siqueth

[siqueth]

Right here waiting

Summary: You and Stack never did things the easy way—on and off, back and forth. But this time, it ends with a surprise neither of you saw coming.

Pairing: Protective! Vulnerable! Stack x In love! reader

WC: 2.3k

Warning: 18+, Smut, Complicated relationship. MDNI

@thefemininerage Order up!🛎️ Catfish dinner, Blooming Onion, Coffee and Coconut pudding. I added an order of Cheese fries, on the house!

You’re finishing cleaning the kitchen and ready to go to bed, all the lights off and two candles lit. There’s two knocks at the door, the knocks echoing through the house. You grab your shotgun and head to the door, slowly— hoping you can figure out who it is. You unlock the door, slowly twisting the knob. The door opens and it’s Stack.

“Elias?” You question.

He grins, gold tooth flashing.

“In the flesh, honey.”

You move out of the way, allowing him to come in and shutting the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

He stands there, by the kitchen table—staring at you.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You scoff, propping your shotgun up against the wall.

“Here we go.” You sigh.

“What?” His brow furrows.

“You do this all the time, ever since you got back. Tonight you miss me and then tomorrow you’re a ghost. I don’t have the energy for it anymore, stack.” You confess.

He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth, placing it on the table.

“You know things are complicated between us.”

You raise your brow.

“If by complicated you mean you staying in my bed, fucking me like you can’t get enough, and leaving in the middle of the night—then sure.”

He sucks his teeth, glancing around the room.

You walk over to the sink, rinsing your hands off.

“Stack, it’s late and I’m ready for bed. I can’t do this with you tonight.” You remind him.

He pulls his hat off, holding it and turning your direction.

“I just— I want to lay with you. No sex, just lay with you.”

You wipe your hands, looking at him and it’s all over his face. You know Elias like the back of your hand and can always tell when something is wrong.

“Why?” You ask.

“You really gonna make me say it?”

You stare at him, waiting for his response.

“I need you. You’re the only person I can turn to besides Smoke.” He replies.

You don’t respond, battling yourself internally over what to say.

“You gone make me beg?”

“Fine, you can stay tonight.” You cave, hoping you don’t regret your decision.

He follows you to your room, shutting the door. You change into your nightgown and he undresses, crawling into the bed with you—laying his head on your chest.

You rub his head, not asking any questions— just allowing him to be. You can feel his tears staining your nightgown after a few minutes.

Whatever it was, it must’ve been something that hurt him. Elias isn’t someone that cries easily or at all for that matter.

You stay up long enough to feel him drift asleep and shortly after, you do too.

The sun starts to rise, light peaking through the curtains. You look around and as per usual, Stack is gone. Even though you should be used to it by now, a piece of your heart breaks every time it happens.

You get up, starting your day. No need in wallowing in sadness for something that won’t change. Some part of you doesn’t understand why you allow him to do this to you, but the other part recognizes that you’re still in love with him.

You leave the house to go get some thread and maybe a new pack of needles. The streets were busy and everyone was out this Saturday, more commotion than usual.

You go into a store right beside Bo’s and grab some sewing materials. You walk out and start your walk back home. You’re barely five minutes in before a man approaches you, asking to take you out. You politely decline—not because he’s ugly or anything, you’re just genuinely not interested.

“Bitch, you think you too good for me or something?” He raises his voice.

“Bitch?” You reply, taken back by his jump to aggression over you declining his offer.

He gets closer to you and you take a step back.

“You should be glad somebody wants you, considering you’re nothing but a smokestack whore— sleeping with both of them.”

You scoff, you’re very offended and now pissed.

“You done made that shit up! I ain’t ever done no trifling shit like that.” You snap.

He keeps walking closer to you and you grab your gun out of your purse—pointing at him.

“Now, I told you no—“

“If you don’t want your family gathering this weekend, then I suggest you back the fuck up.” You demand, grabbing attention.

He chuckles.

“Oh, so you think you’re a smart bitch too?”

You nod.

“Yeah, a smart one with bullets that don’t miss—“

“back the fuck up.”

He backs up, seemingly embarrassed by all the people now watching as you point a gun at him.

You start walking away, gun in hand.

You hear two loud gunshots at the same time, followed by the screams of a man. You turn around to see Smoke and Stack with their guns aimed at him.

They walk over to the man, Stack grabbing his face out the dirt— ignoring his screams and pointing to you.

“Now, I hope you remember this moment. Remember our faces and hers, just know we’ll never play about her.” Stack grins.

“She might not shoot you, but we always will.” Stack reminds him.

Smoke hovers over the man, seeing the gunshot wound in both of his legs. Stack stands up, fixing his suit and walking over to smoke.

Smoke shoots him again, in the left leg.

“What you insinuated was just wrong. Don’t you ever say shit like that again.” Smoke demands.

You walk over to them and pay the man no attention, neither does anyone else.

Smoke hugs you.

“You didn’t have to do that. I had it handled.” You remind them.

“You sure did.” Stack says, biting his lip.

You roll your eyes and smoke shoots him a look.

“We can’t have him going around spreading that filthy lie. I’ll do it again, if I hear it.” Smoke chimes in.

You shake your head.

Smoke walks away, going back into Bo’s store and leaving you two alone.

“You definitely ain’t afraid to shoot that thing, are ya?” Smoke eyes your purse.

“Ain’t no use in having one, if you’re afraid to use it.” You acknowledge.

“Thank you for looking out for me.” You say, turning to leave.

Stack grabs your arm.

“Hold on, why are you being short with me?”

“Stack, you left in the middle of the night again! I let you into my bed a few weeks ago, thinking that maybe something would change—but you’re still the same. Always and only worried about Stack.”

You yank your arm away, hoping this doesn’t turn into you crying—but you feel it all coming to the surface.

“Now, I—“

“Stay away from me, Stack.” You interrupt him, walking away.

You walk home—taking the long way, finally reaching your front porch. There’s flowers in a vase, just there with a card. You pick them up, reading the note.

“Love, Elias”

You walk in, setting the flowers on the kitchen table. Trying not to cry anymore tears, it just simply isn’t worth it.

Your relationship with Elias was never truly complicated, it is just him. He sabotages it, almost like he can’t help it. He isn’t a cheater, but he pushes himself away when things are going good. The game is old and stale, maybe you didn’t mind it when you were younger—but you want more now.

You sit at your table, eyeing the flowers. They’re beautiful, full of color and have a lovely scent. The flowers manage to give your mind a smidge of peace away from Stack, away from all of it.

Your stomach starts to turn, making you run to the sink.

Your bend over the sink, throwing up everything you had eaten. This morning sickness is driving you insane.

You’re tired of being sick in the morning and after smelling garlic, or seeing raw meat. Only a few weeks in and you’re ready for it to be over.

You sit back down, cold rag in hand. Now, your mind is on the baby. A baby that was completely an accident— an accident that you welcomed, but would he?

Your relationship is so on and off, that having a baby is a terrible idea— but getting rid of it would be wrong in your eyes.

It’s been a month since you found out. You’ve been sitting with it for too long and now the guilt is starting to get to you.

You invited Elias over, ready to just get it off your chest— it was time.

Stack knocks at the door, you almost hesitate to open it—but you do.

He stands there grinning as always and has some white roses in his hand.

“These are for you.” He grins, handing them to you.

You can’t help but smile, even though you were so nervous about telling him the news.

He walks past you, waiting for you to close the door.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been, how things have been between us. I didn’t mean to hurt you, if I did.”

You set the flowers on the end table, listening to him. Before you can process what he said, stack has his lips on yours. His hands holding your face and kissing you like it was his last chance to.

You don’t stop him, you don’t want him to stop— you can break the news to him later.

You keep kissing him, pulling off his jacket and moving towards the couch. His lips are sweet, juicy and full of remorse.

He kisses your neck, groaning in your ear.

“I missed you, baby.”

You whimper, feeling yourself caving to him once more.

He licks your ear, then down your neck— before his lips are on yours again.

You two stumble to the couch, before you fall on it with him on top of you. You both laugh, but it doesn’t slow you down.

You start unbuttoning his shirt while he places kisses down your chest, his fingers wandering up your dress.

He chuckles feeling that you don’t have any panties on. His hands dance around your thighs, cooze clenching.

He slides his fingers through your folds, your breath hitching in your chest.

He pulls his fingers back and sucks them clean, tasting your slick. His eyes focused on you.

“Open.”

You gladly open your mouth, letting him spit in it.

You bite your lip and start fiddling with his belt buckle.

“You want me?” He asks.

You nod your head.

He stands up pulling his shirt off, tossing it on the couch and unbuckles his pants.

You watch him in awe, wet between the legs and needing him to fuck you.

He glances at you, licking his lips.

“Turn ya ass around.”

You get on your knees, arching your back— his favorite sight.

He comes behind you, one leg on the couch and the other on the floor.

He runs his tip through your folds, making your back raise.

He laughs, lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself in.

He was stretching you, like he did every time— but this time it had been several weeks and you needed to get used to it again.

You hold your hand out, pressing against his stomach.

“Let me know when you’re ready, baby.” He groans.

You take a few seconds and nod your head once you're ready.

His hands grip your hips, as you he pushes the rest of himself in—bottoming out.

A moan leaves your lips.

He takes his time, giving you long and deep strokes.

You grip the couch.

“Shit.” He groans.

He smacks your ass, loving the way it jiggles.

“Elias, it —“

“Feels so good.” You mumble.

You clench around him, trying to keep yourself from orgasming fast— but what he’s giving you is so good.

“I missed you, baby— all of you.” He confesses, as his thrusts get faster.

“I love you.” He moans.

He’s fucking you so good that you can’t even from a thought or sentence to say it back.

Your moans become intense as you feel yourself unraveling.

Two more thrusts and you’re cumming on his dick, the orgasm feels never ending.

You’re clenched around him so tight.

“Shit, Shit.”

You feel him releasing inside of you, letting out the sexiest moan. He rides out his orgasm with a few more thrusts.

He pulls out, catching his breath.

You adjust yourself, sitting down with your legs crossed— trying to process everything. Stack sits beside you, smiling ear to ear and staring at you.

“You gonna leave tonight?” You ask, changing the mood.

“I don’t intend to, unless you want me to.” He replies, adjusting his pants.

“Elias, we can’t keep doing this.” You sigh, coming down from the sex and feeling defeated.

“I know, it’s just so—“

“I’m pregnant.” You blurt out, interrupting him.

He just stares at you, mouth wide open from trying to finish speaking.

There’s a lingering silence filled with stares, him eyeing you and your belly.

He goes into his pants pocket, pulling out a cigarette.

“Are you gonna say anything?” You ask, heart racing.

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” He replies, lighting the cigarette.

“Anything, Elias. The fuck?”

He takes a long drag, staring back at you.

“You really got my baby in you?”

“Yes.” You nod.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckles, exhaling smoke.

“Elias—“

“This isn’t a joke.” You fret.

“I know, it’s not. I’m having a baby with the woman I love. The woman that I can’t go on without.”

Your panic comes to a stop at those words, words that you weren’t sure you’d hear.

“You’re not mad?” You ask, a single tear running down your face.

He leans over, wiping it.

“I’m far from mad. I figured this would probably happen sooner or later. I want to do things right though, I want to be with you.”

You pull back looking into his eyes and can tell that he’s being honest.

“I love you.” You confess.

“I love you too, always will.” He responds back.

“So, when am I moving in?” He jokes.

You laugh, laying your head on his shoulder.

7 months later, you two welcome twin boys into the world. The happiest day of y’all’s lives.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[siqueth]

We Live Like Savages.🔞

Modern day! Stack & Smoke x OC!Kamari.

ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ sᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴍᴏᴋᴇ ʜɪʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇs.

“Everything checks out. Both of them have no domestic violence charges or sexual assault. But as always, watch yourself because the amount of charges against both of them for battery, murder, and robbery is astounding.” Jerrall informed Kamari through the webcam screen.

Jerrall Wright was a hacker from Nigeria but made his fortune in America helping various politicians and Ceos. Being around those types of men made it easy for Kamari to cross paths with Jerrall and build her own connection with him. Her clientele had changed drastically since working with Jerrall. He also provided her with a sense of safety and security that had made her more confident walking into sessions with new clients. As a result her profits tripled.

"I will, thank you Jerrall. I'll talk to you soon." Kamari replied before she ended the call. She had been no stranger to clients with violent pasts. From boxers to men in the mafia…they all had something involving violence. And a lot of things got overlooked when it came to collecting as much money as possible.

Three days. Three days it had taken for 'Stack' to secure the appointment and Kamari to prepare for it.Tonight was thee night and there was no backing out. It'd been at least four years since Kamari had taken on two clients at once and the woman couldn't deny the jitters within her stomach. And despite one of her golden rules of not drinking before the job, she broke it in order to calm her nerves. Three dirty Martinis later, Kamari brushed her hands along her rosé oiled body. She wore a velvet bustier in black with a matching high waisted thong. The set was simple but alluring. It gave her pear-shaped figure an appetizing flare due to the way the fabric hugged her curves. Her hair was slicked back into a bun with a crisp middle part down the middle, which she perfected further as she eyed herself in the mirror. In times of getting filthy between the sheets, Kamari kept her appearance for arrival simple and clean.

Her route to travel to Downtown atlanta was a blur due to how mundane it had been. A town car was sent for her so the travel hadn't been anything of interest. She ended up in front of The William hotel nearly an hour later. The brisk winter weather kissed her chubby cheeks and sent chills piercing down her neck; which had caused her stuff her hands into the pockets of her polar-bear fur coat. Kamari strutted into the establishment with her head held high and a nonchalant expression across her face. SHe bypassed the sea of people that crowded the lobby and went straight to the elevators. P6. The sixth penthouse suite. When she had arrived, she was met with a singular hallway and two large black-double doors. The scent of bitterly sweet sativa swept past her nostrils as she grew closer to the door. The deep voice of Stack rapping along with drill beats vibrated off of the door, no doubt coming from a set of speakers. Kamari raised her hand and began firmly knocking on the door.

After a few continuous knocks, the door opened. There stood Stack dressed in a pair of Dior black joggers with the waistband of his crimson-red boxers sticking out. A black durag tied across his head and a fat blunt between his lips. Behind Kamari's shades, she looked him up and down. His bulky lightly-tatted frame was beyond alluring to her. She couldn't wait to lick him up and down. "Hi." she greeted as she slowly removed her shades, her eyes trailing along his body up to his lips as she had done so.

"Wassup." Stack replied as he held eye-contact. His eyes never looked away from hers. And Kamari couldn't help but stare back as she walked inside. Now that they were both standing instead of sitting like the night prior at the club Kamari could see that Stack was a foot and some change taller than her. He had to have been 6 '4 at best."Lemme take ya coat." As Stack got behind her once the door closed Kamari caught a whiff of his rich Christian Louboutin cologne. It was warm, the scent of amber was inviting. The musky undertones of powdery spice and sweet vanilla made her clit throb. The tip of his nose brushed along the side of her neck sending cold chills across her back as he slipped off her coat.

"Can i get you a drink?" The subdued tone of his voice kissing into her ear brought on a jolt of nervousness, excitement.

"Wine, if you have it. Thank you." Kamari turned on her heel with a light-sultry smile across her lips.

" I got you." His bottom lip curled inwards as his dark brown eyes skimmed across her thick frame. 'Thick as hell…got damn' Stack thought himself along with sinister thoughts of breaking her down in various positions.

"Where can I change into something more comfortable?" She asked, ready to undress and reveal herself.

"Bathroom inside the bedroom, Smoke chillin in the living room." Stack replied.

"See you there." Kamari smiled before turning around and stuttering in that direction. She could feel his eyes on her with every step she took. Passing what could be described as either a sitting room or living room; which was both luxurious and generic at the same time. The beige colored sofas and glass tables were a carbon copy of every other penthouse she had ever been to. Even down to the breath-taking view of the city. But, it was still nice.

The bedroom was surprisingly another story. A vibrant shade of red with a Japanese comfort Inn vibe to it due to the double-queen sized bed and golden accented sheets. The bed faced the view of the city. Directly placed in front of the tall windows. Kamari hadn't realized how long she stood there lingering because a warm hand had touched her arm. She looked to her left and her eyes veered up to Smoke. He stood before with glowy bronzed, smooth cocoa butter adorned skin. Dressed in a pair of crimson black silk boxers and a matching black Saint Laurent robe. He smelt of rich kush and cedar-Stacked musk cologne. A hint of mango was there as well from what she could smell. A blunt adorned his heart-shaped lips.

"Hi Smoke." She greeted softly as she looked into his warm brown eyes. Her cheeks started to burn from how hard she blushed when the back of his hand caressed the side of her face. His touch as smooth as butter, His thumb brushed along her bottom lip as a slight smirk curled in the corner of his lips.

"Excuse me for a moment." A mixture of his intense stare and soft touch made her heart race quickly. And just before she made her way into the bathroom, his hand wrapped around her wrist to stop her. His lips pressed against the side of her hand. The two exchanged lingering desire filled looks before she fully went into the restroom.

Kamari discharged her outside clothes and folded them neatly into her LV weekender bag. As she stood in her lingerie set and high YSL heels, she applied a second coat of lipstick. Followed by rolling on perfume oil on the back of her kneecaps, underneath her breasts, the back of her shoulder blades, and the creases of her inner thighs.

'The Zone' by the weeknd ft drake beat through the speakers as Kamari exited the bathroom. Stack and Smoke were seated on the bed passing a freshly rolled blunt between the two of them. A curvy woman shaped bong was placed on the floor between their large feet. The music was loud but Kamari could see Smoke's lips moving as if he were conversing with Stack.

"Come to find out dat bitch Netta tried to rob a nigga.Netta and dat nigga Rory laying six feet deep in piss right now." Stack explained as he sat closely beside Smoke.

