.” Now stop pointing Delilah smacked her hand down.

“Mmm. He looks like he’d talk you through it.”

Delilah dropped her scissors.

Hazel let out a laugh.

Smoke walked down the garden path not long after, shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, cigarette tucked behind his ear now. He didn’t speak right away—just nodded toward Hazel with a polite smile, but his eyes slid straight to Delilah.

She stood quickly, brushing soil from her dress.

Hazel stood too, straighter than usual.

“You must be the friend,” Smoke said, voice smooth as dusk. “Hazel, right?”

Hazel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I—yes.”

“Delilah’s mentioned you.”

Hazel cleared her throat and extended a hand. Smoke took it, his grip firm and warm.

“You boys always this intense?” Hazel asked.

Smokea mouth twitched. “Only when the sun’s out.”

Delilah didn’t know what that meant. Hazel did and cackled as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Oh my god,” Hazel hissed. “ That man just flirted.

“Hazel—”

“No, you don’t understand. you’ve been sleeping in the same house as two of them?”

Delilah shook her head furiously dismissing her allegations.

Later in the afternoon, Stack joined them uninvited.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat on the bench beside Hazel and drank half a glass of cold tea without asking.

Hazel arched a brow. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Talk all the time, ask lilah.”

“You always wear black in the heat?”

Stack gave her a long look. “You always wear yellow in snake grass?”

Hazel laughed. “you’re mean.”

Delilah bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Stack leaned forward slightly, arms resting on his thighs. “What’d she tell you about me?”

Hazel gestured lazily to Delilah. “Only that you smile more than you talk.”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “I did not say that.”

Stack turned to her, mouth smirking.

Hazel burst into laughter.

Delilah covered her face with her hands.

Stack reached over and plucked a bit of thyme from her basket. “She’s real sweet,” he said to Hazel. “But you already know that.”

Hazel tilted her head. “You say that like you’ve tasted it.”

The air stilled.

Delilah’s breath caught.

Stack didn’t answer.

Hazel sat back slowly, smile fading into something thoughtful.

Delilah rose to her feet, flustered. “I—I should bring out the pie I made.”

She hurried off, leaving the two of them behind.

When Delilah returned with the pie, Hazel was quiet.

She waited until Stack had disappeared down the path before leaning in.

“You’re in trouble.”

Delilah blinked. “What?”

“They like you.”

Delilah shook her head. “No. They’re just—”

“No, sweetpea. They like you.” Hazel’s voice dropped. “That man looked at you like he already knows what you sound like when you beg.”

Delilah’s fork clattered onto her plate.

Hazel grinned. “Sorry. But someone has to tell you.”

Delilah’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “I don’t think they mean to.”

Hazel softened. “No. They probably don’t. That’s what makes it worse.”

When Hazel left that evening, both twins stood on the porch.

She gave Delilah a tight hug and whispered, “Don’t let them eat you up, baby. Unless you want to be eaten.”

Delilah’s ears burned.

Hazel winked at the twins. “Take good care of her, gentlemen.”

Smoke nodded. Stack just watched her drive away.

Delilah stood between them on the porch.

She felt smaller than usual.

And more seen than she’d ever been in her life.

Tag list

@aretasreads @starcrossedxwriter @livynicole @appreciatefics @desire4ella @tonichildsdaughterduh @chrisevansmentee @queenofklonnie22 @christinabae @ellemelaninbeauty @plan3tch1ld @nanamiismine @nearsightedbaddie @jiminsthickthighs

[ultralspblr]

LET THE MORNING DECIDE (Prt 3)

Modern AU: Sinners

Stack x OC x Smoke

Mature Audiences only (18+) // EXPLICIT SITUATIONS //MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 🙅🏾‍♀️

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

.・゜゜・.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.・゜゜・．

Friday 11:05pm

The tension crackled. The bass thumped faintly through velvet walls, but in this room, silence ruled. Lena sat poised, legs crossed slowly, glass set down like a chess piece. She rested her hands on her knees….not nervous…not fragile…Regal.

Lena spoke, while Smoke and Stack seemed to cling to her every word.

“We’ll rotate. I’ll go first. Then you two take turns.”

Stack leaned back, smirk cocked and ready. Smoke’s jaw ticked once, arms loose at his sides, but his eyes never left hers.

They both stared at Lena like predators…relaxed but watchful. Ready to strike if Lena slipped, but she had no intention of slipping. Not tonight.

She turned to Stack first.

“Truth, Dare, or Simon Says?”

Stack grinned, cocky and automatic.

“Dare.”

Of course he'd pick ‘Dare

Lena mused, voice low but clear.

“Good! I dare you to sit in silence for 60 seconds while I ask him something.”

Stack blinked, and let out a sharp laugh.

“That’s it? That’s the dare?”

Lena raised an eyebrow. A wicked smile inching up the corners of her mouth.

“For you, it'll feel like eternity.”

Stack scoffed, but leaned back and folded his arm.

“A’ight! Clock’s ticking.”

Lena turned to Smoke. Her smile sharper. More precise.

“Truth, Dare, or Simon Says?”

Smoke arched his eyebrow, as if he was already regretting even indulging in this game with them. But since he was here, might as well play.

“Truth.”

Lena leaned in just slightly, enough to catch his scent and let hers brush his air.

“We've been close friends for years. You never had to tell me if you liked me, I could feel it in the way ya stared at me. So… if you liked me, why didn’t you ever try anything?”

The pulse in the room cracked open. Hard.

Smoke's jaw shifted slightly, his smirk suddenly disappeared.

Stack’s shoulders twitched. He nearly opened his mouth, but Lena raised a finger, eyes still on Smoke.

“Ah-ah. Still your dare!”

Smoke stood abruptly, rolling his shoulders back, tension rippling down his spine

“Lena, I'm not playing this game with you!”

She rose too, slow and unshaken, stepping directly into his space.

She pointed to his seat.

“Sit.”

He didn’t move at first. Then he did. Sat. Obeyed.

She hovered over him, chest nearly brushing his, lips inches away. Her perfume lingered, a sweet citrus twist wrapped in heat.

“You're not about to chicken out! Answer the question.”

Stack shifted, legs spread, one brow raised. His gaze flicked between them, biting his inner cheek, torn between laughing and something more… possessive.

Smoke looked up at her. And this time, his voice came quiet, but clear.

“We made a pact.”

The silence hung heavy between them. Lena blinked. Her posture faltered for just a breath. She bit back the bitterness on her lip, and backed away from Smoke, whose eyes never left hers.

“A pact?”

Smoke nodded once.

“Not to go there. Not with you.”

Lena turned to Stack sharply.

“Your time’s up. Your turn. Ask.”

Stack rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes.

“Y’know, I think I hear a big-bootied stripper calling me from….”

“Soundproof rooms nigga.”

Smoke cut in, arms crossed.

“Sit yo’ ass down and finish the game.”

Stack sighed dramatically, then leaned forward, voice coated in something heavier now.

They wanted to play, let's play.

“Aight. Lena, Truth or Dare?”

“Dare!”

“Kiss him.”

Smoke blinked…not in objection, but in shock.

Lena tilted her head, lips tugging up slowly.

“Simon didn’t say.”

Stack blinked.

“You cheatin’...”

Lena smiled a devastating smile

“I pick Simon Says.”

“Th-That’s not even…”

“House rules; It’s my game. My rules.”

“Oh, so you not playing fair. Bet!”

Smoke exchanged a glance with his twin. The shift changed in their demeanor, slightly. Stack chuckled under his breath. Smoke looked back on Lena, his eyes lingering on her like magnets.

“Fine. Yo’ turn again”

Lena shifted slightly and looked straight at Stack.

“Tell me the truth. About the pact. All of it. No skipping details.”

Stack exhaled, lips twitching into a memory.

“End of junior year. Last week of Ms. Walter’s class. You were sick for a minute. We missed you. Me and Smoke was stuck in detention. Talked about how much we liked ya’. Both of us. We argued on the way to your house. That’s when we agreed: No confessions. No moves. No risk.”

Lena's voice lost its sharp edges, no longer teasing.

“So y'all decided to make the decision for me, without askin’ how I would feel about it?”

The question landed like dropped glass. Stack blinked down. Smoke swallowed a deep grunt. Neither one answered right away. The silence sat with all of them.

Stack tried breaking the silence with a joke.

“You didn’t say Simon Says”

Lena stood up and looked at him; fury igniting her gaze.

They think this a joke. They think I'm a joke.

The tears from her eyes threatened to fall, but she blinked them back

“You thought I didn’t notice? You thought I didn’t feel it all these years? Every brush. Every stare. I waited…”

Her voice cracked

“...I waited for one of you to be brave.”

She turned to leave. Stack jumped up from his seat, blocking her path. Smoke caught her wrist, gently, but firm.

“Lena, the game ain’t over. Sit down.”

Lena looked down at his hand. Then up at him. Slowly, she sat. The tables had turned, and she was ready to fold and chalk her losses to the game. But they weren't going to allow her to leave, and deep down inside she didn't want to leave either. Smoke let go, now standing across from Stack.

Smoke spoke, voice soft but firm.

“You were never a game Lena. Not to me.”

Stack added lowly.

“Not to us.”

“We liked you…Actually liked you.”

Lena turned toward him, eyes glossy but unflinching.

“Then why the silence?”

Stack’s jaw clenched.

“Didn’t wanna ruin ya.”

“Didn’t want to ruin this. Didn’t want you to feel trapped. Or like you had to pick.”

She closed her eyes. The crack in her armor spread. She had assumed, all this time, that she wasn’t the one. That she’d read the room wrong, read the years wrong. But they felt it, just afraid to risk breaking something they both cherished.

“I didn’t think either of you wanted me.”

That sentence shattered the air. That silence? Heavy. Crushing. Like they could feel her years of doubt in one sentence.

“We wanted you too much."

Stack stepped close. Cupped her cheek gently, testing her reaction.

She didn’t flinch. His lips brushed hers, once, lightly. Then again deeper. Demanding. Like his tongue wanted to rewrite every memory with new meaning. The taste of his tongue coating hers. Sweet. Savory, like Bourbon.

Lena moaned softly into his mouth, hand gripping the front of his shirt.

Smoke stepped, guiding her mouth to his. No words. Just heat.

He pressed against her, one hand lifting her chin as the other traced the hollow of her back. His kiss wasn’t hurried. It was carved. Deliberate. A study. His tongue moved with reverence, tasting her slowly, lips grazing hers between breaths.

Lena let out a tiny gasp, when he kissed her neck, soft teeth grazing the sensitive spot behind her ear. Her thighs clenched instinctively. Her body burned, torn between two temperatures, both wild and familiar.

Stack traced a line down her thigh, eyes asking a silent question.

She looked at both of them, breath ragged, lips slick, eyes daring. Then she whispered

“More.”

Smoke exhaled. Stack smirked. Smoke spoke first, voice heavy.

“Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

Lena didn’t speak. She just stood, slowly, legs wobbled with heat, brushed her fingers across both their chests, and nodded.

.・゜゜・.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.・゜゜・．

Friday 11:28pm

She never thought she'd be here. They had decided to continue their heated tryst at Stack’s loft, which wasn't that far from the club. But minutes had passed, and their silence was the loudest they'd ever been.

The two men she'd known for years, men she once only wondered about, were now before her. And their silence was loud.

Smoke sat to her right, relaxed in a low armchair slowly smoking a blunt Stack had rolled earlier. The smoke from the blunt curling around him as his eyes were fixed on Lena.

Across from them, Stack leaned against the bar, arms glass of whisky in hand, pouring another one on the rocks for Smoke. He took a few extra shots before passing Smoke a drink, then returned back to the bar to sit on the barstool. Silently gazing.

For the first time since they'd met, Stack was completely silent as well. This unnerved Lena even more than Smoke's silence.

A feeling of regret started to seep into Lena as the time ticked by. Her patience frayed with every tick.

The tension in the room was thick. Their silence wasn’t distance...it was observation. They weren’t ignoring her. They were studying her. Undressing her with their eyes without lifting a finger.

Her mouth opened before she could stop it.

“So yall just gon’ stare at me all night?”

Stack raised a brow and swirled the ice in his glass. Smoke didn’t blink, just took another slow drag.

“Elias…Elij-”

Smoke held up his hand, eyes never leaving hers. His voice was flat but sharp.

“Aye Stack! Did we say Lena could talk?”

Stack leaned in, sipping slow.

“Not that I recall?”

The tension in the room shifted…snapped, really. Something about the way they looked at her. She felt it in her chest. And lower.

They’re flipping it. Just like I did.

Lena smacked her teeth.

“Y'all are being completely un-..."

“There she goes again….Girl just doesn't know when to shut her mouth.”

Smoke leaned forward now, voice smooth but firm.

“You wanted a dare, didn't you? Simon said, and we listened.”

Lena's heart fluttered and her thighs clenched from the sternness of his voice.

Stack licked his lips, a grin slowly rising.

“Glad you're starting to understand the rules, baby girl.”

Lena stiffened at the nickname, but before she could say anything, the Smoke cleared his throat again, a small warning.

Smoke exhaled.

“Just so we’re clear: You picked this. You flipped the script. And now…We’re playing.”

Lena's breath caught. Was she supposed to answer? Or stay quiet?

“Simon says, answer the question. Did you ask for this?”.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

But she nodded.

Smoke leaned back again, satisfied.

“Smart girl.”

Stack stood up fully now, moved around the bar slowly…stalking, really. Like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to tease her… or devour her.

He glanced at Smoke.

“Should we reward her?”

“Nah. Not yet. She’s still got seven offenses to pay for.”

“Seven?”

She turned to the Stack.

“How is it seven?”

Stack grinned.

“You'll see.”

Lena felt a cumulation of emotions...nervous, excited, unsure. But then came the part that made her pulse quicken.

Stack disappeared down the hallway toward his room. The sound of rummaging drawers and clinking objects echoed faintly.

Smoke stayed seated, his gaze unmoving.

“You like control...But we'll be takin' over from here.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Stack returned, something in his hand…black rope, carefully coiled, and a black leather paddle. He placed it on the table. He didn’t rush. He let it sit there.

Lena's eyes dropped to it. Then back to him.

“You ready to be a good girl? Or do we have to show you what happens when you break the rules?”

She swallowed hard, but didn’t flinch.

Smoke stood up now, towering her.

“Simon says: Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

And she did. Not because she was afraid. But because she had never been more certain:

This was her dare. And this was exactly what she wanted.

Smoke took the rope and moved behind Lena, not speaking as he worked. The first brush of it against her wrists made her shiver. He tied her slow…intentional…loop by loop, the texture rasping against her skin. Not harsh. Firm. Like he knew what he was doing.

She swallowed hard, her breath catching when he cinched the final knot.

Smoke moved his mouth at her ear.

“You’re not in charge anymore. You understand?”

She nodded.

But from across the room, Stack’s voice rose silken and amused.

“What do we say, baby girl?”

Lena's breath hitched.

A low chuckle curled from Stack's throat as he moved toward her, whisky in hand.

“…Simon says yes.”

Lena exhaled.

“Yes.”

