#stacks x black reader

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Hallelujah Heat (1)

Summary

In a small Mississippi Delta town steeped in scripture, reputation, and whispers, Ise Bakersfield has always walked the righteous path as the preacher’s only daughter. Pressed skirts, quiet Sundays, and eyes that cast down low. However, something or rather someone has come to stir the fire within her.

Stack "Elias" Moore is Magnolia Lane’s smooth-talking neighborhood bad boy. It all starts with lingering glances on her porch and soon becomes a heat that haunts her thoughts. What begins as innocent avoidance quickly turns to dangerous curiosity. Their worlds aren’t meant to touch, but temptation knows no bounds... and Ise is about to find out what happens when desire dares to cross the line.

Characters: Ise Bakersfield (OC) x Stack " Elias" Moore

Warning: Vulgar Language, Sexual content, Angst, Slow Burn & More..

Chapters: PART 2 , PART 3

A/N: I thought about an idea early this morning and was like, "I'm writing this."😭 Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!

NOT EDITED

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Stack “ Elias” Moore lived five houses down on Magnolia Lane. He has been there since the day he was born, just like Ise Bakersfield, but they moved in different circles.

Ise was the preacher’s only daughter. Very polished, pressed, and proper, with her hair in soft waves and her ankles hidden beneath hems that didn’t dare misbehave. Folks called her a good girl, said she’d marry a deacon’s son and play piano on Sundays just like her mama.

Stack was the boy the church elders warned her about.

Too slick for his own good, with that lazy grin and a mouth full of sugar and sin. Rumor was he ran liquor behind the juke joint, played cards with married women, and always came home with lipstick on his collar. He wore gold in his mouth like he was daring the Lord to pull them out .

They never truly spoke. Not a real conversation, anyway. But that didn’t mean Ise hadn’t noticed him. She just made sure she noticed in silence.

That evening, the sky was the color of sweet tea and smoke. Ise was sitting on the porch swing in her Sunday best, even though it was Tuesday. A hymn book in her lap. Legs crossed at the ankle like her mama taught her, but her eyes were sinning.

Across the way, Stack leaned against the wood post at his daddy’s gate, lighting a cigarette with one hand and watching the street like it owed him something. The flame kissed his face long enough for her to see the hunger behind his easy look.

He caught her watching.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t wave.

Just strolled across the road slowly, cigarette dangling, voice dragging like jazz on a scratchy record.

“Evenin’, Miss Bakersfield.”

She closed the hymn book but didn’t stand. “Didn’t think you knew my name.”

“I know a lotta things,” he said, stopping just shy of her porch. And I know good girls ain’t supposed to stare at boys like me.”

She should’ve flushed. Should’ve gone inside.

Instead, she tilted her head. “Nobody told you to come over here. Betta be careful folks’ll think you’re sweet on the preacher’s daughter.”

Stack grinned, slow and dangerous. “I ain’t sweet on nobody. Just got a curiosity for quiet things with heat underneath.”

And for the first time, Ise let her smile rise. It was sharp, knowing, unbothered by God or gossip.

“Careful, boy,” she warned. “Curiosity like that? That’s how folks catch fire.”

He exhaled smoke toward the evening sky.

“Maybe I like the burn.” Stack exhaled again, slow and steady, letting the smoke curl around the space between them. He didn’t climb the steps. He just stood there on the ground like he knew his place, or maybe like he was daring her to invite him up.

Ise tilted her head a little more, her voice soft but laced with bite. “You curious about me, but your curiosity needs to focus on how you gon’ keep screwin’ Mr. Chase’s wife, Lottie.”

The corner of Stack mouth lifted. Not in shock or in shame. Just that same lazy, low grin like he was half-impressed.

“Sounds like somebody been keepin’ tabs on me.” He leaned in, voice syrup-slick.

“Now is the church girl judgin’ me… or she got her own curiosity?”

Ise’s fingers tightened around the hymn book. She didn’t blink. “You don’t rattle me, Stack.”

He chuckled, eyes glittering beneath the porch light. “Didn’t say I did.”

She should’ve gone inside, but she didn’t. Lord help her, part of her liked that he wasn’t embarrassed about Lottie Chase. That he didn’t flinch. That he could smile with smoke on his tongue and sin on his breath and still act like she was the only thing worth noticing on that porch.

Static stepped back, not retreating, just giving her space like he knew he’d be on her mind anyway.

“Well,” he said, flicking ash to the dirt. “I’ll leave you to your hymns and thoughts, Miss Bakersfield.”

“Goodnight, Stack.”

He turned with that same easy swagger, but not before he let his gaze fall on her lips. It was just as long enough to make her chest ache and wonder what his mouth felt like.

However, she was a Bakersfield. A preacher’s daughter. There was a reputation to maintain.

So she lifted her chin and swung gently on the porch like her heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to drown out every song in that hymn book.

An hour after Stacks left her on the porch, Ise was still pacing in her room, hands twisting the hem of her slip, heart ticking like a clock that couldn’t calm down.

Her mama’s voice floated up from the kitchen. “Ise, baby, come on down here and wash your hands. I need you to help me jar this marmalade before it gets cool.”

Ise blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Coming, Mama.”

The kitchen was full of citrus and sugar, the smell of orange and peach marmalade thick in the air like perfume. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring the last pot, wearing her floral apron and humming gospel under her breath.

“I need you to start with those sterilized jars. Use the funnel, don’t make a mess,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

Ise rolled up her sleeves and got to work, carefully spooning the golden orange spread into the jars, the rhythm of it keeping her grounded.

Halfway through sealing the lids, the phone rang. A sharp trill that cut through the soft clinking of jars. Her mama wiped her hands and picked it up.

“Hello? … Oh Lord, Carla’s in labor? Already?” Her mother’s tone shifted quickly, moving from curiosity to command. “I’ll be right there. Y’all keep her calm and don’t let her get up. She dilated last time before she even knew it.”

Hanging up, she turned to Ise. “That was your Auntie Winnie. Carla's contractions five minutes apart. I gotta go. I’ll take the birth kit and head over.”

She grabbed her bag from the pantry but paused at the door. “Before you do anything else after jarin’, take this box over to Miss Frances’ house. She bought these last week and I told her she’d have ’em today. I don’t care what’s goin’ on, I made a promise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ise said, drying her hands.

By the time she finished sealing the last lid, twilight had deepened. The walk to Mrs. Frances’ house wasn’t long, just a few blocks down on the east side, but the box was heavy and the evening air still clung with warmth.

When she reached the steps of the small yellow house with the chipped shutters, she paused.

Blues music drifted out from the open window. Smooth and loud. The clink of bottles, laughter, deep voices floating like smoke through the screen door. Something was going on inside. A gathering. Maybe a party.

She knocked anyway, balancing the box on her hip.

After a few seconds, the door creaked open, revealing Cornbread, Mrs. Frances’ youngest boy, tall and sturdy with a low cut and an unsure look in his eyes. His expression froze when he saw who it was.

“Miss Ise? Uh… what you doin’ here?”

She raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Droppin’ off your mama’s marmalade. My mama promised it’d be here today.”

Cornbread looked like he’d swallowed a brick. “You… you ain’t gon’ say nothin’, are you? My mama think I’m just havin’ a couple boys over to help fix the gutters.”

Ise gave a small shrug, adjusting the box in her hands. “I don’t care what y’all doin’ long as you ain’t burnin’ nothin’ down. Where you want this?”

He blinked. “Uh, I take this, I guess.”

She was about to hand him the box when she heard it. A voice, low and cocky from inside the living room. Smooth as honey and just as sticky.

“Nigga, you sure you wanna bet that much? Your luck runnin’ thinner than your hairline.”

Ise froze.

That voice.

She peered past Cornbread and saw Stack, sitting at the card table, legs stretched out, suspenders hanging loose off his shoulders, surrounded by two other guys laughing and drinking from red cups. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the smoke curling up like a spell.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

Something pulled at her, something reckless and curious. This world wasn’t hers. Not the dim lights, not the smell of beer and cigarettes, not the muffled bass of a stereo vibrating against the walls.

But she wanted to know.

She wanted to know what it felt like to be inside Stack orbit when he wasn’t leaning on porches in the moonlight, teasing her with half-truths and daring smiles. She wanted to see him with his guard down. Wanted to see the version of him that didn’t talk in riddles.

She shifted the box into Cornbread’s arms. “Actually… before I go, could I get a glass of water? That walk had me thirsty.”

Cornbread looked startled but polite. “Y-yeah, of course. You can come in. The kitchen is on your right, straight through that hall. I’ll put these on the counter.”

Ise stepped inside.

The door closed behind her.

And with it, so did every line she wasn’t supposed to cross.

Inside Mrs. Francis’ house, the air was thick with music and humidity. Someone had pushed the parlor furniture against the walls, clearing room for dancing and dominoes. A record spun scratchy blues in the corner, and the scent of bootleg gin and sweet cologne tangled together like secrets. Laughter rose in waves, but just beneath it were voices sharper than they meant to be.

Ise stepped inside wrapping her arns across her body, as her Sunday shoes clicking against the hardwood, all she wanted was to be quick and invisible.

But eyes found her like they always did.

Ise moved through the hallway with her hands folded in front of her like she was still carrying the marmalade, though her heart beat louder than any stereo speaker.

From the living room, laughter burst, followed by the clack of dominoes and the scrape of card decks. Stack was still seated at the table, back to her now, shoulders relaxed like sin didn’t have a price.

Her and Cornbread vanished toward the kitchen ahead of her, the box of jars rattling lightly with each step.

“Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink,” he called. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“I got it,” Ise answered, her voice even.

Cornbread looked jumpy. Ise could see him glancing from the faucet to the front door like he expected her to scold him about every bottle tucked behind curtains and every girl sitting on laps of young men.

“I ain’t gon’ say nothin’,” she said softly, arms folded as she leaned against the counter. “Your party ain’t none of my business.”

Cornbread glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “Oh. Uh—well…thank you, Miss Ise.”

“Just Ise,” she replied.

“ Well thank you, Ise.” Cornbread smiles as he walks back out the kitchen.

Now standing by herself in a dimly lit kitchen which was cleaner than she expected. Smelling faintly the scene of lemon soap and something fried hours ago. She reached for a glass and turned the faucet on low, watching the water rise.

Outside of the kitchen, gossip began to spread like wildfire throughout the house.

“Preacher’s daughter just walked in,” Stephanie said, her voice pitched high enough to slice through the trumpet solo on the record. She sat on the arm of a sofa, her legs crossed loose and glossy with oil, lips redder than church pew cushions. “Came through the front door with Cornbread like she ain’t scared of her daddy’s belt.”

“Lawd, what she doin’ here?” another woman asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a silk scarf slipping down one shoulder. “She come to save us or judge us?”

A couple of them laughed. Not loud, but enough.

“Maybe she tired of bein’ holy and came to sin proper,” Stephanie added with a drag from her cigarette, smoke curling up toward the ceiling like a prayer going the wrong direction.

That’s when the card table stilled.

Stack, sitting with a hand full of spades, paused mid-turn. His dark eyes lifted, slow and lazy, toward the direction of the kitchen. The overhead light gleamed off the edge of his suspenders as he shifted in his chair. He didn’t say a word at first just stared, listening.

“Who you say?” one of the men asked.

Stephanie’s grin widened. “Lil Miss Ise. Lookin’ like temptation in pressed cotton.”

Stack stood up. No warning. No sigh. He placed his cards face down with deliberate ease and adjusted his collar, rolling his sleeves up higher on his forearms. A gold watch winked on his wrist as he tucked his cigarette behind his ear.

“She in the kitchen?” he asked, not to anyone in particular.

Cornbread’s voice called from the back, a little nervous: “Ise just droppin’ off somethin’ for my mama. That’s all. She is not gonna tell on nobody.”

Stack didn’t respond. He was already moving, slow and easy, like he was headed toward something he’d already dreamed about.

The women fell quiet as they watched him go.

Stephanie blew out a plume of smoke and murmured, “Mm-hmm. That boy ‘bout to forget his poker hand for a little church mouse.”