"Mo probably behind that shit." Smoke replied in a low tone.

Monica wasn't the type of woman a man should make his main or his woman in general. She was far too thirsty for fame, money, and street cred off the backs of niggas she fucked. He wasn't one to shit-talk someone else's game but it was the acting genuine to get into Stack's heart for her own benefit was what he couldn't fuck with. They all played games but never had feelings involved. That was stated upfront. A slut like Monica trying to go deeper than surface level was what put her in the red zone with Smoke. His attention stayed on her with watch dog eyes. and her friend Symone was no different. Except, she was like a sheep following the wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Oh shit, look at chu' ' Stack whistled as Kamari strutted towards them, his eyes skimming along her figure that looked heavenly underneath the city lights and shining of the moon. Smoke blew a kiss her way followed with a thick cloud of smoke behind his lips. His left hand extended out as he offered her the glass of wine.

"I'd say the same about you but…"Her eyes slithered like snakes along his body before settling onto his eyes, "You're overdressed." she then took a sip from her glass before taking a seat upon both of their laps.

"Come undress me then." Stack challenged. The joint was passed over to him and he proceeded to place it between his lips.

The softness of her cheeks felt like a pillow against their toned, firm thighs. Her attention smoothly transitioned over to Smoke, "You too." she teased with her shoulder nudging against his. A mischievous smirk swept across his lips as his hand grasped at her jaw, nudging her closer as he drew in closer. The moment their lips met, Kamari felt semi-rough finger pads rubbed along her ass followed by firm palming along the thickness of her cheeks. The kiss shared between her and Smoke gave her this fuzzy feeling inside. A hot rumbling sensation within her stomach and chest. His lips were smooth, warm, and soft. Slightly parted against her own with the edge of his tongue tasting the plumpness of her bottom lip, tracing every inch of it. She couldn't help but run her own tongue along his lips. He tasted like aged bourbon; smokey with a strong, intense overtone of vanilla and the dried pineapple due to the joint that once sat between his lips. The way his tongue licked along hers made Kamari release an inaudible moan.

She felt a tight grip to the base of her bun causing her head to tilt back as her hair was tugged. Plumper, fuller lips pressed against her own. Stack's meaty tongue slipped into her mouth as he gripped at the back of her neck. Smoke's eyes flickered down to her ample breasts that her bustier hugged tightly. Soft and inviting. He peeled off the fitted fabric and engulfed her pebbled nipples into his mouth, placing open mouthed kisses against both of her breasts. Sloppily, he sucked against her rose scented skin. Her right hand and fingers ran along his shoulder blades as she and Stack engaged in a messily wet lip lock.

Their tongues plunged as deep as they could get into each other's mouths. Stack's kiss was the complete opposite of Smoke. He was sloppy and rough. Even with Kamari's tongue in his mouth, he overlapped hers. His lips captured her top lip, sucking and biting against it. It made her body grow hot as Smoke's warm tongue against her nipples and breast made her feel as though she was being attacked by both fire and ice at once. It made her clit throb rapidly like a racing heart beat. Kamari had been strung off high new found emotions that when Stack pulled away due to the bluetooth speaker stopping the music because of an incoming call, she whimpered.

"Yo, open shordy up for me." Stack placed a kiss to the side of Kamari's jaw before he stood up, "See you soon gorgeous." and with that made his way out the room.

Nothing stopped his money. And in a way, Stack was like a quarterback, he liked the ball brought to him so that he could come in and make the goal. Smoke was by no means a 'fluffer' but the two carried this mutual respect and had their own unspoken flow. Whichever one of them picked out their target, got to go in for the kill first. Or, in this case get the party started. This time it was Smoke. His arms engulfed her into a firm hold as he flipped Kamari onto her back on the bed.

She arched up on elbows, capturing his lip between hers with a soft bite. "Still overdressed," she mumbled as she released his lip with a tug. Her fingers gripped the edges of his robe and tugged it down. Her soft palms brushed along ebony skin, caressing at his muscles. Kamari trailed open mouthed along the side of his neck while smoke looped his fingers around the edges of her high-waisted thong. The moment he tugged it down her thick thighs with little hassle; was the moment that he wrapped his arms around her thighs and tugged her on top of him. Smoke manhandled the plump woman like a rag doll, tugging and holsting her over his face. Right where he wanted her. The thickness of her thighs warmed the sides of his face like a tight hug.

Smoke nuzzled his face against her smooth, hairless, wet pussy. His tongue slicked down her slit. His gold diamond-ring covered fingers gripped at her ass as he nudged her down closer. Kamari let out low moans as he ravenously sucked on her clit. The tip of his tongue outlined the inner corners of her slit before plunging deep into the center of her wetness. The moment that Smoke sneakily stuck two of his fingers into her pussy from between her cheeks, caused Kamari's hips to jolt forward as she squealed 'oooh' The rarity of Kamari being on the receiving end of oral sex had made her plump punani high-strung off of every miniscule feeling. Every flicker of his tongue made her warm center grow warmer like the August sun. Each time one of his long fingers caressed the edges of her inner walls, her moans grew louder. Her crystal clear nectar began to pour down and fall onto his chin with a splash as Smoke circled his tongue into her pussy. His fingers curled up deeply, scissoring into her wet cunt with a loud 'squish'.

Smoke's lengthy cock pulsated like a second heartbeat and grew larger in size due to the delicate taste of her pussy. The woman above him had an exquisite taste to her that could only be described as; fresh with an undertone of spearmint that could be assumed was from her feminine wash, with her clit having a smooth melt-in-your-mouth texture that poured a sweet-ish nectar. The Downtown Atlanta native ate her out ravenously like a starved man being fed for the first time in a long time. Darting his tongue upwards with his head tilted back, he licked her quickly with circling motioning as his fingers worked in and out lightly and slowly. Curling up his knuckles just enough to ghostly brush against her g spot. He grew almost addicted to the way the feeling of her thighs shaking felt like a head massage to him.

Smoke held onto Kamari so tightly that she couldn't move or rush backward from the pleasure. She was meant to service him. Perhaps perform a bit of 69 yet she couldn't. She could only grasp onto her trembling breasts for support as Smoke caused a fiery pleasure to ignite within her. "Smokee," she moaned out like a lullaby as her vision blurred and the sight of stars took over when she had cum. Reaching her first and second peak in the span of three minutes, back to back had Kamari trembling from head to toe.

When he had loosened his firm hold to her thighs and waist, Kamari slouched backwards and laid between his legs. She could feel his erection poking at her back as she breathed out deeply. Despite the lightheaded feeling she felt, curiosity and lust restored her energy. Kamari straddled Smoke as he rested his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her closer. The moment that their lips met she could taste herself on his mouth. Lips to lips and tongue to tongue, she proceeded to suck her cum off his tongue.The groan released from the depths of his throat caused her clit to pulsate. His large slightly-calloused hands ran along the sides of her body down to her thighs. His fingertips sank into the thickness of her skin as he sat up. Tracing and admiring every curve, every mark of stretched skin and dimple. Smoke found her body to be inviting and held a sense of serenity. His tongue sensually massaged the back of her throat as they kissed sensually. Smoke had Kamari in such a trance with their lip lock that she hadn't noticed that he had removed his last article of clothing. Smoke removed one of his hands from her body and proceeded to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom.

"Allow me." Kamari whispered an inch away from his lips as she laid her hand on top of his. The challenging smirk on Smoke's lips felt like an invitation. He laid back against the silk sheets with his arms behind his head. His muscles flexed and his brown skin looked heavenly as it illuminated underneath the moonlight.

While Kamari peeled open the condom wrapper with her teeth, she got a chance to admire his naked body. Mainly his dick, which was a sight for sore eyes. It was a rich umber-brown complexion, ten inches in length that was circumcised, cleanly shaven with a six inch girth, and upward hook-like thickly veined tip.

He'd clearly been blessed below and Kamari would've been lying if she didn't admit that she was intimidated by it. It was a clear difference from her fifty and up clientele who passed no longer than four inches in length.

Nonetheless, Kamari was no quitter and slithered the condom on his dick with ease. His length felt heavy within her hands. Her grip was firm as she stroked his thick meat with her palms and fingers, her lips pressed against his curved tip. Where she proceeded to leave smooth & sweet open mouthed kisses, tasting the saltiness of his precum. Her tongue swirled underneath the base before she sucked him into her mouth with a deep inhale. A melodic hiss escaped Smoke's mouth. Her lips pressed up against the sides of his shaft closely as she began to sloppily slurped up and down his thick length. Hollowing her cheeks each time the curve head of his dick would hit the back of her throat.

Smoke being engulfed in the warm heat of her mouth made his hips buckle causing a loud gag to escape Kamari's lips. Her face grew hot as his cock stretched her mouth open with each plunging thrust into her mouth. His hands held a firm grip onto the back of her head, guiding her as low rasped groans escaped his lips. Smoke's locs fell over his eyes as the muscles in his thighs tensed. His length swelled and hardened within her the depths of her throat as she coated his dick in her saliva.

As Stack made his way into the bedroom, his eyes instantly fixed on Kamari's ass that glistened under the moon due to being coated with her wetness. The way she sat on her knees with her plump ass in the air looked nothing less than inviting to him. 'Stacko' he whistled as he approached the bed. His large palm smacked against her ass. Entranced by the way the thickness of her ass jiggled like jelly. Her muffled, choked out whines built the intensity of arousal in the air.

"Damn she real pretty." Stack murmured admiring her pussy as he spread her cheeks apart for a better view. His thumb glided down her slit as he dipped his middle finger inside. The way her warm and wet center sucked him in made his dick harder than it was originally. Arching in his finger, he coated it in her nectar before placing it in his mouth, "Sweet like peaches." he boosted with a deep rasp as he dabbed up Smoke.

Kamari whimpers vibrated against Smoke's cock as she slurped on it. The room suddenly felt hot as arousal was thick in the air. The two men shared menacing smirks as Stack said "I think she ready."

Smoke released his grip from her hair as he grew closer to his release. His hand grasped at the back of her neck before he tugged her up. His thumb swept across her bottom lip, wiping the drool off of it as Kamari fully straddled on top of him. Whilst Stack had focused on slipping the condom onto his own length along with a generous amount of lube.Her legs laid on either side of his thighs as she hovered over his body on all fours. Her breasts brushed against his chest as his hands swept along the sides of her curves. Smoke's right hand swept between them, aligning his fatty tip at her entrance; brushing against her clit teasingly.

As Smoke repeatedly teased her clit by smacking his tip against it, Stack plunged two lube covered fingers into her puckered hole, edging the tight spot open in a scissoring motion.

'a-aaaghh' Kamari let out a yelped whine of pleasure as the two men edged her on. Both of her holes being toyed with at once had caused her toes to begin to curl and her inner thighs to shake.

Stack pressed his hand firmly on her lower back causing Kamari to deeply arch her back and raise her ass higher up against him. Her thighs had spread apart further and as if on cue, both men had thrusted into her at once. Stack's hands gripping firmly at her ass and Smoke's hands on her hips.

"Ooh!...fucck!" Kamari moaned out loudly. A mixture of pain and pleasure fueled within her body.

Smoke stroked his dick deeply into her pussy, his hips rolling up against hers as he plunged in at a sensual pace. The thickness of his length massaged every inch of her walls. His grip on her sides tightening as her soaked center gripped onto him tightly. Her lips pursed and pressed against her right nipple that he tugged between his lips.

Stack's was length thicker than Smokes. He rutted into her at a relentless pace with ball's deep plunging strokes that worked her tight hole open wider. His low redden eyes were fixated on watching how her ass swallowed him whole. Her plump cheeks effortlessly shook, bouncing off his solid muscular abdomen like waves crashing against the rocky shore.

The mixture of sensual and ravenous had Kamari's body trembling. Her body is feverishly hot with overstimulation. She couldn't bounce back nor forward. They'd dominated her body and numbed her mind. Folded and split her for their own pleasure and in return she was being rewarded with her own pleasure. Their growls and grunts blended with her high volume whines and moans like adlibs. Her curvaceous body rocked forward against Smoke's body and back against Stack. Her body had been bent into a downward dog position. One of Smoke's hands grabbing at her right breast and his other hand had a firm hold on her throat to steady her. Three of his fingers plunging into her mouth. 'Fuck' Kamari moaned out as her eyes rolled back. Her hips naturally swayed backwards due to the increased pace of Smoke's rhythmic thrusts.

His fingers pinched at her pebbled nipple, caressing the center of it with the pad of his thumb. His teeth dug into her earlobe nibbling at it as he dug into the depths of her walls. Goosebumps formed across his skin as blood rushed to his lower abdomen making his dick pulsate rapidly inside her drenched center like a second heartbeat. The way her warm walls continued to flutter around his dick and squeeze at his length tightly made Smoke hiss out 'fuck, yo' in her ear. Both of his hands switched over to her breasts, squeezing them tightly.

Kamari's ears began to ring as her nails dug into the sides of Smoke's waist, her face burying into the side of his pillow as she cried and screamed out. 'i'm cummin'-aah!' A mixture of her tears and saliva coating the pillow as her hot cum was squirted across their dicks and painted their balls white. The feeling of pleasure and pain became overwhelming, orgasm ripped out of her one after the other as the loud slaps and claps of their cocks plunging in and out of her wet pussy and ass grew louder.

"Come here sweetness." Stack murmured raspily as he tugged her back by her hair. A firm grip of her now messy bun, he used to roughly pull her back as his climax was near. His right hand began aggressively smacking at her right asscheek as he rammed up into her. Her blushed throbbing hole sucking him in made his thrusts grow more relentlessly.

"What's my name?" he growled into her hair as he tugged at her hair. His hips snapping as his balls slapped against the back of her inner thighs.

"Stack!" Kamari cried out as her g-spot was hit from behind. She felt as though that her back would break due to how aggressive his strokes had gotten. Should feel him poking at the depths of her spin.

Smoke had raised his pelvis causing his cum covered abdomen to flex; Jack hammering his dick into her pussy with his tip firmly hitting her sensitive cluster of nerves. Spilling his seed into the condom shortly after as he continued to chase his climax by thrusting balls deep into her continuously.

'fuck!' Kamari cried at the top of her lungs. Smoke rotated her into Stack's arms as he spilled out of her; who had wrapped his burley arms around her thighs and pressed her to his chest. Smoke had shifted off of the bed and segwayed to the bathroom. She barely had time to recover before she was pinned over the right side of the bed with her ass up. Stack had now been kneeling on the bed with the full length of his shaft plunging into her pussy. With his pelvis bent forward and a tight grip to her soft love-handles, he penetrated her with broad, belly-pit deep strokes that knocked against her g-spot.

"w-wait i–it's too mmmuch!" Kamari stuttered out through her cries as he hit her tender spot over & over again. Her body shook as her hands grasped tightly to the edge of the bed frame. The loose hairs that escaped her bun now clung to the side of her face and forehead.

"Sssh, you doin good mama," Stack teased as he smacked her clit with his palm. A sinister smirk swept over his lips as he watched her back arch and her thighs spread when she came undone messily on his dick. His last three thrusts were vicious, plunging in balls deep as he jackhammered into her. His fingertips left marks in her caramel skin as Stack abruptly pulled out and tugged the condom off with a swift motion, painting her ass white with his cum.

Throughout that night until the early hours of the morning the two boxes of condoms that the men had brought were emptied. Kamari had blacked out a few times in the midst of one on ones with Smoke then Stack then both and water breaks in between. At times she begged for a timeout and other times she'd beg for more. The repeated acts of overstimulation had Kamari knocked out cold until the day turned to night. The sun had begun to set when she had awoken.

Her jaw was sore, her body was sorer, and her head hurt. Rubbing the tiredness from her eyes with the back of her hand, She slowly began to sit up in the bed. The sheets clung to her sweaty body as she sat up straight. "Got damn it." she huffed to herself as a sharp pain shot up her butt to her lower back. Peeling the discomfort away to the back of her mind, Kamari looked around. Both the bed and room were empty. To her left on the glass table lay stacked freshly stacked racks of money alongside a bouquet box of white roses. Her feet pressed against the carpet once she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She then got up and slowly made her way to the table.

'80k as promised, take care beautiful' - S & S had been written on a card that was laid on top of the money. A smile swept across Kamari's lips as she read over the note. She proceeded to grab her overnight bag at the end of the room and pull her clothes out. She focused on stuffing the bag with the money before carrying it with her to the bathroom where she got herself together with a hot shower.

[siqueth]

The Blackline.

This is a sub-story about Stack’s Brothel in Little Rock, Arkansas in 1929. It will be within the same alternate timeline I plan to write when I explore Stack as a pimp. Exploring Smoke in the midst of it all.

Summary: The Blackline is a sultry, supernatural tale set in 1929 in the hidden quarters of Little Rock’s Black district, where flappers, vice, and hoodoo tangle in velvet-lit shadows. Violet, a timid Gullah Geechee girl with nowhere else to turn, finds herself working in a brothel run by the enigmatic Stack Moore—a pimp with charm, secrets, and a past steeped in sin. But it’s Stack’s older twin, Smoke, who consumes Violet’s thoughts. A war-worn man of few words, Smoke commands the room with silence alone.

Warnings: SMUT (building tension, soft dominance, Virgin!OC)

Part One.

There was a hum on Ninth Street that didn’t exist anywhere else in Little Rock.

Not in the white part of town with its strict corners and clean churches. Not along the cotton fields where sharecroppers bent their backs and begged the sun for mercy. But right here, between Gaines and Broadway, down near the old train tracks and past the Dreamland Ballroom. Black life pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath the city.

In 1929, Ninth Street was everything.