Stack circled her, his fingers brushing down the bare skin of her arms, her shoulders, her spine.

He murmured, voice brushing her neck.

“You like making us wait?”

She shivered. The paddle was cool when he brought it to her thigh, not striking yet. Just…waiting. Then the first tap came. Soft. Almost playful. She jolted slightly.

Smoke rested one hand at the back of her neck.

“Still."

Another tap…firmer. Then another. Lena's knees threatened to bend, but she stood her ground.

“You’re doing perfect."

Stack moved to her front. Lifted her chin. His thumb grazed the edge of her lip.

“We waited a long time for this….now it’s your turn to give in.”

Lena could barely breathe.

“Simon says…answer me. You still want to play?”

Lena's voice was nearly a whimper:

“Yes”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Several minutes passed. The silence broke only by the soft taps, building steadily into a rhythm….sharp, deliberate, unrelenting. Lena’s legs trembled, her hips still quaking from the aftershocks of pleasure, the ache setting in where the bliss had burned.

Smoke's grip around her waist shifted. He gently lifted her from the couch onto her knees, one hand on her cheek, the other braced around her ribs. Stack stood before her, untying the rope, his warm hands gliding up from her thighs to her hips, kissing her collarbone like a vow.

Smoke held her close, whispered in her ear:

“We takin’ you to bed now.”

Lena stood on unsteady legs, trembling as she followed their lead. She floated between them…one behind, one ahead. Smoke’s eyes never left her. Stack’s breath warmed her skin. She was surrounded.

In the bedroom, the lights were dim but their presence was bright. Stack laid her down first, crawling beside her. Smoke knelt, spreading her legs with reverence.

Stack whispered in her ear, brushing her bang from her face.

“You’re still ours."

“But you run the pace now.”

Lena's hands reached for both men.

“I want you close.”

They came to her….mouths and fingers worshipping her, declaring her as theirs.

Each moan, a yes.

Each look, a covenant made in flesh.

As their bodies moved, synchronizing with hers, Lena unraveled with the kind of softness that only came after surrender. She lay at the center, her dress tossed aside, bare skin glowing against the sheets. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

Smoke was the first to move. He slid his fingers between her legs like he belonged there, gliding along her folds, coaxing slick from her. He let out a low groan when her body clenched at his touch.

“Greedy, and ain’ even started yet.”

Lena's hips twitched but Stack was there, one hand anchoring her thigh, the other caressing her breast. His lips slowly trailing her neck.

He whispered against her skin,

“We got you.”

Suddenly Lena gasped as Smoke buried himself in her…tongue flicking, sucking, stroking, possessing. He devoured her like a man on a mission, eyes steadily locked on hers, moaning fervently,

Lena's back arched as his lips closed around her clit, sucking slow, then hard, dragging her higher with every flick of his tongue.

Just when she thought she might shatter, Stack caught her mouth with his, swallowing every breath.

Smoke slid two fingers inside her, curling deep, shifting the rhythm until her thighs quaked and her whimpers muffled across the sheets.

Stack murmured between kisses.

“Relax.”

Smoke’s voice followed low and commanding.

“Now, let go.”

And she did.

Lena's orgasm hit…violent and wet. Her body convulsed, hips grinding into Smoke’s face. The sheets became her lifeline.

But they didn't stop.

Stack leaned her up, his hand trailing her body bracing her stomach, the other hand tracing her spine. His mouth stole her breath while Smoke licked her clean….slow, their need multiplying.

Smoke unbuckled his pants, leaned closer, and pressed his dick against her soaked folds.

“You want it?”

Lena nodded.

“Answer him.”

“I want it.”

Stack braced her body firmly, grounding her. Smoke eased his dick inside her…slow, deep….until she cried out again.

“Fuck.”

“Who’s makin’ you feel good?”

His thrusts thick and steady.

“Mmmnnn…both of you.”

Smoke pushed in harder, careful. Slick.

Stack murmured, stroking her lower back, lips soft against her shoulder.

“Breathe, baby. You're doin’ good.”

Smoke lifted her chin, his gaze locked to hers.

“You’re ours.”

She took him. Letting him crash through her, build her up, break her down, and piece her back together again with every stroke, every praise, every gasp of her name.

Her climax hit again, drenching him.

Smoke wasn't far behind. He gripped her throat just enough, Stack behind her still kissing her shoulders. Smoke spilled into her with a deep, ragged moan.

“Fuck!”

Lena barely had time to catch her breath before she felt them shift around her again.

"On your hands and knees."

Smoke's voice was warm but sharp.

Lena's body obeyed before her mind caught up, trembling as she settled into the center of the bed. Smoke's hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

“Eyes on me, baby”

She did. And in the mirror behind him, she saw Stack come up behind her, shirt gone and skin glowing. He palmed her ass, spreading her open like something he’d prayed for. Then he groaned a deep sound that vibrated through his chest and settled into hers.

Smoke knelt in front, stroking her hair with a tenderness that unraveled her.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

She did, and he slid his slick dick in slow. His taste filled her, thick and heavy, the salt of him coating her tongue while she adjusted her breath to his rhythm.

Behind her, Stack took his time. He teased the head against her folds, dragging it through the slick warmth. And when he pushed in, it was with a sound that cracked in his throat, like he hadn’t expected her to still be that wet, that tight.

Lena moaned around Smoke, her whole body arching. Every nerve ending lit. Every tap on her thigh, every grunt, every staggered breath between the two men vibrated through her spine.

They moved with her. Two sets of hands. Two bodies. One rhythm.

Stack gripped her hips, rolling into her in smooth, deep strokes that made her toes curl. Smoke guiding her pace up front, thumb resting under her chin, fingers tangled in her hair as her lips slid down his length.

She was cradled between them, the push and pull, the give and take. Her arms started to tremble, but Smoke reached down and cupped her face, steadying her.

“Take what you can. You're doing so good for us."

Stack slapped her ass then soothed the sting with a squeeze.

“Tight lil’ thing still tryin’ to milk me, huh baby?”

The praise made her pulse throb. Pleasure danced up her spine, crawled down her belly. She felt it building again…fast, messy, unavoidable.

Stack’s voice dropped against her shoulder

“Say it. Say who you belong to.”

Lena pulled off Smoke with a gasp, drool glistening on her lips, eyes glassy and wide.

“Yours. Both of yours.”

Stack grunted, snapping his hips harder.

“Damn right.”

Smoke leaned in, kissed her flushed forehead, and fed himself back past her lips.

“Make it count then.”

Lena's mouth and body stretched around them, heart hammering like a prayer in motion. Her moans became gospel. Their hands…one tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist. She was undone and remade in the same breath.

Lena came again. Loud, shaking, stuttering. Her whole body clenched around Stack, and her mouth swallowed every inch of Smoke.

Her release made both men pause in reverence before they chased their own. Smoke cursed low, pulled out just in time, spilling across her lips and chin. Stack followed seconds later with a guttural growl, hips jerking against her, emptying inside her while he grip on her hips.

And all that was left were the echoes of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the silence that follows worship.

.・゜゜・.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.・゜゜・．

Saturday 12:36

The room was thick with heat, breath, and something unspoken. Lena laid still, letting her body come down. Her skin shimmered under the soft light, flushed and kissed in every corner.

Stack eased out of her with a drawn-out groan, both of them wincing at the sensitivity. He placed a palm on the small of her back, holding her steady as Smoke shifted forward and pulled her up into his lap.

Lena collapsed against his chest, boneless and warm. Smoke wrapped his arms around her cradling her as she rested her face against his shoulder, her breath hot and shallow against his skin.

“You good?”

Smoke’s voice was low.

Lena nodded

“Mmhm…too good.”

Stack returned from the bathroom with a warm towel.

“Let me."

Smoke adjusted her so she could lean fully against him, while Stack crouched in front of her, meeting her gaze before wiping down her thighs, stomach, and tender folds between her legs. There was nothing rushed in his touch, he was careful and gentle.

Once she was clean, they tucked her between them.

Smoke laid back against the pillows, cradling her head on his chest. Stack curled behind her, arm slung over her waist. The air between them pulsed slow and thick.

No one spoke.

Lena's fingers danced idly along Smoke’s chest, nails tracing over the beat of his heart. Stack’s breath kissed the back of her neck, and she felt him nuzzle into her hair like he didn’t want to let the night go.

“I don’t think I can walk.”

Stack chuckled behind her.

“You ain’t supposed to.”

“You floatin’ somewhere between Earth and goddamn Saturn.”

Smoke teased, brushing a hair from her damp cheek.

They all laughed quietly, tired, and content.

The silence that followed didn’t feel empty. It felt right. As Lena's eyes fluttered shut, she felt the brush of a sheet pulled over her, soft kisses pressed to her skin. Smoke at her temple. Stack at the base of her neck.

No one asked what it meant. They didn't need to. The way they held her said enough.

Only rest. Only them.

End

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Epilogue

Saturday 8:13am

Lena blinked up at the ceiling, her body humming with a different kind of awareness. The kind that came after fire. She felt full, stretched open in more ways than one, but not empty.

“I should go home.”

Lena whispered to herself.

Stack murmured against her ear.

“Mm. Should you?”

Smoke cracked one eye open.

“Ain’t nobody rushing you out.”

She huffed a soft laugh.

“I didn’t say I was leaving.”

Stack kissed the back of her neck, bare and warm.

“Good.'Cause we ain't done with you yet.”

Smoke grinned, deep and slow, and trailed a finger down her thigh beneath the sheets. His voice thick with sleep.

“But first we feed you. Run your bath. Then go for round two.”

Lena turned her head toward him, lips brushing the edge of his jaw.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The heat still simmered beneath the quiet of the morning. Their hands lingered on her, gentle now. If last night was the flame, then this morning was the smoke rising from it.

Not gone. Not forgotten. Just…settled.

End

Authors Note: I'm glad I finally finished this. I just wanted the throuple to win, so I had to figure out how to approach that, while keeping the intimacy and buildup. If you enjoyed this check out my other One Shot Sinners fanfic.

Strictly Business (Dom Smoke x Reader)

Soft Lies, Hard Truths (Stack x Reader)

Thank you for reading: @nanamiismine @softy212 @bxrbie1 @underated345-blog @queenofklonnie22

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Hallelujah Heat (1)

Summary

In a small Mississippi Delta town steeped in scripture, reputation, and whispers, Ise Bakersfield has always walked the righteous path as the preacher’s only daughter. Pressed skirts, quiet Sundays, and eyes that cast down low. However, something or rather someone has come to stir the fire within her.

Stack "Elias" Moore is Magnolia Lane’s smooth-talking neighborhood bad boy. It all starts with lingering glances on her porch and soon becomes a heat that haunts her thoughts. What begins as innocent avoidance quickly turns to dangerous curiosity. Their worlds aren’t meant to touch, but temptation knows no bounds... and Ise is about to find out what happens when desire dares to cross the line.

Characters: Ise Bakersfield (OC) x Stack " Elias" Moore

Warning: Vulgar Language, Sexual content, Angst, Slow Burn & More..

Chapters: PART 2 , PART 3

A/N: I thought about an idea early this morning and was like, "I'm writing this."😭 Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!

NOT EDITED

Stack “ Elias” Moore lived five houses down on Magnolia Lane. He has been there since the day he was born, just like Ise Bakersfield, but they moved in different circles.

Ise was the preacher’s only daughter. Very polished, pressed, and proper, with her hair in soft waves and her ankles hidden beneath hems that didn’t dare misbehave. Folks called her a good girl, said she’d marry a deacon’s son and play piano on Sundays just like her mama.

Stack was the boy the church elders warned her about.

Too slick for his own good, with that lazy grin and a mouth full of sugar and sin. Rumor was he ran liquor behind the juke joint, played cards with married women, and always came home with lipstick on his collar. He wore gold in his mouth like he was daring the Lord to pull them out .

They never truly spoke. Not a real conversation, anyway. But that didn’t mean Ise hadn’t noticed him. She just made sure she noticed in silence.

That evening, the sky was the color of sweet tea and smoke. Ise was sitting on the porch swing in her Sunday best, even though it was Tuesday. A hymn book in her lap. Legs crossed at the ankle like her mama taught her, but her eyes were sinning.

Across the way, Stack leaned against the wood post at his daddy’s gate, lighting a cigarette with one hand and watching the street like it owed him something. The flame kissed his face long enough for her to see the hunger behind his easy look.

He caught her watching.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t wave.

Just strolled across the road slowly, cigarette dangling, voice dragging like jazz on a scratchy record.

“Evenin’, Miss Bakersfield.”

She closed the hymn book but didn’t stand. “Didn’t think you knew my name.”

“I know a lotta things,” he said, stopping just shy of her porch. And I know good girls ain’t supposed to stare at boys like me.”

She should’ve flushed. Should’ve gone inside.

Instead, she tilted her head. “Nobody told you to come over here. Betta be careful folks’ll think you’re sweet on the preacher’s daughter.”

Stack grinned, slow and dangerous. “I ain’t sweet on nobody. Just got a curiosity for quiet things with heat underneath.”

And for the first time, Ise let her smile rise. It was sharp, knowing, unbothered by God or gossip.

“Careful, boy,” she warned. “Curiosity like that? That’s how folks catch fire.”

He exhaled smoke toward the evening sky.

“Maybe I like the burn.” Stack exhaled again, slow and steady, letting the smoke curl around the space between them. He didn’t climb the steps. He just stood there on the ground like he knew his place, or maybe like he was daring her to invite him up.

Ise tilted her head a little more, her voice soft but laced with bite. “You curious about me, but your curiosity needs to focus on how you gon’ keep screwin’ Mr. Chase’s wife, Lottie.”

The corner of Stack mouth lifted. Not in shock or in shame. Just that same lazy, low grin like he was half-impressed.

“Sounds like somebody been keepin’ tabs on me.” He leaned in, voice syrup-slick.

“Now is the church girl judgin’ me… or she got her own curiosity?”

Ise’s fingers tightened around the hymn book. She didn’t blink. “You don’t rattle me, Stack.”

He chuckled, eyes glittering beneath the porch light. “Didn’t say I did.”

She should’ve gone inside, but she didn’t. Lord help her, part of her liked that he wasn’t embarrassed about Lottie Chase. That he didn’t flinch. That he could smile with smoke on his tongue and sin on his breath and still act like she was the only thing worth noticing on that porch.

Static stepped back, not retreating, just giving her space like he knew he’d be on her mind anyway.

“Well,” he said, flicking ash to the dirt. “I’ll leave you to your hymns and thoughts, Miss Bakersfield.”

“Goodnight, Stack.”

He turned with that same easy swagger, but not before he let his gaze fall on her lips. It was just as long enough to make her chest ache and wonder what his mouth felt like.

However, she was a Bakersfield. A preacher’s daughter. There was a reputation to maintain.

So she lifted her chin and swung gently on the porch like her heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to drown out every song in that hymn book.

An hour after Stacks left her on the porch, Ise was still pacing in her room, hands twisting the hem of her slip, heart ticking like a clock that couldn’t calm down.