The cold water touched Ise lips just as a familiar scent rolled in tobacco, cologne, and something warm she couldn’t name. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

Stacks filled the doorway like he’d been summoned by the heat rising in her chest. His suspenders had slid off his shoulders, hanging loose around his hips, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. A curl of smoke hung near his ear from the cigarette he’d tucked there earlier. That lazy, confident posture made her heart beat just a little louder, though her face didn’t flinch.

“Well,” Stack drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I figured you only left your porch to go to the church or the corner store.”

She set the glass down slowly on the counter and met his gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you sittin’ in someone else’s mama house like you ain’t got enough scandals folks whisper about.”

Stack’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it grew smoother.

“For a church mouse, you sure keep tabs on a lot of gossip.” he said, voice like slow rain.

Ise narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin. “ Or maybe I just listen better than most.”

“You do more than that.” His gaze flicked down, slow and deliberate. “You watch.

She should’ve slapped him for being so bold, but the truth was she had watched. Watched him saunter down Magnolia Lane like he owned it. Watched the way women leaned close when he spoke. Watched his lips, too.

Stack took one step closer. Not touching, but near enough for her to feel the heat coming off his skin. “Tell me, Ise…” he murmured. “What else you curious ‘bout?”

Her laugh was sharp, soft, almost bitter.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He leaned just a little closer, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah,” he said, low. “I would.” For a breath, neither of them moved.

The sounds of music and laughter floated in from the parlor, but in that kitchen, time thickened like molasses. Ise’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the counter, her heart hammering under her prim clothes.

Then, like something snapped back into place, she smoothed her clothes and reached for the empty glass and placed it in the sink.

“I should go,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

Stacks didn’t argue. Just stepped aside, letting her pass, but his eyes stayed on her, trailing the sway of her walk, memorizing it like scripture.

Before she can make towards the end of the hallway Stack will say something that would change Ise forever.

“You ever think ‘bout it?”

She paused. Didn’t turn. “’Bout what?”

“Doin’ something you can’t take back. Just once.” His voice was a hush behind her. “Just to see how it feels.”

She did turn then. Slowly. Met his gaze through the dim hallway light, the shadows softening the edges of his jaw and catching in the curl of his lashes.

Her lips parted, like a question was about to fall. But instead, she swallowed it. Straightened her shoulders. Lifted her chin the way her mama taught her.

“Good night, Stack.”

She opened the front door and stepped out into the thick Delta night, the air humming with summer heat and something heavier. Something that stayed with her all the way down Magnolia Lane.

Stack didn’t follow. He stood in that kitchen, smiling to himself, the ghost of her perfume still caught in his lungs. And when he finally went back to the card table, his grin was slower. Hungrier.

Because now he knew: Ise Bakersfield curious.

And sooner or later? Curiosity always came back around.

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The next day

The sun rose slowly over the morning sky, the gold hues spilling through the curtains in the Bakersfield family kitchen. Roosters crowed and made noise behind the family house, and the scent of fresh grass and bacon drifted from the open windows.

Ise stood at the kitchen sink, washing the same teacup for the third time.

She’d barely slept.

Her mother had come home just after dawn, exhausted but smiling. Aunt Carla had delivered a healthy baby boy. Ise had hugged her, helped her off with her boots, and nodded politely as her mama went on about the birth.

However, her mind kept returning to the moment in Cornbread’s kitchen.

To the way Stacks looked at her like he was undressing her with just his eyes. The feeling of heat curling low in her belly.

“Lord, help me,” she whispered, setting the cup aside.

“Did you say something, baby,?” Her mother questioned behind her.

“ No ma'am.” She turned and forcibly formed a smile, as she dried her hands with a towel and walked to the table to hear her mother talk more about her night.

Later that afternoon, Ise followed her mother up the steps to the Post Office in town. Her arms are full of letters tied in twine. Her mama wore her good church hat. It was navy with white trim and a thin sheen of sweat clung to her temple, but she held her chin high, proud like always.

“Gotta get these to your brother ‘fore the week run out,” she said, tucking the letters under her arm as they stepped inside.

The post office was full, thick with the smell of dust, ink, and wood. A few folks turned to nod politely. Others were too busy fanning themselves with old envelopes or sighing about the wait. Then the front door creaked open, and just as Ise turned to move aside for whoever was leaving, her breath caught.

Stack.

He stepped into the sunlight like he owned it.

Wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders hanging from his hips and his signature black hat, and that same lazy walk that made it feel like the ground bent to his pace.

She barely had time to glance away before his eyes found her.

For a half-second, neither of them moved.

Then he tipped his hat barely visible, just enough to say he saw her as he walked out the door.

Ise turned quickly to her mother. “Mama, it’s awful warm in here. You mind if I wait outside?”

Her mother looked up the line, then back to her daughter. “Don’t go far. Soon as I send these off, we headin’ to the store.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ise said, smoothing her skirt like it needed taming, even though the wild in her had nothing to do with fabric. She stepped back outside, heart tapping her ribs like a second hand on a clock.

Stack hadn’t gone far. Just down the steps, toward the corner where the magnolia trees threw long shadows across the road. He was lighting a cigarette with that same slow ease, shoulders relaxed like he had all the time in the world.

Ise began to walk toward him, but not too fast, also not too slow.

He didn’t look at her right away. Just spoke like he’d known she was coming. “You always this good at making folks think you're innocent?”

She folded her arms. “You always this bold with somebody else’s daughter?”

Stack turned, eyes traveling the length of her like he was tracing a poem he meant to memorize. “Only when she don’t run the other way.”

Ise’s lips curved just a little. “You ever think maybe I like to run so I can feel the heat chase me from behind?”

Stack took a drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowed against the sun, and exhaled through his nose.“Then maybe you ain’t as sweet as folks say.”

Ise didn’t flinch. “Maybe they don’t know how many kinds of sweetness there are.” Their eyes locked. And for a long, thick second, the town fell away. No mothers. No church. No porch swings or hymn books or jars of marmalade.

Stack took another drag, letting the smoke roll from his lips like a secret. Ise stood just a few feet from him, arms still folded, her eyes shaded by her lashes.

“ So…what brings you to the post office?” she asked, tone light but lined with something more curious than casual as she tried to break the tension.

He cut a glance her way, one brow lifting like he already had the answer but wanted to see if she could handle the delivery.

“Thought I might run into a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a habit of lookin’ like Sunday morning trouble,” he said, flicking ash off the edge of his cigarette.

Ise raised an eyebrow, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Mm. That right?”

“Maybe,” Stack said, smiling now. “Or maybe I was just sendin’ off a letter to my brother.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the honesty tucked under the charm. “Your brother?”

“Mm-hmm,” He nodded, his grin softening. “Smoke. Been stationed overseas a few months now. Ain’t one for writin’, but I know he has been missin’ me.”

Ise’s arms lowered. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve, something thoughtful passing through her gaze.

“That’s what we are here for that too,” she said quietly. “My older brother. Leroy. Mama won’t sleep easy ‘til she sends him her prayers on paper.”

Stack looked at her differently like they stepped out of the game for just a minute and shared something real.

“Leroy in the Army?”

Ise nodded. “Been gone over a year now. We don’t hear from him often.”

“Same with ‘Smoke,” Stack said. He tapped the side of his cigarette thoughtfully, the flirt gone quiet for a moment. “Funny how folks can be halfway ‘round the world, and you still feel like they sittin’ at your kitchen table.”

She smiled at that. Not wide. But real.

“I hope they both come home safe,” she said softly.

Stack nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

For a beat, the heat didn’t feel so heavy. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward, it was stitched with something shared. Something neither one of them could name yet.

Then Ise looked back toward the post office. “Mama’ll be done soon. We got more errands to run.”

Stack leaned back against the railing post, tilting his head. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“You ain’t,” she said, turning to go, but pausing after a step. “You just… slowed me down a little.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction. Didn’t need to. She could feel his eyes behind her. Warm, amused, and watching.

And she liked it.

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Three days later

One second, the clouds loomed heavy; the next, they cracked open and poured rain straight down. Ise clutched the brown paper sack against her chest like it held her whole world because it did. Inside were the mother-of-pearl buttons and soft gray fabric her mama needed to repair her father’s Sunday suit. She’d walked all the way to Miss Lettie Fabric Shop and back without trouble. Until now.

She had no umbrella. No coat. Just the damp hem of her dress slapping against her legs and her breath hitching as she searched for shelter.

Her eyes caught it off the road, half-hidden behind low willow branches and tall grass: an old shack, abandoned from the looks of it, but standing solid.

She didn’t think twice.

Shoes thudding against the muddy path, she dashed up the wooden steps and pushed through the door, panting, the sound of rain drumming loud on the roof above. The inside smelled like old cedar and dust, with a draft sneaking through the walls. But it was dry.

She turned to close the door and nearly screamed at the presence behind her

A figure leaned in the corner, half-shadowed. Then a familiar voice broke the air, smooth and amused:

“Well, well… preacher’s daughter.”

She blinked, heart thudding. “Lord have mercy—Stack?! You scared the life outta me.”

“You scared me too,” he said with a slow grin. “Thought you were a raccoon at first.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but her chest still rose and fell with adrenaline. Her hair had come undone, water dripping from the curls at her temples. She set the bag of fabric down gently on a dry crate.

“What are you doing in here?”

He shrugged. “Same as you. Duckin’ the storm. I was down by the tracks when it broke loose.”

They stood there for a beat, just the sound of rain hammering the tin roof above them. It was louder than she expected.

Her thin blouse clung to her arms, and her curls dripped rainwater down the nape of her neck. This caused Ise to start shivering, which she wrapped her arms closer to her body to find any warmth left.

Stack noticed.

“You’re soaked,” he said quietly. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sayin’ that, but you shiverin’ like a leaf.”

Ise turned away, rubbing her hands along her arms. “I said I’m fine.”

Stack moved then, slow like molasses, and took off his denim overshirt. “Here.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Didn’t say you needed it,” he replied, his voice a low hum. “Just figured I’d rather not sit here listenin’ to your teeth chatter.”

She hesitated, but the heat radiating from his shirt was too tempting to ignore. She took it, wrapped it around her shoulders, and sat on a crate across from him. Their knees weren’t touching, but they were close too close.

“You always show up when I least expect you,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the flickering candle stub in the corner.

“Maybe you should start expectin’ me.”

“That sounds like trouble.”

“That’s ‘cause I am.”

The silence that followed was heavy, not awkward, not empty, but weighted. Charged.

“You ever kiss someone before?” he asked suddenly.

Her breath caught. “Excuse me?”

“Just a question.”

“Why you wanna know?”

Stack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The rain pounded above them, thunder cracking low in the distance. “Because every time I see you, I think about what you look thoroughly kissed.”

She swallowed, eyes flashing. “Don’t be crude.”

“I’m not. I’m bein’ honest. Ain’t asking you to do it,” he said, voice softer now, “but if you think I ain’t curious… then you ain’t been payin’ attention.”

Ise’s pulse roared in her ears. She should’ve stood up. Walked out. Said something sharp and holy to make him feel small.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she said, “You always this bold?”

“Only with you.”

She shook her head, looking away with a half-smile she didn’t mean to show. “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”

“I know you like to sit on the porch and read.,” he said. “I know you looked for me that day outside the post office. I know you don’t flinch when I talk to you the way I did in Cornbread’s kitchen. And I know…” He paused, eyes locked on hers. “You wonder about me too.”

She didn’t answer him back, simply ignored the beautiful man right in front of her and looked towards the window.

The rain wasn't letting up. If anything, it came down harder. Thunder rumbled again, low and long, rattling the shack’s old wood panels.

Ise still sat there, arms crossed, pretending like her skin wasn’t burning beneath Stacks shirt. The scent of him. It was smokey, spicy, and something almost sweet. She kept her eyes trained on a crack in the wall across from her, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Stack didn’t say anything for a while. Just watched her.

She could feel his gaze. Very sharp and steady, like he could see past every wall she was trying to keep up. It made her stomach flip. Made her chest tight. She hated that.

“You always this quiet?” he asked finally, voice breaking the heavy silence. “Or is it just me?”

She exhaled slowly. “I just don’t feel like entertainin’ conversation right now.”

“Mm.” He leaned back, the crate beneath him creaking. “That so?”

She didn’t reply.

“Funny,” he added, “you ain’t had no trouble speakin’ when you told Cornbread you needed a glass of water.”