It was jazz sliding off trumpet bells, bootleg whiskey sweet as sin behind the curtain, girls in sequin dresses with rouge on their knees, and young men in sharkskin suits gambling rent money on backroom dice. It was barbershops and beauty parlors, Sunday suits and Saturday lust. It was survival. Black, brilliant, and dangerous.

This street had raised its own people.

It gave birth to musicians, conjure women, gamblers, preachers, and madams. And when the city turned its back on them, they turned to each other and built banks, clubs, undertakers, and juke joints from sawdust and spite.

But where there is rhythm, there is shadow.

And in that shadow lived a man named Elias “Stack” Moore.

Down a narrow alley off 9th, just past an old tailor’s sign faded into the brick, was a heavy red door with no name.

Folks called it The Blackline.

Not just because of how close it sat to the edge of everything respectable, but because crossing that threshold meant you were stepping into the soft belly of Black pleasure and vice. Nothing past that door was legal. Everything inside it was intoxicating.

To get in, you had to know the knock:

Three slow. Two fast.

Or the password:

“I got the blues but I ain’t broke yet.”

The inside glowed with low amber lamps and the heat of too many bodies. The walls were velvet red. The air was thick with jasmine oil, cigar smoke, and sweat. A gramophone crackled from the corner, slow jazz bleeding through the room like maple over a hot skillet.

Curtains hung heavy around each alcove, some whispering, some moaning, always shifting like silk being pulled from the skin. The floor creaked under heels, under knees, under lives slipping quietly into pleasure and forgetting.

The women here weren’t just working. they were art personified.

Dark-skinned goddesses with gold hoops and garters. Plump cuties with high cheekbones and wide backsides. Light-eyed country girls with long legs and sad stories. New flappers with pressed curls and voices like gin. All of them owned by no one: except Stack.

Stack ran The Blackline like a man who knew the cost of control.

He wasn’t loud like most pimps. He didn’t need to be. He watched everything, leaning in the corner with a cigarette between his fingers, or a drink in his hand, velvet coat open, fedora low and dapper over his brow. His eyes were sharp, mouth always curved in that half-smirk that meant he either wanted to fuck you or gut you, and sometimes it was both.

His girls respected him. Feared him. Some loved him, though they wouldn’t say it out loud. He didn’t beat his women. But he didn’t let them leave easy either. He fed them, clothed them, protected them from the white cops and the worse men who came knocking. And in return, they gave him their best—on the floor, in the backrooms, on their knees.

Stack wasn’t just a pimp. He was a businessman. A gambler. A bootlegger.

And he wasn’t alone.

They were born in heat and hunger, two Mississippi boys who came out the womb fists clenched, mirror images with mirrored scars.

Elias was the mouth, the mind.

Elijah “Smoke” Moore was the fire.

Stack ran the brothel, the books, and the girls. Smoke handled the bootlegging, the deals, and the dirty work. He was the enforcer, the bullet in the chamber, the one you didn’t see coming until your knees gave out.

Together, they built an empire on sin and silence.

People knew the Moore twins didn’t play. You crossed them, you didn’t just get beat—you vanished.

And yet…

Smoke had a way with women. A slow kind of seduction. A man who touched soft but fucked hard. Girls wanted him even when they didn’t know why.

Stack didn’t mind.

As long as the business kept running, the girls kept earning, and the city kept looking the other way, The Blackline stayed lit, and the Moore brothers stayed untouchable.

She didn’t belong here.

Not yet.

Not with her thrift-store shoes worn at the heel, her patched satin dress clinging too loose to her hips, or the scent of salt marsh and memory still clinging to her skin. Not with her innocence intact and her voice too soft to ask for anything out loud.

But Violet was desperate. And desperation was the only currency that mattered on Ninth Street after midnight.

The alley was narrow and damp, lit only by a flickering gas lamp and the far-off glow of the Dreamland Ballroom. Jazz bled through the brick walls like vapor, and somewhere in the distance, a woman laughed too loud.

The red door loomed before her.

She’d been told what to say by the older girl who’d found her crying behind the beauty shop two days earlier, the one with the silver eye and a split lip she wore like jewelry.

Three slow. Two fast.

“I got the blues but I ain’t broke yet.”

The peephole opened.

Two shadowed eyes looked her over, lingered on the bare knees below her hemline.

“You don’t look like you know what you doing,” the voice said.

“I can learn,” she replied, trying to keep her chin lifted.

The door creaked open.

And Violet stepped inside.

Heat wrapped around her like breath. The air was thick with perfume, pipe smoke, and the smell of sex so fresh it clung to the walls. Light came from low amber lamps, each corner flickering like a secret. Everything was red—the carpet, the drapes, the wallpaper—blood velvet and mahogany shadows. She could hear moans behind curtains. Laughter behind beads. Cards flipping. Shoes tapping. Skin slapping.

A woman walked past in nothing but a beaded bra and stockings, hips moving like a song no man could resist. A man in suspenders had his hand buried beneath the hem of another girl’s skirt, and no one batted an eye. The air tasted like cinnamon and heat. She felt it instantly—between her thighs, in her belly, behind her ribs.

She didn’t belong here. Not yet.

But something inside her, something deeper than fear, wanted to.

He saw her from across the room.

Stack leaned in his usual spot—against the far wall, velvet coat draped open, dark liquor in his hand. The room swam in bodies and fog, but his eyes landed on her like they’d been waiting for her arrival.

Young. Thin. Pretty in a way that wasn’t polished but raw. Something untouched. Her eyes were wide, posture tight, hands gripping the strap of a borrowed purse like it held a weapon.

He knew the look.

Fresh meat.

He stepped forward, smooth and slow, like the room parted just to let him walk.

“You lost, baby girl?” he asked, voice deep, syrupy.

Violet turned toward him, startled by the height of him, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his mouth didn’t smile even when his tone pretended to.

“No sir,” she whispered, “I’m lookin’ for work.”

He let his eyes drag down her body, slow.

“You ain’t been touched, have you?”

Her breath caught.

“No,” she said softly, “But I’m willin’. I just need a place to stay.”

Stack stepped closer, leaned in near her ear.

“‘Round here, baby…we don’t take what ain’t offered. But if you wanna give it, there’s a place for you upstairs.”

She swallowed hard.

He smelled like rum, spice, and danger. She felt like a match held to oil.

He straightened up and looked her over one more time.

“Name’s Stack. You remember that.”

Then he turned, nodded to one of the girls near the bar.

“Get her cleaned up. She sleep in the green room tonight. I’ll decide what to do with her come mornin’.”

And just like that, Violet was pulled into the velvet bloodstream of The Blackline.

Not as a worker. Not yet.

But as a girl the house would keep its eyes on.

The green room was small, no bigger than a boxcar berth, with peeling wallpaper and a single oil lamp that painted the cracked mirror gold. Violet sat on the edge of the old porcelain tub, steam rising in curls around her face. The bathwater was warm, not hot, the kind that clung to your skin like a whisper. Rose petals floated on the surface—leftover from another girl’s soak, but she didn’t mind.

It had been a long time since she’d felt anything soft.

She undressed slow, like it meant something. Like the silk slip she unfastened wasn’t secondhand. Like the stockings she peeled from her legs weren’t fraying at the toes. She laid them gently on the wooden chair. Her body looked thin under the lamplight. Not fragile—coiled, like something waiting to bloom.

Violet stepped into the water.

It wrapped around her like hands from the other side.

She exhaled, lowered herself in, and let her head fall back against the porcelain. Her eyes fluttered shut.

She thought of her grandmother.

Old Miss Luella. Thick hands, voice like saltwater and thunder, skin dark and smooth like polished shell. The woman who raised her on boiled root tea, haint blue, and Gullah prayers whispered to the wind.

“Your body is a gate, child. Not a gift. Not for free. And not to be feared.”

The memory of her voice wrapped around Violet now like arms.

She’d come here because she had nowhere else to go. But something inside her knew this was more than survival.

This was crossing a threshold.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her most precious thing.

a piece of lavender ribbon, worn and soft.

Her mother used to tie it around her wrist when she was scared.

Her grandmother would wrap it around her ankle and say, “No man can touch what’s guarded by memory.”

Now, Violet tied it around her throat.

Not tight. Just snug enough to feel.

It wasn’t just protection anymore.

It was a signal.

That she was hers first.

And whoever touched her after this…would have to be worthy.

She dried slow, humming a tune only her family would recognize. Her curls damp, cheeks feeling like brown velvet gone warm, the warmth of her body from the bath and the shade of her skin like café au lait. She stood in the cracked mirror, naked but not ashamed. There was still fear. But there was something else now too.

A quiet hunger.

Not just to survive…

But to become.

The room was warm with lamplight and perfume.

Not strong, just faint hints of amber, pressed powder, and lilac, the kind that clung to bedsheets long after a girl had gone. The velvet chaise against the wall sagged with familiar use, and lying across it, a cigarette in one hand and one heel kicked off, was Cordelia.

Cordelia Toussaint.

The girls just called her Delie. The men called her whatever she whispered in their ear.

She was thirty miles of legs and don’t-give-a-damn, eyes lined in coal, lips always painted in something dark like plum or wine. Her robe was silk and nearly see-through, the color of crushed garnet. One thigh peeked from the slit, golden and gleaming.

She didn’t flinch when Violet walked in.

Just raised one arched brow and looked her over.

“Mmm,” Cordelia hummed, “Ain’t you a delicate little thing.”

Violet froze in the doorway, arms wrapped tight across her front, “Sorry—I didn’t know anyone was—”

“I ain’t just ‘anyone,’ sugar. I’m the Queen of this floor,” Cordelia smiled slow, cigarette curling smoke toward the ceiling, “And this here,” she gestured to the piles of lace, satin, and beaded silk draped over the bed, “is your coronation.”

Violet stepped farther in, bare feet soft on the worn rug. The heat of the oil lamps made her skin glow, still damp from her bath. Her curls had puffed around her face, and her ribbon—lavender—was still tied around her neck.

Stack had sent up a box of clothes earlier. Beautiful ones. Too beautiful. Like someone else’s dreams.

“Stack got taste,” Cordelia said, eyeing the garments, “Or maybe he just sees somethin’ in you he don’t wanna say out loud.”

Violet looked down, fingers trailing over a lavender chemise trimmed in black lace, “I’ve never worn anything like this.”

“Well, try it on then. Ain’t nobody gonna bite. ‘Cept maybe me,” She grinned around her cigarette.

Violet turned her back, cheeks burning.

She slipped out of her plain cotton shift and stepped into a deep emerald set. It was a camisole that hugged her waist and barely reached the curve of her hips, paired with tap shorts that rode high.

When she turned around, Cordelia sat up, real slow.

“Well, well, well…” she purred, “Ain’t you a quiet little storm.”

Violet shifted, unsure, “It fits weird. I’m too skinny for it.”

Cordelia scoffed, “Skinny? No, baby. You just got all your weight where it counts.”

Her eyes dragged down Violet’s frame, deliberate.

“Those hips could rock a man stupid. And that little ass? That’s trouble. Small up top, soft down low. You built like a promise.”

Violet’s arms crossed her chest, trying not to blush harder, “You’re just sayin’ that.”

“No, honey. I only say what’s true.”

Cordelia stood then, barefoot, and came close. Close enough that Violet could smell the jasmine and smoke on her skin. She ran one fingertip over the satin strap at Violet’s shoulder.

“You ever had a woman look at you like this before?”

Violet swallowed, “No.”

“Well, Miss Vi, you better get used to it,” Cordelia stepped back and smiled, “‘Cause by the time Stack puts you on the floor, they all gon’ be lookin’.”

Violet sat on the edge of the bed now, legs crossed at the ankles, fingers tracing the hem of the tap shorts.

Cordelia had returned to the chaise, reclined with one arm draped behind her head, her cigarette replaced with a glass of dark wine that shimmered like rubies in the lamplight.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The room was thick with perfume and tension—not heavy, just tender, like when rain wants to fall but isn’t ready yet.

Then, softly, Violet asked, “Does it hurt?”

Cordelia didn’t turn her head. Just sipped her wine and let the question settle.

“When it’s your first?” she said finally.

Violet nodded.

Cordelia breathed slow through her nose.

“Sometimes. Depends on the man. Depends on how much you want it…or how much you pretend you do.”

Violet looked down, “And what about after that?” she asked, “After the first time?”

Cordelia set the glass down on the floor and finally turned toward her, one knee drawn up beneath her robe.

“After that?” she said, “You learn your own rhythm. What you can take. What you like. Where to let them touch. Where to keep to yourself,” She studied Violet for a long moment. Then added, “It don’t always feel like much. But sometimes…”

She trailed off.

“…Sometimes?” Violet whispered.

Cordelia smiled slowly.

“Sometimes, with the right one…it feels like your soul’s gettin’ kissed from the inside out.”

Violet’s breath caught. Her thighs pressed together instinctively.

Cordelia’s smile deepened, “Mmhm. You felt that, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Violet said, “I just—when I think about someone touchin’ me like that…I get warm. But I also feel scared. Like my body wants it, but the rest of me ain’t caught up yet.”

Cordelia nodded, “That’s natural. Your body been ready. It’s your heart that takes her time.”

She reached over and plucked a satin robe from the side of the bed. Rose-colored, soft, worn. She walked it over and draped it gently around Violet’s shoulders.

“You don’t gotta give nothin’ you ain’t ready to give,” she said softly, “Not to Stack. Not to Smoke. Not to nobody.”

Violet looked up at her, “Have you ever loved someone who paid you?”

Cordelia paused, just for a breath. Then said, “No. But I’ve loved how they made me feel. For a little while. That counts for somethin’, too.”

Violet pulled the robe tighter around her chest. “I don’t want to be just…a body.”

Cordelia tucked a curl behind her ear, “Then don’t be.”

She leaned in, kissed Violet’s cheek—soft, warm, and brief.

“Let ‘em touch your skin, sugar. But keep your name in your own mouth. Keep your soul in your back pocket.”

Violet had been at The Blackline for a week.

Long enough to learn which girls brought in the most coin. Long enough to know who Stack trusted with the money box. Long enough to stop flinching when the back curtain swayed with moans, and long enough to learn how to smile without meaning it.

She hadn’t let any man touch her yet.

But she knew how to lean soft against their side, how to let her fingers trail across a lap, how to pretend she’d whisper something filthy but only ask if they liked their drink cold.

Stack didn’t pressure her. Not yet.

“You sell the idea right now,” he’d said, voice low, one gold tooth catching the lamplight, “Let them chase what they can’t have. That body gon’ pay double when the time comes.”

So she played host.

She laughed when needed. Danced when asked. Gave lap dances in silk and lavender and let men groan beneath her without ever opening her legs. She was a ghost in perfume, a promise wrapped in ribbon.

And when her shift was done, she’d sit in the corner room behind a sheer drape, knees drawn to her chest, watching.

Watching the other girls work.

Watching bodies move like shadow puppets behind beaded curtains, the sound of wet mouths and thick groans muffled by the low hum of jazz.

Sometimes, she’d close her eyes and imagine someone touching her like that. Not the men who came in drunk and lonely.

Someone else.

Someone who hadn’t even looked her way yet.

He came and went through the hallway like a breeze before the storm.

He didn’t linger. Didn’t smile. Didn’t talk unless he had to. Just passed through with his coat open, sleeves rolled, his news cap pulled low over a face that made women stare without meaning to.

He hadn’t looked at her. Not once.

But Violet noticed everything about him.

The way he lit his cigarette with one hand. The way his loafers hit the floor slow but certain. The way his voice rumbled when he spoke to Stack—not raised, not rushed, but enough to make the other girls shut up just to listen.

He wasn’t dressed like Stack, who wore velvet and gold and lace cuffs when he felt like it.

Smoke was simpler. Cleaner. But not softer.

Dark shirts. Dark trousers. Black suspenders. He didn’t wear flash. He didn’t need to. He wore command.

And something about that…Something about how his silence filled a room more than any shout…

It did something to her.

It made her thighs press together beneath her dress.

It made her breath catch when he passed.

And it made her wonder, what would his hands feel like?

Not the hands of the laughing men who grabbed without asking.

But his?

Would they be rough? Careful? Would he say her name like it was a secret or a sentence?

Violet didn’t even know if he’d noticed her.

But her body already had.

On the third night she saw him, some drunk fool tried to grab at one of the newer girls—Peaches. The kind of man who forgot this place had rules. Smoke didn’t say a word.

He rose from his chair like a dark wind, flicked his cigarette to the floor, and grabbed the man by the collar. The struggle wasn’t loud. There were no threats, no curses. Just the wet sound of knuckles hitting bone, the quick thud of someone’s pride dropping to the floor. Then silence again, broken only by the ragged wheeze of the man as Smoke leaned in, murmuring something only he could hear.

He dusted his coat, lit another cigarette, and sat back down.

Violet hadn’t realized she’d stopped breathing until Cordelia touched her hand beneath the table and whispered, “That’s how Smoke handles disrespect. Quiet and clean.”

They all tried him. The girls.

Some sat on his lap, giggling and twirling curls like schoolgirls. Others pressed their breasts to his arm, offering their best pout. Cordelia once wrapped her legs around him just to tease, but even she couldn’t break through that armor. Smoke didn’t flinch, didn’t soften. He simply watched. Took long drags of his cigar and let the world orbit him.

The only time he smiled was when Stack made some offhand joke, or when the saxophone player hit a particularly sweet note. But never at the girls. Not the way they wanted.

Violet found herself waiting for him. Listening for the weight of his boots on the floorboards. She never approached. Just peeked around corners. Hid behind curtains. Her heart fluttered every time his gaze swept across the room.

Once—just once—his eyes landed on her. Those sharp, heavy-lidded eyes. He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink.

And Violet turned away so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet.

The night had finally slipped quiet, the gramophone long gone silent, the perfume of cigar smoke and gin clinging to the velvet drapes like ghosts.