Her mama’s voice floated up from the kitchen. “Ise, baby, come on down here and wash your hands. I need you to help me jar this marmalade before it gets cool.”

Ise blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Coming, Mama.”

The kitchen was full of citrus and sugar, the smell of orange and peach marmalade thick in the air like perfume. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring the last pot, wearing her floral apron and humming gospel under her breath.

“I need you to start with those sterilized jars. Use the funnel, don’t make a mess,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

Ise rolled up her sleeves and got to work, carefully spooning the golden orange spread into the jars, the rhythm of it keeping her grounded.

Halfway through sealing the lids, the phone rang. A sharp trill that cut through the soft clinking of jars. Her mama wiped her hands and picked it up.

“Hello? … Oh Lord, Carla’s in labor? Already?” Her mother’s tone shifted quickly, moving from curiosity to command. “I’ll be right there. Y’all keep her calm and don’t let her get up. She dilated last time before she even knew it.”

Hanging up, she turned to Ise. “That was your Auntie Winnie. Carla's contractions five minutes apart. I gotta go. I’ll take the birth kit and head over.”

She grabbed her bag from the pantry but paused at the door. “Before you do anything else after jarin’, take this box over to Miss Frances’ house. She bought these last week and I told her she’d have ’em today. I don’t care what’s goin’ on, I made a promise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ise said, drying her hands.

By the time she finished sealing the last lid, twilight had deepened. The walk to Mrs. Frances’ house wasn’t long, just a few blocks down on the east side, but the box was heavy and the evening air still clung with warmth.

When she reached the steps of the small yellow house with the chipped shutters, she paused.

Blues music drifted out from the open window. Smooth and loud. The clink of bottles, laughter, deep voices floating like smoke through the screen door. Something was going on inside. A gathering. Maybe a party.

She knocked anyway, balancing the box on her hip.

After a few seconds, the door creaked open, revealing Cornbread, Mrs. Frances’ youngest boy, tall and sturdy with a low cut and an unsure look in his eyes. His expression froze when he saw who it was.

“Miss Ise? Uh… what you doin’ here?”

She raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Droppin’ off your mama’s marmalade. My mama promised it’d be here today.”

Cornbread looked like he’d swallowed a brick. “You… you ain’t gon’ say nothin’, are you? My mama think I’m just havin’ a couple boys over to help fix the gutters.”

Ise gave a small shrug, adjusting the box in her hands. “I don’t care what y’all doin’ long as you ain’t burnin’ nothin’ down. Where you want this?”

He blinked. “Uh, I take this, I guess.”

She was about to hand him the box when she heard it. A voice, low and cocky from inside the living room. Smooth as honey and just as sticky.

“Nigga, you sure you wanna bet that much? Your luck runnin’ thinner than your hairline.”

Ise froze.

That voice.

She peered past Cornbread and saw Stack, sitting at the card table, legs stretched out, suspenders hanging loose off his shoulders, surrounded by two other guys laughing and drinking from red cups. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the smoke curling up like a spell.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

Something pulled at her, something reckless and curious. This world wasn’t hers. Not the dim lights, not the smell of beer and cigarettes, not the muffled bass of a stereo vibrating against the walls.

But she wanted to know.

She wanted to know what it felt like to be inside Stack orbit when he wasn’t leaning on porches in the moonlight, teasing her with half-truths and daring smiles. She wanted to see him with his guard down. Wanted to see the version of him that didn’t talk in riddles.

She shifted the box into Cornbread’s arms. “Actually… before I go, could I get a glass of water? That walk had me thirsty.”

Cornbread looked startled but polite. “Y-yeah, of course. You can come in. The kitchen is on your right, straight through that hall. I’ll put these on the counter.”

Ise stepped inside.

The door closed behind her.

And with it, so did every line she wasn’t supposed to cross.

Inside Mrs. Francis’ house, the air was thick with music and humidity. Someone had pushed the parlor furniture against the walls, clearing room for dancing and dominoes. A record spun scratchy blues in the corner, and the scent of bootleg gin and sweet cologne tangled together like secrets. Laughter rose in waves, but just beneath it were voices sharper than they meant to be.

Ise stepped inside wrapping her arns across her body, as her Sunday shoes clicking against the hardwood, all she wanted was to be quick and invisible.

But eyes found her like they always did.

Ise moved through the hallway with her hands folded in front of her like she was still carrying the marmalade, though her heart beat louder than any stereo speaker.

From the living room, laughter burst, followed by the clack of dominoes and the scrape of card decks. Stack was still seated at the table, back to her now, shoulders relaxed like sin didn’t have a price.

Her and Cornbread vanished toward the kitchen ahead of her, the box of jars rattling lightly with each step.

“Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink,” he called. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“I got it,” Ise answered, her voice even.

Cornbread looked jumpy. Ise could see him glancing from the faucet to the front door like he expected her to scold him about every bottle tucked behind curtains and every girl sitting on laps of young men.

“I ain’t gon’ say nothin’,” she said softly, arms folded as she leaned against the counter. “Your party ain’t none of my business.”

Cornbread glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “Oh. Uh—well…thank you, Miss Ise.”

“Just Ise,” she replied.

“ Well thank you, Ise.” Cornbread smiles as he walks back out the kitchen.

Now standing by herself in a dimly lit kitchen which was cleaner than she expected. Smelling faintly the scene of lemon soap and something fried hours ago. She reached for a glass and turned the faucet on low, watching the water rise.

Outside of the kitchen, gossip began to spread like wildfire throughout the house.

“Preacher’s daughter just walked in,” Stephanie said, her voice pitched high enough to slice through the trumpet solo on the record. She sat on the arm of a sofa, her legs crossed loose and glossy with oil, lips redder than church pew cushions. “Came through the front door with Cornbread like she ain’t scared of her daddy’s belt.”

“Lawd, what she doin’ here?” another woman asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a silk scarf slipping down one shoulder. “She come to save us or judge us?”

A couple of them laughed. Not loud, but enough.

“Maybe she tired of bein’ holy and came to sin proper,” Stephanie added with a drag from her cigarette, smoke curling up toward the ceiling like a prayer going the wrong direction.

That’s when the card table stilled.

Stack, sitting with a hand full of spades, paused mid-turn. His dark eyes lifted, slow and lazy, toward the direction of the kitchen. The overhead light gleamed off the edge of his suspenders as he shifted in his chair. He didn’t say a word at first just stared, listening.

“Who you say?” one of the men asked.

Stephanie’s grin widened. “Lil Miss Ise. Lookin’ like temptation in pressed cotton.”

Stack stood up. No warning. No sigh. He placed his cards face down with deliberate ease and adjusted his collar, rolling his sleeves up higher on his forearms. A gold watch winked on his wrist as he tucked his cigarette behind his ear.

“She in the kitchen?” he asked, not to anyone in particular.

Cornbread’s voice called from the back, a little nervous: “Ise just droppin’ off somethin’ for my mama. That’s all. She is not gonna tell on nobody.”

Stack didn’t respond. He was already moving, slow and easy, like he was headed toward something he’d already dreamed about.

The women fell quiet as they watched him go.

Stephanie blew out a plume of smoke and murmured, “Mm-hmm. That boy ‘bout to forget his poker hand for a little church mouse.”

The cold water touched Ise lips just as a familiar scent rolled in tobacco, cologne, and something warm she couldn’t name. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

Stacks filled the doorway like he’d been summoned by the heat rising in her chest. His suspenders had slid off his shoulders, hanging loose around his hips, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. A curl of smoke hung near his ear from the cigarette he’d tucked there earlier. That lazy, confident posture made her heart beat just a little louder, though her face didn’t flinch.

“Well,” Stack drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I figured you only left your porch to go to the church or the corner store.”

She set the glass down slowly on the counter and met his gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you sittin’ in someone else’s mama house like you ain’t got enough scandals folks whisper about.”

Stack’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it grew smoother.

“For a church mouse, you sure keep tabs on a lot of gossip.” he said, voice like slow rain.

Ise narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin. “ Or maybe I just listen better than most.”

“You do more than that.” His gaze flicked down, slow and deliberate. “You watch.

She should’ve slapped him for being so bold, but the truth was she had watched. Watched him saunter down Magnolia Lane like he owned it. Watched the way women leaned close when he spoke. Watched his lips, too.

Stack took one step closer. Not touching, but near enough for her to feel the heat coming off his skin. “Tell me, Ise…” he murmured. “What else you curious ‘bout?”

Her laugh was sharp, soft, almost bitter.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He leaned just a little closer, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah,” he said, low. “I would.” For a breath, neither of them moved.

The sounds of music and laughter floated in from the parlor, but in that kitchen, time thickened like molasses. Ise’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the counter, her heart hammering under her prim clothes.

Then, like something snapped back into place, she smoothed her clothes and reached for the empty glass and placed it in the sink.

“I should go,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

Stacks didn’t argue. Just stepped aside, letting her pass, but his eyes stayed on her, trailing the sway of her walk, memorizing it like scripture.

Before she can make towards the end of the hallway Stack will say something that would change Ise forever.

“You ever think ‘bout it?”

She paused. Didn’t turn. “’Bout what?”

“Doin’ something you can’t take back. Just once.” His voice was a hush behind her. “Just to see how it feels.”

She did turn then. Slowly. Met his gaze through the dim hallway light, the shadows softening the edges of his jaw and catching in the curl of his lashes.

Her lips parted, like a question was about to fall. But instead, she swallowed it. Straightened her shoulders. Lifted her chin the way her mama taught her.

“Good night, Stack.”

She opened the front door and stepped out into the thick Delta night, the air humming with summer heat and something heavier. Something that stayed with her all the way down Magnolia Lane.

Stack didn’t follow. He stood in that kitchen, smiling to himself, the ghost of her perfume still caught in his lungs. And when he finally went back to the card table, his grin was slower. Hungrier.

Because now he knew: Ise Bakersfield curious.

And sooner or later? Curiosity always came back around.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The next day

The sun rose slowly over the morning sky, the gold hues spilling through the curtains in the Bakersfield family kitchen. Roosters crowed and made noise behind the family house, and the scent of fresh grass and bacon drifted from the open windows.

Ise stood at the kitchen sink, washing the same teacup for the third time.

She’d barely slept.

Her mother had come home just after dawn, exhausted but smiling. Aunt Carla had delivered a healthy baby boy. Ise had hugged her, helped her off with her boots, and nodded politely as her mama went on about the birth.

However, her mind kept returning to the moment in Cornbread’s kitchen.

To the way Stacks looked at her like he was undressing her with just his eyes. The feeling of heat curling low in her belly.

“Lord, help me,” she whispered, setting the cup aside.

“Did you say something, baby,?” Her mother questioned behind her.

“ No ma'am.” She turned and forcibly formed a smile, as she dried her hands with a towel and walked to the table to hear her mother talk more about her night.

Later that afternoon, Ise followed her mother up the steps to the Post Office in town. Her arms are full of letters tied in twine. Her mama wore her good church hat. It was navy with white trim and a thin sheen of sweat clung to her temple, but she held her chin high, proud like always.

“Gotta get these to your brother ‘fore the week run out,” she said, tucking the letters under her arm as they stepped inside.

The post office was full, thick with the smell of dust, ink, and wood. A few folks turned to nod politely. Others were too busy fanning themselves with old envelopes or sighing about the wait. Then the front door creaked open, and just as Ise turned to move aside for whoever was leaving, her breath caught.

Stack.

He stepped into the sunlight like he owned it.

Wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders hanging from his hips and his signature black hat, and that same lazy walk that made it feel like the ground bent to his pace.

She barely had time to glance away before his eyes found her.

For a half-second, neither of them moved.

Then he tipped his hat barely visible, just enough to say he saw her as he walked out the door.

Ise turned quickly to her mother. “Mama, it’s awful warm in here. You mind if I wait outside?”

Her mother looked up the line, then back to her daughter. “Don’t go far. Soon as I send these off, we headin’ to the store.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ise said, smoothing her skirt like it needed taming, even though the wild in her had nothing to do with fabric. She stepped back outside, heart tapping her ribs like a second hand on a clock.

Stack hadn’t gone far. Just down the steps, toward the corner where the magnolia trees threw long shadows across the road. He was lighting a cigarette with that same slow ease, shoulders relaxed like he had all the time in the world.

Ise began to walk toward him, but not too fast, also not too slow.

He didn’t look at her right away. Just spoke like he’d known she was coming. “You always this good at making folks think you're innocent?”

She folded her arms. “You always this bold with somebody else’s daughter?”

Stack turned, eyes traveling the length of her like he was tracing a poem he meant to memorize. “Only when she don’t run the other way.”

Ise’s lips curved just a little. “You ever think maybe I like to run so I can feel the heat chase me from behind?”

Stack took a drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowed against the sun, and exhaled through his nose.“Then maybe you ain’t as sweet as folks say.”

Ise didn’t flinch. “Maybe they don’t know how many kinds of sweetness there are.” Their eyes locked. And for a long, thick second, the town fell away. No mothers. No church. No porch swings or hymn books or jars of marmalade.

Stack took another drag, letting the smoke roll from his lips like a secret. Ise stood just a few feet from him, arms still folded, her eyes shaded by her lashes.

“ So…what brings you to the post office?” she asked, tone light but lined with something more curious than casual as she tried to break the tension.

He cut a glance her way, one brow lifting like he already had the answer but wanted to see if she could handle the delivery.

“Thought I might run into a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a habit of lookin’ like Sunday morning trouble,” he said, flicking ash off the edge of his cigarette.

Ise raised an eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Mm. That right?”

“Maybe,” Stack said, smiling now. “Or maybe I was just sendin’ off a letter to my brother.��

She blinked, caught off guard by the honesty tucked under the charm. “Your brother?”

“Mm-hmm,” He nodded, his grin softening. “Smoke. Been stationed overseas a few months now. Ain’t one for writin’, but I know he has been missin’ me.”

Ise’s arms lowered. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve, something thoughtful passing through her gaze.

“That’s what we are here for that too,” she said quietly. “My older brother. Leroy. Mama won’t sleep easy ‘til she sends him her prayers on paper.”

Stack looked at her differently like they stepped out of the game for just a minute and shared something real.

“Leroy in the Army?”

Ise nodded. “Been gone over a year now. We don’t hear from him often.”

“Same with ‘Smoke,” Stack said. He tapped the side of his cigarette thoughtfully, the flirt gone quiet for a moment. “Funny how folks can be halfway ‘round the world, and you still feel like they sittin’ at your kitchen table.”

She smiled at that. Not wide. But real.

“I hope they both come home safe,” she said softly.

Stack nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

For a beat, the heat didn’t feel so heavy. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward, it was stitched with something shared. Something neither one of them could name yet.

Then Ise looked back toward the post office. “Mama’ll be done soon. We got more errands to run.”

Stack leaned back against the railing post, tilting his head. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“You ain’t,” she said, turning to go, but pausing after a step. “You just… slowed me down a little.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction. Didn’t need to. She could feel his eyes behind her. Warm, amused, and watching.