Her eyes cut toward him. “That wasn’t nothin’.”

“Sure didn’t feel like nothin’.” He smirked, tapping ash from his cigarette that he lit two minutes ago. “You came in lookin’. Admit it.”

Ise rolled her eyes and stood up abruptly, turning her back to him. “I came to drop off marmalade.”

“Uh huh. And decided to linger.” His voice dipped. “Like you lingerin’ now.”

She whirled around, her voice sharp. “You think you so irresistible, don’t you?”

Stack didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head, one brow raised. “I don’t think I’m irresistible,” he said low. “I just think you ain’t as uninterested as you act.”

She opened her mouth, ready to shut that down,but nothing came out. Because he was right. And she hated that.

He stood slowly, stretching, his tall frame moving with lazy, unbothered confidence. He walked to the window and looked out at the rain still falling in sheets.

“Storm ain’t quittin’ anytime soon,” he said over his shoulder. “Guess we stuck.”

She stayed standing, stiff and defensive. “I can wait it out.”

He turned back to her, leaned against the window frame with that crooked grin. “I hope you do. You make good company when you ain’t tryin’ so hard to act like you hate mine.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly, almost surprised to hear herself say it aloud.

He grinned. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t go gettin’ ideas.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

She huffed, flustered, and sat back down. The air between them thickened like the humidity outside, heavy with something neither of them wanted to name.

He walked over, slower this time, and sat again closer than before. Not touching. But close enough she could feel the heat of him.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he murmured.

She didn’t answer right away. Then, “What?”

“Why you fightin’ it so hard?”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Because I know better.”

“Do you?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Or you just scared what will happen if you don’t?”

The silence stretched between them again, thick and electric. The only sound was the steady drum of rain on the roof and the occasional crack of thunder in the distance.

Stack glanced at her and studied the way her arms were still folded like a barrier, her back stiff, her lips pressed into a line that looked too soft to be held like that.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice rough and quiet when he spoke again.

“You ever been kissed, Ise?”

She froze.

Her eyes cut to him slowly, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I said,” he repeated, softer now, “you ever been kissed?”

The heat in her cheeks flared so fast it nearly embarrassed her. She turned her head, gaze fixed on the wall again, pretending like the question didn’t crawl beneath her skin and settle low in her stomach.

“ Again, that ain’t none of your business,” she said flatly.

Stack gave a slow grin. “That mean yes... or no?”

She sucked her teeth. “It means you're bold.”

“Maybe,” he said, voice curling with a teasing edge. “But I’m curious. Ain’t like I got anything else to do in this shack but ask questions and listen to the rain.”

“You could shut up.”

He chuckled low. “You want me to?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Her heart fully pounding now. It was getting worse because the thought was playing in her mind: what would it feel like if he kissed her?

Stack sat back again, dragging his thumb along his jaw, watching her like he could see the thoughts she was trying to hide.

“Must be a no,” he said after a moment, almost to himself. “Ain’t no shame in it.”

“I didn’t say no,” she snapped.

“So is it yes then?”

She looked at him. Eyes narrowed, chin tilted up just enough to show that pride of hers was still fighting.

“I didn’t say yes neither.”

He smiled. Not cocky this time—just slow, deliberate. “Hmm. I’ll take that as a maybe.”

She folded her arms tighter, like she was holding herself together. “You think you got some power over me.”

“I think,” he said, voice low and steady, “you wanna know what it feel like too.”

That shut her up. She just stared back, mouth parted slightly, breath shallow caught between her pride and her curiosity.

And he didn’t push.

He just let the next question hang in the air, thick and warm and dangerous.

“You ever been with a man?” he asked, quiet but direct. He wanted to see how far she can take his teasing, like he wasn’t already crawling beneath her skin.

Ise’s spine straightened. “What kinda question is that?”

“The kind you ain’t gotta lie to answer.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Didn’t answer either.”

She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure, but she could see how hard her heart was thudding in her chest. She hated how he made her feel like every secret she’d ever kept was written on her face.

“I don’t go around lettin’ men touch me like that,” she finally said, voice tight.

“That ain’t what I asked,” Stack murmured.

She turned sharply toward him, eyes flashing. “And what if the answer is no? You tryna feel big ‘cause you more ‘experienced’? That's it?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smirk.

His voice was softer now, almost too sincere. “Nah. Just tryna understand what makes you so scared.”

“I ain’t scared.”

“Then why you act nervous every time I look at you too long?”

That hit a nerve.

Ise looked away, jaw clenched, lips pressed together like she could lock all her feelings behind them.

Stack stood, slow and careful, and stepped toward her. The shack suddenly felt even smaller with him closing the distance. He didn’t touch her, he just stood close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off him.

“I ain’t ask to kiss you,” he said low. “Ain’t even ask to touch you.”

“Good,” she said sharply, even though her voice was weaker now. “’Cause I ain’t offering.”

“But you think about it.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, burning.

“I don’t.”

“Lyin’ again,” he whispered.

The rain thundered harder above them, but neither one moved.

Then Stack did something bold. He leaned in just slightly, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath brush her cheek.

“I ain’t gon’ do nothin’ you don’t want,” he said. “But you should stop pretending you ain’t curious.” Then he stepped back, leaving Ise standing there breathless.

Stack still was watching her with that same quiet intensity dancing behind his eyes. He could see straight through the act she put on.

“You ever think about me?” he asked, voice low and dragging.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He tilted his head, took a step closer.

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes locked to hers. “When you lay in that bed at night, all alone with nobody watchin’… you ever touch yourself thinking about me?”

Ise gasped like someone had smacked the wind out her chest.

“What?! Boy, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, but Stack only took another step, closing the space again. He didn’t grin. Didn’t tease. He just looked at her like he already knew the answer.

“You do,” he said softly. “Don’t you?”

She shook her head, too hard, too fast. “I don’t—I would never—”

“Lie all you want, Ise. But your eyes said it soon as I said the words.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to fire back something sharp, something prideful and cutting. However, nothing came because the truth hung heavy between them.

Stack moved closer still, his voice now a whisper meant for no one but her.

“I ain’t tryna shame you. Just want you to stop pretendin’ like I’m the only one feelin’ this thing.”

She finally looked toward him, her face burning, her breath uneven. “I don’t feel nothin’,” she lied, eyes wide and glassy. “You just… you just like playin’ with people.”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping back, voice low and rough. “But if I ever kissed you, I promise it wouldn’t feel like no game.”

Ise stood there frozen, pulse pounding so loud she could barely hear the rain anymore. She hated him for knowing. Hated herself for wanting.

She cleared her throat and said with more bite than she intended, “How about you go play with Mrs. Lottie… not me. Since you already screwin’ her and all.”

Stacks blinked, then let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. He leaned against the wall like her words didn’t faze him, but his eyes never left her.

“You jealous?” he asked, voice low, almost amused. “That she got a piece and you are still a frustrated little virgin too proud to ask for what you want?”

Ise stiffened. “I ain’t jealous of no married woman creepin’ with a man who don’t even belong to her.”

“No?” He pushed off the wall and stepped toward her again, closing that tiny gap between them. “Then why you bring her up? Why do you talk about her, but you standing in front of me with that look in your eyes like you don’t know whether to slap me or pull me in?”

“Because you—” she started, then stopped. Her throat tightened.

“Because I what?” he pressed. “Make you feel something you ain’t ready to admit?”

“I don’t feel nothin’ for you,” she lied again, quieter this time, her voice almost trembling.

Stack eyes flicked to her mouth, then back up.

“You keep sayin’ that. But your body…?” His gaze dropped slowly, deliberately. “She already told me the truth.”

Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs it hurt. She wanted to move, to push him, to run out into the rain. But her feet wouldn’t move.

“You can keep pretendin’, Ise,” he murmured. “But I see it. I feel it. Every damn time we close like this… you want me.”

Ise’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Her chest rose and fell fast, breath shaky, and she could feel his words crawling under her skin like heat.

“I’m tired of you tellin’ me what I want,” she said suddenly, voice shaking but firm.

Stack raised an eyebrow, mouth parting slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping toward him with something wild burning behind her eyes. “Matter fact…”

Before he could blink, her hands were in his shirt collar, yanking him down with more force than he expected. Their mouths crashed together. Her kiss wasn’t delicate or shy, it was full of fire and frustration and three days of pretending not to ache for him. Stacks stood frozen at first, stunned at her boldness, caught off guard by the heat of her lips, the grip she had on him like she’d finally lost control.

She pulled back just as quickly, breath shallow, eyes wide and dark. Her chest heaved like she couldn’t believe what she just did.

“Now you don’t have to guess what I want,” she muttered, voice sharp, and turned to head for the shack's door.

Before she reached it, his hand caught her wrist and spun her back into him. His mouth was on hers again. This time hungry, this time full of all the tension they’d been dancing around. It wasn’t sweet. It was heat and tongue and pressure, and the way his hands slid down to grip her waist made her breath catch in her throat.

He backed her against the wooden wall, lips never leaving hers, and this time she didn’t pull away.

The shack creaked under the weight of the rain pounding against the tin roof, but inside, all Ise could hear was the thunder of her own heartbeat.

Stack kiss deepened, hands exploring the curve of her waist like he was finally touching something he’d only dreamed about. She leaned into him, hands threading up into his slick back hair, tugging slightly at his scalp just to feel him groan against her lips.

“You got no idea,” Stack murmured between kisses, his lips brushing against her jaw, then her neck, “how long I’ve been wantin’ to do this…”

She bit her lip, tilting her head slightly to the side as his mouth found a spot just beneath her ear, sending a shiver all the way down her spine. She didn’t answer, she couldn’t.

His hand slid down her thigh, lifting it slowly as he pressed his body more firmly into hers. The tension between them had been building like pressure in a bottle, and now that it had finally burst, neither of them seemed willing to put the lid back on.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t think about me?” Stack rasped, pulling back just enough to look at her face, his breath hot against her cheek.

“You talk too damn much,” she whispered. She kissed him again, but deeper, rougher, her hands clutching his shirt like she was trying to pull him into her skin.

A sudden crunch of footsteps outside the shack cut through the storm and sliced the moment in half.

Ise jerked back like she'd been burned, her breath ragged, lips swollen from the kiss, and her eyes wide with alarm. "Shhh!" she hissed, pressing a finger to her lips as she strained to listen.

The voices of two men talking and laughing passed close by. The sound of their boots sloshing in the wet grass just outside the shack door. For a second, it sounded like they might stop. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Lord, if someone saw her out here, alone with a man like Stack, lips swollen, clothes wrinkled from where his hands had gripped her.

She quickly stepped away, smoothing her skirt, brushing invisible dust off her clothes. She wouldn’t be caught. Not like this.

The voices faded, distant now, swallowed by the rain. She exhaled a sharp, trembling breath and grabbed her bag.

“Ise,” Stack said quietly, watching her like he wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. His lips were still parted, chest still rising and falling fast.

She shook her head, not looking at him. “This was a mistake.”

He moved toward her, but she stepped back, reaching for the latch. “I can’t.I ain’t like those girls you mess with. I got too much to lose.”

Before he could say a word, she yanked the door open. Rain splattered in as she stepped out into it, not even bothering to shield herself. She half-ran down the muddy path, heart pounding harder now than when he’d kissed her.

Stack stood inside the shack, silent, wet from the rain but warm from her touch, staring at the door she’d disappeared through li

He didn’t chase her, but Lord knows… he wanted to.