Backstage, in the dressing parlor with cracked mirrors and soft lamplight, Cordelia peeled off her silk stockings slow, leg stretched out long, her golden skin catching the amber glow like honey poured over polished mahogany. She had high cheekbones dusted in old rouge, eyes lined sharp as razors, and a gold mole painted just above her full mouth. Her hair was set in glossy Marcel waves, pinned back with a diamond barrette she claimed once belonged to Josephine Baker herself.

She sat in front of the mirror like she was on stage again, one leg crossed over the other, smoking a thin clove cigarette in a long ivory holder.

Peaches was across from her, lounging in a pink floral robe that hugged her plush figure. She was soft in all the places men dreamed about—belly round, hips thick like southern bread dough, and breasts that spilled out no matter what she wore. Her sandy brown coils framed her moon-round face like a lioness, fake flowers tucked behind her ears—yellow hibiscus and a few wilted daisies from the night before. She smelled like coconut oil and rum, sweet and warm.

Violet sat quiet near the wall, still in her slip, legs curled beneath her. She wore a pale-blue robe Cordelia had passed down to her. It was satin and fraying at the sleeves, but still soft against her shy skin. She didn’t speak, not yet. Just listened.

Cordelia let out a long sigh and flicked ash into an old crystal ashtray.

“Mmm. That old man in Room 2 tried to suck on my toes again,” she muttered, “Swore up and down I was an angel sent to forgive him. I told him, baby, I ain’t the Virgin Mary, I’m just Cordelia with rent due.”

Peaches cackled, her laughter rich and sweet like a gospel solo.

“At least he’s clean. That man with the gold teeth wanted me to act like his damn mama,” Peaches said, fanning herself, “Callin’ me ‘mama’ while I was ridin’ him. I almost said ‘boy, go to bed’ just to mess with him.”

Cordelia leaned back, puffing on her cigarette, “These men want every kinda woman. Soft ones, mean ones, silent ones. But you know what they really care about?”

“Pussy hair,” Peaches said, deadpan, grinning.

Violet’s eyes widened slightly.

“Exactly,” Cordelia purred, “I swear, half these fellas more opinionated than a church mother. One want it waxed bald like a lil’ girl. Another want it wild like a thicket. One man asked me to braid it.”

Peaches hollered, “Stack like it full, but trimmed. Just enough for his nose to get lost but not choked.”

Cordelia raised her brows at Violet through the mirror, “You shy, baby, but you got somethin’ under there. What you got goin’ on? Don’t be modest. We all women here.”

Peaches wiggled her brows, “Show us, baby girl.”

Violet hesitated. Her cheeks burned, but something in the way they watched her wasn’t cruel, it was curious, sisterly. So slowly, carefully, she opened her robe just enough to reveal the soft down between her thighs. A natural, delicate triangle—neatly trimmed, but untouched by razor.

“Well damn,” Cordelia murmured with an approving nod. “That’s a pretty little thing.”

Peaches smiled warmly, “You keep it just like that, baby. Let the right man teach you how he likes it.”

Violet closed her robe again, heart thudding.

“I’m surprised Stack ain’t done your initiation,” Cordelia said next, shifting tones.

Violet blinked, “My what?”

Cordelia smirked, “The initiation, sugar. When Stack gets a taste. He don’t always fuck you, sometimes he just eats. But he gotta make sure you gonna sell. That your body gonna bring money in.”

Peaches nodded solemnly, “He say he can tell from just the first taste. If you gon’ be a money-maker or a waste of time.”

“All the girls been through it,” Cordelia added, “We love Stack, even when we hate him. He run things tight. If you need food, he got it. If a man put hands on you, he handle it. If you act up, he cut you off. But he protect his girls.”

A hush fell after that. Cordelia reached for her perfume, dabbing it behind her ears. Peaches picked petals out her hair.

Violet sat quiet again. Not with fear—just thought.

She wondered if Smoke had ever done an initiation.

But the idea seemed…strange. He didn’t look at them like Stack did. He didn’t play. Didn’t sample. He sat in the shadows like a king who’d already had every fruit in the orchard.

Still, she wondered.

if he did it…how would it feel?

Would he ask?

Would he taste slow?

Would he whisper her name?

The brothel was still humming low that night—music crawling through the floorboards like midnight pour, the scent of clove and spilled gin heavy in the air. Violet was in the hallway near the parlor, pretending to check a tear in her stocking. But really, she was watching.

Cordelia walked by in her silk robe, hips swaying like she owned gravity itself. She passed Violet without a glance but tossed, “Don’t stare too long, baby. You’ll get ideas,” over her shoulder with a sly smirk.

Violet followed behind, quiet as always.

Stack was in the main parlor, sunk into his velvet armchair like a man born to it. His legs were spread, gold rings glittering on thick fingers. A black button-down hugged his chest, the top few undone just enough to show the glint of a gold chain and the curve of a rose tattoo blooming over his collarbone. A toothpick rolled lazy between his lips, and his fedora was tilted just enough to cast a shadow across his sharp eyes.

He was flanked by two women—Black beauties dressed in mink-trimmed lingerie. One with midnight skin and copper-gold eyes, the other with a cinnamon glow and long, oil-slick braids. Girls from back in New Orleans. The kind who moved too quietly, whose laughter echoed wrong if you listened too long. Their glamour was turned up high tonight—cheeks glowing, lips stained bloodred, eyes like honeyed storm clouds.

They leaned into Stack like cats in heat, one on each arm, hands tracing his chest while he accepted the girls’ cut of the night’s earnings—crisp bills folded neat in silk pouches. He didn’t look rushed. He didn’t ever look rushed.

Cordelia stepped forward, elegant as a sermon, and slid her own pouch into his open palm, “For you, baby,” she purred.

Stack gave her that grin, slow, wicked, full of teeth and secrets, “That’s my girl.”

Cordelia stayed close, ran her hand up his thigh, “I got a question though,” she said lightly, tone flirtatious but eyes sharp, “That lil’ new one…Violet. Why ain’t you done her initiation yet?”

The question landed like a dropped match.

The girls giggled, expectant.

Violet froze in the hallway, half in shadow.

Stack chuckled low, licked his lips slow. Then he leaned back and finally looked up—right toward Violet. Right through the wall, through the shadows, like he felt her watching.

“’Cause she ain’t ready,” he said. Voice calm. Final, “She still soft. Still dreamin’. I bite her now, she won’t come back from it.”

The room went still for a moment.

One of the girls murmured, “Ain’t never heard you hold back before.”

Stack smirks, “I don’t break toys I like.”

Cordelia tilted her head, “You like her?”

He didn’t answer that part. Just sat there, eyes still locked in Violet’s direction.

The one of the girls leaned down, whispering something in his ear. He grinned wider, eyes glinting gold.

Cordelia laughed, kissed him on the cheek, and walked off, hips rolling like waves.

Violet slipped back down the hall, heart pounding, not sure what she felt.

She wasn’t afraid.

But something in her ached.

She didn’t know whether it was longing for Stack…or disappointment that it wasn’t Smoke who’d said those words.

The days passed, and Violet became a ghost of temptation.

She hadn’t laid with a single man yet—not really. Not how they wanted. Not how Stack trained the girls to break a John in, slow and sweet. Violet would let them look, let them taste her perfume and the way she moved when she walked—but that was all.

She’d lean in close enough for breath to catch in their throat, then pull away with a soft apology and a smile that made them want to beg.

They were starving for her.

Some started offering more; double, triple. One even brought roses. Another sent sweets and a gold bracelet. Stack let it happen. Watched from the upstairs rail with his cigar in hand, head tilted just enough to track every whisper, every reach, every ache in the eyes of the men who wanted to ruin her.

Cordelia called it “the long game.”

“You reel ‘em in slow, baby,” she told Violet one afternoon in the vanity room, lips lined red, a lace shawl loose over her shoulders, “Make ’em chase what they already think they own.”

She leaned in, breath warm against Violet’s ear, “You let ‘em think you’re green. Shy. Then one night, you open that door just a little…and they lose they whole mind.”

Peaches nodded from across the room, filing her nails, “Ain’t nothin’ like the first time a quiet girl turns bold. That pussy hit different when it’s got mystery on it.”

Violet listened. Blushed. But she held her posture a little taller now. Her silence wasn’t fear, it was control. And she was learning.

Upstairs, Stack knew.

He saw it in the way she moved through the hallway now, hips learning how to sway without effort. He saw it when she made the mistake of biting her lip in front of a customer and didn’t notice the way his hand twitched. She was blooming. Not all at once. But the petals were opening. And Stack…was patient.

He didn’t rush the flowers he wanted to own.

That night, Smoke returned.

The front door swung open in the low light. He came in like he always did—silent. Slow. Solid. Black suspenders over a white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms and the cut of his veins. Cigarette already lit. No words. No greeting.

Just presence.

Violet was sitting behind a sheer gold drape near the hallway curtain, her usual hiding place. A secret pocket of velvet and hush where she could pretend to be invisible and watch the world breathe.

She held still, barely blinking, eyes tracing the shape of his jaw in the smoke.

And she wasn’t the only one watching.

Two of the girls were near the bar, sipping gin and whispering low.

“Mmm mmm mmm…that man walk in here like sin in a suit,” one said, fanning herself, “I’d let him ruin my whole damn life.”

“He don’t even talk much,” the other whispered back, “But I love me a grown, confident-ass man. One that don’t gotta raise his voice to make the whole room shift.”

“You see how he move?” the first continued, “Like he ain’t gotta explain nothin’. Just action. He said forget all that talk, I’m bout that action.”

They giggled, voices thick with desire and bravado, but there was hunger underneath it. Real hunger. The kind even the boldest girls didn’t say too loud.

Smoke didn’t even glance their way. He walked straight to the far wall, leaned back, lit a fresh cigarette, and scanned the room with eyes that held weight. You didn’t look into them—you fell into them.

And then…he paused.

His eyes drifted. Toward the sheer drape. Toward her.

Violet held her breath.

Did he see her?

She didn’t know. But she knew one thing…

The ache inside her, the low simmer that burned beneath her belly, had a name.

And it wasn’t Stack.

It was him.

Smoke.

The brothel quieted in the small hours, when most of the girls had either gone to bed or were curled in the laps of men too drunk to finish what they started.

Violet slipped away to the back bathroom, the one with the deep porcelain tub and the cracked pink tiles, where steam clung to the mirror like breath. She twisted the knobs, hot water rushing out, cloudy with the salts and lavender oil Cordelia always kept in a little jar by the sink.

She stripped slow.

Her pale blue slip slid down her curves, skin dewy in the dim yellow light. Her breasts rose and fell with soft, shallow breaths. Her thighs were warm with sweat from the long night. Her curls stuck to her neck. She eased herself into the bath, the heat licking at her skin, pulling a sigh from her lips.

She sank deep with her knees drawn up, arms resting along the edges, eyes drifting shut.

And then the ache started again.

Smoke.

Not Stack. Not one of the slick-mouthed Johns who tried to coax her open with sweet words and sugar lies. But him—silent, watchful, heavy with power and mystery. The way he filled a room without ever trying. The cut of his jaw, the roll of his sleeves. The way he looked like he’d never say your name out loud—but growl it into your skin.

Her hand drifted down.

Fingers slipping between her thighs, slow at first. She breathed his name so softly it never left her lips. Her toes curled. Her hips arched slightly. She imagined his hand instead of hers. His fingers. His breath hot against her ear, not asking permission, just knowing what she needed.

The water lapped softly. Her moans were barely whispers, but they filled the little room all the same.

She was just on the edge, lost in that imagined weight of Smoke pressing her down, when—

Knock-knock. Click.

The door creaked open.

“Mmm.” Cordelia’s voice floated in, amused, “Now what we got goin’ on in here, sugar?”

Violet jerked up, water sloshing over the edge. She scrambled to sink lower into the bath, cheeks blazing red.

“I—I thought I locked—”

Cordelia leaned against the doorframe, fully dressed in a black silk robe trimmed with marabou feathers, cigarette holder dangling from her painted fingers.

“You didn’t,” she purred, eyes twinkling, “And even if you had, I got keys to everything in this house. Don’t look so scared. I ain’t mad. Girl’s entitled to her lil’ bath time fantasy.”

Violet covered her chest with her arms, mortified. Cordelia stepped inside, clicking the door shut behind her. She didn’t come to shame. She came like a storm that knew the rain was needed.

“Let me guess…” Her eyes narrowed, voice playful, “You wasn’t thinkin’ ’bout Smoke, was you?”

Violet didn’t answer.

Cordelia smirked and slid down to sit on the edge of the tub, letting her hand stir the water lazily.

“No shame in it, baby. That man walk in like judgment day, and every girl in this house got a little tremble in her thighs when he lights a cigarette.”

Violet looked down, face flushed, lips still parted from what almost was.

“You ever wonder what he’d do if you let him have you?” Cordelia asked, voice dropping, “Not rough like these other fools. Nah. A man like Smoke…he take his time. He don’t fuck. He consumes.”

Violet whimpered under her breath, thighs pressing together beneath the water.

Cordelia chuckled softly, “See? I knew it. You hooked and he ain’t even touched you yet,” She stood, smoothing her robe, “Just don’t drown yourself in here, alright? Save a little of that sweetness for when the time come. And baby…”

She paused at the door.

“When a man like that finally notices you? There ain’t no goin’ back.”

Then she was gone, leaving the room scented with her perfume and laughter.

And Violet?

She leaned back in the tub again.

But her hand moved slower this time.

And in her mind, she heard Smoke whisper her name.

After her bath, the house had gone hush. Only the soft lilt of old jazz drifted up from below—scratchy and faraway, like a memory playing through a wall. Most of the girls had gone to their rooms or curled up with company. Violet had begged off early. Said she had a headache. Nobody questioned her.

She wasn’t sick.

She was starving—but not for food.

The dressing room was dim, lit only by a row of half-burned candles flickering in their dusty glass jars. Smoke from earlier perfumes still clung to the air—rose, patchouli, hair tonic, clove cigarettes. The mirrors were fogged from the night’s heat and steam, the room heavy with the perfume of want.

Violet stood barefoot on the cold tile floor, wrapped in a short silk robe. Her curls were damp, falling in soft tendrils around her face, and her cheeks still flushed from her bath. Her skin glowed in the candlelight—bronze, delicate, young.

She stepped closer to the mirror.

The fogged glass showed only a whisper of herself at first, like a spirit trying to take form.

She wiped it clean with her palm.

Then stood still.

She studied her reflection. The cut of her collarbone. The shape of her mouth. The softness of her eyes, the way her lips always seemed half-parted like a question left unanswered.

“He don’t want soft,” she whispered to herself, “He want…sultry…woman.”

So she tried.

She dropped one shoulder of the robe. Let it slide down slow.

She ran her fingers through her curls and pushed them back, exposing her neck. Then she tilted her chin up just a little, parted her lips.

“You like this, don’t you?” she murmured, voice breathy, “I bet you wonder what I taste like…”

She paused. Cringed.

It didn’t sound right.

It sounded like someone else. Cordelia maybe. Or one of the other girls who knew how to speak a man into madness. Not her. Not sweet little Violet from the coast with Gullah blood and old folk songs still hiding in her bones.

She tried again.

Swayed her hips slow. Dragged her finger down her chest. Let the robe part just a little between her thighs.

“You want me, don’t you?” she whispered.

The words stuck in her throat.

Her shoulders tensed. Her eyes dropped.

It felt fake.

Like she was wearing someone else’s skin, trying to fit into a mold that wasn’t made for her. Pretty? Sure. She’d been told that. Men looked. Girls cooed. But she didn’t have Cordelia’s poise, Peaches’ sass, or the polished glamour of the girls from Stack’s past. She didn’t know how to weaponize her beauty yet.

And Smoke?

Smoke would eat a woman alive if she stepped to him wrong.

Violet sank onto the vanity stool, staring at her bare thighs, her robe still half-open.

She whispered, “You don’t see me, do you…”

She wanted to cry. Not from sadness. From that terrible tightness in the chest when your want grows too loud, and your confidence grows too quiet.

She reached for a lipstick tube and twisted it open. It was a deep wine red, something Cordelia once left on the table.

She painted her lips slow.

Then leaned in and kissed the mirror.

A print bloomed on the glass.

“If I was bold…you’d touch me, wouldn’t you?” she whispered again, softer now, “You’d press me to the wall. You’d tell me I was yours without sayin’ a word…”

Silence answered her.

And still, she sat there, robe slipping from one shoulder, red lips parted, candlelight dancing across her skin.

Just a girl aching to be noticed.

She didn’t even remember falling asleep that night. One minute, she was staring at her own reflection, robe half open, mouth painted, thighs pressed together. The next, the mirror seemed to ripple, soften, breathe.

And suddenly, he was there.

Smoke.

Leaning in the doorway behind her, half in shadow, cigarette in hand.

But this wasn’t the real Smoke. This was dream-Smoky, smoky Smoke—heavier, slower, hungry.

He stepped into the room with that same impossible quiet, like the floor moved for him, not the other way around. The door didn’t creak. The candles didn’t flicker. He just was.

His eyes moved over her…over her parted robe, over her soft thighs, over the kiss mark on the mirror like it was a challenge.

Violet tried to cover herself, but in the dream, her arms wouldn’t move. She could only look back, breath catching, skin prickling with heat and shame.

“I was just—”

Smoke didn’t speak.

He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped behind her. She could see him in the mirror now. Towering. Watching. His gaze dragged down her body like a match tip over dry bark. And then, he bent low, his mouth grazing the shell of her ear.

“You think I don’t see you?” he murmured, voice like liquid dusk on hot skin.

His hands slid down her shoulders, calloused palms dragging over her arms, her waist. He didn’t grab. He claimed. His touch said: this has always been mine.

She whimpered.

He dipped his head further, pressed his lips to her neck, breathed her in. The robe fell from her shoulders. Her nipples hardened in the air.