And she liked it.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Three days later

One second, the clouds loomed heavy; the next, they cracked open and poured rain straight down. Ise clutched the brown paper sack against her chest like it held her whole world because it did. Inside were the mother-of-pearl buttons and soft gray fabric her mama needed to repair her father’s Sunday suit. She’d walked all the way to Miss Lettie Fabric Shop and back without trouble. Until now.

She had no umbrella. No coat. Just the damp hem of her dress slapping against her legs and her breath hitching as she searched for shelter.

Her eyes caught it off the road, half-hidden behind low willow branches and tall grass: an old shack, abandoned from the looks of it, but standing solid.

She didn’t think twice.

Shoes thudding against the muddy path, she dashed up the wooden steps and pushed through the door, panting, the sound of rain drumming loud on the roof above. The inside smelled like old cedar and dust, with a draft sneaking through the walls. But it was dry.

She turned to close the door and nearly screamed at the presence behind her

A figure leaned in the corner, half-shadowed. Then a familiar voice broke the air, smooth and amused:

“Well, well… preacher’s daughter.”

She blinked, heart thudding. “Lord have mercy—Stack?! You scared the life outta me.”

“You scared me too,” he said with a slow grin. “Thought you were a raccoon at first.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but her chest still rose and fell with adrenaline. Her hair had come undone, water dripping from the curls at her temples. She set the bag of fabric down gently on a dry crate.

“What are you doing in here?”

He shrugged. “Same as you. Duckin’ the storm. I was down by the tracks when it broke loose.”

They stood there for a beat, just the sound of rain hammering the tin roof above them. It was louder than she expected.

Her thin blouse clung to her arms, and her curls dripped rainwater down the nape of her neck. This caused Ise to start shivering, which she wrapped her arms closer to her body to find any warmth left.

Stack noticed.

“You’re soaked,” he said quietly. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sayin’ that, but you shiverin’ like a leaf.”

Ise turned away, rubbing her hands along her arms. “I said I’m fine.”

Stack moved then, slow like molasses, and took off his denim overshirt. “Here.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Didn’t say you needed it,” he replied, his voice a low hum. “Just figured I’d rather not sit here listenin’ to your teeth chatter.”

She hesitated, but the heat radiating from his shirt was too tempting to ignore. She took it, wrapped it around her shoulders, and sat on a crate across from him. Their knees weren’t touching, but they were close too close.

“You always show up when I least expect you,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the flickering candle stub in the corner.

“Maybe you should start expectin’ me.”

“That sounds like trouble.”

“That’s ‘cause I am.”

The silence that followed was heavy, not awkward, not empty, but weighted. Charged.

“You ever kiss someone before?” he asked suddenly.

Her breath caught. “Excuse me?”

“Just a question.”

“Why you wanna know?”

Stack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The rain pounded above them, thunder cracking low in the distance. “Because every time I see you, I think about what you look thoroughly kissed.”

She swallowed, eyes flashing. “Don’t be crude.”

“I’m not. I’m bein’ honest. Ain’t asking you to do it,” he said, voice softer now, “but if you think I ain’t curious… then you ain’t been payin’ attention.”

Ise’s pulse roared in her ears. She should’ve stood up. Walked out. Said something sharp and holy to make him feel small.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she said, “You always this bold?”

“Only with you.”

She shook her head, looking away with a half-smile she didn’t mean to show. “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”

“I know you like to sit on the porch and read.,” he said. “I know you looked for me that day outside the post office. I know you don’t flinch when I talk to you the way I did in Cornbread’s kitchen. And I know…” He paused, eyes locked on hers. “You wonder about me too.”

She didn’t answer him back, simply ignored the beautiful man right in front of her and looked towards the window.

The rain wasn't letting up. If anything, it came down harder. Thunder rumbled again, low and long, rattling the shack’s old wood panels.

Ise still sat there, arms crossed, pretending like her skin wasn’t burning beneath Stacks shirt. The scent of him. It was smokey, spicy, and something almost sweet. She kept her eyes trained on a crack in the wall across from her, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Stack didn’t say anything for a while. Just watched her.

She could feel his gaze. Very sharp and steady, like he could see past every wall she was trying to keep up. It made her stomach flip. Made her chest tight. She hated that.

“You always this quiet?” he asked finally, voice breaking the heavy silence. “Or is it just me?”

She exhaled slowly. “I just don’t feel like entertainin’ conversation right now.”

“Mm.” He leaned back, the crate beneath him creaking. “That so?”

She didn’t reply.

“Funny,” he added, “you ain’t had no trouble speakin’ when you told Cornbread you needed a glass of water.”

Her eyes cut toward him. “That wasn’t nothin’.”

“Sure didn’t feel like nothin’.” He smirked, tapping ash from his cigarette that he lit two minutes ago. “You came in lookin’. Admit it.”

Ise rolled her eyes and stood up abruptly, turning her back to him. “I came to drop off marmalade.”

“Uh huh. And decided to linger.” His voice dipped. “Like you lingerin’ now.”

She whirled around, her voice sharp. “You think you so irresistible, don’t you?”

Stack didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head, one brow raised. “I don’t think I’m irresistible,” he said low. “I just think you ain’t as uninterested as you act.”

She opened her mouth, ready to shut that down,but nothing came out. Because he was right. And she hated that.

He stood slowly, stretching, his tall frame moving with lazy, unbothered confidence. He walked to the window and looked out at the rain still falling in sheets.

“Storm ain’t quittin’ anytime soon,” he said over his shoulder. “Guess we stuck.”

She stayed standing, stiff and defensive. “I can wait it out.”

He turned back to her, leaned against the window frame with that crooked grin. “I hope you do. You make good company when you ain’t tryin’ so hard to act like you hate mine.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly, almost surprised to hear herself say it aloud.

He grinned. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t go gettin’ ideas.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

She huffed, flustered, and sat back down. The air between them thickened like the humidity outside, heavy with something neither of them wanted to name.

He walked over, slower this time, and sat again closer than before. Not touching. But close enough she could feel the heat of him.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he murmured.

She didn’t answer right away. Then, “What?”

“Why you fightin’ it so hard?”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Because I know better.”

“Do you?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Or you just scared what will happen if you don’t?”

The silence stretched between them again, thick and electric. The only sound was the steady drum of rain on the roof and the occasional crack of thunder in the distance.

Stack glanced at her and studied the way her arms were still folded like a barrier, her back stiff, her lips pressed into a line that looked too soft to be held like that.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice rough and quiet when he spoke again.

“You ever been kissed, Ise?”

She froze.

Her eyes cut to him slowly, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I said,” he repeated, softer now, “you ever been kissed?”

The heat in her cheeks flared so fast it nearly embarrassed her. She turned her head, gaze fixed on the wall again, pretending like the question didn’t crawl beneath her skin and settle low in her stomach.

“ Again, that ain’t none of your business,” she said flatly.

Stack gave a slow grin. “That mean yes... or no?”

She sucked her teeth. “It means you're bold.”

“Maybe,” he said, voice curling with a teasing edge. “But I’m curious. Ain’t like I got anything else to do in this shack but ask questions and listen to the rain.”

“You could shut up.”

He chuckled low. “You want me to?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Her heart fully pounding now. It was getting worse because the thought was playing in her mind: what would it feel like if he kissed her?

Stack sat back again, dragging his thumb along his jaw, watching her like he could see the thoughts she was trying to hide.

“Must be a no,” he said after a moment, almost to himself. “Ain’t no shame in it.”

“I didn’t say no,” she snapped.

“So is it yes then?”

She looked at him. Eyes narrowed, chin tilted up just enough to show that pride of hers was still fighting.

“I didn’t say yes neither.”

He smiled. Not cocky this time—just slow, deliberate. “Hmm. I’ll take that as a maybe.”

She folded her arms tighter, like she was holding herself together. “You think you got some power over me.”

“I think,” he said, voice low and steady, “you wanna know what it feel like too.”

That shut her up. She just stared back, mouth parted slightly, breath shallow caught between her pride and her curiosity.

And he didn’t push.

He just let the next question hang in the air, thick and warm and dangerous.

“You ever been with a man?” he asked, quiet but direct. He wanted to see how far she can take his teasing, like he wasn’t already crawling beneath her skin.

Ise’s spine straightened. “What kinda question is that?”

“The kind you ain’t gotta lie to answer.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Didn’t answer either.”

She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure, but she could see how hard her heart was thudding in her chest. She hated how he made her feel like every secret she’d ever kept was written on her face.

“I don’t go around lettin’ men touch me like that,” she finally said, voice tight.

“That ain’t what I asked,” Stack murmured.

She turned sharply toward him, eyes flashing. “And what if the answer is no? You tryna feel big ‘cause you more ‘experienced’? That's it?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smirk.

His voice was softer now, almost too sincere. “Nah. Just tryna understand what makes you so scared.”

“I ain’t scared.”

“Then why you act nervous every time I look at you too long?”

That hit a nerve.

Ise looked away, jaw clenched, lips pressed together like she could lock all her feelings behind them.

Stack stood, slow and careful, and stepped toward her. The shack suddenly felt even smaller with him closing the distance. He didn’t touch her, he just stood close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off him.

“I ain’t ask to kiss you,” he said low. “Ain’t even ask to touch you.”

“Good,” she said sharply, even though her voice was weaker now. “’Cause I ain’t offering.”

“But you think about it.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, burning.

“I don’t.”

“Lyin’ again,” he whispered.

The rain thundered harder above them, but neither one moved.

Then Stack did something bold. He leaned in just slightly, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath brush her cheek.

“I ain’t gon’ do nothin’ you don’t want,” he said. “But you should stop pretending you ain’t curious.” Then he stepped back, leaving Ise standing there breathless.

Stack still was watching her with that same quiet intensity dancing behind his eyes. He could see straight through the act she put on.

“You ever think about me?” he asked, voice low and dragging.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He tilted his head, took a step closer.

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes locked to hers. “When you lay in that bed at night, all alone with nobody watchin’… you ever touch yourself thinking about me?”

Ise gasped like someone had smacked the wind out her chest.

“What?! Boy, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, but Stack only took another step, closing the space again. He didn’t grin. Didn’t tease. He just looked at her like he already knew the answer.

“You do,” he said softly. “Don’t you?”

She shook her head, too hard, too fast. “I don’t—I would never—”

“Lie all you want, Ise. But your eyes said it soon as I said the words.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to fire back something sharp, something prideful and cutting. However, nothing came because the truth hung heavy between them.

Stack moved closer still, his voice now a whisper meant for no one but her.

“I ain’t tryna shame you. Just want you to stop pretendin’ like I’m the only one feelin’ this thing.”

She finally looked toward him, her face burning, her breath uneven. “I don’t feel nothin’,” she lied, eyes wide and glassy. “You just… you just like playin’ with people.”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping back, voice low and rough. “But if I ever kissed you, I promise it wouldn’t feel like no game.”

Ise stood there frozen, pulse pounding so loud she could barely hear the rain anymore. She hated him for knowing. Hated herself for wanting.

She cleared her throat and said with more bite than she intended, “How about you go play with Mrs. Lottie… not me. Since you already screwin’ her and all.”

Stacks blinked, then let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. He leaned against the wall like her words didn’t faze him, but his eyes never left her.

“You jealous?” he asked, voice low, almost amused. “That she got a piece and you are still a frustrated little virgin too proud to ask for what you want?”

Ise stiffened. “I ain’t jealous of no married woman creepin’ with a man who don’t even belong to her.”

“No?” He pushed off the wall and stepped toward her again, closing that tiny gap between them. “Then why you bring her up? Why do you talk about her, but you standing in front of me with that look in your eyes like you don’t know whether to slap me or pull me in?”

“Because you—” she started, then stopped. Her throat tightened.

“Because I what?” he pressed. “Make you feel something you ain’t ready to admit?”

“I don’t feel nothin’ for you,” she lied again, quieter this time, her voice almost trembling.

Stack eyes flicked to her mouth, then back up.

“You keep sayin’ that. But your body…?” His gaze dropped slowly, deliberately. “She already told me the truth.”

Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs it hurt. She wanted to move, to push him, to run out into the rain. But her feet wouldn’t move.

“You can keep pretendin’, Ise,” he murmured. “But I see it. I feel it. Every damn time we close like this… you want me.”

Ise’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Her chest rose and fell fast, breath shaky, and she could feel his words crawling under her skin like heat.

“I’m tired of you tellin’ me what I want,” she said suddenly, voice shaking but firm.

Stack raised an eyebrow, mouth parting slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping toward him with something wild burning behind her eyes. “Matter fact…”

Before he could blink, her hands were in his shirt collar, yanking him down with more force than he expected. Their mouths crashed together. Her kiss wasn’t delicate or shy, it was full of fire and frustration and three days of pretending not to ache for him. Stacks stood frozen at first, stunned at her boldness, caught off guard by the heat of her lips, the grip she had on him like she’d finally lost control.

She pulled back just as quickly, breath shallow, eyes wide and dark. Her chest heaved like she couldn’t believe what she just did.

“Now you don’t have to guess what I want,” she muttered, voice sharp, and turned to head for the shack's door.

Before she reached it, his hand caught her wrist and spun her back into him. His mouth was on hers again. This time hungry, this time full of all the tension they’d been dancing around. It wasn’t sweet. It was heat and tongue and pressure, and the way his hands slid down to grip her waist made her breath catch in her throat.

He backed her against the wooden wall, lips never leaving hers, and this time she didn’t pull away.

The shack creaked under the weight of the rain pounding against the tin roof, but inside, all Ise could hear was the thunder of her own heartbeat.

Stack kiss deepened, hands exploring the curve of her waist like he was finally touching something he’d only dreamed about. She leaned into him, hands threading up into his slick back hair, tugging slightly at his scalp just to feel him groan against her lips.

“You got no idea,” Stack murmured between kisses, his lips brushing against her jaw, then her neck, “how long I’ve been wantin’ to do this…”

She bit her lip, tilting her head slightly to the side as his mouth found a spot just beneath her ear, sending a shiver all the way down her spine. She didn’t answer, she couldn’t.

His hand slid down her thigh, lifting it slowly as he pressed his body more firmly into hers. The tension between them had been building like pressure in a bottle, and now that it had finally burst, neither of them seemed willing to put the lid back on.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t think about me?” Stack rasped, pulling back just enough to look at her face, his breath hot against her cheek.

“You talk too damn much,” she whispered. She kissed him again, but deeper, rougher, her hands clutching his shirt like she was trying to pull him into her skin.

A sudden crunch of footsteps outside the shack cut through the storm and sliced the moment in half.

Ise jerked back like she'd been burned, her breath ragged, lips swollen from the kiss, and her eyes wide with alarm. "Shhh!" she hissed, pressing a finger to her lips as she strained to listen.

The voices of two men talking and laughing passed close by. The sound of their boots sloshing in the wet grass just outside the shack door. For a second, it sounded like they might stop. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Lord, if someone saw her out here, alone with a man like Stack, lips swollen, clothes wrinkled from where his hands had gripped her.

She quickly stepped away, smoothing her skirt, brushing invisible dust off her clothes. She wouldn’t be caught. Not like this.

The voices faded, distant now, swallowed by the rain. She exhaled a sharp, trembling breath and grabbed her bag.