TAGLIST:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @brattyfics @chaneajoyyy @333creolelady @chixkencxrry @soufcakmistress @diamondsinterlude

[tforpresz]

Finals are almost over, so I'm redoing the list yayy. I will update more as I come across them but if anyone has any recommendations comment pls!!! ALSO THANK YOU TO THE AMAZING WRITERS THAT ARE PUTTING OUT THESE WORK I LOVE Y'ALL DOWN 🫂🫶🏽

Work by @writerofautumnnights A Dance with the Devil

Works by @jazziejax ModernAU Jumpin' (SmokexBlack!OC,StackxBlack!OC) From the Same Cloth(SmokexBlack!OC,StackxBlack!OC)

Work by @hotgrlcece Fever (soon to be out,StackxReader)

Work by @strangerexee Sir,You're Too Fine (Bo ChowxReader)

Works by @livingmybestfakelife Castle Made of Sand (StackxReader, PlatonicSmokexReader) Love Rollercoaster (pt1)(StackxReader) Love Rollercoaster (pt2)(StackxReader) Waiting to Exhale(SmokexReader)

Works by @rdmasevi The One Who Asked (RemmickxReader) The Long Night (RemmickxReader) Blood&Blues (StackxReader) Bloodlines&Blues (Stack and SmokexReader)

Works by @aviawrites Love Bites (StackxOC) Wait For Me (SmokexOC) Anastasia Antoinette (StackxOC, SmokexOC)

Works by @fckwritersblock I Never Told You (Pt1,StackxBlack!Reader) What I Should've Said (PT2) Works by @spikedfearn Mercy Made Flesh Upon the Scarlet Alter Work by @uzumaki-rebellion Choose One (Smoke,Stack&OC. first three chapters posted)

Drabbles by @crystalgemcrusaders Til Death Do Us Part(Stack) They Are All Sinners(18+)(Stack) Headcanon-devils temptation:NSFW(Smoke) Work by @melancholymetropolis "Stop pretending that you hate me" (StackxReader) Work by @coldeforprez Is It The Way;2003 teaser (StackxBlack!OC)

Works by @szatears Just a lil' something (SmokexReader,Plantonic StackxReaer) ModernAuSmoke (personal fav 🤭) Three's Trouble (StackxBlack!Reader, StackxMary, MaryxBlack!Reader) Works by @spookysanta The Stack Effect 1/3 The Stack Effect 2/3

Work by @freshbakedbreadstick Advantages and Disadvantages (Smoke&StackxPOC!Reader) Work by @ughdontbeboring Let Me In (SmokexWOC!ReaderxStack)

Work by @starcrossedxwriter Still Standing pt1 (SmokexBlack!Reader) SmokexReader sneak peak

if any author wants to be removed, let me know and I'll glad do so 😁

also here are the A03 works :) A' Lil Taste by Katetypes (Sammie rec) Blood Ties by Xoslimm26 (Remmick fic) níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá by Subedarling (Remmick/reader) Where's There's Smoke, There's Fire by CreativeBuzz (Smoke/Annie, my parents fr) Dangerous by Cohrareads (Stack/Mary)

[gweelczz]

“Talking you through it”

Sinners men x their women

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: none

Summary: The men from sinners talk their women through it

Bo Chow: The room was dim, the only light spillin’ in from the window—gold and warm, just like the Delta sun had kissed its last goodbye for the day. The air was still, thick with heat and something unspoken. Rosetta lay back against the worn quilt, chest rising and falling slow, her golden eyes never leavin’ Bo.

He was above her, shirt long gone, his calloused hands cradlin’ her hips like they were something holy.

“You alright, baby?” he asked, voice low, Southern drawl slidin’ over her like silk.

Rosetta nodded, breath already catchin’. “Mhm.”

Bo leaned down, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then that soft skin below her jaw. “I got you. Just feel, alright? Don’t think. Let me take care of you.”

She let out a breathy hum, one hand slidin’ up to bury itself in his thick black hair.

He moved slow, patient—like he had all the time in the world and nothin’ else to worship but her. His lips brushed down her neck, over the curve of her chest, his voice steady in her ear.

“Look at you, Rose… so beautiful like this. Soft. Open. All mine.”

She whimpered, her hips liftin’ ever so slightly, beggin’ without words.

“I know, baby. I know what you need,” he murmured, hand slidin’ between her thighs, the other still holdin’ her hip firm, keepin’ her grounded.

Her breath hitched as his fingers moved slow, teasing, coaxin’ her open, coaxin’ her deeper into herself.

“Shh… that’s it,” he whispered. “You don’t gotta do nothin’. Just let go. Let me hear you.”

Rosetta’s head tipped back, her hand tightenin’ in his hair, body tremblin’ under his touch.

Bo kissed her collarbone, murmurin’ against her skin, “You feel how perfect you are? How good you are for me?”

“Bo… oh, God,” she gasped, her voice crackin’ as her thighs began to tremble.

“Nah, baby,” he said gently, smilin’ against her throat. “Ain’t no God right now but you.”

He stayed with her, movin’ in rhythm with her breath, her cries, the way her body writhed beneath his. Every sound she made, every broken whisper, only spurred him on—soothing her when it got too much, pushin’ her when she tried to hold back.

“That’s it, baby… you’re right there. Don’t fight it.”

Rosetta’s back arched, her mouth fallin’ open, and Bo caught her with his lips, kissin’ her deep as the wave crashed through her. Her whole body shook, her hands clingin’ to him like he was the only thing tetherin’ her to the earth.

He didn’t stop holdin’ her. Didn’t stop whisperin’ to her.

“You’re safe. I got you. I’m right here, Rose… always.”

She collapsed into his arms, heart poundin’, body limp, tears slidin’ from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away, murmurin’ love in every language he knew.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice barely a breath.

Bo kissed her again, deep and slow. “I know, baby. I love you more.”

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore: The night air curled lazy through the cracked window, warm and thick like molasses. The juke joint had long gone quiet, the world outside slowin’ to a hush. But in that little bedroom Sugar’s granddaddy left her, all was heat and breath and closeness.

Sammie hovered over her, his body flush with hers, their skin slick with sweat, their hearts beatin’ like drums caught in rhythm. He had her wrapped up in his arms like she was the most precious thing he ever held, his lips brushing her temple, his breath steady in her ear.

“Breathe, Sugar,” he murmured low, voice all velvet and gravel. “Don’t fight it now… just let it come. I got you.”

She whimpered beneath him, her fingers curlin’ in the sheets, back archin’ just so, and Sammie’s hand found hers — laced their fingers together like a prayer.

“There you go,” he whispered, kissin’ her cheek, her jaw, her throat. “That’s it, baby. You feel that? That’s me… That’s love, Sugar. That’s every bit of me I ever had to give.”

Her breath hitched, tremblin’ against his chest, and Sammie smiled, soft and reverent, like he was watchin’ a miracle unfold. His voice stayed with her, coaxin’, guidin’, groundin’ her.

“You doin’ so good, girl,” he hummed, voice thick and slow, like a hymn. “Ain’t nobody ever made me feel like you do. Ain’t never wanted to give myself to nobody but you.”

She gasped, her hands grippin’ his back, and Sammie held her through it, strong and gentle.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he breathed, kissin’ her again, firmer this time. “Come on now, ride it out, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You safe with me, always.”

By the time her body settled, all soft and spent and glowin’, Sammie was still holdin’ her like he never planned to let go.

And he didn’t.

He pressed his forehead to hers, thumb sweepin’ tender over her cheek, and whispered, “That’s the kind of love they write gospel songs about, Sugar. The kind I’ll spend my whole life praisin’.”

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore: The room was bathed in the soft gold of the bedside lamp, shadows dancing across the walls as the baby slept peacefully in the bassinet nearby. Smoke’s touch was slow, reverent—like every inch of Honey’s skin was something holy.

“You sure you alright, mama?” he asked low against her neck, his breath warm, hands steady as they slid up her thighs.

Honey nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I missed you…”

That was all he needed. He moved with care, not in any rush. It wasn’t just about the heat—it was about her. About making her feel like the goddess she was. Like the woman who gave him the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

“You just breathe for me,” Smoke murmured, kissing the soft swell of her belly, then moving higher. “Ain’t gotta do nothin’ but feel.”

His fingers found her slowly, easing in, coaxing her open like a prayer. Her body responded with a shiver, hips lifting instinctively.

“That’s it,” he whispered, watching her, voice thick with love and want. “Just like that, baby. You ain’t gotta hold nothin’ back.”

Honey whimpered, her hand grasping the sheet, eyes fluttering closed. Smoke pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I got you. Let go. You know I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

She trembled under his touch, her breath catching as he kept whispering to her, voice dark and sweet like molasses. “You feel that, Betty? That’s all you, baby. That’s your body rememberin’ how good it feel to be worshiped.”

Her breath hitched, thighs tensing. He slowed just enough to keep her on the edge, his lips brushing her ear.

“Let it happen, mama. You safe. I got you—always.”

When it finally washed over her, she melted into his chest with a soft cry, heart racing, body trembling. Smoke held her tight, brushing damp curls from her face, kissing her forehead.

“There she go,” he whispered, pride and love thick in his voice. “My beautiful girl.”

And in the quiet that followed, their baby still asleep beside them, Smoke just held her—like he always would.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore: Stack’s voice was low, rough with desire, and full of assurance. “Breathe, baby,” he murmured, his hands steady as they traced the curve of her body. “I got you. Let go.”

Honey’s breath quickened, the heat between them intensifying, every touch pulling her closer to the edge. She clenched around him, the pressure building, and she gasped.

“That’s it,” Stack encouraged, his grip tightening, guiding her movements. “Feel it, let it build.” His words were like a tether, pulling her deeper into the moment. “You’re mine now, Honey. Let me hear you.”

Her body trembled, the wave crashing over her in a flood of sensation. She cried out his name, her hands gripping him as she let herself go completely.

Stack leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s my sweet girl.”

[szatears]

inked all over, stack.

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

pairing: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aight, til next time Deuce."

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten

[pyraomen]

“JOLENE, I’M A WOMAN TOO” , stack x reader.

summary — ❝ i can easily understand why you're attracted to my man. but you don't want this smoke, so shoot your shot with someone else. ❞

warnings : strong language, violence (threatening), gun mentioned, alcohol use, sexual references, verbal insults, mary slander.

[ꪆৎ] was having herself a good time down at the juke joint. her belly was full from that fresh batch of catfish annie had just pulled from the fryer; crisp, golden, seasoned just right. she’d even snuck a few sips of liquor from her man’s cup when he wasn’t looking, the warmth of it humming in her chest. the place was alive tonight, packed wall to wall.

sammie’s voice boomed over the crowd, deep and rich, weaving through the smoke and laughter like a sermon of rhythm and blues. the air was thick with sweat, perfume, and excitement. it was exhilarating, felt like home. folks were swaying, stomping, clapping, hips rolling to the rhythm of his song.

everything felt just right, until she heard her name.

mary.

“is that little mary?” she heard cornbread yell out and immediately came to an halt. she wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop, but when it came to mary, she was all ears. that girl was like a fly that wouldn’t quit buzzing around your kitchen — still hung up on her stack. there’d been more than a few run-ins between them, and each time [ꪆৎ] had tried to keep her cool. but tonight, she was fed up.

elias somehow sensing some shit was finna go down, appeared behind her. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice low, eyes already scanning the room like he knew who the problem was. she turned slowly, locking eyes with him. “stack,” she said, voice flat and sharp, giving him a look of get her before i do. he let out a knowing chuckle and pulled the toothpick from his mouth, giving her backside a rough tap as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “i know, i know. i got it.”

stack wasn’t about to let it get ugly, not in front of all these folks, and especially not when he knew his woman didn’t play that. if mary didn’t leave on her own, one or both of them was looking to catch a bullet before the night was over.

[ꪆৎ] watched as stack made his way toward the entrance. she scoffed under her breath, shaking her head, then turned on her heel and made her way to the bar. the mississippi humidity clung to her skin, mixing with the slow simmer of anger already creeping up her spine. sliding onto a barstool, she fanned herself with her hand, though it did little to help.

her jaw clenched tight and eyebrows scrunched together. just the thought of mary trying her luck again made her skin itch. “need a drink?” came annie’s voice, smooth and matter-of-fact. [ꪆৎ] looked up to find the older woman standing behind the counter, a bottle of good whiskey in hand, the kind they didn’t pour for just anyone. she didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, her fingers drumming anxiously on the bar top in a rhythm she barely noticed.

annie poured a glass, slid it across the counter, and gave her a look ; one full of shared understanding. wasn’t the first time a triflin heffa tried to sniff around one of the smoke-stack twins. and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

she took a slow sip of the whiskey, letting the burn calm the storm in her chest. or trying to, at least. the joint around her pulsed with laughter and music, but her focus was drawn to the front door, past the crowd ; where stack stood talking to her. their voices were low, but every now and then a word or two slipped through the rhythm of the joint.