“I see everything, Violet,” he said, “Every little ache. Every quiet moan you try to hide from the night…”

He turned her gently in the dream, and she rose without resistance. She was bare before him, trembling, but not afraid.

“You ain’t gotta perform for me,” he whispered.

Then he sank to his knees.

His mouth was at her belly, then lower, his breath hot against the soft thatch between her thighs. He pressed a kiss there—slow, worshipful.”

“I want this,” he said.

And she believed him.

Violet gasped—and woke with a jolt.

The candles were low. The room was quiet. Her thighs were wet with sweat, her robe askew. No one was there. No door creaked. No match was struck.

But her heart was racing like he’d just left.

And for a long, long moment, Violet sat in the hush, fingertips brushing her lips.

A thought bloomed in her chest like a secret.

Despite what Violet thinks Smoke wants—sharp, sultry, polished women like Cordelia…

She’s wrong.

He’ll want her exactly as she is.

Soft. Quiet. Ache and all.

@theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @theegoldenchild @blackpantherismyish @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[siqueth]

Daddy Kink(Day 5)

Will Poulter x reader

Kinktober masterlist 

-

Kaya's kids were absolute angels(to you and Will at least as she says). They always wanted to show you every toy they have. They loved playing football(soccer) with Will and he'd let them win, every single time. 

You both sighed as you flopped down onto the couch.

"Kids really suck your energy out." He says and you nod in agreement.

"That will be us eventually." You say and Will looks at you in amusement.

"You want kids?" 

"Ya I guess, maybe one or two." You turned your body to face him. "I know we haven't talked about it." 

"Guess we haven't." A silence fell over the two of you until you placed you hand on his thigh. 

"You'd be such a good daddy."  Something dark sparked inside of Will. He looked into your eyes and you saw his eyes go dark. 

"Say that again." You looked at him in confusion before you understood. Oh.

"You'd be such a good Daddy." You repeated but this time said it in a not so innocent way. He licked his lips before grabbing your hips and swinging you over his lap. 

"Can you make me a daddy?" He cooed and you sat there in shock. "What's wrong?" 

"You want a baby... now?" 

"Only if you want too, but I know you'd be the best mommy to our baby." He kissed your cheek before looking up at you again. 

"Okay." You nodded and Will gave you a big smile. 

-

He held you close as he fucked you on your sides. He held you close, back against chest. He kissed and sucked your neck gently, while holding your leg up from the back of your knee. Your pussy was squelching loudly around his cock.

"Daddy." You moaned out and Will let out a low growl in his chest. He stopped his movements before dropping your leg and twisting your lower back. He placed his forearm on the back of your shoulder and pressed so your upper body was flat against the bed. It was almost a painful position. 

"Daddy's gonna fuck a baby into you now." He whispered into your ear and pushed back in making you gasp and grab the sheets. He grabbed your hips and pushed all the way to the hilt. Your right eye twitched and you bit your lip harshly. Will groaned at how tight your pussy was clenching around his cock. "You ready for my load baby?"

"Mhmm." You managed to mumble. Will couldn’t keep his eyes off of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. He leaned forward do his chest rested on your back and nibbled your ear. 

“Cum for Daddy baby.” He said and he watched your eyes roll in the back of your head. Your mouth slacked open and your body jerked under his. The sight of watching you loose yourself was enough for him to shoot his seed deep inside of you. He pulled you back roughly against his hips, making you gasp and reach behind you.  

“M-no more.” You said and he saw the tear that down your face from the pleasure you just endured. 

“Sorry, just have to keep you plugged in with my cum.”

[siqueth]

Talk me Through it

Plot: A minific for number two of the smoke-stack twins head cannons. "Stack who talks you into bed with his mouth, and keeps talking while he’s inside you. “You like that, baby? Bet you been thinkin’ about this all week. Tell me how good I feel." Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+

You told yourself you were just stopping by. You weren’t staying long—just had to pick something up, say a few words, keep it clean. But the second he opened that door, bare-chested and leaning against the frame like he already had the night planned, your resolve started slipping.

“You comin’ in, or you just gon’ stand there tryin’ not to look at my mouth?” he asked, that low, teasing tone wrapping around your spine like velvet.

Ten minutes later, you were on his bed. Stretched out on your back, breath shallow, thighs already parted. You don’t even remember how it happened. One minute you were sitting on the edge of the mattress, talking shit like you meant it. The next, Stack had you laid out like a feast—lips ghosting over your stomach, voice curling into your skin.

He dragged his teeth across your hip bone, slow, like he was tasting the spot before claiming it.

“Been thinkin’ about you laid out just like this,” he murmured, voice thick. “Soft… quiet… waitin’ for me to fill you up.”

His fingers trailed down your thigh, light at first, then deeper, pressing in just right. You gasped, and he chuckled—deep and dark, like he knew.

“Don’t get shy now. You knew what this was when you walked in.”

He moved up your body, lips brushing your neck, hand still moving between your legs like it belonged there. The sheets were twisted under your back, cool air hitting your heated skin in places his mouth had just left.

And then he slid in.

Deep. Full. With one long stroke that made you arch up into him like your body was begging for more.

And God—he never stopped talking.

His mouth was hot on your neck, words falling like honey and sin.

“You like that, baby? Bet you been thinkin’ about this all week. Tell me how good I feel.”

You moaned, nails digging into his back, but that wasn’t enough for him. Stack wanted to hear you—hear you say it, cry it, scream it.

“Nah, look at me,” he whispered, hips grinding slow, deeper. “You lettin’ me in like this, and you ain’t got nothin’ to say? Tell me. Tell me this pussy was made for me.”

“I-It was made f-for you,” you whimpered.

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile against your neck. “Damn right it was,” he growled, thrusting deeper, hips meeting yours with a wet, perfect slap. “Say it again.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering, legs trembling around his waist. “It’s yours… all yours…”

Stack let out a low groan, like he’d been waiting to hear that since the moment you stepped into his life. His hand slid up your thigh, gripped tight at your hip as he rolled into you with thick, punishing strokes—each one dragging a cry from your throat that only made him go slower, deeper.

“Shit, listen to you,” he rasped, nose brushing yours, breath hot against your lips. “You sound so fuckin’ sweet beggin’ for me. My needy little thing, huh? That’s what you are?”

You nodded helplessly, fingers tangled in the sheets now, trying to hold onto something—anything—as he started to fuck you like he meant to leave a mark. The bed rocked beneath you, frame creaking with every movement, every delicious, devastating thrust that had your back arching off the mattress.

“You gonna cum for me?” he whispered, watching your face. “Gonna fall apart on my dick like the good girl I know you are?”

You were already there, toes curling, body tightening under his. All it took was one more stroke—one more filthy word spilling from his mouth—and you snapped.

“Fuck, Stack—”

Your cry was ragged, desperate, as your orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clenched around him so hard it pulled a deep growl from his chest. He didn’t stop. He chased your release with relentless thrusts, his own pleasure catching up fast.

“Shit—fuck, baby—” he hissed through gritted teeth, burying himself to the hilt.

His rhythm faltered as he spilled inside you, hands gripping your hips so hard you’d feel it tomorrow. His moan was raw, teeth clenched, forehead pressed against yours while he rode out every last pulse of it.

For a long moment, the room was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the slick drag of skin on skin. The smell of sex and sweat and something sweeter still—satisfaction, maybe—hung thick in the air.

Stack didn’t pull away right away. He stayed inside you, chest heaving, hand smoothing over your waist like he couldn’t stand to let you go just yet.

“Damn,” he muttered, eyes still locked on yours. “You keep fuckin’ me like that, I’m never lettin’ you leave this bed.”

You let out a shaky breath, dazed, lips parted.

“…Then don’t.”

That grin returned. Slower this time. Laced with something deeper.

“Oh, baby. You don’t know what you just signed up for.”

And just like that—he kissed you again, slow and possessive, while his hands slid down your thighs like he was already getting ready for round two.

🏷️ @pr0wlerpunk @skyesthebomb @morgshope @mama-rein @marley1773 @cremeful @maugustiee @kstaxks

[siqueth]

Chapter 5: Permission to Ruin Me.

Ongoing tags: [Modern Romance] [Slow Burn] to [Fireworks [Black!Reader] [Younger!Reader] [Reader is That Girl] [Obsessed Michael™] [So Much Eye Contact] [Vacation Fling] turns into [Something Real]

Potential TW/CW: [Swearing] [Light Sexual Tension] to [Eventual Smut]

Read Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

and now.. it is time. everybody make sure you got fresh draws on. all my heathens and sluts come to the front! chapter 6 is also done so i might - MIGHT - publish again tomorrow. tryna keep y'all waiting bc.. i love validationnnnn. anyway! enjoy my babies. don't forget to send me some asks, gonna be drafting some requests this week ;)

The next morning, there was a knock. The knock came just after breakfast – almost jarring, the sharpness of a fist against polished wood.

Before, you were still in the oversized tee you’d slept in, lazily brushing your teeth and half-scrolling your messages when the suite phone rang.

You heard Tati answer the phone from the common room. “Room 904.”

A pause.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let her know.”

You’d heard her hang up the phone, and before you could come out of the bathroom, she met you in the hallway.

“Just got off the phone with the concierge,” she said, not even bothering to greet you with a “good morning”, nor hide her suspicious smile. “There’s something coming for you.”

When the knock came, you met the bellhop at the door.

He handed you a white matte box, tied in black ribbon. It was minimal, with no branding. Just your name, handwritten, and a note tucked beneath the bow. The moment you closed the door, and meandered to the couch, the girls surrounded you like sharks in the water.

“Open it,” Lex said, already filming on her phone.

“What is it? What is it??” nagged Tati.

“He did not…”

“OH, he did.”

Inside the box were a stack of things that almost made the air leave your chest: a glass perfume bottle, a soft floral fragrance with a heat-heavy dry-down; a pair of gold hoop earrings – lightweight, diamond-cut, a gleam that caught the light like water; and nestled in satin paper, a handwritten note:

I want to take you out again. If the answer’s yes – wear the earrings. I’ll know. I want to listen to you. And if you’ll let me… I want to touch you. — M

You sat back against the couch’s cushion, your heart pounding in your ears.

Tati read it over your shoulder, shaking you with excitement. “Yes! Baby girl, he’s ready to worship. Get your mind right.”

–

You carefully pulled out your gifts to show to the girls. You felt like you were in school and it was your turn to do Show and Tell, and by the way your friends gasped in excitement, passing around the perfume to smell, this was a presentation for the ages. And of course, Tati made you read the note out loud. 

“You have to say yes,” Kris said immediately.

“I mean,” Nas added, “look at you right now. You’re already glowing and he hasn’t even seen you today.”

Lex spun her phone around. “Say the word and I’m curling your hair.”

Tati whispered, “If you don’t wear those earrings and get dicked down respectfully tonight, I will personally seduce him. I don’t even care that I’m married – that’s how serious I am.”

You tried to fight back a smile, failing miserably. But your voice was quiet. “I don’t think this is just a fling for him.”

They all went still.

“You really like him?” Nas asked gently.

You nodded once. “I.. I do. I really feel him.”

And suddenly, they weren’t screaming anymore. You could feel their gazes soften.

Tati took your hand and kissed the back of your palm, in the way that only she has since you were eight-years-old. “Then we got you.”

After a group pep talk, coupled with Kris reminding you to take your birth control – you did – and Nas calling her partner to fill her in on the drama, you got ready for another night out with Michael. Lex made good on her promise, styling your hair with a hairdresser’s precision, loose curls framing your collar. 

Tati picked your outfit – a copper-toned backless satin dress with gold lace-up stilettos to match the earrings that you were definitely wearing tonight. The dress had a draped collar, fabric ruched perfectly to show off your chocolate legs, and was completely backless. Tati dressed you with the intention of providing Michael with an “appetizer” of what was to come later.

Once you were fully dressed, you admired yourself in the mirror. And as much as you thought you were nervous about tonight, you found yourself buzzing all over with excitement. Though you’d only seen him a couple days ago, your hands were itching to be held. Your lips were begging to be kissed. 

He met you in the lobby, grinning like a schoolboy when you approached him. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he whispered “you wore them” in your ear like a vow. If nothing else didn’t lit a fire in your belly, that was the thing that did it. He ushered you in front of him, a hand resting gently on your lower back as he guided you out front where a sleek, blacked out Cadillac Escalade was waiting.

The ride wasn’t long, but it felt like time slowed down when you pulled out of the lot. He filled you in on the last couple days of work, some new projects he’s planning, and most importantly, how excited he was to see you. 

The dinner spot was tucked down an alley. There was no signage – it was just a steel door and a man who nodded when Michael approached. The space had one table, one server, and a private chef’s tasting menu. 

The restaurant – if you could even call it that, you weren’t sure – was super intimate. The lights were dim and there was an R&B playlist that buzzed softly through the speakers that  accentuated the way his voice shifted when he got comfortable.

As you dined together, he didn’t work overtime to impress. Instead, he asked what made you laugh. How you learned to protect your joy. When the last time was that someone gave you the kind of attention that didn’t ask for anything back.

And honestly, you weren’t even sure how long the two of you sat there, but you were sure you didn’t want to leave.

–

As you pulled into the hotel’s carousel, he leaned over to peck your jaw, mumbling against your skin, “I already asked,” 

You blinked. “What?”

He smiled sneakily, showing you his phone.

You laughed sheepishly. “My friends are crazy.”

He nodded in agreement, with a chuckle, opening the door and helping you out of the truck. “I’ve gathered that.” 

Upstairs, the suite was quiet. It seemed the others were suspiciously gone – or hiding. And,  knowing your friends, they’re more likely to be doing the latter.

You guided him through your suite and to your room. You entered first, eyes set on his, the room lit low and soft with your perfume lingering in the air.

He began to follow you in, but stopped at the doorway. “You sure about this?”

You nodded quickly, probably having made the easiest decision of the whole trip thus far. “I want you to touch me.”

And without hesitation, you pulled your dress up over your head teasingly, tossing it elsewhere in the room. There, you stood before him, braless, thin black lace panties riding low on your hips, the middle soft and sheer.

His jaw clenched, eyes scanning your frame. He shut the  door and locked it with a swift motion, eyes not leaving your body. “Jesus,” he muttered, stepping forward.

You turned your back to him and climbed slowly onto the bed, looking over your shoulder, eyes beckoning him to you.

He didn’t hesitate to move forward. He approached the edge of the bed, previous softness and gentle care completely leaving the room as he ripped your panties down, dropping to his knees and pulling your lower half closer to him so your ass hung over the edge of the bed.

Then he spit right on your pussy. And as if he already knew how to work your body, he dragged his tongue through your slick before you could even register what he’d done. He ate you from behind in a way that you could’ve only dreamed of. His mouth was wet with a warmth that reached parts of your core that no one had ever tried to. He planted full-mouth kisses against your clit – slow at first, then focused, sucking your nub into his mouth and licking the mess back up with reverence, groaning at your taste.

He dragged two fingers through your wetness, “That for me?” he asked, clearly having known he’d gotten you in his clutches. “All this?”

You nodded, dazed, your “Mhm” sounding more like a moan than an actual response.

He hummed simply, gripping the back of your thighs and spreading you open, fully devouring you. It was sloppy and messy in the absolute best way, with lips sucking at full force and flicks of his tongue that made you clench the pillow under your chest like it owed you money.

You came without warning, fast and loud, your moans and his slurps being the only sounds in the room. He moaned gruffly against your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face, already eager to make you cum again.

“You’re shaking,” he said, using his thumbs to spread your hole open more, warm breath against your cunt. “You want more?”

You whimpered.

“Then beg.”

“I want it,” you whined out. “Yes, Michael – I want it, I need it, please.”

He stood, stripping down to nothing, pulling the condom out of his wallet’s fold. He ripped the wrapper open with his teeth, smirking when he saw your pussy clench at the sound. “I got you.”

He lined himself up behind you, dragged his mushroom head through your soaked folds – and thrusted in, filling you to the hilt in one stroke. And though you tried to fight it, a moan escaped your throat at the stretch, a sound that easily echoed through the walls of the room.

And outside the door, there was, in fact, an audience. But a silent audience – one that did their screaming in your group chat.

It was downright nasty the way he fucked you. Aggravatingly slow and mean – he was gripping your waist, slapping your ass, rubbing pressured circles along your clit with his thumb, all while he whispered filth into your neck. “This pussy is mine now. All mine. You understand me?” he grunted, chest to your back.

“Mhmm,” was all you could let out in between moans and gasps.

“Nuh-uh.” he replied, smacking your asscheek again, “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, “Oh fuck, Michael, I–I’m yours!”

He used his free hand to brush your curls behind your back, enwrapping it into a makeshift ponytail, and pulling your head back to look at him as he towered over you. “Open.”

And of course, you obliged, mouth agape. And as if he couldn’t fuck you filthier, he spat in your mouth. And because he was fucking you absolutely stupid, you swallowed, opening your mouth again eagerly in hopes for more of him.

He leaned over instead, kissing you sloppily while your arms lost strength from yet another orgasm. But just when you thought it was over, he flipped you onto your back, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and fucked you deep, whispering “eyes on me, baby” when your eyes rolled back.

Kissing your swollen lips, his tongue burying into your mouth. He pressed his forehead to yours as you came again, this time, him following being you, your walls clenching around him like you were crying for it. He let out a groan from deep in his chest at the tightness, muttering, “Goddamn, you’re perfect,” as he spilled into the condom.

He eased out of you, peeling the soiled condom off and tying it closed, setting it hastily on the floor next to the bed. He pulled you into his arms, your bodies still twitching slightly from the aftershocks. And when you finally passed out, still damp with sweat and thighs covered in your slick, he kissed your temple tenderly. “Mine,” he murmured. “All mine.”