“Ise,” Stack said quietly, watching her like he wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. His lips were still parted, chest still rising and falling fast.

She shook her head, not looking at him. “This was a mistake.”

He moved toward her, but she stepped back, reaching for the latch. “I can’t.I ain’t like those girls you mess with. I got too much to lose.”

Before he could say a word, she yanked the door open. Rain splattered in as she stepped out into it, not even bothering to shield herself. She half-ran down the muddy path, heart pounding harder now than when he’d kissed her.

Stack stood inside the shack, silent, wet from the rain but warm from her touch, staring at the door she’d disappeared through li

He didn’t chase her, but Lord knows… he wanted to.

TAGLIST:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @brattyfics @chaneajoyyy @333creolelady @chixkencxrry @soufcakmistress @diamondsinterlude

[ultralspblr]

Y'all be eating down with the fics ngl 😭🤧

You’re Mine

Synopsis: Jasmine and Elias had been dating for about 5 years before he finally popped the question and asked her to marry him. But things unfortunately go downhill after a huge misunderstanding and the engagement is called off. Now Elias is doing anything he can to remind Jasmine that there’s no such thing as breaking up in his book. She’s his forever.

Characters: Jasmine ‘Jas’, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore, Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore, Annie Moore, Mary, Sammie and Pearline

Warnings: TOXIC ASF, cursing, SMUT, use of the ‘n’ word, Dom Stack, Sub OC, violence, blood, Stack being insane, Angst (Idk I think that’s all of it.)

Authors Note: Cute little part 2 to ‘You’re mine’ Don’t know if I’ll be continuing it since I’m still working on ‘Back where you belong’. This is just for shits and giggles and so I can flex my brain muscles a little bit. Teeheeee.

PART 2

MINORS DNI

-

“Yes daddy”

Was all it took for Stack to peel off Jasmine’s romper, leaving her sitting on his lap with just a pink thong on. She grabbed his face and brought their lips together, moaning at the taste of weed and liquor coming from him.

Their tongues danced as Jasmine started to slowly grind on his bulge. He let out a groan as he trailed kisses down her neck and towards her nipples that were begging for attention.

Jasmine was moaning softly, feeling his warm lips kiss, bite and suck on her skin. She was feeling herself get overwhelmed with need. Her body was hot against his, mindlessly grinding harder on him just to feel more.

“Please…Please Elias.” He brought his lips back to hers, kissing her so deeply that her body shivered.

“What happened baby? What you need, hm?” His deep voice vibrated against her throat as he sucked and kissed on her neck. Hands wondering over her body until they landed on her ass.

“You. I want you daddy, please.”

“Take what you want princess. Go ahead.” Jasmine desperately clawed at his jeans until she successfully pulled them down far enough where she could pull him out. He felt heavier and somewhat longer.

“Don’t get scared now. Show daddy how bad you want it.” Stack slaps Jasmine’s ass. She lets out a soft moan and slightly lifts herself up.

“Oh fuck” Stack groans as Jasmine starts to slowly sink down. She has her bottom lip caught in between her teeth as she tried to adjust to the thickness that was stretching her out.

She was wrapped so tightly around him, the pain and pleasure mixing all into one. She wasn’t even halfway down yet and her legs were already trembling.

“I- I c-can’t Elias. Pleaseeeee”

“I got you princess. Come here.” Her body dropped onto his chest as he gripped her thighs, slowly bringing her up, only to sink her back down.

“Fuck!” She moaned against his ear as her arms move up to wrap around his neck and her head press against his shoulder. His strokes got faster and deeper. Jasmine could feel everything he was giving her. Every inch deep enough to reach her stomach. Elias wasn’t being too rough but he wasn’t being gentle either. He was fucking her like he had something to prove but being careful enough not to take it too far.

‘Owner’ by Dexta Daps played in the background as Jasmine whimpered and moaned Stack’s name over and over again. She was gone. Completely high of pleasure.

“You hear how fucking wet you are?” Elias moaned. He looked down to see the cream covering his length, slowing down his strokes so that he could watch himself go in and out of her. “And you think I’m just gon walk away from this?” His grill shined against the moonlight as he harshly bit his lip.

He gripped Jasmine tighter, slamming her body up and down. “F…fuck Elias baby. Oh my goddd.” Her eyes crossed as she felt him fill him her up time and time again. The feeling so overwhelming that she could barely even breathe.

“I’ll die before I ever leave you alone.” An animalistic groan crawls out of Stack’s throat as he shifts his hips to angle himself deeper into her.

Jasmine’s body shook. She grabbed Elias’s face, looking at him in the eyes as she felt her orgasm building. “Daddy I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop. Please.”

Elias whimpered as he felt her tighten around him. “Shiiiittt. Give it to me. Cum for me mama.”

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her mouth dropped open. “Nuh uh. Look at me. I want you to see who’s doing this to you.” He let go of one her thighs and lightly slapped her face causing her eyes to focus back on him. “There we go.” He moaned as her body locked and vibrated on top of him.

“Daddyyyyy” She screamed as her orgasm crashed over her. Her back arched and her hands scratched his back. Elias continued to fuck her, hitting her spot over and over again.

“Wait Elias… Fuck.” A sob escapes her lips as she squirts all over him. Her juices pouring down his lap and onto the car seat. “Mhmm. Keep going. Good fucking girl.”

Jasmine’s body slumps back down onto his chest but Elias didn’t stop. His strong arms moving her up and down slowly.

“Babyyyy” She was so whiny and somehow still so needy. She wanted more. Leaning back, Jasmine began to move her hips causing Stack to groan loudly.

“Just like that baby. Let me feel you.” His hands slapped her ass as she bounced on him.

“I love this dick daddy.” She whimpered as she felt him twitch inside of her. Her eyes filled with tears as she sped up, that familiar feeling slowly creeping up again. “Its so gooooddddd”

“This your dick princess. All yours.” Stack roughly kissed Jasmine as she moaned in his mouth. “Open” He commanded. Opening her mouth wide, Stack spit in it then watched as she swallowed. “More please daddy.” He chuckled slightly and spit in her mouth again.

“So fucking nasty.”

Jasmine smirked as he whined in her ear. Her eyes were narrowed, forehead sticky with sweat and mouth open wide as she let out small gasps. She reached for his hand and stuck two of his fingers in her mouth, lightly sucking on them as she continued to bounce. “Mhmm, there she is.” Stack watches as Jasmine slowly looses her sanity. “Dick got you all dumb.”

He loved seeing her like this, vulnerable and desperate. It showed that she trusted him enough to let her mind go completely blank and just let go. He felt himself somehow get harder as he watched her use him. Stack was lost in a trance. Staring at her with complete adoration. He reached for her jaw and pulled her in, placing a soft kiss onto her lips before grabbing her thighs again and taking control.

“I’m gonna cuuummmm” Her legs tremble as her arousal drenches Stack again. And still, he wouldn’t stop. Tears spill from her eyes as she starts to cry from the overstimulation.

“One more mama. You can do it.” He moans as he feels himself slowly breaking. Holding her tight, he continued to thrust in and out. Jasmine was full blown sobbing at this point and it didn’t take long before she squirted again for the third time that night. Stack following right behind her, groaning loudly as he released inside of her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, trying to soothe her by rubbing her back. Her body was still twitching as she gripped his shoulders, tears spilling onto his damp skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay mama. I got you. Take a deep breath with me.” He pulled her face back so he can see her clearly. Eyes puffy, lips pouty and cheeks stained red.

“Breathe with me.” Elias guided Jasmine through some breathing exercises to help her calm down. “There you go. Good girl.” He praised as her crying seemed to subside and her body visibly relaxed. He placed a soft kiss on her lips which she happily returned and then another one to her forehead. The two stayed just like that, Jasmine with her arms wrapped around him and her face buried into his neck. Stack had one arm resting around her waist while the other rubbed circles on her back. He was still inside of her, now completely soft, but he didn’t dare to move. He’d missed her so much that any second with her counted.

Jasmine pulled back after some time, Stack grabbed her body and slowly lifted her off of him. She winced slightly at the loss of him and he mumbled a quick “Sorry, baby” as he placed her back on the passenger seat. He leaned his arm to the backseat where a duffel bag sat, he opened it up and took out a towel, a fresh T-shirt, boxers and sweatpants.

“Why you walking around with all that?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow as she felt her heart drop for a quick second.

“Don’t do that. I was staying with Smoke and Annie for a couple days.” Stack carefully started cleaning Jasmine, going all the way down her legs. He quickly took care of himself, then put on a fresh pair of boxers and placed the towel in the now wet drivers seat.

Reaching for her thong, Stack helped her put them on before repeating the process with her romper. Once they were both dressed, the air in the car shifted. It felt heavy.

The weight of their emotions was suffocating them and Jasmine had to roll down her window for some fresh air.

“How come?”

Stack lifted his eyes up to look at her. “How come what?”

“How come you were staying with them?”

He sighs deeply before running his fingers through his beard. “Cause my sheets still smelled like you. Damn near the whole house did.” The look on Stack’s face showed nothing but vulnerability and a hint of melancholy. “Oh…”

She didn’t know what to say and right about now she felt like crying. Again.

“Jas-”

“I wanna go home.” She avoided his eyes as she twisted one of her bracelets around. The car was dead silent. Not even the music from outside could disrupt it. Stack didn’t say anything for a while, just carefully watched her twist and turn in the seat.

“Aight” He slowly nodded his head before turning the car on and driving off.

-

After dropping off Jasmine, Stack went home, quickly showered and then headed back to Sammies BBQ.

“Where’s Jas?” Pearline looked behind him, then towards his neck that sported small bruises and scratches.

“She wanted to go home.” Stack sat on a chair, grabbed a blunt and poured himself a double shot. Annie looked at Smoke with concern all over her face. He was tense. Jaw tight and knuckles damn near white.

Whatever tiny bit of calmness sat in Stack’s body, immediately went away the second that the man Jasmine was dancing on, came towards the girls.

“Hey, do y’all know where ya friend went?” Sammie sighed loudly and Smoke stood up, already knowing how this was going to go.

“What friend?” Stack asked with a smirk on his face. Annie, Mary and Pearline took a small step back away from the man. Smoke made sure to move to stand in front of them.

“Pretty brow skin girl with the tats?” Sammie didn’t even have to look down at Stack to know that the deep chuckle that circled the air was his. “Listen man, if you know what’s best for you I suggest you walk away right now and stop asking bout people you don’t need to be asking about.” He warned the man who looked at him confused. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to Stack whose smirk hadn’t left his lips yet.

“Yo bro, you know where she at? I can’t leave this party without her number. I mean, you seen her right?” The man smiled with all 32, completely oblivious to tension surrounding them. Smoke put out his blunt as he watched his brother slowly stand up, slightly towering over the idiot who doesn’t know how to read a room.

“Tried to warn you.” Sammie mumbled as he put his cup down. Ready for whatever was going to happen.

Stack slowly exhaled the smoke that was sitting in his mouth before slamming his hands on the man’s chest and bringing his body close to his by a pull of his shirt.

“What the f-”

“I spared your life once already tonight, and I don’t really think I’m in the mood to fucking do it again.” Without letting him get another word in, Stack punched him in his face, the crack of his nose loud enough to draw the attention of damn near half the party.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM??!!” The man thrashed around in pain, holding his face as the blood gushed out. The noise caused his friends to run towards him but froze the second they saw the twins. Smoke gave them a small two finger wave, showing the gun proudly sitting in his palm.

“I hear you ask about my girl ever again and I promise you those’ll be the last words you ever speak. You hear me, little boy?” Stack crouched down to be eye level with him.

“You doing all this over a bitch? Come on man, she was dancing on me!”

“Ah shit.” Smoke shook his head before leaning to Annie and telling her to grab the girls and leave. They quickly moved out as Stack laughed, almost maniacally. Grills shining and dancing around as if they were mocking the man.

“Nigga what the fuck did you just call her?” The mans eyes widened in fear and in that moment, one of his friends stepped up. A girl.

“Please. Please don’t kill him. He’s not from here, he doesn’t know shit. Please. He won’t go near Jas again, I swear.” Stack let out a hum. He scratched his beard with his free hand, his other slowly raising his gun to the mans temple.

“Stack please don’t. Please. He’s my friend.” The girl pleaded. Annie watched from a distance, Smoke could feel her practically begging him to intervene but he couldn’t. When Stack got like this, there was no stopping him. The man was up to the brim with so many emotions, it was hard to tell which one he was feeling the most.

The girls hands shook as she held them out in front of the man. Stack looked up at her and then behind her. His eyes landed back on the man who was watching him carefully. Too scared to move a finger.

“I’ll let you go… If you apologize.”

“Okay, okay I’m sorry.”

“Nah. Hold up.” Stack took out his phone and pressed record. “Continue.”

The man looked around in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“What you sorry for?”

“For dancing with your girl and calling her a bitch.” With a smile on his face, he tucked his phone back in his pocket. Smoke and Sammie giggled like schoolboys behind him.

“Looks like you live to see another day. Thank ya friend over here.” He nodded his head to the girl. Eyes never leaving the mans bruised up face.

Before getting up, Stack swung the butt of his gun and connected it to the mans temple. Another crack echoed loudly, mixing in with the mans scream.

“Oh by the way. You should probably drop ya friends. How you come here with three niggas and the only girl in the group stood up for you?” He shook his head before pointing at her. “Don’t do no shit like that again. You hear me? It’s crazier niggas out there. You could’ve got yourself killed.” She nodded with tears in her eyes.

“Aight. Time to end this party.” Sammie grabbed the microphone from the DJ booth and instructed everyone to go home. The boys walked to the front of the house where the ladies were waiting. Annie looked at Stack before turning her attention to Smoke. Her eyes saying everything.

“Stay with us tonight.” Smoke placed his hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“Nah… Ima go home.” With a quick hug to the girls and one to Smoke, he walked towards his car and drove off.

-

“So what are you going to do?” Annie asked as she propped the phone up on her nightstand while she wrapped her hair up. Jasmine sighed loudly as she rolled around in her bed. It was around 3 in the morning and Annie, Mary and Pearline were all showered and debriefing the events of the night with Jasmine. Of course deciding not to tell her how Stack almost murdered someone.

That’ll be a story for another day.

“I don’t knooowwwww.”

Pearline laughed before rolling her eyes. “Girl, now you know you love that man. You know you can’t get rid of him. You might as well find someway to make it work.”

“Mhmmm” Mary nodded her head in agreement. “I think you guys need to just talk it out. Put it all on the table.”

“You know you’re being stubborn now. Just rip the bandage off. Say what ya’ll gotta say and find a way to figure it out.” Annie added. “Please. Cause I’m sick of him staying here.” Smoke mumbled in the back and Annie playfully hit his shoulder.

Jasmine giggled. “I know bu-” The sound of her front door opening stopped her mid sentence. She watches as Poncho runs down the stairs, listening for any indication of an intruder. But there was none. Meaning Stack was the one in her home.