“i was just... stoppin by,” mary said, her voice syrupy-sweet, the kind of tone women like her used when they were up to no good. [ꪆৎ] paused mid-sip, her ear twitching in their direction.

“you know i always had a soft spot for you, stack,” mary continued, a little louder this time, like she wanted [ꪆৎ] to hear. [ꪆৎ] set her glass down a little harder than intended. annie didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow, ready to step in if needed.

before she could make the decision to waltz over there. she heard stack let out a long sigh, voice laced with irritation. “mary, this ain’t the time or the place. i suggest kindly you get the fuck up outta here before i get one of these field bitches to do it for me. or better yet, get [ꪆৎ] to handle yo ass, you know she been itching for the right moment too.”

that should’ve been enough. but of course, it wasn’t.

mary let out a loud scuff, obviously feeling like somebody. “i’ll beat up every bitch in here and you know it.”

that did it.

[ꪆৎ] stood up slow, eyes never leaving the shadowy outline of the two at the door. her pulse thumped in her ears, the whiskey mixing with heat and rage. she didn’t shout, nor stormed ; she moved graciously through the crowd like a woman on a mission. 

annie just shook her head, muttering under her breath, “lord help that girl … she don’t know who she messing with.”

the crowd parted for [ꪆৎ] like it always did. some out of respect, others out of fear, but most just knew better than to stand in her way when she moved like that. her dress swayed with each step, graceful but sharp, the small pistol tucked in the folds at her thigh brushing against her skin like a silent reminder. the music didn’t stop, but the energy in the room shifted, low murmurs stirred, a few folks, cornbread included backed away from the door, sensing the storm brewin.

stack turned just in time to see her coming, jaw tightening. he didn’t move, he knew better than to interfere when she had that look in her eye. he wasn’t scared of his woman, but he was scared of his woman. this was between her and mary now.

mary, still too full of herself to read the room, crossed her arms and tilted her head. “so now you sending your little guard dog to the door?” she spat, chin raised.

[ꪆৎ] didn’t respond right away. she stepped up to mary, slow, eyes scanning her head to toe like she was sizing up trash on the side of the road. then she spoke, voice calm, but low and mean.

“you come to my man’s place of business, looking the way you look and talking nonsense you can’t back up. thought i wasn’t gon show, huh?” her louisiana accent thickening with each word she spoke. mary’s smirk faltered, just a little. “i ain’t scared of you. you hiding behind a man that i already had.”

[ꪆৎ] let out a soft laugh, humorless, deep, dangerous. her head tilted slightly, curls brushing her shoulder as she took one deliberate step closer, causing mary to shift her weight back instinctively. the scent of her perfume sharp and sweet in the thick air between them.

“that so?” she said, voice low and rich, louisiana accent wrapping around each word like molasses. “you had him, huh? must’ve been real forgettable, since he don’t even look your way no more.”

mary’s eyes narrowed. “he still remember.”

[ꪆৎ] nodded slowly, pressing her lips together before replying. “maybe. a man remember trash when it stank long enough. don’t mean he want it back in his house.”

a few folks nearby let out a low “mmm,” like they just bit into something hot and juicy. even stack looked down at his feet, fighting back a grin he knew better than to let show.

mary’s smirk had fully dropped now, her jaw tightening. but [ꪆৎ] wasn’t done. “you got two good legs, mary. use em. cause if i take one more step, neither i nor elias gon be responsible for what happens next.”

mary stood frozen, the fight in her chest but no wind to back it up. she opened her mouth like she wanted to throw another blow, but the silence around them told her loud and clear. she needed to take her ass on.

she huffed sharply, her chest rising with wounded pride, then spun on her heel with a dramatic flick of her hair. her heels struck the ground with angry rhythm, each step echoing her bruised ego as she stormed away from the joint, shoulders stiff with false dignity.

[ꪆৎ] slammed the door shut, then exhaled slowly, adjusting her dress. “yall can go back to having fun”, she said with a wave of her hand. that was all people needed to hear to get back in they groove.

she glanced up at stack, “lets go home. i’m tired of playing with these little ass girls.” he didn't say a word, just took her hand like he always did, following the fire that never steered him wrong.

[shockercoco]

Peas in a Pod

Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader

Warnings - swearing, fluff, reader’s nickname is Pea

Word count - 4814

a/n - this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago after I saw the film, but I couldn't figure out an ending lol. I'm currently out for the summer so hopefully more time for imagines, but no promises. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :) Part 2 coming soon!

Summary: After years have passed since the twins left town, you figured your feelings for one of them had dissipated and you had moved on, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

“I know that ain’t Pea I see,” you hear a voice say from behind. 

It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, but it sounds just as familiar. You’re looking at the selection of produce in front of you, but you freeze at the sound. It only takes you another moment to turn around to reveal Stack standing there before you. 

You had been a friend to the twins ever since you all were children. You spent most of your childhood ignoring the chores your mama had instructed and hanging out with the twins instead. 

As you all got older, the boys started making a reputation for themselves, and of course your mama would tell you to leave them alone, but you never stopped. The twins weren’t that bad. Well, at least not around you. 

You would be lying if you were to say you never had feelings for one of them. After spending the majority of your life with them, it became inevitable and you found yourself developing feelings for the more eccentric twin, Elias, but everyone called him Stack.

It wasn’t a secret that you were closer to Stack, though everyone just figured it was because of Smoke’s more quiet and laid back demeanor. You never told anyone about your crush except for Mary, one of your close friends, and of course she encouraged you to confess, but you never did.

When the twins left home after their father’s death, you weren’t mad at them. How could you be?  You were happy for them. You knew what they had to endure, and you were just glad they took the first chance they had to live out their dreams.

You also thought your feelings for Stack would fade over time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

“Stack? Is that really you?” You question, your eyebrows raised at the man in front of you. 

Stack’s hands are tucked in the pockets of his dress pants, which match the rest of his nicely tailored suit. A hat sits atop his head as he stares back at you with a handsome smirk on his face.

“Yes ma’am, it is,” he nods. He removes his hat as he takes a couple of steps closer towards you.

Stack was definitely in shape before he left town, but that doesn’t compare to how he looks now. You’re taken aback, but before you end up staring too long, you clear your throat to say something.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that giant bush sleeping on your lip,” you joke, referring to the thick, but neat mustache growing above his lip.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face as you hear him chuckle.

“That’s real funny. I should be the one surprised, though. I mean, look at you. You finally grew into that forehead of yours,” Stack smirks.

You scoff. “How dare you,” you playfully say as you fold your arms across your chest, your tone light.

“No, how dare you. The ladies happen to love how I look, especially the mustache,” he grins proudly, rubbing his fingers over the facial hair.

“What are you trying to say, that I'm not a lady?”

A loud laugh leaves Stack this time. 

“Well, if the boot fits,” Stack says, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows how much you hate him saying that. He watches with a smile as you roll your eyes and shake your head at him. “I’m just playin’, Pea, you know I’d never say such a thing.”

Pea was a nickname you had become stuck with after meeting twins. One day while the three of you were out playing as children do, an older woman that everyone knew from the church had pointed at how you all resembled peas in a pod. 

After that, Stack had decided to call you ‘Pea’ once as a joke to which you just brushed off. Somehow, though, the nickname stuck and ever since then everyone refers to you as Pea. 

Hearing that name come out of his mouth after these years makes your stomach flutter and your skin heat up, which only makes the hot summer sun feel worse. The sweat on your skin suddenly feels more prominent with Stack’s eyes on you.

You start using the hand fan you were holding to try and provide yourself with some relief.

“What brings you back in town, Stack? I know it isn’t just some friendly conversation.”

“And why can’t it be?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a look calling his bluff, and he easily quits the act. “You still know me well, I see.”

“Unfortunately,” you smile.

“Smoke and I are openin’ our own juke joint. We figured we split up so I can recruit some entertainment while he handles some other business. Tonight is the openin’ night. That is, if we get everything situated in time.”

Your expression contorts in confusion. “Juke joint? Where?”

“One of the abandoned barnhouses not too far from here,” Stack responds, motioning in what you assume is the direction of the barn house.

“Where the hell did you get the money to buy all of that, and who was dumb enough to take it?” You ask, lowering your voice as you look around you.

“You know how those folks are—all they care about is the cash. It wasn't a problem.”

“And they just took your money like that with no questions asked?”

“Oh, the man asked questions,” Stack nods, “he just didn’t get the answers he wanted.”

The two of you are quiet for another moment, both work for the other one to crack, before you both burst into laughter.

“Still the same after all this time, huh?” you ask once you both settle down, although, it’s not really a question.

“I’m not changin’ for just anyone,” Stack responds, shooting you a wink.

Before the two of you could continue catching up, someone else runs up behind Stack calling his name. You didn’t notice how much the two of you were stuck in your own world until Stack turns away from you, breaking you out of the trance.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” You hear Stack ask.

Your eyes widen as you move to look around Stack’s frame, but your confusion turns into surprise as you take in the young man standing in front of him with a guitar hanging from his neck. “Sammy? As in lil’ Sammy? As in Preacher boy?”

When Sammy finally notices your presence, he gives you a shy smile and a tip of his hat. “Oh, Pea, what are you doin’ out here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing? Does your mama know you’re all the way out here?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“She knows I’m with the twins, that’s all that matters,” Sammy says.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” you give him a look.

Sammy opens his mouth to say something else, but Stack hits the back of his head before he could continue. Sammy lets out a yelp as he looks up at Stack, while one of his hands rubs his head.

“You better have a damn good reason for comin’ over here and interruptin’ us.”

“Slim’s gettin’ tired of waitin’. He said to hurry up before he changes his mind because he’s getting older by the minute. He also said that there’ll be plenty of time to talk to pretty women t’night,” Sammy explains, glancing at you for the last part, but it goes over your head.

You follow Stack’s eyes when he looks over to Slim in the distance, a harmonica in one of his hands and a bottle in the other. Classic.

Stack mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, before telling Sammy to run off and that he’d be over in a second.

“I usually wouldn’t listen to a drunk, but he’s right. Daylight is wastin’ and I got some other things to take care of before tonight,” Stack admits. “You’ll be there, right?”

Oh.

“And what if I had plans?”

You don’t.

Stack laughs. “Oh, really? What plans?”

“You say it like you don’t believe me,” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no. I’m just curious about these plans.”

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t have to tell you anything,” you huff.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stack nods in agreement. When he realizes you aren’t going to say anything else, he continues. “C’mon, Pea, it’ll be worth it. There’ll be good food and drinks along with good entertainment.”

“I take it that Sammy and Slim are part of that entertainment?” You ask. 

You tear your eyes away from Stack and to the small crowd beginning to form around the musical pair. Even from a distance you can hear Sammy’s powerful voice accompanied by Slim’s skilled fingers playing his harmonica.

“You know I only like the best of the best,” Stack smirks. “So, what do you say, Pea? It’ll be just like old times.”

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s not safe for a lady at night,” you say.

Yes, you do want to go, but parties were never really your thing. You usually chose to stay home when someone asked you, especially when the twins would try to encourage you to sneak out when you were kids.

“And I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe, there’s nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, I know Smoke is bringin’ Annie, don’t make me be the only one without a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come, so you won’t be alone?” you give him a look.

“Of course, why else would I want you there?” he plays along, trying to keep a straight face, but fails.

“There’ll be plenty of other women without a date there to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but that don’t matter if I want you to be the one keepin’ me company,” Stack tells you.

And just like that all of those feelings that you thought were gone resurface, fluttering through your heart and stomach.

You hesitate for a moment, before finally giving him an answer. “I guess I could come. Besides, I want to be there to see if this juke joint of yours fails.”

“Now, that’s just wrong.”

~

Later that night as you’re getting ready, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. It’s just the twins—it’s just Stack. 

And it’s not like it’s a date anyways because why would it be? Or maybe it is? No, Stack just invited you so you could keep him company and so the two of you could catch up. But, why do you specifically need to keep him company?

You’re checking your appearance in the mirror, stuck in your thoughts as you turn from side to side,, when Mary walks into your room already dressed and ready to go.

“By the time we get there, the damn party will be over. What is the hold up?” Mary throws her hands up for dramatics.