And you laid like that for a while. At least, until he heard your quiet snores against his chest. He gently slid out of bed, tucking you snugly under the covers. Then, he pulled on his boxers, throwing away the trash in the bin across the room.

When he opened the door, still scantily clad in his grey boxers, sweat still cooling on his skin, the girls were there.

All of them. Stunned. Eyes the size of saucers.

He blinked.

Then, without missing a beat, he nodded. “Evening.” Before sliding past them like he hadn’t just turned your body into gospel, strutting to the suite’s bathroom in search of a cloth to clean you up.

Tags: @blackisy2k @hamzahsf4vg1rl @siasoup @heyyimmisunderstood @mirathebookworm @iluvv.angel @blondfortheweekend @Plan3tCh1ld @remcycles @browngirldominion @smokestackenrgy @marvel-dork98 @chaneajoyyy @jackierose902109 @Secretisme4 @marley1773 @wrldfantasy @remcycles @bxrbie1 @pinkprincessluminary @honestlyurslol @bxrbie1 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @nybearsworld @eclecticblkgirl @corvusmorte @yallsuck-00 @glambyk @Siqeth @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @xoxo-lai @perfectlyimperfectme @Mea-bby @kianaleani @prettiest1ittleliar @Mejustme06 @kpop-servant @kneelarhmstrung @rossie-things @thatssonani @esachicaa @ajenae @adornn4jadaa @Kindofaintrovert @bigpumpum18 @famousphilosopherwombat @Transparentphantomface @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theesmartblonde @-harmonytbh @jiminsjams123 @li-da-savage @Fckwritersblock @christinabae @Tianna-blanche @queenofklonnie22 @marley1773 @Secret89sblog @secretisme4 @nybearsworld @jackierose902109 @spideyxakmighty2 @rossie-things @Sharpaysbestfriend @chrome-edition @Mulanii9 @blackgurlkillinit @soniaangels @pinkprincessluminary @bxunyx @venusesworld @flipsidefever @dangerouslylunarwind @writingsbytee @sheabutterbabes @c-grace56 @turbulentvoids @Stankface @mimellowdi @vintigepimpzinio @bedstarz @thesmutconnoisseur @iceyyycapsicle @theesexyyaquariuss @lovey-3 @sowhatariyana @ariiaellbtheedonn @melinatedlifeline @Nyifly22 @Jayyybird221 @pinkpantheris @naenae479 @Keaenzie @melinatedlifeline @Smokestackenergy @tyneshaaa @fanfictiononly4 @Jayyybird211 @melinatedlifeline @Stankface @beedici @Chynah—doll @Hollyleelee99 @prettygirlwrld @bbykel @secretisme4 @Yeaiamme2 @kristings7 @solitudedanii @singularepiphany @motheroffae @smokestackenergy @christinabae @chuwooooo @aretasreads @5starsirl @drdimplesjdrdimplesj @thesweetestdrug @Nysrevenge @keyaho @coldeforprez @Dollyblush222 @Suzysface @zomqiez @erynnnn @kxndrixx @nia-lynn08 @Monstaxmomma0 @bl3ssyn @writingsbytee @TriniBadGyal @Thefutureemmywinner @spicypiscesssss @kqmbr1a @Simpingfor-wakasa @Vi4goswrld

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[siqueth]

brat!reader & her schemin countryboyfriend!smoke

im contemplating on turning brat!reader into an oc with her own name , background and etc! but idk 😗 lmk what you guys think

🧁 taglist: @prettyfilmz , @hallucinagin , @woahitslucyylu @queenofklonnie22 , @luvrsluxe

[siqueth]

INTRODUCING BRAT!READER

♡ brat!readers insta + brat!reader playlist

♡ brat!reader && her schemin boyfriend

♡ smokes pov of brat!reader

♡ professional rider horses nd cowboys

♡ brat!reader && stack scheme together

♡ when u get ur hair done come home.

♡ brat!reader offering her friends man smoke clothes

♡ brat!reader finds out elijah was spotted at his ex house

♡ brat!reader she’s backkk / / she’s gonna get her lick back

♡ brat!reader standing on business

♡ brat!reader and yn!stack talk about what happened

MEET SUGAR. . . born in nyc but moved to the delta later on, smells sweet! like vs tease creme cloud, listens to beyonce, summer walker & megan thee stallion, shopping shopping shopping, nails and toes done every two weeks, spoiled rotten, attitude princess, best friends with sammie & lisa, nickname is doll.

BRAT!READER first moves to the delta due to her mother inheriting her fathers, your granddads home. at first she hated the idea of being deep in the south. bugs, snakes, heat and worst of all, the nearest mall is 4hrs away. SHE CAN'T DRIVE.

BRAT!READER met sammie and lisa when she was exploring downtown when she went into the local grocery shop looking for little bits and bobs for a fashion emergency. lisa asked if you need help with anything and you told her your issue which she had no problem offering to fit your outfit herself!

BRAT!READER who met smoke through sammie when he invited her over to their annual family cookout. She may have mentioned to sammie that his cousin was "fine and that you need some of dat" which he responded with "brah, fuck outta here with dat shit!" you may have laughed at the reaction sammie gave but you were dead serious.

BRAT!READER whom indeed got smokes number and started texting him throughout the week realizing she has a big fat crush on the older man, knowing her friends nor her family would approve but she does not care!

BRAT!READER and sammie were hanging out at the mall when she spotted smoke looking rather cozy with a unknown girl which prompted her to go up to smoke, which sammie advised against. "oh! smoke what are you doing here?" voice high-pitched and faked with curiosity.

BRAT!READER who started to ignore smoke after spotting him with a another girl because she didn't want to be the girl who ruined a relationship, which sammie told her hardhead ass that smoke wasn't in one, but she still refused to listen.

BRAT!READER who after 4 weeks seen smoke at a family dinner. she didn't acknowledge him, just rolling her eyes and scoffing. Smoke just nodding his head. later that night smoke pulled her aside to talk to her. "why you been duckin me?" "cause"

he kisses his teeth, "why you bein like this? you didn't say anything, just shrugging your shoulders, picking at your nails. He just stares at you, trying to figure out your motive. "♡." He says it softly but tone serious.

you don't say anything, but give him a pointed look, irritation bubbling. "You know i care about you, right?" you laugh, scoffing in his face "tell that to the girl you were posted up with." He rubs his hands up and down his face roughly, before letting out a sigh "man why u always bring her up! i told you before it's not like dat!"

BRAT!READER who after that night slowly let smoke come around and after that smoke put her in her place. "always running that mouth" smoke grunts out as he snaps his hips into yours, dick digging deep within your walls, you cry out gripping the sheets "s-ssmoke!" dragging his name out. he laughs, pushing your hips down to get you into a deeper arch making you feel the curve of him. He leans down and whispers in your ear "come on doll, you know that ain't my name."

[siqueth]

dad bf!smoke (35) x younger!reader (24) | in honor of fathers day here’s a little treat!

“can i please get ‘happy father’s day, Dad!’ written in blue,please?” your voice called out sweetly from the bakery counter. The grocery store had been bustling with many customers rushing with last minute gift giving and barbecue ingredients list needing to be met, Fathers day is today.

You and smoke need to get your weekly groceries as it is so you decide to pick up a little surprise for the older man. it started off as a joke to you, calling him dad but as time progressed you realized you loved the idea of him being someone who is supposed to love, protect and take care of you, he is your dad in a sick way but you didn’t care.

“what you gettin baby?” smoke returns from grabbing a pack of paper towels a few isles down. he stands at 6’2 face growing a salt and pepper beard, he was the definition of a textbook dilf without the children, “oh! nothing just a simple cake is all.” you try to cover up your sneakyness, waving it off as unimportant.

when the baker hands you the box, smoke takes it trying to take a peek inside but you quickly tell him “don’t open it! you will ruin the cream on it!” he just looks at you with a puzzled expression and says nothing more, just fixing the box and saying if you were ready to check out, with a smile you nod yes, heading to the checkout counter.

you two arrived from the store hours ago, dinner still warm on the stove, smoke sitting on the couch as you try your best to quietly set up the kitchen table with little decorations, gifts and the cake you bought earlier.

The cake was lacking in the colorful department in your opinion but today isn’t about you, its about him. the man whose put your first before anything, gave you the soft life that he said you deserved and needed. you couldn’t do alot when it comes to showing your love to smoke in return because he hated the idea of you spending your money and despised the idea of you spending it on him even more.

“eli!!, come here please! i cant reach this!”you called out for him, you knew if you asked for his help reaching something he would come quickly, and so he did. “you better not be climbing the damn counters again, girl.” his voice stern and grumpy; such an old man.

he stops in his tracks, seeing the kitchen table littered with a few small gift boxes, two big boxes and a sheet cake with big bold words written in dark blue letters “HAPPY FATHERS DAY, DAD! — FROM YOUR BEST AND ONLY KID! <3 “ he sees you standing there with the biggest goofy smile, he takes a moment before walking over to you “so this is what you were doing when i was gone for 2 mins, huh?” he pulls you in by your waist, your arms wrap around his neck.

“hmm! i had to make sure my old man was appreciated on his day.” you whisper on his lips before leaning in for a kiss, his brings his hand across your ass cheek before lipping to you, “gonna put a real baby in you tonight.”

[siqueth]

yearning!bestfriend!smoke x black!curvy!nasty!fem!reader

You and Smoke been thick as thieves since before y’all even had teeth. Since you were two loud little brown kids playin’ in the sprinkler in your grandma’s yard, barefoot on concrete and dripping in popsicle juice. He was the boy who always ran. Ran to get what you wanted. Ran to fix what you broke. Ran to grab the extra cookie you were too scared to ask for.

And even when you got older—full hips, lip gloss poppin’, that spoiled little whine always curled in your throat—you still didn’t have to finish a sentence before Smoke was already halfway to doin’ it.

“Smoke, can you—?”

“I got it.”

“Wait, you know what I want—”

“I already do.”

That was y’all’s rhythm.

He’d never said how bad he loved you. Never said that when you called him your best friend, it made his chest hurt. He never told you how many nights he stared at his phone, waiting for a text that said “Come over.”

You never told him either. You thought he knew. Thought maybe he didn’t feel the same. So you started dating other people. Just a little. Just to test the waters.

But you still showed up at every function on Smoke’s hip. Like today—his mama’s birthday cookout. You in that damn white dress. Tight up top, short in the back, every inch of you jiggling and glowing. Everybody noticed. But he noticed first.

He saw you before you even walked past the fence. Watched your thighs bounce with every step, your gold anklet glinting, your curls pulled up with just enough down to frame that smartass mouth he’d kill to kiss.

He didn’t speak first. He just stared. Chain glintin’. Blunt burning slow between his fingers.

You plopped down next to him at the table, legs crossed, plate in hand, talking loud with his cousins like you ain’t been skipping his calls.

And that’s when Aunt Vi turned to you, fork paused halfway to her mouth. “So baby girl, you still single? Or you got a lil boyfriend now?”

You blinked. Swallowed. Peeped Smoke from the corner of your eye. Then softly, like you ain’t really mean it: “…I do.” The clink of Smoke’s fork hitting his plate was the only sound for a moment.

He turned slowly, eyes glued to you. Not moving. Not blinking. That quiet, slow anger in his chest boiling over in silence. “You do?” he said low, voice tight.

You didn’t answer. You looked at Aunt Vi instead.“He tall?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“Mhm.”

“Cute?”

“…Kinda.”

“Got a picture?” You pulled your phone out, too quick. Nervous giggle stuck in your throat. Smoke didn’t take his eyes off you. He leaned back in his seat, arms folded, watching you show the picture. Your screen faced Aunt Vi, but he saw it too.

And his jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

Marcus. From the block. A dude Smoke knew. A dude who tried to be like him but couldn’t hold a candle. He stood slow. Walked around the table. Quiet as ever. Then reached down and snatched your phone right out your hand.

“What the hell—” “Get up,” he said. You blinked. “Smoke, don’t start—” “I said get. The fuck. Up.”He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t curse loud. But his tone wrapped around your neck and dragged you up out that chair like gravity shifted. Your thighs trembled. You followed. You had to.

He yanked the back door open and took you through the house—ignoring every cousin, every curious glance—into the den. The door slammed behind you. And then? Silence. Thick and hot and tight. Smoke turned, chest rising slow. “You really fucking with Marcus?” he said. Voice low. Not yelling, but shaking. “Marcus?”

“He nice,” you whispered, but your voice cracked.Smoke stepped forward. Your back met the wall. He placed your phone on the dresser like he was lining it up for later. “You know how many times I wanted to tell you?” he said, hand finding your waist. “How many times I had to sit there and watch you run off with them clown-ass niggas? You do that shit on purpose?”

“I didn’t know you—” “Yes the fuck you did.” You didn’t answer. His mouth found your neck first. Hot, soft, trailing down like it was muscle memory. Your hands fisted in his shirt. His touch wasn’t rough—but it was hungry. Desperate. Like something that’d been waiting too long to be born.

“Still lettin’ me do everything for you,” he murmured against your skin, tongue flicking just beneath your ear. “Still callin’ me first. Still wearin’ shit like this around my damn family.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” you whimpered. His hands slid down your thighs, cupping your ass, pulling your hips against his. “You the only one I care about.” He kissed you. Slow and deep, lips pressed like a seal. Like a brand.

When he lifted your dress, you gasped. His fingers found the soaked cotton between your thighs and he smiled against your mouth. “This for him?” he growled. “Or me?”

“You,” you whimpered.

He dropped to his knees, pulled your panties down slow, kissed your thighs like he had all day. Then, without warning, he lifted your leg and buried his tongue in you—slow. Groaning into your folds, fingers digging into your hips.

You came on his mouth in minutes, shaking, gasping, whispering his name like a prayer.

“Say it right,” he whispered, standing, dropping his sweats. “You know what to call me.” “…Pa.”He moaned. Deep in his chest. Lined himself up and slid in—slow, deep, smooth, until his whole body trembled. Your mouth dropped open. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes glassy.“You feel that?” he groaned. “That’s mine.”

He moved slow but heavy, rolling his hips deep inside you like he was making a promise. His lips on your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. His hand on your jaw. “I been waiting so long for this, bunny,” he whispered. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna touch you again.”

You were close again. Shaking. Crying now.

And then he reached for your phone. “Call him.”“What—” “Call that little nigga now.” With shaking fingers, you dialed. Voice trembling. He pressed the speaker on.

“Hello?” he spoke. Your breath caught. Smoke thrusted deep. You cried out, breath hitching. “I’m with my boyfriend.” Then Smoke grabbed the phone and ended it. And came inside you with a long, low groan that rattled your bones. His forehead rested on yours, breathing heavy, thumb wiping the tears from your cheek. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And I’m done sharing.”

A few weeks later…

You don’t even call him “Smoke” no more. It’s Pa this, Pa that. The whole damn block know what it is. He walkin’ with his arm around you like you made of gold and velvet. One hand resting on your hip, thumb rubbing that little space on your waist like it’s his personal territory. And it is.

You’re wearing one of the three diamond rings he bought you. Not engagement, not yet—but you keep tellin’ folks, “This one’s for my mouth, this one’s for my attitude, and this one’s ‘cause I’m spoiled.” He don’t argue. He just adds another.

And right between your collarbones? That chain. Thick, gold, glinting in the sun. His name on the pendant in soft cursive—“Elijah’s”—like a warning and a lullaby. He’s got one too. Yours. Tucked under his shirt but always there, lying flat on his chest, heartbeat pressin’ against the letters.

You’re headed to get ice cream, arguing playful in the heat. You want strawberry shortcake. He already bought it for you ten minutes ago and it’s in the car. He just like hearing you beg. And then, like a breeze cutting through the thick summer air, you hear two girls on the stoop whispering:

“—you ain’t hear? Marcus? That nigga gone. Shot dead couple weeks ago. Just now found the body in that alley behind Glenwood. Whole clip in him.”

You pause mid-step. Smoke doesn’t.

His grip on your waist tightens just slightly, just enough to make your stomach flip. He’s still walking, face neutral, but you catch the edge of his mouth. That little curl. That little smile.

He don’t say nothing. Just keeps moving. Pulls you closer, presses a kiss to your temple. You look at him. “Pa…” He raises a brow like he don’t know what you’re about to ask—but you don’t even finish the sentence.

You know better. You know exactly what that smile meant.

He ain’t ever gonna tell you what happened. But you can feel it in his kiss, in the way he holds your hand a little tighter now. The way he makes love to you like he got rid of every last threat.

That chain around your neck ain’t just jewelry. It’s a warning label. “Property of Elijah Moore.” And when the streets whisper about Marcus? Smoke don’t blink. He just licks ice cream off your lip and says: “Open your mouth, bunny. You know I don’t like repeating myself.”

last one yall… last one for the day.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers.