“I’ll call y’all back.” She hangs up the phone and just sits and waits, knowing that he’ll come to her. Her stomach was doing flips. She didn’t know why she was so anxious, it’s not like she hasn’t known this man for five years. Her eyes drift towards the door as he walks into her room, Poncho following close behind him. He had on a black hoodie, the hood up and slightly covering his face. Grey sweatpants. Durag on his head. Chains poking through the slight opening near his neck. Grills still in his mouth.

He looked good.

Way too fucking good.

Stack slowly walked to her bed. He sat towards the end, grabbing her feet and placing them on his lap as he started massaging them. The anklet that he bought her sitting pretty on her ankle.

“I just came to talk… Can I do that, baby? Can I talk to you?” His voice deep and gentle carried a sadness to it that Jasmine wasn’t expecting.

“Yeah” She whispered softly.

Stack looked at her straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so fucking sorry Jasmine.” He gripped her foot, bringing it up to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on top of it. “I’m an idiot and I fucked up.”

Another kiss.

“Smoke was right, he told me I was scared and that I was sabotaging everything before it could even start. At first I thought he was just saying shit but he was right.”

Another kiss.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I couldn’t believe that you chose me to spend the rest of your life with. I don’t know what good I did in my current or previous life to ever deserve someone like you.”

He kissed the bottom of her foot. Right on her arch.

“Jasmine I’m weak when it comes to you…” He sighs loudly. Eyes looking at the picture frames she still had up of the both of them. “That’s why when you were pulling away from me I- I lost my fucking mind.”

“I should’ve been more patient. Waited to hear you out but I panicked and I’m sorry.” Stack shook his head as if to rid the feelings pouring out of him. “I didn’t fuck her. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jasmine took a deep breath, tears slowly gathering in her eyes as she watched him unravel. “I can’t imagine my life without you Jasmine. I don’t think I could ever walk away from you. You’re it for me. Even if you decide this is end for us. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to get you back.”

His eyes locked with hers again. “You’re the love of my life. There’s no one else for me after you. There is no after you.”

Jasmine was speechless, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to breathe. Stack placed another kiss to her foot so gently, that she almost didn’t feel it.

“You don’t have to for-”

“I thought I was pregnant.” Jasmine blurted out before she could even think. Elias froze.

“I thought that I was pregnant which is why I was distant. I was… I was scared.” She felt her cheeks dampen, quickly wiping them before continuing. “I didn’t know if you wanted kids so early or if you even wanted kids at all and I just panicked. I hadn’t taken a test or anything because I didn’t know what I was going to do or say to you if it turned out that I was. I was terrified that you weren’t going to be ready and decide that you didn’t want to be with me anymore and I just, I don’t know, I kept avoiding you and I’m sorry, I should’ve said something. I swear I was-”

“Woah, hold up baby, calm down.” Stack moved closer to Jasmine and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her onto his lap like she belonged there. Which honestly, she did.

He kissed away her tears before holding her face in his hands. “You thought you were pregnant?”

“Yeah… But turns out I wasn’t. I was just having a reaction to the new birth control I switched to.” She laughed humorlessly.

“Jas, what made you think I wouldn’t want to have kids with you, baby?”

“You just… I don’t know, you kept saying how good things were going with Smoke and I just saw how happy you were to be doing business with your brother and I figured if we were to have kids that you’d have to put an end to that lifestyle and I just didn’t want to ruin that for you. I didn’t want you to end up resenting me because you have to put that part of you on pause to take care of our kid so I just…”

“Jasmine, do you understand that I would do anything for you? I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me, that includes us having kids. I don’t care when and where it happens, I just know that I want them with you. If I have to bury that lifestyle to care for our family, I’d do in a heartbeat. Shit, Smoke would probably make the decision for me before I even get the chance to.”

A giggle slips past Jasmine’s lips as she looked at the man that she was completely and utterly in love with. “You’d do that?”

“Without hesitation, princess. Have I not shown you that?”

“You have I just… I got scared.”

“I’ll do more. I’ll be better. I promise.” The kiss they shared was intense. It being so deep and passionate that they felt it all the way down to their toes.

The two had a connection that couldn’t be explained and truth be told, Jasmine knew she was never going to really leave him. He was her soulmate.

“Do you really want a baby?” Jasmine asked him in an almost shy manner. Her voice soft but high.

“Of course.” Stack nodded. He leaned in again, placing kisses on her neck and down to her collarbone. “I’ll give you a baby right now.”

Jasmine laughed and shook her head. “Elias noooo, not till after the wedding.” Stack smiled. An actual smile. White pearly teeth showing, grills still dancing.

“Yeah? Still wanna marry me?”

“Of course I do.”

Tag list: @iiiheartfayee @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @jackierose902109 @transparentphantomface @heartgirllover

[blackpantherismyish]

Mouthfuls & Moans 💰

Modern!au Elias “Stack” Moore X Maya Coleman

Word Count: 4.8k

Authors Note: While i love Uncle Stack, i had to give him some loving too. His fine ass deserves it. Smoke can't be the only one outchea gettin' some cooze. 🤭Let me know if you guys want more of Stack and Maya. (I can give her a face claim and make them a lil 2-3 part series). Gotta love Stack's slick talkin', charming ass personality. I'd allow him to talk me into some shit I won't lie to you. Anyways enjoy, my freaky frogs. Prompts and storyline suggestions are welcome btw.

The sunlight spills through the blinds in lazy stripes, wrapping the room in honey and heat. The sheets are a tangle of skin and cotton, kicked low and wrinkled from the night before. Maya stirs first, her eyes still heavy, body sore in the best kind of way. She blinks at the ceiling for a moment, the silence between her and the world thick with peace.

Stack is still asleep beside her, sprawled out on his stomach, the covers barely covering his waist. One arm hangs off the side of the bed, and the other lies heavy where she used to be. His face is turned toward her pillow, lips parted, breathing slow. Maya takes a second just to look at him. At the tattoos crawling up his back, at the way his shoulder rises and falls like he’s floating. Still, solid, and hers.

She slips out of bed as quietly as she can, the floor cool under her bare feet. Her legs ache a little when she stands — a sweet, stinging reminder of how good he was to her last night. Her lips twitch into a private little grin as she crosses the room and grabs his shirt off the floor. It’s soft and oversized, swallowing her curves and smelling like his skin. She doesn’t bother with underwear. Let him see.

In the kitchen, the light’s a little brighter. It’s the kind of morning where the clock doesn’t matter, where the only thing she needs is something sizzling on the stove and a man watching her like she’s the last bite of something sacred.

Maya moves like she’s done this a hundred times — because she has. Bacon in the skillet. Eggs cracked into a bowl with a flick of her wrist. A leftover peach sliced on the counter. She hums something soft under her breath, old R&B she can’t name right now, hips swaying in time. The hem of Stack’s shirt brushes against her thighs as she reaches for the pepper. The grease pops in the pan and she barely flinches.

Behind her, floorboards creak. She doesn’t have to turn around.

“You cookin’ in my shirt again?” Stack’s voice rumbles behind her and it's gravel low, thick with sleep.

Maya smirks to herself before glancing over her shoulder. “And? You complainin’?”

He’s standing there with no shirt, sweatpants riding low on his hips, his waist and v-line looking like he was sculpted by a God. His soft brown eyes locked on her like he just remembered why he breathes. His hair is slightly tousled, mouth still half kiss-swollen, and that look he gives her? It slides straight down her spine.

Stack steps behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, his chest warm against her back. She melts into him like muscle memory. His lips graze her neck, his breath lazy and hot.

“You tryna start somethin’,” he mutters, voice half a warning, half a promise.

“I’m cookin’,” she says innocently.

“You cookin’, but you ain’t got no drawers on,” he murmurs, dragging his palm down the front of her thigh, slipping it between. “So who you tryna feed first?”

She bites her lip, grinning, but says nothing. Instead, she rocks her hips back against him, just enough to feel the weight of him thickening behind her.

“Oh, aight,” Stack breathes, kissing her shoulder. “So we doin’ this now?”

“I mean,” she says softly, “you the one pressin’ up on me like this. I’m just mindin’ my skillet.”

Stack chuckles low in his throat, that sound he makes when he’s halfway between amused and turned on. Mixed with Lust and Thunder. His hands dip under the hem of the shirt, thumbs brushing over her hips.

Maya gasps, caught between a laugh and a moan. “Stack—”

“Shh,” he breathes against her neck, guiding her forward until her hands brace against the counter. “Lemme eat first.” Fumbling forward, Maya flicks off the stovetop. The burning between her legs was enough.

He doesn’t waste time. One smooth motion and he’s inside her, thick and slow and all the way. Maya’s mouth falls open, a soft cry caught in her throat. She braces herself with both hands, knuckles white against the edge of the stove as he fills her inch by inch.

“You always so ready for me,” he whispers, teeth grazing her earlobe. “Like you waitin’ for this.”

“I was cookin’,” she breathes, hips already grinding back against him.

“You still are,” he says, sliding deep again, letting the drag of him make her tremble. “Just… different kind of heat.”

His pace is lazy but deliberate, every thrust pushing her forward just a little. Not hard, but deep, rolling into her like he’s carving his name into the place that pulses for him. Maya’s eyes flutter shut, lips parting as she melts around him. The veins of his shaft memorizing the intricate pathways inside of her.

“Elias,” she moans, head tilting back against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he grunts, gripping her hips tighter. “Give me that.”

He keeps one hand wrapped around her waist while the other slides between her thighs. His fingers stroke her just right, slow and steady, in sync with the rhythm of his body inside hers. She’s already on the edge, the way he knows her, the way he moves inside her like he owns the floor she stands on. It’s too much and not enough.

Her orgasm crests with a soft sob, her body seizing around him. Stack curses under his breath, his own release not far behind. He presses deep, grinding into her with a final, drawn-out thrust before stilling.

They stand there for a long breath, the scent of sex and sizzling bacon wrapping around them. Maya finally breaks the silence with a breathless laugh.

“You really let this bacon burn,” she says, looking over her shoulder at him.

Stack kisses the side of her neck and says, “I’ll make pancakes. Just keep that shirt on.”

Maya finally makes it to the couch with her plate in hand, legs curled beneath her, skin still humming from earlier. She’s cleaned up, barely. Stack’s shirt now clings to her like it’s made for her curves, but her hair’s still wild, her neck still flushed. She don’t mind. Sundays were made for this kind of softness.

The TV is on but low. An old sitcom rerun they’ve both seen a dozen times playing in the background. She laughs to herself at the jokes before they even land, mouthing the punchlines with lazy affection.

Stack comes strolling in a few minutes later, sweatpants back to riding low, a bottle of water in one hand and that smug, dimpled grin in full bloom.

“You coulda waited on me,” he says, nodding toward her plate.

“You coulda not bent me over the stove,” she tosses back, licking syrup from her finger.

“Mmm,” Stack drawls, eyes dropping to her mouth, “but then I wouldn’t’ve started my morning right.”

He drops down beside her like he owns the whole couch. Arms stretched out, legs wide, his thigh brushing hers. One look at him and Maya already knows he’s feeling himself. Relaxed. Turned on by nothing and everything.

She keeps eating. Or tries to. But his eyes don’t leave her. They flick from her mouth to her thighs to the way his shirt barely covers the place he just left.

“You real quiet,” she says between bites, side-eyeing him.

“I’m watchin’ you,” he says, low and easy.

“For what?”

Stack leans in slow, voice thick with syrup and intent. “Tryna decide if I want dessert now or after you get done bein’ cute.”

Maya snorts. “I am done bein’ cute. That’s permanent.”

He grins, sliding closer. “That’s why you got my shirt stretched out like that? Wearin’ it like it ain’t doin things to me?”

She lifts a brow but doesn’t back down. “You said keep it on.”

“And I meant that,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across her knee. “I just ain’t say I’d keep my hands off you.”

Maya exhales slow, her fork pausing mid-air.

Stack keeps touching, slow circles on the soft inside of her thigh, fingers trailing closer but not quite close enough. Just under the hem. Just high enough to keep her body paying attention.

“You playin’,” she warns softly, eyes narrowing as she tries to keep cool.

“Nah,” he says, “you playin’. Walking ‘round in my shit, smellin’ like vanilla, brown sugar and sex, sittin’ over there actin’ like I ain’t got a whole hand on your thigh right now.”

“You tryna be funny.”

Stack laughs, low and rich. “I’m tryna be patient. But you’re real close to losin’ that privilege.”

He drags his fingers up just an inch, grazing her where she’s still tender and then pulls away entirely, like it’s nothin’.

Maya gasps and glares. “Oh, you—”

“What?” he interrupts, stretching back with his arms behind his head like he didn’t just light her nerves on fire. “I ain’t do nothin’. Just appreciatin’ my girl.”

She sets the plate down, eyes locked on him now, jaw clenched in mock offense.

“I should slap you,” she says.

Stack’s dimple deepens. “You should thank me for the restraint I’m showin’ right now.”

Maya doesn’t answer. She just throws a pillow at him. Stack catches it mid-air with one hand, then tosses it to the floor like he got better things to hold.

“You mad?” he teases.

“I’m heated.”

He leans in again, this time slow and low, his voice a whisper only meant for her. “Good. Stay like that for me.”

She breathes in, steady but shallow. Her skin is buzzing. Every inch of her feels stretched thin with want, and Stack knows it. He leans back again, casual like nothing just passed between them. Like he didn’t just dangle her over the edge without offering a damn thing to hold onto.

“You ever get tired of yourself?” she asks, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Nope,” he says, biting into a piece of her peach from her plate. “And I never get tired of you.”

Maya shifts beside him, thighs pressing together. Her lips curve upward, not quite a smile, but something softer — something that says she likes this game more than she’ll admit.

Stack notices. He always does.

“You need somethin’?” he asks, brushing peach juice off his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

She tilts her head. “You know I do.”

He nods like he’s got all the time in the world. “Mm. I’ma let you simmer a little longer. Make you feel it.”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling, turning back toward the TV like she’s over it but Stack knows better. Her breathing’s changed. Her skin’s warm.

His voice slips back into the space between them like a secret: “When I do touch you again, I want you beggin’. Real soft. Real needy. You remember how?”

Maya doesn’t answer, not out loud. But the way her hand curls into the couch cushion says enough.

Stack disappears into the bedroom for a few minutes after breakfast, claiming he needs to grab his rolling tray and decompress. Maya doesn’t argue. She just curls deeper into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a satisfied little smirk on her lips. Her plate’s empty, and her body’s still thrumming from his hands, his mouth, his damn voice.

But now it’s her turn.

She hears the familiar flick of the lighter before she sees him — the soft click of glass against wood as he sets the tray down on the coffee table and sinks into the couch beside her again. Stack leans back, spreading out with that lazy, lion-stretch swagger, a freshly lit joint between his fingers.

“See,” he exhales, smoke curling up from his mouth, “this what Sundays for.”

Maya watches the smoke drift lazily toward the ceiling. “That your way of sayin’ you tapped out?”

“Nah,” Stack says smoothly, “that’s my way of sayin’ I’m coastin’. Letting the day breathe.”

She hums. “Mmm. So you pacin’ yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Maya nods, pretending to accept that like it makes sense. But she’s already plotting.