“Would you relax? The party doesn’t start for, like, another 30 minutes, and we don’t want to be too early do we?” You tell her, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I just figured you’d want to be early in order to have as much time with Stack as possible.” Mary smirks at the glare you give her. “I mean, it’s been so long since he’s last been in town, aren’t you excited? I would be.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're nervous.”

Your silence is enough of an answer. You fiddle with your dress and adjust yourself in order to avoid looking over at Mary. Mary scoffs and walks over to stand next to you as you look in the mirror.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious. There’s no reason you should be nervous over that man. You guys have been friends since birth-“

“Not birth, it was more like-“

Mary raises a hand to cut you off and finally makes you face her. “You know what I’m trying to say. You guys have practically known each other since the beginning. Stack knows everything about you and you know everything about Stack—well, that is excludin’ whatever the hell the twins have been doing these past couple of years.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you throw your hands up before taking a step back and placing your hands on your hip. “I mean, yeah, we’ve written to each other while he’s been away, but it’s been a while since we’ve actually talked face to face. It seems like he’s still the same, but if he’s not? What if he actually has changed?”

You can feel your nerves picking up at the thought of talking to Stack tonight and all the possibilities of how tonight will go.

Mary knows you like the back of her hand, and your overthinking doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary rolls her eyes. “Please, that man is exactly the same as he was the day he left here. Besides, you saw him earlier today, were you nervous when you were talkin’ to him then?”

“Well, not really, but I didn’t exactly have time to be. He snuck up on me while I was shopping and we just started talking.”

“Exactly, the two of you are so close that you started talkin’ like nothin’ has changed. Believe me, everything’ll be fine, and when Stack sees you in this dress, he’ll fall to his knees to propose. If he doesn’t just come and find me so I can handle his ass.”

You snicker as you walk away from Mary to finish getting ready. She follows right behind you.

“Relax, Stack is not going to pick me to propose to out of all the beautiful women in this town. Not to mention all the women he’s probably encountered during his travels.”

“A girl can dream can’t she? Just suckin’ all the fun out of my night.”

-

The noise from the juke joint can be heard all the way down the road, the sounds only getting louder and more clear as you and Mary approach. Your heart speeds up in both anticipation and nervousness as you take in the scene. 

Dozens can be seen either arriving on foot or by car, their excitement obvious from miles away. The land outside the farmhouse is packed with vehicles and it’s obvious there will be many more given the constant flow of traffic.

Cornbread’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches from the entrance as you and Mary walk up. He greets you with a smile.

“You two look gorgeous, but I’ll be damned, Pea. What brings you here? I know this ain’t your kinda scene,” he points out.

You playfully point at Mary, “You’re looking right at the culprit. She convinced me to come.”

“I shoulda known,” Cornbread shakes his head in amusement, but then his expression shifts to confusion as he looks at Mary. “Wait a minute, ain’t you married? What are you doing out this late?”

Mary folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask you the same, don’t you have a family to take care of?” Mary asks while folding her arms across her chest.

Cornbread puts his hands up in surrender. “Stack offered me a good amount of cash to be here tonight, I’m not turnin’ that down.”

“And I don’t blame you. Now, are you going to let us come in or are you going to leave two ladies stranded outside all night?” Mary questions.

Cornbread lets out a laugh, but quickly moves aside to let you both in.

The dusty, rundown appearance of the barnhouse from the outside is a completely different vibe from the atmosphere on the inside. 

Slim is playing his heart out at the piano at the front of the room while people laugh and dance to the music. Lights are hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space as guests move around freely. The mouthwatering smell of freshly fried catfish fills the air along with the smell of sweat and alcohol.

“Wow, the twins definitely outdid themselves didn’t they?” Mary admits as the both of you take in everything.

“They really did,” you murmur mostly to yourself, your mind still stuck and amazed at how Smoke and Stack pulled this off.

“We can’t start dancing without a drink,” Mary smirks.

“Yeah, you can, it’s easy,” you say.

Mary gives you a look before saying, “Well, if you’re going to talk to Stack, you’re gonna need a little something in your system.”

You open your mouth to object, but you decide against it.. Alcohol does loosen you up, which would help you get through the night.

When Mary doesn’t hear a response, she pulls you towards the bar. After Mrs. Chow hands you both your drinks, the two of you decide to linger at the bar.

“Is that Lil Sammy over there flirtin’ with a girl?” Mary asks you. 

You turn to look in the direction of Mary’s eyes to, sure enough, see Sammy flirting with a woman—a woman who looks a little bit older than him.

“Isn’t she married?” Mary continues.

“Well so are you, but you’re still here tonight,” you say. 

This makes Mary whip her head back towards you and send you a glare, one you pretend to ignore as you take a sip of your drink and pretend to be really interested in the guests dancing to the music.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says after you don’t respond, before a smile grows on her face.

Suddenly you hear a gasp come from behind the bar, catching your attention and making you turn around. You see Smoke, Stack, and Annie come from a back room.

“Am I seein’ things or is that really Pea standin’ in front of me at a party?” Annie smiles, her hands on her hips.

You playfully roll your eyes. “No, you’re not seeing things.”

Annie makes her way from behind the bar to give you a hug, and after she pulls away, Smoke comes up to do the same. The way Stack looks you up and down as you hug Smoke goes unnoticed by you but not by Mary as she watches with a smirk. Stack notices Mary’s eyes on him and quickly clears his throat.

“I’m glad you came,” Stack says, smiling at you as he comes up to hug you last.

“Well I couldn’t miss the famous Moore twins’ big grand opening,” you beam, motioning to the large crowd that has formed. Smoke smiles at your compliment. “I don’t know how you guys pulled it off, but everything looks great. I’m impressed.”

“Nothin’ is too out of reach for us,” Smoke adds with a nod. Stack claps his brother on the back as a sign of his agreement.

“Alright, enough of this lovey dovey shit. Let’s get this place poppin’ like fish grease and get it started for real!” Stack exclaims with a smirk.

Stack walks over to Sammy, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to and motions to the stage. As Sammy joins Slim at the front, people begin to gather around to listen. 

Now, you knew Sammy was talented, but watching him sing his heart out and play the hell out of his guitar gave you goosebumps and made you emotional.

It was obvious that you weren’t the only one who felt this way as you notice everyone’s expressions change as they begin to cheer and clap while they move their bodies to the rhythm. Close friends, couples, and singles make their way about the room.

Much to your dismay, Mary pulls you into the dancing crowd. You’re uncertain of what to do with yourself at first, but after seeing everyone in their own world, the body movements just come naturally. 

You watch with admiration and a smile as Smoke grabs Annie to join him for a dance. Even after all of that time apart, Smoke and Annie still seem to be as in love with each other as the first day they met. The little bit of alcohol you have on your system does make a difference.

Your eyes wander just a little bit to the right and you see Stack dancing with two women. It’s no secret that the twins are attractive, but oh how you wish for just one night where women didn’t climb all over them—mainly Stack.

After a while, you become overheated and overstimulated with all the hot bodies surrounding you. Once you tell Mary that you’ll be back, you leave to find a place to take a breather.

You come across a set of stairs and somehow find yourself overlooking the inside of the entire building. 

You catch sight of Mary from your spot and laugh to yourself at how easily it is for her to find some stranger to dance with.

Eventually, someone else makes their way up the stairs and stands next to you. Your nostrils become aware of him before your eyes do.

“Too much goin’ on down there?” Stack asks as he leans on the railing and takes in the view.

“Just needed a little break,” you shrug, your eyes still on the crowd below you. “What about you, don’t you have some guests to entertain? This is your place after all.”

“As an owner, I have people to do the entertainin’ for me. I just make sure there are no problems,” Stack responds, the smirk evident in his tone.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that grows between the two of you. Earlier you were stressing on what would happen once you saw Stack, but here he is, and your heartbeat is still somewhat calm.  

“How’s everything, Pea?” Stack asks, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, you know, just getting through day by day and taking things slow,” you shrug.

“What are you up to these days?” 

“Helping my mama out with the shop most days. When I’m not working I’m running errands around town or helping others out.”

“How’s the shop and your mama doin’?”

“Mama’s great. Her happiness really comes from the shop and being able to have a safe place for people to come back to over and over again. We’re still getting plenty of customers, and we’ve recently renovated it.”

Stack nods along. “That’s good, that’s good. How are you doing though?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked that.”

“I phrased it differently this time, though. First time was more of a casual ask and this time I wanna know what’s really goin’ on with you.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his forwardness, until you remember that this is how Stack has always been.

Stack turns his body to face yours, keeping an elbow on the railing. “Come on now, Junebug. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and talked down and talked, y’know?”

“Is this really the time to be having a conversation like this?” you ask.

Stack is quick but genuine with his reply. “For you, there’s always time.”

The nerves the alcohol had been holding back, finally hit you with full force after hearing his words. Your heart rate begins to pick up, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the high temperature in the building. 

You wish you had brought a fan with you.

Stack’s eyes never leave yours as he waits for an answer, not even when you hear a glass bottle break somewhere in the crowd below you. 

You give him a shy smile, but you have to tear your eyes away from him.

“I’m fine, really Stack. You know, you never told me exactly how you got the money for all this.”

Stack scoffs. “I know you didn’t just try and change the conversation.”

“It worked didn’t it,” you laugh. Stack shakes his head in disappointment, but he can’t help the laugh that slips out.

“That’s alright, Pea. There’ll be plenty of time to talk since Smoke and I aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Your heart flutters.

“Really?” you ask, and you wish you would’ve been able to stop your voice from changing pitch. 

Damn.

“Just admit that you missed us,” Stack smirks.

“I don’t know, I mean, I feel like everyone’s life has been calm without you and Smoke being here to terrorize everyone.”

“That was one time! Plus, Jimmy had it comin’. I can’t let anyone steal from us and just walk away without a scratch,” Stack throws his head back as he laughs.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to chase him all over,” you join in, beginning to double over in laughter. 

“It was either me or Smoke, and that boy Smoke was fumin’ when he found out, so it was better that Jenkins dealt with me instead of him,” Stack snorts.

“Whew, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Y’all had the whole town confused with Jimmy running by screaming bloody murder.”

“And I hadn’t even done anything to him yet!”

You clutch your stomach as you try to collect yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes as you blow out a breath. Stack does the same alongside you. 

“I really did miss you, y’know,” Stack admits.

And there goes your breath.

“Of course you did, why wouldn’t you,”you say, causing Stack to smile, “but I’m sure you and Smoke had plenty of fun on your adventures with seeing new places and meeting all those new people. You didn’t meet any women after all this time?”

“There were a few women, but none of 'em kept me interested.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. No one is good enough to tie you down, right?”

Stack pretends to think to himself for a second, before speaking, “Well, there is one person that I’m thinkin’ about.”

Your heart drops so low it almost hits the first floor of the barnhouse.

You clear your throat and keep your eyes in front of you. “And does this woman know that you like her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that? I’m sure you’ve made your flirting pretty obvious.”

Stack has never been one to keep his feelings to himself. If he sees a lady he likes, he’ll pursue her and most likely succeed.

“She’s on the shy side, so I don’t think she realizes. She keeps to herself and thinks others don’t notice her.”

Who has he been hanging around with? Didn’t he just get back in town. 

“I’m sure she does.”

“Nah, I don’t think she does,” Stack shakes his head with a sly smile. “You wanna bet?”

“I don’t have anything to bet, but sure.”

“How about if I’m right and she doesn’t know, then you have to dance with me,” Stack smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And if I’m right?”

“What would you like in return?”

You contemplate for a moment. “For you to tell me in detail how you got the money to afford this barnhouse.”

Stack rolls his eyes. “You’re on.”

“So, who is it?”

Stack turns toward the railing once again, a teasing look on his face. “You sure you just don’t wanna know because you’re jealous?”

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Stack chuckles in response, before going quiet. Then, there’s a moment of silence where you give him a look as you wait for an answer.

“You.”

You.

You feel your heart stop. “Me?” you ask, not fully believing him yet. Stack gives you a nod, and you try to look for any sign of lying on his face, but you can’t find any. “Stack, be serious for a second.”

“I am, Pea.”

All of a sudden, the music being played in the background just sounds like noise. You feel nauseous, relieved, confused, and happy all at once. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now as you look up at him. 

Before Stack could give you an answer, he’s interrupted by a voice from down below.