[siqueth]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

and the lame ass nigga next to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

stack having a son inspo

LAYOUT INSPO: @dollerin

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

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

[siqueth]

[siqueth]

❝ quickie.❞  ‎ modern! elias ‘stack’ moore x black!fem oc

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… unprotected sex! anal sex, vaginal fingering, praises, mirror-sex, quickies, modern!au, explicit language, porn with minimal plot.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where stack can’t help but be distracted by his gorgeous fiancé.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… briefly read through this, but if there are any errors then oh well!! i will continue writing for stack x oc but i physically can’t write smoke with anyone else but annie 😭

“i can’t get ready with you standing behind me like this,” maia condemns, albeit playful as she looked up at stack through the reflection of the mirror. her free hand, the one that’s not holding onto her eyebrow pencil where she’d been previously primming her eyebrows into a perfect accentuation—brushed against the nape of his neck, tugging him down to her lowered height as she embraced him in a soft kiss. “we’re going to be late,” she whispers against his mouth, though she hadn’t taken any initiative in retracting from the embrace either as their soft kisses continued onward.

stack’s hands rounded around her body, his fingers caressed along the velvety silk of the wine colored dress that she’s wearing. to say she looked beautiful would be an understatement; too trivial in its description. she was breathtaking—wearing the silk dress that complimented her slender physique, the thin straps of it perfectly displayed the sharpness of her clavicle and angular curve of her neck. its length proceeded just a bit past her thighs, revealing the sleekness of her long, brown and toned legs. the heels she wore accrued to her height, though still not heightening her fully to stack’s as he still had to lean down to kiss her.

her makeup, though he didn’t fully know all of the intricacies of it all; looked elegant in its display of her dexterity. it had a natural look making her more effervescent and stunning.

stack dressed himself with ease; wearing a black buttoned down, slacks and matching shoes. it differed from his usual attire of white henley’s and sweatpants, but he made an effort of dressing up to par for tonight’s occasion. of course he didn’t look nearly as good as maia, but he complimented his outfit with a gold watch and earrings to make up the effort.

like he said, she looked breathtaking so of course it was challenging for him not to want to ravish her. “just one more kiss,” he murmurs, feeling the upward curve of her lips jutting in an amused smile because she knows it won’t be just one more—it never is—not that she’s complaining in the slightest.

she presses one last kiss against his mouth before pulling away. there’s this mischievous playfulness on his expression that makes maia glare pointedly at him. “what?” she asks accusatorially at him, titling her head slightly to the side.

“what?” stack repeats with a shrug, placating an innocent facade and acting oblivious. “i didn’t do anything.”

he’s right but maia knows him and that look is anything but innocent. “i don’t know what you’re up to or what’s going on in that brain of yours, but whatever it is—no.”

he huffs out a breathy chuckle of amusement as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and tilted his head in thought. “so, if i was thinking about how i wanted a quickie right here–”

“no.” they only had half an hour to get to smoke and annie’s anniversary party. they were already treading dangerous close to the time because of an impromptu shower quickie earlier. smoke repeatedly informed them of the night’s importance — how he wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for annie. and maia didn’t want anything to interfere with her brother-in-law’s wishes especially because of her own insatiable fiancée.

he playfully pouts his lips at her. “but this dress,” he expresses vehemently as his eyes roved over her body in appreciation. his hands decline lower, leaving her waist to glide down her back to her ample ass again. he palms her ass roughly in his hands, feeling the flimsy edging lace of her thong. maia’s breath hitches at his onslaught. she would be lying if she said that her wanting for him hadn’t suddenly increased especially with the way his fingers were practically kneading in her ass.

“we can’t––the party––” she says, biting down harshly on her bottom lip when his hands slide beneath her dress. the coldness against her warm thighs sends shivers down her spine.

“c’mon. we both know that i can be quick,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at her. his hands are squeezing her thighs teasingly. she feels his pinkie finger tugging at the edge of her thong.

“i spent two hours getting ready–” she argues to no avail, her words become moot and forgotten the moment stack presses his thumb against her clothed center and teases circular motions against it.

“it’ll be quick.” his warm mint-smelling breath is hot as he brings his mouth against her ear. “and mess free.” he pecked a gentle kiss against the shell before sucking softly on the skin. she wants to argue that it’s never mess free with them; it’s always ripping of clothing, her lipgloss smeared messily over both of their mouths and faces, her hair disheveled and flailing every which way. they could do quick, mess-free? not so much. but she’s finds that she’s too horny to even bother to argue. she acquiesces defeatedly to temptation, feeling her arousal overpower her.

“just don’t rip off my dress. got it?” she asked with a raised brow and a finger pointed at his chest. “and it has to be really quick.”

stack nods, murmuring a low ‘got it’ under his breath before hungrily slotting his mouth over hers. he’s kissing her with an ravenous vigor, his plaint lips move in an insistent tandem along hers, nipping, licking and tugging with a delicious fervor. “pull down your dress,” he avers as he looked down at her with a carnal lust that has her cunt throbbing in avidity at the thought of him being inside of her again.

maia is docile as she pulls at the straps of her dress pulling it over her shoulders and down her torso until it falls to her feet with a soft thud and she’s standing there in only her soaked underwear. stack licks his lips at the sight of her peaked nipples and brushes a thumb over it; feeling her shiver against him.

“elias,” he knows that whimper, it’s the one that lets him know that she wants to get fucked now. and he’s haste to acquiesce to her plea as his shaking hands reaches for his zipper and tugged it down until his pants were loose around his hips. he steps out of the bunched up fabric before he immediately disregards his briefs, flicking them aside absentmindedly.

his dick’s painstakingly hard and the moment he reaches down to touch it; he hisses through his clenched teeth, overwhelmed by the sensitivity. “t-turn around,” he says, biting on his lip as he spread his precum around and jerked himself off.

maia turns away and places her hands against the counter’s smooth surface as she arched her ass in the air. “fuck!” he groans at the sight of her, seeing strings of her slick slipping down her thighs. once he’s hard enough, he steps behind maia; nearly towering his six foot body over hers.

he leans forward and presses a kiss against her shoulder and spine, whispering another soft platitude of his affection before he levels himself. with one hand around his cock and the other gripping her hip, stack aligns himself at her hole — then, slowly and torturously, rolled his hips forward as he stretched her open. his throat clicks, body shakes at the intrusion. maia mewls loudly, the sound ricochets off of the high walls, boomeranging around as it reverberated in his pounding ears. he slides into her with a slow groan, her name slips between his parted lips — broken and soft like a prayer, weaving between low expletives as his mind and body submits mercilessly to her.

she bites on her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as her fingers curled around the marble of the bathroom’s countertop. “elias,” he stills, overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of her. but it’s maia’s hand reaching airily behind her and grabbed at his thigh, that encourages him to continue. she chokes on a gasp, her eyes prickle with tears as he continued his penetration.

his dick clefts through her organs, stretching past her perineum and curling deeply inside of her until he’s bottoming her out at her hilt. “mm,” stack’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the lewdness of the sight; his precum already slipping out of her hole, his dick buried deeply inside of her, her hole stretching and gaping around the shape of him, her walls fluttering, his pelvis pressed so far against her ass that it feels like their bodies are molded together.

“baby, do something.” she whimpers, peering over at him over her shoulder.

stack nods, tightening the grip he held on her hips as he slowly withdrew himself out of her ass. maia whimpers again, body shaking at the feeling of him brushing against her walls. he pulls out only halfway, before he’s thrusting back inside of her with a vigorous exertion. “fuck,” it’s a repeated tandem — him retracting from her warmth, only to be buried deeply inside of her and brushing against her g-spot in his return.

the noisiness of their sex entices him; his balls pressing against her ass every time she pushes back and fucks herself down onto his cock has his mind dizzying. maia feels lightheaded, like she’s one breath away from falling over. her grip on the counter slips and nearly causes her to keel forward, but stack’s reflexes are agile and he’s wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her slightly and in an upright position.

“i got you, baby. i got you,” he coos.

the palm of his hand glides down until he’s caught at the center of her cunt; he brushes through the coils of hair, already feeling the wetness of her arousal drenching his fingers as he spreads her open. maia bites on her lower lip, falling mercilessly against his chest as he gently stroked her.

he teases her labia first, running his forefinger and middle finger in oscillating circles around her clitoris as he gathered her slickness. he penetrates his fingers deeper, flexing them in a curl as he sought out her g-spot — feeling the tightness of her cunt convulsing wantonly around his fingers. “you feel so fucking good, baby.” he murmurs, adding to the stimulation as he squeezes at her tender breast. maia lets out a choked up sob, nodding her head as pushed her ass back; catching his cock at her entrance.

“y-you do too,” she cries, rolling her hips as she feels her legs shake.

stack slowly withdraws his fingers all the way out, sliding them up across her clit. then, he’s working himself inside of her again –– pressing upward with his fingers and nudging a bit deeper in his penetration. and it’s so overwhelming that maia has to curl her hand around his wrist to anchor herself for leverage.

he thumbs at her nipple again, feeling it go taut from his touch. she whimpers, reaching her hand back to grab at his head as she deepens the kiss. it’s filthy, with both of their teeth clashing and salvia passing messily back and forth between their mouths, and from this angle he’s mostly kissing the bottom of her lip and chin but he doesn’t deter away from embrace. “look at how pretty you are baby,” he murmurs. maia tiredly turns her head and glances at herself in the mirror; her makeup’s completely ruined — streaks of eyeliner and concealer clung against her cheeks and her hair had fallen from its coiff of curls.

she looks disheveled and unkempt but she knows the sight that stack was really referring to was the sight of his dick sliding deliciously in and out of her. from the way she’s arched she could see each penetration perfectly — how his own face contorted in concentration as he repeatedly fucked her from behind. stack marvels at how her ass recoils and reclaims his dick with every deep penetration. he loved fucking her in every position but this one was his favorite — he loved seeing the deep stretch marks decorated across her hips and the creases of skin from the cellulite on her ass ricochet in accordance to his fevered thrusts.

the smell of their sex lingered thickly in the air, their wet skin slapping against each other’s ricocheted throughout the room and her breathy moans rings in his ears; all while all eight inches of his dick continue to pound unrelenting inside of her. his hands grip her hips, holding her in place to keep up the momentum. but the vigorous pacing of his thrust knocks her off of her balance as she lurches forward with every delicious stroke he slides into her. he bites his lip, seeing the dark markings of his hand prints already bruising her body.

he rolls his hips, his pelvic bone drags slowly against her before he’s pulling halfway out. he groans through his retreat; feeling her wetness shroud him and the flutter of her hole dragging him back in. “perfect. so fuckin’ perfect,”

he shakes uncontrollably, fucking her in such slow strokes that it drives maia insane. she feels every inch of him, every ridge and vein of his dick that slides into her without hesitation, every curl that he presses into her, it’s burned into her memory. “you—fuck, always take me so good, baby,” he murmurs, shakily, nose flaring as the sweet smell of her arousal invades his senses. “like you’re made for me,”

he angles himself deeper with his dick repeatedly brushing against her g-spot. pressed pelvis-to-ass, he continues to fuck into her at a rapid pace. feeling her hole chase after him with every withdraw. every clench and tug has her toes curling in her heels.

“i love you so fucking much,” he slaps his hand against her ass, watching it recoil. “this pussy was made for me, yeah?”

she nods vigorously, breathing laboredly. “it’s yours. just yours.” sweat beads his furrowed brows, his body’s hot as he tucks his face against her shoulder. “right there!” it’s a work of tandem; one hand fondled her tits while the other continued its onslaught on her quim, fingering her until he feels her cunt swell around his fingers. she emanates a high whine; arching her back as she feels her orgasm shroud her. the tension in her muscles alleviate as she succumbs to her orgasm, her fingers loosen from his wrist and her chest heaves as she lulls from the exertion.

she barely given a moment’s recovery before he’s thrusting back inside of her; he brushes his pelvis against her ass and lingers there, holding her down by her back again as he hastens his vigorous thrusts.

“that’s it baby. yeah, just like that.” he says through bared teeth, feeling his abdomen clench and his balls tighten at his own precipice. perspiration slicks his skin, his chest heaves from his exertion and his lip bruises from how hard he’s digging his teeth into the skin. but he disregards that, only focusing on her and how his cock slides into her with one final cant of his hips before he’s cuming messily inside of her.

he moans, sprawling himself across her back as his dick lurched through his release. he lays there on top of her until his breathing lulls and his cock goes flaccid. he then pulls out of her watching string of their body fluid drip from her hole down to her thighs. “mm,” she murmurs, licking her lips as she attempts to lull her breathing. she feels the warmth of stack’s breath against her back. he kisses her spine before slowly slipping out of her. he reaches down and grabs ahold of a wad of tissue and cleans between her legs.

its the sound of his phone buzzing that has him temporarily pulling away. digging through his pockets, he retrieved his phone and looks down at the screen with a new message from smoke. “it’s smoke askin’ where we’re at.” he says, moving his deft fingers across the screen to reply to his brother’s message.

“what time is it?” she questions, watching as stack absentmindedly set his phone aside and stood steadily to his feet again.

“8:30.” he grabs a washcloth and cleans his dick of their fluids before tugging his boxers back over his hips. “we’ve got enough time. the party doesn’t start til 9.”

“i have to do my makeup and hair all over again!” maia laments, narrowing a pointed look at him. “this is the last time i let you convince me into a quickie.” she beseeches, to no avail, because they both know that her threats hold no actual merit.

stack chuckles as he walks up to her and presses a kiss against her shoulder. “i’ll tell him we got a flat tire on the way over. but i mean since we’re runnin’ already late…”

maia playfully shoved at stack’s shoulder as he laughed at her condemning roll of the eyes. “go in the room and grab me a clean pair of underwear while i retouch my makeup.”

“yes ma’am.” he chuckles before disappearing into the bedroom.

[siqueth]

TAKE 4 🎬 -> + Stack. M x Reader+

Anothhhheeerrrr Stack draft

Summary: In which Stack likes your perfume a little too much. Why, he could just eat you up…

Contains: my completely nonexistent self control, cursing, teasing, flirting, manhandling, oral (f.receiving), Stack is vicious with it, pussydrunk!Stack, no seriously he’s captain eat ‘em down🫡 in this, overstimulation, manhandling, petnames, everyone has a country accent, this is for the ✋🏽 strictly for the ✊🏽, kissing, biting, scent kink?, established relationship, you really need to stop playing with him before you get preg- 🤠whoops! aaaannnnnnd that’s all for today folks!!

A/N- thanks for all the get better wishes and comments<333 y’all are hilarious😂 proud to announce that I’m not sick anymore and my lung is much better so eyyyow!

MY CREW @thefirst-ofus @simpingfor-wakasa @hotcommodityyy @thabiddie23 @myislandbunny @funrabbit @ayeeeitsmiracle @known-only-by-the-insane @enticingmelanin @brattyfics @aizawaspersonalassistant @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @spookysanta @szatears @thegreatlibraryofalex @ariesthetouchdeprivedgirl @thequeenkhlo @saintsssrow LETS GO😂🤝🏽🎀

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

You’d never finish your checklist like this. Pointedly ignoring the eyes boring suspiciously into the side of your skull- even humming every couple seconds. However, it was all part of your plan unbeknownst to Stack.

As soon as you came through the door of the joint, ready to help check and tally inventory like you always did in the middle of each week- walking in and kissing him on his jaw like you always did with a soft ‘all ready here, baby’- he immediately noticed it.

A scent.

It was sweet, full, with a crisp nectarine linger to it. Like a freshly bitten apple. Made him taste the sugar of you in the very air he breathed as you breezed past him. For a moment he was frozen; confusion along with a special kind of want took over his face while he wracked his brain for what exactly you did to yourself. You looked the same, pretty n’ heavenly- sounded the same too but something….he swears he’s not crazy. But, you’re acting normal so he tries to do the same, following you to stand behind the bar while you worked. Humming softly as you flip through their records and inventory.

He doesn’t let up, almost in a trance, his eyes fixed on you as the minutes go by.

“God forbid you have anything else to do ’sides eyeball me”, you’re messing with him, trying not to grin at how much closer he’s gotten while studying you. Trying to focus on the lists and feign indifference even as he “subtly” creeps closer to you, dipping his head to trace his nose down from your ear to your chin leaving goosebumps in his wake. The way his lips ghost over the underside of your jaw make you tremble, gripping the pen in your hand that much tighter, you swallow down a breathy whine before shaking him off you. Schooling your face into a scandalized type of shock, you gasp.

“What’s gotten into you? Breathin’ down my neck like I owe you money or somethin’!”

Your fussing barely even reaches his ears and the way you try to bay him away just makes that mouthwatering scent of yours float him higher. Don’t get him wrong- you always smelled good but this was on another tab entirely.

He felt damn near tipsy…

How could you not smell you? Did the rest of you smell the same or only certain areas? Stack knows he ain’t crazy but you’re close to taking him there.

“What is that?”

The usually smooth timbre of his voice sounds rougher from his arousal, bass in his low drawl making your heart skips so hard you jolt, sheer anticipation having your nerves go haywire as you fight the slow heat licking it’s way up your stomach.

“What is what, baby?” You sound confused but he knows better- felt the way you jumped when he asked. Unfortunately, like him, you were a damn good liar and he’d need to have a lot of patience and time to get answers. Time he didn’t have because he was already fattening up in his slacks already.

“Stop playin’ w’me. You did somethin’ different today but I just can’t prove it”, his eyes narrow like that’ll help him figure it out but you’re dedicated to your (false) innocence.

“Can’t prove anything because I ain’t done anything”, riling him up as he pulls back to stare you dead in your eyes, whispering low.

“Oh I know you did.” You keep your eyes locked on his as that familiar itch burns to life inside you. Biting your lip, you lean your head back until your mouth is right up against his ear. It’s a dangerous game but that’s the fun. The thrill.

“And wouldn’t you like to know?”

You’re for sure trying to kill him. Groaning, Stack can’t help himself, taking another deep inhale of your smell, he feels his blood start to simmer. You sigh breathily, teasing him with a barely there brush of your ass against his dick. Stack freezes before nodding slowly- finally piecing it together. “You tryna get ate up ain’t you?” You try to suppress another grin but he makes it too easy. Huffing out a light laugh you shrug him off. Muttering,

“Asks the one tryin’ to eat me up..”

“What?”

“What??”

You speak almost at the same time but Stack can’t be bothered to indulge you right now, earning a delighted little moan from you when he lands a heavy smack on your ass.

From there he’s on autopilot, pressing himself firm against you and sucking bruises on the soft skin of your neck. Loud, needy gasps spill from your lips making his head spin, large hands grabbing all over you intensely while you pant and god help you when Stack purrs in your ear,

“..smell so good mamas..”