Stack shifts, one arm over the back of the couch, the joint between his fingers glowing soft orange. He closes his eyes for a second, lets the smoke roll out slow through his nose, and when he opens them again she’s moved.

Not far. Just turned toward him, knees folded beneath her now, hands tucked under her thighs. The oversized shirt she’s wearing dips low on one side, slipping farther down her shoulder. Just enough for him to notice.

She cocks her head. “You high already?”

“Nah,” he murmurs, still cool. “Gettin’ there though.”

“Mm,” she says, voice dropping low. “I like when you high. You get even more laid-back. But real sensitive, too.”

Stack lifts a brow at her. “Oh yeah?”

She nods slowly, licking her bottom lip just a little. “Like… touch-starved. Always tryna feel somethin’. Soft palms and deeper strokes. You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

His eyes narrow slightly, amused. He drags the joint again, real slow this time, not breaking eye contact.

Maya leans in closer, voice syrupy now. “I bet you could barely hold it together if I sat on your lap right now. All warm and slick with no panties on. Just settle right over you and grind a little. Soft, slow… Like I ain’t even tryna do nothin’ crazy.”

Stack’s jaw tightens, just for a flash. That’s how she knows she’s in his head now.

“I’d sit just right,” she purrs. “Chest to chest. Arms around your neck. Just rockin’ my hips real sweet. Sayin’ nothin’. Lookin’ you dead in the eyes. Until you can’t hit that joint no more.”

Stack chuckles, but it comes out rougher than usual. He exhales hard through his nose, then glances at her out the side of his eye. “You feelin’ bold today.”

“I’m just observant,” Maya says innocently, twirling a piece of her hair. “You get real quiet when you tryna focus. Your hand grip the couch like this—” she imitates him, curling her fingers into the cushion between them, “—and your breathing? Whew. Starts gettin’ all shallow. Little grunts. Real low. Like you strugglin’.”

Stack shakes his head slowly, a crooked grin starting to bloom. “I swear, you gon’ get dealt with.”

“I’m countin’ on it,” she teases, giggling now.

He brings the joint to his lips again, but his hand hovers just a second too long. Like he’s remembering how she sounded in the kitchen. How she tightened around him. How she begged in that sweet little voice she only pulls out when she wants something real bad.

Maya watches him struggle with the hit, eyes glossy from the smoke and something else.

She leans in close, whispering in his ear, “Bet if I dropped this shirt right now, you’d be fully hard in ten seconds flat.”

“You assumin’ I’m not already,” Stack mutters, voice rough, lips curling at the edges.

She laughs loud at that, falling back into the cushion beside him, satisfied.

“Awww, poor baby,” she coos mockingly, brushing her hand down his thigh. Not close enough to touch anything vital, but enough to remind him she’s right there.

He doesn’t flinch. Just turns to her, joint forgotten now, gaze heavy and slow.

“You like talkin’ all that mess,” he says, reaching for her ankle and pulling her legs across his lap. “You gon’ regret runnin’ that mouth.”

“Promise?” she whispers.

Stack runs his hand up her shin, past her knee, grazing the soft skin on the inside of her thigh again, not teasing this time; just claiming. His fingers press into the plush curve just before it gets good.

Maya bites her bottom lip and watches him, all that confidence flickering behind her lashes.

But Stack doesn’t move further. Doesn’t press harder. He leans in instead, kissing the spot below her ear, speaking low into her skin.

“I’m not touchin’ you again ‘til you beg for real. And when I do… I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til your legs give out.”

Maya shivers. Real, deep, and this time, she’s the one trying to hold still.

He grins against her skin, satisfied.

The afternoon drifts by slow. After all the teasing and playful heat, they find themselves back in the bed, tangled under the fan with the curtains drawn against the high sun. The TV is still humming in the other room, but neither of them cares. Their limbs are wrapped tight, legs overlapping, Maya’s head resting just beneath Stack’s chin.

He dozes with one arm beneath her, the other draped heavy across her waist. His breathing is calm, warm against her forehead, like his body’s still claiming her even in sleep.

Maya stirs sometime after five. The light in the room is golden now, softer, slower. Her body is warm, her face pressed into Stack’s bare chest. She doesn’t move right away. She just listens to the sound of his heart, steady and sure, and the faint clatter of pans in the distance?

Her eyes flick open.

He’s not in bed.

She smiles softly before she even lifts her head. The smell hits her next; garlic, onion, something buttery and rich floating in from the kitchen. She stretches slow, sore in the hips, then slides out of bed, one of his shirts still clinging to her frame.

Maya pads barefoot into the kitchen and stops just short of the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame.

Stack stands at the stove, barefoot and shirtless again, grey sweats hanging low on his hips. His back is to her, muscles shifting every time he stirs the sauce. A large pot of pasta is boiling beside him, steam rising like mist. The whole room smells like love. Herbs and olive oil, parmesan and cream.

He hums to himself, low and off-key, flipping something in a skillet like he does this every Sunday. And truth be told, he kind of does.

Maya watches in silence, chin propped against her fist as she rests it on the doorway. It’s the casual confidence that gets her. The way he moves like he owns the space. The way he tastes as he cooks, licks his thumb, taps the spoon against the pot. He’s fine, but it’s the quiet care that does her in. The way he never lets her lift a finger when he’s in this mode.

He senses her before she speaks. Turns slightly and grins without looking.

“You always standin’ there like a creep,” he says, voice soft with amusement.

“I’m admirin’,” she replies, eyes soft. “It’s different.”

“You admirin’, huh?”

“Yup. Lookin’ at my man makin’ dinner like he ain’t just been actin’ up all day.”

Stack turns fully now, the wooden spoon still in his hand. “I was mindin’ my business. You the one crawlin’ up on that couch talkin’ about grindin’ and beggin’ and droppin’ shirts.”

Maya smirks. “I ain’t do none of that. I just said it.”

Stack steps forward slowly, setting the spoon down on the counter. “That mouth is dangerous. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

He pauses in front of her, looking her over from crown to toes like he hasn’t been laid up in bed with her all day. His hand comes up to her chin, thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

“I ever tell you I love how you look when you just wake up?” he says, voice low and close.

She leans into his palm. “You told me last week.”

“I mean it every time. You look all soft. Eyes sleepy. Mouth poutin’. Makes me wanna kiss on you slow… or fuck you against the fridge.”

Maya laughs, cheeks warm. “You really can’t behave for more than ten minutes.”

“I am behavin’,” he says, pulling her close by the waist. “Ain’t I in here cookin’? Feedin’ my woman? Bein’ domestic and shit?”

“You cookin’, but your eyes over here undressin’ me.”

“They undress you every time I blink,” he murmurs.

She giggles again, looping her arms around his neck. “You smell good.”

“I smell like butter and sweat.”

“You smell like you,” she says. “And you know what that does to me.”

Stack hums against her neck, planting a kiss just below her ear. “Say less. After dinner, I’m puttin’ you to sleep properly.”

“Oh?” she teases. “And what we been doin’ all day then?”

He grins against her throat. “That was just foreplay.”

They eat at the table like they’ve got nowhere to be. Maya swirls her fork through creamy linguine while Stack grates fresh parmesan over both their bowls like it’s second nature. The conversation is light; laughter, soft jabs, long pauses where their eyes linger too long and the air starts to shift again.

She moans a little when she tastes the sauce, just to mess with him.

Stack watches her tongue swipe the corner of her mouth, jaw tight like he’s doing his best not to respond.

“You makin’ sounds like that over pasta,” he says, “and wonder why I be on you every five minutes.”

“Can’t help it,” she says, licking her fork slow. “Shit’s good.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping low. “You ain’t seen nothin’ good yet.”

That heat? It’s back. Curling between them like the steam rising off the plates. He’s quiet for the rest of the meal, but the way he watches her eat says everything. His stare doesn’t waver. Doesn’t blink. Like he’s been pacing himself all damn day just for this.

By the time the dishes are rinsed and the table’s cleared, Stack moves different. Slower. Focused. No more jokes. No more teasing.

He walks up behind Maya while she’s wiping the counter and rests both hands on her hips. But his grip wasn’t playful this time. It was Firm. Possessive.

“You done bein’ cute?” he asks, voice husky in her ear.

She straightens slowly. “Maybe.”

Stack turns her gently to face him. His mouth brushes hers once softly, almost chaste; but his hands are already sliding up the backs of her thighs, under the hem of the shirt.

“Good,” he whispers. “I’m done playin’ with you.”

He lifts her without another word.

Maya’s legs wrap around his waist instinctively, arms looping around his neck. Her back hits the hallway wall with a soft thud, and Stack is already kissing her like he needs it. Deep, slow, lips parting hers until she’s gasping into his mouth.

He grinds into her through his sweats, the heat between them unbearable.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, dragging his lips across her cheek. “That’s what you do to me. Walkin’ ‘round talkin’ nasty, actin’ like I won’t flip this fuckin’ whole apartment for you.”

“I wasn’t actin’,” she breathes.

“Exactly.”

He carries her into the bedroom, drops her on the bed with care but purpose, and yanks the shirt over her head. She lies back, fully bare now, chest rising, legs spread just enough.

Stack doesn’t pounce. Not yet.

He undresses slow. Peeling off the sweats, his body hard and ready. His eyes never leave hers.

Then he kneels on the bed and grabs her ankles, dragging her to the edge like she’s already his. Because she is.

“You want slow or rough?” he asks, settling between her thighs.

Maya’s voice is soft but steady. “I want you. Please I need it.”

That’s all it takes.

Stack pushes in with one long, punishing stroke, and Maya arches off the bed with a cry. He doesn’t give her time to adjust. He sets the pace immediately, deep, measured, with just enough pressure to make her toes curl.

His palm finds her throat, gripping with just enough force to ground her. His other hand presses her thigh open.

“Look at me,” he growls.

She does. Barely. That wasn’t good enough for him.

“I said look at me.” His voice rumbles as he grips her throat a bit tighter.

“Mmm…” She whimpers as her gaze meets his.

“You take it so good. Always open for me. Always ready.”

Her hands claw at his back as he rolls his hips harder now, dragging himself almost all the way out before slamming back in. The bed creaks. Her breath stutters. Her voice breaks.

“Elias, fuck baby please—”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Say my name like that. Let me hear you when I’m in deep. Have my name drippin’ out your mouth while I work every spot I know drives you crazy.”

His thrusts pick up, smooth and devastating, rocking her against the mattress. Sweat beads on his forehead. Her nails leave trails down his back, her legs wrapping tight around his waist.

“Slow it down,” she whispers.

Stack obeys immediately. Not because she commands him, but because he listens. His strokes slow, but stay deep. He moves like he’s memorizing her shape. His lips fall to her shoulder, her collarbone, the space beneath her jaw.

“I love how you sound,” he whispers. “Love how you look when I’m inside you. Eyes all glassy. Mouth open like you ain’t even got words.”

She holds him tighter. Her hips rise to meet each stroke now, desperate for every inch.

“You mine, Maya,” he breathes against her lips. “Every inch of this body… this mouth… this pussy… mine.”

“Yours,” she chokes, her voice breaking into moans. “All yours.”

He groans deep in his chest and grabs her thigh, bending her leg higher, angling even deeper. Her body jerks with every thrust now, pleasure thick and pulsing between them.

“Daddy Gon’ make you cum hard,” he says. “Real deep. Real slow. Like I’m pourin’ it outta you.”

Maya’s close. Too close. The kind of build that aches, thick and blooming behind her ribs.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpers.

“I’m not,” Stack whispers. “Not ‘til you fall apart for me.”

She does. Mere seconds later.

It rolls through her like a wave. Slow and devastating, her whole body trembling as she cries out his name. Her nails dig deep. Her mouth parts on a sob. Stack keeps moving through it, strokes faltering only when he loses himself, burying deep with a groan that sounds like adoration.

They collapse into each other, breathless, damp, chests rising in sync.

Stack kisses her forehead, still inside her, still holding her like he won’t let her drift an inch away.

“I meant every word,” he whispers. “You mine.”

Maya nods, voice barely there. “I know.”

The bedroom moves into a quiet lull, save for the sound of their breathing slowing down, syncing back to normal. The sheets are a mess. The air smells like sex, skin, and a whisper of his cologne that never fully fades.

Maya lies on her stomach, face buried in the pillow, body still twitching with aftershocks. Her legs are open, lazily draped across the bed, completely spent. Stack is sprawled beside her, arm tossed across her lower back, fingers idly tracing the curve of her spine like he’s still memorizing her, like he never wants to forget what just happened between them.

“Damn,” she murmurs into the pillow.

He chuckles low. “That all you got to say?”

“That’s all I can say,” she mumbles, lifting her head just enough to look at him. Her hair’s a wild halo around her face, lips swollen, eyes still a little unfocused. “You be tryna rearrange my soul, ‘Lias.”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss the top of her shoulder. “You was beggin’ for it.”

“And you delivered like Amazon Prime.”

Stack laughs out loud at that, deep and full, chest vibrating against her bare back.

“You stupid,” he says, still grinning.

She rolls onto her side to face him, cheeks glowing, body flushed and beautiful. “You keep fillin’ me up like that,” she says casually, brushing her fingers across his chest, “and we gon’ have a lil’ somebody runnin’ ‘round here talkin’ about ‘Dada’ before the summer’s out.”

Stack blinks once, then raises a brow, clearly caught off guard, but only for a second.

“Oh word?” he says, smirking again. “That what you tryna do now? Trap me with a baby?”

Maya grins, biting her lip. “You the one who don’t pull out.”

“You the one who tell me not to,” he shoots back.

“Well,” she shrugs, turning over to straddle him, hips resting low on his waist, “I like feelin’ you stay in it. Like all the way.”

His hands slide up her thighs, gripping her softly. “You just like temptin’ fate.”

“Maybe,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “Maybe I want something to show for all this lovin’.”

Stack’s eyes flicker, something serious swimming behind all that charm. His grip on her hips tightens just slightly, just enough to say I heard you.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” she asks quietly, softer now.

He meets her eyes dead-on. “Maya. If you carryin’ it? I’d raise ten.”

She laughs, hiding her face in his neck. “Okay, now you tryna trap me.”

“Too late,” he says, flipping her gently onto her back again, crawling on top of her with that slow, smug smile. “You been mine.”

They lie like that for a while, chest to chest, legs tangled, breath brushing breath.

“I like days like this,” Maya murmurs, fingers trailing down his back.

“Me too,” he says against her collarbone. “All you, all day.”

She hums, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t ever let this be temporary.”

Stack kisses her slow. Long. Like a vow sealed with his mouth.

“It won’t,” he promises. “I’m locked in.”