“Yo, Stack, come on down he-!” Sammy shouts, but cuts himself with the look that Smoke shoots at him. 

Stack clenches his jaw and whips his head towards Sammy. “Sammy, I’m gonna come down there and beat your ass. You need to learn when to read the room. Matter o’fact, I should come down there and break that damn guitar.”

“But you gave it to me.”

“And now I’m about to come take it away,” Stack replies causally. He makes a move to turn and walk down the stairs, but stops himself to look at you. “We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise,” he tells you, before giving you a quick wink and continuing down the stairs.

Then you hear, “Don’t run now, Sammy.”

Mary’s eyes meet yours from below, giving you one of her signature smirks. 

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[cronaskullz]

YALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS 😈

NEED HIM OML!!!!!!

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Sinners x reader fanfic writers wya?!!!???

[risingoftime]

TWO STEP TRAP | SMOKE STACK TWINS X F!READER |

You are one of the best dancers at the Midnight Blues joint in Chicago; it was only a matter of time before you encountered the Smoke Stack Twins. Their names linger in the club like perfume and cigars. If you are in the scene, you know them… and of course, they knew you.

contains: 18+ mdni, prequel to sinners, dancer!reader, porn with plot, smut, oral (Stack is a eater), threesome, p in v, pet names, man handling, body worshipping?? talking you through it, fingering, fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time.

You picked up your pace as you looked down at the watch on your wrist. It was nearly ten pm, and Marcus would threaten to lock your ass out if you didn’t arrive on time. He knew better though, you were the one that everyone came to see. Word spread quickly in the streets of Chicago, but there’s a place folks whisper about but rarely name out loud for fear of the White man hearing. It ain’t on any map called The Last Two Step, but if you know the right knock and carry enough heartbreak in your shoes, it’ll guide you behind an unmarked door at the edge of South Parkway Boulevard. In the joint, velvet smoke curls through the air, and every note from Ambrose’s piano drips slow and sticky, like honey off a blade. The Last Two Step is where time forgets itself in the sway of hips and the clink of glasses filled with bourbon. Nobody stumbles in by accident. If you find yourself there, something or someone wanted you to. And once you cross that threshold, baby, the night decides what happens next.

At the corner of your eye, you could see a slightly older, light-skinned woman shimmying her body down the alley to the hidden doorway of the club. “Miss Felicity! Wait up & hold the door, will you?” You hollered. Her head whipped to look behind her in alarm, but her glare softened once she saw you quickly following after her. She laughed at you as you tried to steady your breath.

“When will you learn your lesson and stop rushing at the last minute?” Felicity shook her head as you hurried inside and double-checked to see if anyone followed after y'all.

You flashed her a grin and said, “Probably right after you stop pretending you don’t love the thrill. Chaos builds character. Have you ever heard that?”

“Girl, you’re practically asking for trouble,” she muttered. Ambrose and the boys were still setting up the stage and tuning their instruments when you passed the wooden dance floor towards the changerooms in the back. Their eyes tracked the way you walked and paused to sneak a peek at your backside when they thought you wouldn’t notice. They were never slick enough to avoid getting caught. “Y’all are no better than little boys!” Felicity swatted at them as she climbed onto the stage and straightened her skirt. Felicity’s voice carried throughout the establishment even when she wasn’t singing and harmonizing with the band.

“Can’t blame us for admiring!” one of them defended.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed into the changeroom, more like a storage closet the dancers used to store their things and prepare for the night. Soon enough, the floor out there would be packed with sweaty bodies, hungry eyes, and a swanky beat that was hard to resist. And you? You’d be right in the middle, moving like a snake, soaking up the spotlight like it was poured just for you. Showing off your sultry moves, enticing the eyes of whoever looked upon you.

You weren’t just entertainment. You were a magnet. Marcus, the owner, knew it too. He would give you some of the shares to keep the crowd thick and thirsty, which is why he called you “eye candy.” A walking advertisement, you were good publicity for his juke joint. The three other girls in the room with you, Jacqueline, Deborah, and Ann, had the same deal. They didn’t care for me much, never had been. You drew too much attention, and it didn’t help that you didn’t come from the same background as them. You were the daughter of sharecroppers or “cotton pickers,” they say. Your skin was dark and smooth, shimmering in the light and under sweat. Your full lips, tantalizing gaze, and body that bloomed too fast for your age made you all the more unforgettable. Slim, sultry, and curved just right were the words used to describe her.

Looking into the handheld mirror as you finished the last touches to your makeup, you could see Marcus in the corner of your eye. “Baby, I ain’t paying you to doll yourself up and hide away!” His tone was playful, but there was an edge to his voice, and you knew that if you said the wrong thing, Marcus’ temper would appear. That is probably why he still ain’t been able to keep a woman. He’s only truly satisfied when he's drunk.

“Geez, what’s the hurry?” you whined as you hiked up your skirt higher to show more of your bare legs and patted down any stray hairs on your head from the finger curls.

“I gotta handle some business with the twins. Show ’em this is the kinda spot they wanna put their money in,” Marcus said, smoothing down his vest with a wink. The mention of the twins made your ears perk up. Smoke & Stack weren’t just names; they were similar to legends, stitched into the underbelly of Chicago. You didn’t just meet the Smoke Stack twins, you survived an encounter with them. If they were sniffing around Marcus’s place, it meant money was about to flow, and trouble wasn’t too far behind.

The music thrummed through your body and travelled to your chest as you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm and blues. All around you, a sea of Black bodies moved as one to the voice of Felicity and Ambrose’s band. In the night, they became a living and breathing entity under the heavy and melliferous air of the juke joint. The outside world slipped away in this moment, and all that mattered was the here and now. This is why you always answered the call of The Last Two Step, chasing the high of being free and being a person who is looked up to and not down upon. So far, there were no signs of the twins, and Marcus was growing more antsy by the minute. He’s resorted to pouring you more alcohol than he could offer, anything to make the party look wild and enticing to anyone who came inside.

Anticipation is the sweetest form of torture, and when the identical twins strolled through the entrance, it seemed as though the room truly came alive. Your eyes met with one of them. It wasn’t easy to tell them apart. He flashed a crooked smile, revealing a set of grills over his canines and front teeth. You twirled lightly, letting your waist roll slowly and deliberately. A glance over your shoulder caught the twins approaching Marcus at the bar, who suddenly looked boyish beside their commanding, muscular forms. Marcus was tall, handsome, and fit, but the twins had a figure that only one could have achieved by working hard in the fields.

Jacqueline broke you out of your thoughts when she walked beside you, “If one of those twins so much as smiled my way, I'd be slippin' outta my panties without a second thought.” She looked at the group of men with hungry eyes, drinking them in. You couldn’t blame her, but you’d be damned if any of the other dancers got a taste of the twins before you did. If the rumours were true, the twins were hung like a horse and knew how to eat a girl out so well that she could start humming in colours she had never seen before.

You watched as Deborah and Jacqueline positioned themselves near the twins and got brutally ignored. Better them than you. It’s better that you learn what not to do through them than make a fool of yourself. Moments passed as you danced amongst the crowd, and the music began to slow into a two-step dance, and people began to couple off. Scanning the crowd, you could see a man making his way to you. He’s been ogling you for most of the night and didn’t look too rough. Shit, one dance won’t hurt, right? It’s not like it’ll be your first or last.

Mid-stride, one of the twins drawled, “Ease up, kid,” bumpin’ his shoulder with a grin. “I’ll take it from here, see?”

The young man screwed up his face, about to give the southern gentlemen a piece of his mind but thought better of it when he saw the twin flash him a crooked smile. Smoothing out his button-up shirt, the young man puffed out his chest and recovered quickly. “No worries, boss.” He gave me a once-over before nodding his head in dismissal. The unnamed twin didn’t even bother to turn his head to ensure he was gone before extending a hand in your direction.

“May I have this dance?” His smile revealed the notorious grill the twins were famous for, shining faintly in the dimly lit venue. You couldn’t recall whether it was Smoke or Stack who wore it. Ultimately, did it matter? You paused and accepted his hand. His warm, large, and calloused grip completely enveloped your hand. Aside from counting cash, your thoughts drifted to what else his fingers might be good at. He instantly pulled you in closer with ease. Your bodies were flush against each other, now chest to chest. You peered up at him.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” You countered. The chuckle that left his throat vibrated throughout his whole body. It didn’t help that when you took a breath to calm your erratic heart, his cologne and natural fragrance evaded your senses. As the two of you fell into rhythm with the music, the thoughts running in your head were anything but holy. It was rare for a man to elicit such a response from you on the first encounter.

“A lady always has a choice,” he rebutted, voice like molasses slow drippin’ off a spoon.

“Who said I was a lady?” you challenged, chin tilted and your cheeks filled with heat. Once it slipped out of your mouth, there was no snatching it back. You've always been reckless with how words leapt past your lips without permission. He didn’t as much as blink at your question and didn’t smirk either. Just stepped in closer, real close, until the scent of smoke, cologne, and something else curled in your nose again. His thigh rose between your legs, stopping just shy of making contact with your center, enough to make your breath catch in your throat, dipping you down and pulling you back up in time with the strums of the guitar that played aloud.

“Then I reckon I ain’t gotta treat you like one,” he murmured, voice pitched low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I do like a woman who talks back.” You swore your knees might buckle right there. “S’wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” he joked to lighten the obvious tension that grew quickly between you two. You could hear your heartbeat over the hum of the blues and chatter surrounding you. His thigh lingered, firm and deliberate, almost making you forget your damn name. But you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely.

Leaning in just a little, with parted lips and sharp eyes. “And what do they call you, stranger?” your voice came out strong and daring like you weren’t already trying to keep your head on straight.

He didn’t answer right away, dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lips, then down to the space between you that barely existed anymore. “They call me Stack,” he finally said, a slow smile began curling at the corner of his mouth. “But you can call me Elias Moore.” He said it like a promise as he lowered his deep red fedora hat, his eyes never leaving yours. His name hung in the air, impossible to ignore. The kind of name a woman didn’t forget, even if she wanted to. The Elias Stack Moore stood before you. Being his girl could open up more doors for you than you could count.

“Come on,” he drawled, his hand brushing the small of your back. “Dance floor’s gettin’ too damn crowded for what I got in mind.” You felt him guide you, firm but unhurried, through the sea of moving bodies, past the haze of cigar smoke and spilled bourbon. Nobody paid y’all any mind. Juke joints were built on secrets and sideway glances anyway.

The changeroom door creaked as he pushed it open with his shoulder. The low bulb above our heads flickered like it knew what was coming. Inside, it smelled like lavender powder and dust. The old velvet curtains were draped over crates, hiding booze and our valuables. The crooked mirror watched us from their respective corners. He closed the door behind you with a click that felt louder than it was.

He leaned against it for a beat, arms crossed, watching you like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or ruin you slowly. “Now,” Stack’s voice dropped to a sinful hush, “where were we?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. This boy must’ve lost his goddamn mind if he thought the two of you were going to get hot and heavy in this sorry excuse of a change room. You weren’t a lady, but you had class and respect, very little of it, but it was there nonetheless. The two of you stood in the quiet room, and the silence stretched thick with possibility. Stack pushed off the door and lazily strolled toward you like he had all the time in the world. His boots barely made a sound on the old wooden floors. Every inch he closed made your skin feel tighter.

“You always this quiet when you want something?” he asked. Stack stopped shy of touching you, his hands at his sides like he dared you to lean in first. The nerves in your body buzzed like a live wire. You were all too aware of how your desires practically had you ready to drop to your knees. But you kept your face unreadable, and it was your best defence. You’d been raised to survive men like Elias Stack Moore. The smooth talkers with heat behind their eyes and a storm tucked inside their smiles.

“Depends on what I want,” you finally said. “And whether it’s worth the noise.”

“Oh, I’m worth it,” he replied. Stack threw his hat on the dressing room counter to reveal his face. But I ain’t cheap.” You gave him a steady look up and down. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his skin. Everything he wore appeared nicely tailored to his physique, too.

“Neither am I,” you shot back.

Stack was now an inch away from your face, his warmth wrapped around you like steam off a kettle. His hand reached out, not to grasp nor to grope, but to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, rough fingers grazing your cheek like an invitation.