There’s a sharp pulse of warmth in your clit- like a heartbeat as you keen. Arousal laced adrenaline washing over you in waves. Stack is caught in a mix between smelling you and touching wherever he can reach and you rush to get back on track.

“S-Stack! Waiiit-!” But he’s in a world of his own, spinning you quickly to face him, muffling your less than genuine protests with his lips. Broad tongue not missing a beat- licking firmly across your teeth before dipping hotly into your mouth. You feel so good, you’re shaking. Eyes fluttering back as your hands find themselves on his wide shoulders.

“Stac- oohf!”

Huffing out when the air is knocked clean out of your chest as you’re mindlessly manhandled onto the top of the counter; dizzy from how fast he’s moving, layers of your poofy dress get thrown up around your waist before he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, massaging greedily at the plump softness. The nerves from before were nothing compared to how they were now. Watching dazed as Stack licks his lips like a wolf, eyes steeped to dark chocolate while he presses his nose into the underside of your knee, skimming down to your ankles.

Letting out another wrecked groan, it’s just as he thought.

It’s all over you. That delicious smell.

Your pulse skyrockets when you feel your panties being tugged at, biting your lip in heated anticipation. Stack shoves his face in your chest, taking another drag of your smell and whining before lapping a fat stroke up to your neck from your cleavage, humming drunkenly as he nuzzles into you.

Now Stack has always been a wanting and wanted man. You’d seen him be both but you’ve never seen him like this- so… desperate. You were almost concerned. Stack brings his face level to yours again and just the look of him has your stomach clenching.

“What is that smell, pretty? Drivin’ me goddamn crazy..”

He grounds out, taking your mouth in another filthy kiss before you can respond. The hand tugging at your knickers end up ripping them clean off you, your gasp swallowed up by his tongue in your mouth.

That perfume might be the best 20 bucks you’ve ever spent.

When you bought it, it was only because you immediately liked the smell. Sweet, crisp, with a linger to it. Before you left to see Stack, you’d sprayed it on various points of your body- on both sides of your neck, middle of your chest, both wrists, behind both knees and ankles. You liked it so you knew Stack would love it. But this much?

Stack pulls away with your lower lip between his teeth, making you hiss- trying to catch your breath. He rises to his height, no longer bent over you as he starts to undress. Tearing off his jacket and shirt, thick muscles of his arms and chest hypnotize you before he drops to his knees, ripping a gasp from your throat when you’re yanked roughly to the edge of the counter.

“..good, smell so good…”, the words are a soft hush into your skin, almost like he’s talking to himself.

“N’ wet too..”

Shivering, you barely get the chance to prop yourself up on your elbows before he’s on you.

The first lick up your cunt has you crying. Stack feels his cock throb as your wetness coats his tastebuds, long tongue lapping up and down your pussy in hot, thorough swipes. Between your smell and your taste, it was only a matter of time until he was completely gone off you. The nasty moan he lets out shakes you to your core as your eyes water, shaky hips grinding up into his greedy maw while you sob in pleasure.

Hulking arms lock around your thighs, holding you in place as Stack suctions his mouth over your clit, working the poor nub over with his tongue. You yelp, hands shooting out to grab his thick arms, needing to ground yourself. With a sigh, Stack pops wetly off your clit, only giving you a second to gather yourself before lapping his tongue into your tight hole. Undulating that perfect fucking muscle in hard thrusts then up and down through your slit, your eyes fluttering back into your skull at the pleasure running up your spine. Wet, wrecked moans bubble freely from your mouth as Stack buries his mouth deeper into your heat. Smooching your bud in a gentle kiss before slurping it into his mouth, laving his tongue against the underside.

Oh God. Your eyes slam shut- jaw dropping in a deafening wail, manicured nails digging into his arms as you’re abruptly flung off the edge you’ve been trying so hard to hold on to, thighs tensing in his hold as you shatter.

Your back is arched to an almost painful degree, coming so hard euphoria sears through your every nerve, leaving you a mess under Stack’s tongue that doesn’t stop. Licking at you hungrily until you’re pushing at his head.

Reluctantly, he takes his mouth off you, burying his face in your inner thigh, huffing in your sugary scent like a drug. Your heart pounds as you try to catch your breath, holding yourself up on quivering arms so you can look at him. Preparing to move off the counter, you start to close your legs but Stack stops you- peppering heavy kissing all over your thighs and lower stomach.

Rekindling that heat inside you.

Making a noise of confusion, you try to move again when he stops you by pressing a kiss on your lower lips before moving to look you in the eyes. You two make quite the sight with your flushed face and his blown pupils. Cheeks dimpling as he licks his lips, the gold glinting at you while savoring your taste. You let out a shaky moan as you watch him. Fuck it being the best perfume you’ve ever bought, at this point- it was the best thing you’ve ever bought in your life and Stack’s next words confirm it.

“M’not done with you yet, sweet thing..”

And he wouldn’t be until he was bathed in you.

I’m so happy to be back I mf missed yall🥹😭heyyyyyy sistaaaas🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🥰!!

[siqueth]

…… this is ur fault m’ now obsessed with dad bf!smoke .. he is now who lives in my brain whom i selfship wif ma self…. 😞

We need to wake it up actually!! You don’t gotta tell me twice🫡

cw: 18+ mdni, smut, dad bf!smoke, daddy kink (icky)

Just imagine Smoke giving you a warning after you been (kinda accidentally but kinda not) getting on his nerve all day. Smoke’s definitely the type to only give a warning once, he’ll give you a chance to correct yourself cause he taught you better than that.

“Yer pushin it lil girl, you get in your right mind or I’ll fix it for ya.”

You chose the latter.

Definitely drove you to some backwoods on the side of the road taking a crate to sit on and whooped your tail raw. And you’re a crying, babbling mess, sobbing your “ ‘M sorry pa!” and “Daddy I’ll be good, I promise.”

Course you will, now that he’s teaching you the consequences of your actions. But it’s not enough (is it ever?) he’s getting it through that pretty head of yours.

He’s fucking you silly right against that car, your face pressed against the window while fat tears stream down your face. Fat cock stretching your sopping walls, the whole car rocking with every brutal thrust into you.

“You be good ‘nd listen to your Papa from now on, huh baby?”

And your choking on moans, can’t even think while he rams into you, and his large calloused hands wrap around the back of your neck. Calling your name for an answer, to use your words. Like he taught you, be articulate.

“Yes sirr,” it’s a slur of words, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, you hiccup, “I pro- I promise! Hnngh- I’ll be a goooood girl from now on.”

He grunts, giving your ass a nice smack and rubbing your nape with his thumb. He grumbles,

“That’s a good girl. Daddy’s good girl.”

a/n: I swear to God I was gonna keep it demure and cutesy today. But everytime the girl who loves older men be woken up and i suddenly got something to say!!

[siqueth]

Just thinking about sitting in Smokes lap while he smokes.

cw: 18+ mdni, mild smut, modern au, lite, age gap, suggestive content, pet names, daddy used once.

The music is always playing from the speakers around his house, weather is be blues or jazz, neo soul or 70s r&b. He sits on the back porch with your perched sideways in his lap so he can see your brown skin in the glow. The older man’s mocha brown eyes trailing all over you while he plays with your braids that he loves to pull on so much.

He’s waiting. For what exactly?

For you to finish rolling his cigarette.

Even though you can go and buy them from the store, something about his soul is genuinely old yet authentic. He’s not trying. He’d rather you or Stack do it for him (and Stack would rather you do it because hes told Smoke time and time again, theyre grown now and he should be able to do it himself). But he can’t, he’s not good at it, something about having being still and calm just for the few moments spikes his anxiety for some reason. A difference from his cool demeanor, that irrationality that’s always ready to pop out shows in that simple instant.

So he lets you roll for him, be it a cigarette or a blunt, he watches you to it like it’s second nature. Put the finished product to his plump lips and spark it to life.

“Good job mama, thanks.” He’ll exhale the tobacco, patting your thigh in appreciation.

Sometimes he’ll watch you smoke, the clouds forming between your two tone lips. Loves to shotgun whatever he’s smoking with you, brushing your lips ever to lightly and letting you blow the smoke into him.

Fucking adores how gorgeous you look. Your curls out of your face and enjoying the moment. Doesn’t laugh when you cough because you’re not used to it, simple corrections on how to smoke better, let it flow through you. Elijah just admires you even more, let’s you ramble on before kissing your shoulder blade. Gripping your waist and pulling you closer to cuddle into him.

And you adore how handsome he looks smoking, clearing his stress filled mind, the easy feeling taking over his body. It’s gentle, quiet as green eyes by Erykah Badu plays, the sunset basking on your skin.

And just maybe, he fucks you till your dumb right there, smoke blowing past you as Elijah watches from the side of his eyes your face contort in pleasure, your back to his chiseled abs, riding him in reversal. Your hands claw at his knees, hiccups and moans fill the air his eyes dance at the ripple of your ass against him with every bounce you make on his dick.

“Fuck- that’s it baby, fuck your Daddy so nice.”

a/n: something about Smoke is so sensual yet so soft to me, so dad bf, loving and caring, gruff yet understanding. idk.

most recent masterlist.

[siqueth]

When I Was Your Man [ Annie x Smoke ]

⚠️: Smut, dirty talks, nasty, pimp, manipulation, emotional cheating

A/N : this story is still not a FULL SERIE , might have 5 parts or less (I initially said 3 but yikes 😬)

Part 2

Annie gave her boyfriend a look.The lumberjack understood, stepped back inside, closing the door behind him. She let out a long sigh, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Smoke," she said flatly, ignoring the fast rhythm of her heart.

Not two, not even three, but seven years had collapsed into one another since he disappeared without a word. She had gone crazy, asking everyone in the Delta where he was, never once did she believe  the rumors about him and Stack running off to Chicago... not until she got tired of waiting.

Now, here he was. Handsomer. Stronger. Sharp figure. Certainly richer.

He probably thought she would take him back. Because they had a child. Because he used to be her soulmate.

"Ain't even let me in." Smoke sucked his teeth, glancing over her shoulders

"We weren't expecting any visitors." She said, lowering her gaze to her feet. "It would be disrespectful"

Nonetheless, she had moved on. Anders helped her grieve, sitting at her bedside while she mourned her daughter. He was there through the uncertainty, not knowing if his feelings would ever be returned. That man loved her until she learned to love herself again.

The nights were torrid — still were — and he adored every inch of the body Smoke had rejected when he turned his back on her.

Annie was irritated. Angry.

Not just because she still harbored lingering feelings for Smoke, but because he had the nerve to insult Anders just by showing up.

How brave of him, coming back to her house like it was a damn mill.

Annie was no pawn to be taken and discarded once someone got their fill.

"Just get outta here, Smoke," she snapped, rolling her eyes and slamming the door in his face.

Fuck.

Not without another glance through the window, Smoke headed to his car, jumped in, and started the engine.

They took a room at Lizzie's boarding house in the center of town.

Stack was probably waiting for him there.

The dusty scent in the air clung to his nostrils. Children waved at him, small merchants holding up their goods for him to see.

He pulled up to Lizzie's, stepped out of the car, and without so much as a "mornin'" to the receptionist, headed straight to the room.

"So? You pounded the ol' damn cake?"

His twin greeted him.

"Somebody already blew the candle out. Tch."

Stack nearly fell off his imaginary chair, the toothpick in his mouth stabbing his tongue.

He couldn't believe Smoke's words.

Annie? That damn Elijah-my-love girl?

He jumped onto the bed, pulling off his hat, ready to hear more of that story.

"And whatcha gonna do?" he asked, excitement creeping into his eyes.

"Huh?" Smoke replied.

Stack grinned teasingly.

It wasn't in his brother's methods to give up on what belonged to him.

Smoke had issues. Real bad ones. Worse than Stack's, for sure.

He, Stack, would've simply turned the page and looked for another chick, there were plenty in this backwater town: bigger, slimmer, bustier, juicier...

But Smoke?

He would dare the devil himself before letting Annie be taken off his chest.

And right now, the devil was that poor guy who had no clue the kind of shit he put his feet in.

Seeing that calm and steady tone with which Smoke spoke to him, Stack realized his brother had already come up with a plan.

"You still talk to Crystal?" the older asked.

"Hol' on! You ain't goin' to smash Crys' lil cookie, right?" Stack shot back, straightening up. "Poor thing—Smokey finally resolves to visit her bootyhole only to spit on Annie"

Smoke rolled his eyes, lighting his cigarette, uncaring of the big NO SMOKING sign on the wall.

"She still workin'?" he asked, exhaling a grey cloud off his lips.

Stack's brown eyes blinked once, twice, then popped wide open. That crooked grin never leaving his face.

"You such a bitch," he laughed loudly, flashing his golden tooth. He saw straight through Smoke's scheme and loved every damn inch of it.

Mirroring his brother's ecstatic state, Smoke crooked a smile, a gleam dancing in his eyes.

"Tell ha to come by the juke tonight."

What that new man of hers really got, huh? They were all about to find out. Wasn't a soul in the Delta who could keep their crook down once Crystal walked by.

Sending a whore to play with Annie's new man, that was pretty low. And exactly Smoke's kind of dirty.

🎀•🎀🎀🎀•🎀🎀•🎀🎀•🎀🎀🎀🎀

Night embraced the whole town. Outside crickets were singing, the wind transporting their song throughout the whole neighborhood. Light still shined in some houses, others drown in darkness.

And within the herbalist shelter, arguments rose up.

Annie was opposed to the idea of going to the juke joint, the only thing she needed was to stay here and make love to Anders. She craved it, especially after seeing Smoke earlier the day.

"Or, we can stay there and—" she brushed her fingertips over his muscular torso, gently pinching his male nipples. Annie knew all Anders' hot spots : nipples, neck, balls...The man groaned of pleasure — that woman was such a tease.

Anders peeped at her big breasts hanging in the transparent white blouse she was wearing. Her breath hitched, making her fat tits bounced back and forth, slamming each other in a sweaty, sticky squelch sound.

Fuck he wanted to grab these brown hard milking titties in his mouth, dragging his wet tongue across every inch, slurping damn last juice outta them..

"Mmh—maybe, you want these ?" Annie backed into the wall. Crudely, she loosened her cloth and freed her large breasts, nipples hard and swollen. She glanced shamelessly at Anders, cupping and squeezing her boobs lasciviously.

She rolled her sweet nipples between her fingers, biting her lower lips at the sensation. "Come on, Andy. Ain't you a man ?"

Anders' cock throbbed under his now, wet pre-cum boxer. His bulge was so big, one mouth could barely hold it. He couldn't wait any longer, the blood flowing up his crook making it pulsating with thrill and decadent pleasure. He threw himself into Annie, purposely caressing her with his erected dick.

"Mmh—Fuck, you so hard for me Andy."

She felt his growing arousal pressed against her inner thigh, gliding over it.

"Damn, Annie, what you done to me," he said, voice pleading as he buried his face in her neck, brushing her hands away from her chest and grabbing those meaty breasts  himself.

Annie felt his tongue drag slow and wet down her neck, dipping low to eat the swollen buds of her nipples. He sucked those tight, hard tits into his mouth like he was starving, biting and gulping them down with hunger.

She squirmed under his touch, her thighs nestling with his big cock between them. 

Smoke would've already taken her on the mattress, spreading her cheeks and pound hard inside her cunt.

Bullshit she screamed internally, chasing the thought of that ghost man out her mind. Anders was not Smoke. And right this moment, the only man who mattered was Andy.

" Shit—babe, stop the tease" she clung her palm around his wood, pulling the tool out of his wet underwear.

Annie slid her hands along the engorged flesh, stroking Anders dong with a feverish heat.

Her whole body shaking from the rising  closeness of his dick pressing the verge of her clit.

She could felt it now, her pussy juice dripping on her pantie. She was soaked, drenched with an almost urgent indecency.

With him, she always had to take the lead.

She pushed on the mattress, forcing Anders to sit as she climbed on top, straddling him with no hesitation.

Her soaked panties pressed against his throbbing cock, back and forth, grinding slowly.

" you wan' me to ride that fat dick huh."

she whispered, mouth watering, her voluptuous lips brushing his ear.

Hurriedly she tugged her panties to the side , her vulva's sensitive skin squelching immediately against the veiny brown dick.

Annie sank down, inch by inch, taking him whole deep inside her cunt.

" Yea—ah, shit, it's good. Your dick so big" she moaned, her lips parted, lining a trail of drool "Yeah—Fuck babe, you love this fat pussy huh ? Shit—" She ground down on him, her ass clapping against his thighs, the cheeks bouncing, jiggling like water balloons with every commanding thrust.

She sure loved big crooks. Black or brown. She remembered how she used to ride Smoke's huge wood years ago.

Fuck, with Anders, that twin finally found a match.

Truth was Andy's dick was less big than smoke's. But, that shit was veiny !

She had often caught him stroking it in the bathroom. On God, that man was too shy to directly asked her for a blowjob.

Their intimate dynamic was not unpleasant, Annie sure liked to take the lead sometimes...yes, only sometimes.

"Damn B—Annie, I'm cumming"

Such a nasty man — he was fighting the urge to call her a bitch. Dirty talks were his kink, she figured out. However, Anders hold Annie to a so high standard he never dared.

She smirked, holding tight on his chest, let a spoon of air melting inside her vagina puffing out a wet queef.

"Aargh- you such a whor—mean, you so mean Annie"

Smoke would have not hesitated. That sweet fucker, would've call her every kind of filthy names. He knew she loved it.

Anders, gripped her ass, bouncing it harder and faster on his swollen, pruney dick, until they climaxed.

Annie felt the warm fluid filling her cunt, excitement making her tits milk.

"Can we stay home now ?" She asked adorably

"Don't be like that. Let's go have fun" he replied.

Had he known what was coming, Anders might've actually listened her complaints.