——

Taglist: @gtf-o-m-d @spookysanta @michelley-rome @bigjh @anniensmoke3 @hdfen2474 @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @killmongerdispussy @theogbadbitch @ccwpidsblog @princesskillmonger @blowmymbackout @theethighpriestess @blktinkerbell @steampunkprincess147 @diamondsinterlude @partylikemajima @theegoldenchild @mhhhhmmmmmmm @lilchubbs @thebumblebeesworld @mastertia221b @brownskincheyenne @belleofthefloor @c0tt0ncandi @irefusetobeacasualty @cocoxciv-blog @melodyofmbaku @lb-xci @christinabae @babygirl-4986

divider: @saradika-graphics

[decayingearf]

his brothers bestfriend chap 7

✗ warnings: 18+, mdni, pinv (unprotected for a reason), teasing!stack, slight possessive!stack, slight bratty!reader, cuddly!stack, cuddly!reader, a smidge of after care, breeding kink, pregnancy.

synopsis: the first time you and elias made love was eventful. are you ready for what comes after the baby making process?

the next day, you and elias were in bed all cuddled up. he was laying flat with his back against the bed whilst you straddled him with your arms wrapped around his neck.

had he been all over you like this, you would’ve had a problem. ‘elias get up, you’re suffocating me’ ‘sleep on your own pillow’ were some common ones. but somehow, he didn’t mind at all.

he scratched his head and got ready to turn over before, wrapping an arm around your lower back and flipping you over with him. it felt great. his bulge pressed against your cunt even while restrained, felt amazing.

you locked your ankles behind his back causing him to groan, “you good?” he hesitated “mmmhm, why?” you spoke groggily ahead of him raising his head to look at you.

“you ‘on’t usually want it that close to you” “i just missed you a lot, baby” you excused causing him to nod and kiss your lips. #firstmorningbreathkiss! 

most of the day was spent with yall in bed and laid up. you pressed harder against bulge hoping he’d get the hint and give you what you want. he chuckled “what’s up with the teasin’ mama? you want some?” yes, we want some!

you played dumb “what?” he kissed his teeth and reached his hand down rubbing your ass “you know what you want, ‘on’t you? tell me.” elias instructed in your ear kissing just below it. “nah if you wanna play stupid, fine.” you whined pushing him away before he caught your arm and pulled you back “alright alright for real, all you gotta do is tell me what you want” chuckled elias with a shrug.

“you know what i want” “no i don’t mama, tell me” you sighed knowing he was teasing “i want some dick”.

──── ୨୧ ────

you laid down holding your legs with closed eyes, wishing this moment would never end. “open them eyes up, ma” letting his dick go deeper. you huffed and opened your eyes before they squinted again.

“right there” you moaned with a whine at the feeling, “tell daddy where you want it baby” he voiced with a smirk before thrusting into you relentlessly.

you’d cry and whine as your legs shook fighting to stay open and up, “yo shit feel so good, fuck” elias groaned keeping his rhythm “who pussy is this?” “yours daddy, it’s yours” you told watching as it goes in and out.

you nearly lost it when he went deeper, bottoming you out.

“fuck please—don’t stop daddy” you begged as he watched the shake of your legs and body. to make matters worse, he flicked his thumb around on your clit vigorously.

“oh fuck” you cried before you reached your orgasm and your walls clenched around his dick, milking him of all his nut. “you somethin’ else” he stated collapsing on top of you then quickly kissing your cheeks and neck.

he cleaned you up moments after then laid with you while you slept.

──── ୨୧ ────

after a few days you started to feel horrible. moody, emotional, and nauseous.

you were currently in the bathroom holding a pregnancy test and praying. “what this one say?” “the same thing as the last one, stack” you sassed throwing the stick down.

“we pregnant” elias spoke.

[innorality]

Imagine Stack or Smoke taking a shy thick girl’s virginity!

how about... smoke and stack? 😼

cw : oral sex, fingering, taking turns, unprotected (he pulled out), it's painfully obvious how much I need them both-, spit play (stack loves spit play its canon), not proofread, english isn't my first language

"so... how is this even going to work..?" you questioned. and honestly, reasonable. because seeing the two twins walk towards you on the bed, one loosening his tie while the other was already working on his belt, is something worth questioning.

smoke held an arm out to stop stack—who had been rushing to fasten his belt— in his tracks. "don't get ahead of yourself," smoke ordered and stack groaned, letting out a low, honey-coated laugh. "we're here to fuck her, yeah? why you stoppin' me?" "It's her first time. we can't rush it." you squeezed your thighs together at the interaction, whining.

their attention turned back to you as smoke made his way to you, finally kissing you into the pillow your head was resting on.

he leaned in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. his hand brushes your jaw, gentle at first, then firmer, anchoring you to the moment. your heart stumbles as his mouth meets yours—slow, searching, then deeper, urgent. his lips taste like heat and want, and when he presses closer, it's as if the rest of the world falls away.

you respond without thinking, your fingers clutching his shirt, needing him nearer. the kiss burns—soft and rough all at once—leaving you breathless, undone beneath his touch.

as if on cue, while smoke kissed you, stack made his way to between your legs that he peeled open softly while gripping the flesh of your thighs for underneath your skirt. he hiked it up and kissed his way up your inner thigh, the proximity to his goal arousing him.

smoke pulled away, his hand snaking to underneath your top as he massaged your breast, his hand following your chests up-and-down movement. before you knew it, stack had pulled your underwear to the side, and you jumped when you felt his tongue lick a long, teasing stripe up your slit.

"o-oh my- what are you-!?" your cheeks heated up when you felt him smile against your cunt. you could not see him, as he was underneath your skirt, but the sensation of his warm breath on your now exposed skin had you throbbing. "you better not be messin' around under there, stack." smoke warned, which earned him another chuckle from the twin. "you'd be surprised."

smoke went back to distracting you from the overwhelming sensation of stack eating you out, pulling top down your shoulder to expose your breasts more. he leaned in once more, "may I?" and you nodded, before his lips landed on your nipple while the other one was being rolled between his finger tips.

"oh lord- my gosh! shit-" you kept cutting yourself off with your own moans, each sensation one upping the other. the feeling of smoke's warm tongue against your nipple had your back arching, aching for more.

but what you really felt was stack's eager tongue on your cunt. he was licking up and down, the tip of his tongue bumping against your clit which had your hips bucking slightly. he kissed the bud softly before diving in completely, sucking on it harshly which had you whining. then, he angled his head lower, and his tongue penetrated you slowly. you gasped, not used to the feeling of penetration.

smoke took advantage of your opened mouth and plunged two rough fingers inside it, pressing against your tongue as you instinctively sucked on them. "you feel that? you feel him making you feel good, sweetheart?" he began and you clenched around stack's tongue, making him grin.

"look at you, baby. we just began and you're already whining." he leans in to kiss your cheek, "ain't you lucky that we're the ones taking care of a sweet girl like you? huh?" you nodded eagerly, moaning around his wet fingers when you felt stack's tongue curve onto itself, grazing a spongey spot with its tip that had your eyes rolling back.

"you got a finger in?" smoke turned to stack, who pulled away from your cunt to hike your skirt up higher, completely exposing your lower body. he was sweating, you noticed. "nah, just my tongue. I'm about to put one in, though." smoke nodded, turning back to you, only to see that your eyes have already rolled back again—stack put a long finger inside, and he was unforgiving. his pace was relentless, quick and easy, slamming his palm onto your clit.

"go easy on her, yeah?" smoke instructed as he took your top off completely, exposing your chest and tummy. "just what I wanted to see..."

"it's so good! oh my- fuck, I'm-" he did not slow down one bit, even slightly speeding up just to pull more of those pretty sounds from your mouth. he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers and nodded to smoke who kissed you again, distracting all your senses.

you felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, and it's the moment you realize that, that you feel your first orgasm washing over you. it's felt intense, every muscle in your body tensing up as your mouth went slack, barely having the spirit to kiss smoke back. "thats it baby, youre doing perfect." he egged you on as your velvety walls clenched around stack's digits, coating them with cream.

your thighs, trembling, clenched around his hips, caging him in.

he kept pumping, getting progressively slower, letting you ride out your orgasm, before stopping completely when you go limp. he didn't want to overestimate you on your first time... not yet.

he allowed you to catch your breath, using that time to take your skirt off completely. you were now completely bare in front of two men who looked at you like you were the first meal they had on their table for years.

"that wasn't so bad now, was it?" stack looked at you, chuckling. you nodded sheepishly, "y-yeah.."

suddenly, smoke left your side, quickly getting replaced by stack. "here it comes, sugar." he smirked while watching his brother undo his belt, letting his pants drop. he pulled his cock out, rubbing it along your slick folds making you jump slightly. "she's so fucking wet..." he commented also absentmindedly, which had you clenching.

"you ready?" smoke asked you, and you nodded. you felt embarrassed, flustered, but you couldn't take you eyes off of the man that was about to take your virginity.

the push of his cock against your entrance knocked the wind out of you, and before you could recover, you felt two moist fingers tap against your cheek. you looked up to stack, "wanna taste yourself, baby?" you furrowed your eyebrows, "huh?" your voice being barely above a whisper. his thumb landed on your bottom lip, pulling it open softly and your followed, opening your mouth as clear saliva dripped down his mouth into yours.

the moment the drop of spit landed on your tongue, smoke had bottomed out, his tip bumping into your cervix which made you cry out. "you fully in?" stack question and smoke, lost in bliss, nodded eagerly while closing his eyes, throwing his head back. "holy fuck-" he couldn't help the buck of his hips as he grabbed onto yours, using his knees to dig into the fat of your thighs and pry them slightly more open.

"p-please-" that was the only confirmation he needed to start moving. he went back and forth, relishing in the feeling of your warm untouched walls around him. stack walked up to him and set a hand on your tower tummy, pressing down to heighten the sensation of smoke's dick inside you. you cried both of their names out, your body squirming uncontrollably.

stack other hand landed on your pussy, fingers immediately looking for your clit, rubbing it quickly when he found it. "r-right there! yes-!" you whined, as smoke's tip bumped into that one spot again.

"there?" his voice, baritone, bubbled from his chest as his body ran on pure instinct, angling your hips in a way that made him ram into your g-spot with every other thrust. you nodded, your voice simply dying down as you ran out of breath with all the moaning and whining.

stack pressed down a bit harder on your tummy, his hand making a wave motion to even out the sensation. "you like that, sugar?" "fuck- yes! I'm- I'm close- gonna-" and you barely got the opportunity to warn them before you creamed on smoke's cock again, squeezing down on his so hard he had trouble moving again. the view and sensation of you orgasming had him nearing his own high.

you whine when he pulled out of you to fist his dick, stroking himself fast enough to cum all over your tummy with some of it landing on stack's hand, squeezing around the base to ride out his high with a hiss. he moaned your name before tumbling back and plopping down onto the bed.

"s-shit... that was-" "smoke are serious right now? learn how to aim, man." he peaked at stack who was shaking his hand in the air, "some of it got on my hand! fuck," he walked out the room to grab a tissue.

smoke's arm wrapped around you as you were still catching your breath, mind still hazy from the orgasm.

"that was... amazing..." you managed to admit between breaths and he smiled.

"I know, baby."

[chromehoney]

‘ AT THE SAME DAMN TIME, chap 1, chap two, chap three, chap four, chap five.

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

The heat outside was disrespectful. Sun glaring off the concrete, your thighs sticking to the driver’s seat, and not a single breeze in sight. Still, you parked outside Lo’s Beauty Supply—their mama’s shop—with a brown paper bag in your lap and sweat beading at your collarbone.

The bag was nothing major. Just some coconut oil their mama had asked for from your auntie’s store across town. Said she liked your family’s blend better than what she had. You told her you’d swing by and drop it off. Easy. Casual. No problem. What you didn’t expect was for both Stack and Smoke to be inside when you walked through that door.

The bell above the entrance gave a lazy jingle, announcing you before your presence could.“Be right wit’chu,” called a voice from the back—Ms. Moore, no doubt, still doing somebody’s scalp in the back room like she always did.

Your eyes adjusted from the sunlight to the store’s warm haze, and that’s when you saw them. Stack, posted up on the edge of the checkout counter, legs spread, head tilted back, puffing on a cigar like he had zero business being fine and full of himself.

And Smoke, leaned back in the folding chair just behind him, tapping ash into a red Solo cup. One foot propped against the wall. His eyes already on you.

The smell of burning tobacco, hair grease, and old incense hit you in the chest. Thick, nostalgic, weighted. This place always felt like somebody’s house and a little bit like a trap spot. Especially when the boys were there.

You stood in the doorway for a half-second longer than you meant to, blinking—and that was enough.

Stack’s mouth curved.

“Ain’t you look like you tryna be seen today,” he drawled, eyes skating from the band of your crop top down to the stretch of your brown thighs. “You knew I was gon’ be here, huh?”

You didn’t answer that.

Instead, you walked forward, hips loose, chin high, the brown paper bag crinkling in your hand. You placed it on the counter between them—right where Stack was leaned, and right across from Smoke’s shadow.

“This what your mama asked for. Tell her I dropped it off.” Smoke hadn’t said a word yet. But his gaze lingered like a hot palm on your skin.

He wasn’t disrespectful like Stack was. He didn’t flirt with words. But his eyes? His whole presence? That was a different type of heat. Where Stack looked at you like he remembered what your moans sounded like, Smoke looked at you like he was imagining them.

Slowly. Without apology. You felt it. The flicker in your stomach. The ache in your thighs you couldn’t chalk up to the weather.

You turned slightly, letting the breeze from the weak AC hit the side of your neck. Your baby hairs were already curling from the sweat, your lip gloss sticking sweet to the corner of your mouth.

“Tell her I’ll be back later in the week. She said she wanted more but I ain’t have enough on me.”Stack chuckled under his breath, lighting his cigar again like he needed something to distract himself.

��You always comin’ ‘round with not enough,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Shit, you did that with me too, huh?” That made Smoke lift his head—not fully, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Like he wasn’t even tryna get involved. But his eyes were still on you.

“I had enough for who needed it,” you replied sweetly, not even turning around. “Wasn’t my fault you ain’t know how to keep your hands to yourself.”

That earned a short, cold laugh from the corner.

Stack sucked his teeth, but you didn’t stay long enough for him to talk back. You turned, braid swinging over your shoulder, and gave a little wave toward the back room.

“Tell Ms. Moore I said ill be back.”

And just as you hit the door, your hand barely grazing the cool metal handle, Smoke finally spoke. “I will,” he said. Voice deep like gravel. Heavy. Final.

Then quieter: “And next time, don’t rush out. You stay longer.” The door creaked behind you, but you caught the way Stack looked at him. Tight-lipped. Sharp. Like this was the first time it happened, but maybe not the last. Outside, the sun didn’t feel as hot.

But something in you was burning. You weren’t supposed to like the way he said that. You weren’t supposed to think about him watching you from that chair. And you sure as hell weren’t supposed to want to test how far Smoke would let this go.

But you did.

And deep down?

You hoped next time, he’d make you stay.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers.

i legit don’t know how the hell i keep writing these back to back like this.. but chapter two should be coming soon.

[ceaseriaswonderland]

creeping in the light

It’s been decades since Elias has seen the sun, felt the warmth of the light. He meets Angeline, a woman whose aura sounds like the soothing lulling sounds of the moon. New in town she radiates light and everyone wants a piece. their isn’t a certain time period but it’s modern

one

@uzmacchiato for the banner above

MASTERLIST