“Trust me, sugar, you keep carryin’ on as you do, and Chicago gon’ be hollerin’ your name louder than they ever did mine or my brother’s.”

“Well then,” you said, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers trailing the buttons of his shirt like you were counting sins, “guess it's a damn good thing I don't mind how my name sounds in another’s mouth.”

Shifting your hips just enough to make your intentions loud and clear without a single word more. Stack’s breath hitches just a little, but you caught it. You always did. You knew that taking it further would be a reckless mistake, but Lord, it’d feel like salvation. The end of a prolonged drought, giving in, would feel like the first rainfall. Wet, overwhelming, and too damn good to stop. Stack’s eyes told you he was ready to drown in it, and hell, you might just let him.

She didn't have to speak, just the slow roll of her hips were enough to knock the wind out of him. She knew how deep she could cut without drawing blood. His breath caught in his throat, bare and ragged. God help him. He wanted to ruin you in a way that leaves a mark and memory.

Stack knew better. He knew this would get messy. With a glance at your slicked thighs, Stack knew you'd provide no mercy.

Leaning in close, lips just shy of his ear. “Still quiet, Stack?” you whispered in a sweet and teasing voice. “I figured by now you'd know how to beg.” You loved turning his words and spinning them against him. His raw reactions were entertaining to see.

Stack’s jaw tightened, but his eyes didn't waver. “I don't beg, sugar,” his tone changed to a quiet and threatening one. “I take.”

You flashed him a wicked smile and hooked a finger around his belt buckle. “Then come take it.”

He didn't wait, with his hands on your waist, before you could exhale. His rough palms and fingers dug in as if he meant to claim something, or he already had.

“You sure about this?” He muttered against your neck, voice hoarse. Hot breath dragging over your skin. “Cause once I get started, I ain't stopping till I’ve wrung every drop outta yah.”

“Make good on allat talk,” you replied. That was all it took. Stack kissed you like he was desperate. Teeth and tongue felt like a little too much and not nearly enough. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed you up against the old brick wall, grinding against you with slow, punishing friction. His hands found the hem of your skirt, bunching it up, and slid a hand underneath with practiced ease.

“Fuck,” Stack groaned when he felt how soaked you already were. Two fingers slipped along your folds. “You tryna kill me, baby?”

“I ain't even started yet.”

He dropped to his knees like he'd been praying for the chance. Pulling your thighs apart and pushing your back against the cool wall. With a tongue hot and desperate, he licked up your pussy, groaning like you were his last meal. Your hand shot to his head, gripping tight, guiding him just as you liked it. He didn't need much. He was already lost in you. Every moan sounded like praise.

“That’s it,” you hissed, rocking yourself into his mouth. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

“I won’t,” Stack promised. Not until your legs were shaking, and his jaw was slick with you. Not until your pretty moans turned into curses and your body tried to escape, then pleasure only could chase you.

When he finally stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you, a man completely undone. Stack spun you around like it was second nature, pressing you into the wall with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head. His belt clinked open behind you, the soft grating of his zipper loud in the stillness.

"You sure you can take it, girl?" he muttered. Looking back, you could see Stack grip his thick length in his hand, pumping it up and down before lining his dick against your soaked entrance, teasing but firm. "Ain't no holding back tonight."

“Give it to me like you mean it,” you snapped.

Stack slammed into you in one cunning and possessive thrust. You gasped when your forehead hit the brick. He didn't give you a second to adjust, just wrapped an arm around your waist and started working his hips in a relentless tempo. The room echoed with sounds of skin meeting skin, moans, and his low curses. His other hand found your clit, and began rubbing small circles to make you fall apart all over again.

“You feel that?” he panted in your ear with pride. “This pussy is mine.”

You cried out, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy. “Stack… fuck—” was all you managed to get out before he began grinding himself deeper inside.

Your orgasm was intense and all-consuming, tearing a high pitched outcry to escape your lips as you clenched your walls around him. Stack’s thrusts began to be uneven and passionate as he chased his own high. And just when he was on the edge, body trembling, and his muscles taut against yours…

“Well, goddam!”

Both of your heads snapped to the door. Stack froze inside of you, jaw clenched, with wide eyes at the sight of his twin brother.

Smoke stood there, curtly closing the door behind him and leaning against the doorframe like he walked in on a business deal instead of his brother balls deep in another’s soul.

“I come lookin’ for Stack and come to find this.” He gestured between the two of you with an amused look. “Y’all ain't even had the decency to lock the door?”

“Get the fuck out, Smoke,” Stack sounded feral.

Smoke smirked in return, kissing his teeth. “Don’t let me interrupt,” his fingers slipped behind him to turn the lock on the door. “Finish where you left off.”

Stack didn’t pull out. He didn’t even make a move as Smoke’s laughter faded. His grip on your hips tightened like he was claiming you harder now that he’d been seen. He was practically primal, yet there was a hesitation, a shift between the three of you.

“Good. Thought I might stick around this time.”

“You got one fuckin’ second to turn around,” Stack growled, still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back.

“Relax,” Smoke said, voice smooth as whiskey and twice as dangerous. “Ain’t here to fight. I just figured if you were gonna fuck her like you mean it. You’d also let her choose who she wants.”

You turned your head slowly, pulse thrumming like a drum. Smoke leaned in the doorway again, one brow raised, hunger in his eyes like he already knew the answer. Stack’s jaw flexed. His hands never left your skin.

“This ain’t a game, Smoke.”

“Never said it was.” His gaze dropped to where your bodies were still joined. “But I seen the way she looks at me, too. Don’t play like you didn’t notice.”

It was the truth, they were identical twins after all. The thought had crossed your mind if they were also the same down there. Smoke had always been the smoother one. The devil that smiled back at you when you flirted with danger. And now, with Stack buried deep and your body still trembling from the last orgasm, part of you wanted to see what it’d be like to be stretched between both of them.

It’s up to her,” Smoke said, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Ain’t it?” Stack didn’t speak. His silence was a storm ready to break.

You turned to face them both, hips still pushed back. You looked at Smoke through your eyelashes, and said, “You better double check that the door is locked this time.”

Smoke jiggled the door handle before focusing his sights on you, bent forward as if committing the sight to memory.

“ Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Didn’t expect you to be so generous.”

Stack remained silent. He just thrust into you once, hard enough to make you gasp and grip the wall again.

“She ain’t yours,” Stack burst, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew what this was. I knew it wasn’t just about possession.

“Ain’t tryin’ to take her,” Smoke replied, stepping near.

His hands were on you before you could think, one sliding up the nape of your neck, the other tilting your chin to face him. He kissed you softly at first until you deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, feeling Stack start to move again behind you, his speed staggering with every second.

“And you’re just lettin’ him have all the fun?” he mumbled against your mouth.

Stack growled low in his throat. “You want a turn, Smoke? Take her mouth. But you better be sure she can handle both of us.”

“Oh, I can,” you whispered, drunk on the moment.

Smoke stepped out of his clothes, his dick already thick and ready. He guided you down to your knees with his hand. You opened your mouth, lips wrapping around him just as Stack banged back into you from behind.

The stretch of both was overwhelming, one in your mouth and one buried deep. Stack fucked you harder now, his hold bruising on your hips, while Smoke let you control the pace with your tongue until he lost his patience and started to thrust into your mouth.

“Look at you,” Smoke groaned. “Takin’ us both like it’s what you were made for.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you moaned around him, the vibrations making Smoke’s jaw clench. Stack was close, you could feel it in the way his rhythm stuttered and his breathing picked up.

“She’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” Stack gasped. “She’s gonna make me—fuck—” He pulled out just in time to spill across your back, thick ropes of cum marking your skin while Smoke slid out of your mouth and lifted your chin again.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Smoke growled, hauling you into his arms like you weighed nothing. He laid you down flat on the velvet covered crates nearby, pushing your knees back and plunging into you with a groan. The angle was brutal and somehow filthier. His eyes locked on yours the whole time, making it impossible for you to look away.

Stack leaned nearby, watching, still catching his breath, chest slick with sweat.

“Don’t think she’s ever been full till tonight.” Smoke said between thrusts.

You cried out, the pressure building fast and hot, your nails scraping down Smoke’s back. He fucked you through it, didn’t stop even as your body shook and your thighs tried to close. You came again loudly and broken open for Smoke to finally bury himself and release inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound was your breath and heartbeat, all three of you covered in sweat and something that felt dangerously close to obsession. Then Stack muttered lowly, “This doesn't change shit.”

“Oh, it changes everything, brother.” Smoke chuckled, pulling out slowly, the evidence of what you had just done dripping down your thighs.

taglist: @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax

➴ feel free to send me more thots

[melancholymetropolis]

“Stop pretending that you hate me,” Stack said with a smug grin.

“I’m not pretending.”

I let the words fall upon his ears like a cracked glass on the floor. His face dropped. The smile was long gone and a look of pain flashed across it. Stack looked as though I shot him in the chest. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he flicked the cigarette bud from his fingertips. He closed the distance between us in three long strides. My back was pressed against the brick wall of the shop before I could blink. The pain on his face morphed into anger so hot it made his skin burn. 

“You don’t mean that,” he spat, looking me dead in the eye.

 Stack tried to make himself bigger, more intimidating. A lackluster attempt to scare me, but it hadn’t worked. Not only were we a few inches shy of the same height, but I could see right through him. I knew Stack before he was Stack. 

When he was just Elias.

“Y/N,” his voice was a warning. Danger in his tone, but it didn’t phase me. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”

“Get out of my way, Stack,” I said, in a low tone. A desperate attempt to hide the pain in my voice. The stitches of an old wound was beginning to reopen. “I have work to do.”

His eyes poured into me just used to. Filling my head with stupid assumptions that only left me heartbroken in the end. I thought about how he set my dislocated shoulder in place; it must've meant he liked me. How he acted as my left hand for weeks until the pain went away; that must've meant he cared about me. The way he hunted down the man who did it and made him pay… must've meant he loved me. Only me.

But, that wasn't the whole truth.

“So that's why you never replied to my letters,” Stack replied, eyes still searching my face. “Still angry about Mary, huh?”

I dared to stare back at him. My gaze like cold rain to his heated gaze. I refused to slip the mask and embarrass myself in public like she did. He wasn't worth that. Not anymore. Not after seven years. 

I was better than that.

“Not really,” I said with an air of indifference. “I was a little preoccupied to hold a grudge.”

As if summoned, a squeaky little voice cut through the tension. Making Stack freeze on impact. Something he hardly does.

“Mommy?”

My sweet baby girl tilted her little head up at us to assess the situation. Her deep brown eyes searched the potentially dangerous stranger before flicking back over to me, in a caged position. A look of irritation, or disgust briefly graced her face. She narrowed her eyes at Stack and crossed her arms against her chest. Madeline was not afraid of anything. She was always the kind of child to look danger in the eye and laugh.

"Is that ugly man bothering you?" She said, staring directly at Stack. "Should I call daddy?"

An orchestra of emotion appeared on Stack's face. He seem to be both deep in thought and confused at the same time. Like he working out something profound. It took him several seconds before he came to.

"How old are you?" He asked Madeline, jumping right into the conversation.

"I don't talk to strangers," she tilted her in defiance, earning a smile from me.

Good Girl.

Stack, then, turned back to me. A desperate look in his eye; silently asking me the same question. Though he couldn't bring himself to the vocalize it. A look a true fear and hope on his face.

I used his trembling expression to my advantage and slipped from his arms. I took Maddie's hand and steered her away him.

His eyes drilled into my back, but he didn't dare move a muscle. He couldn't. He didn't to make a scene, or worse, alert everyone else of an open secret.

My baby survived, while my cousin's, Annie, didn't.

-----------------------------

a/n: watched sinners and I had to whip something up. let me know if you would like a part two! drop a comment if you would like to be on the taglist, if this becomes a series.

@lov4gor3

--------------------------

Part II

[innorality]

stack x reader (sinners)

cw : biting, blood, spit-play, no protection + finishing inside (I love stack sm yall)

"f-fuck.. stack!" you moaned out, your hands trembling in his firm grip against the table that creaked with every movement of his relentless hips.

you back was flat on the table while your legs were wrapped around his slutty fucking waist— fuck, you could drown in the sight of him.

becoming vampires did have a lot of downsides, but the pros were fucking heavenly.

he had more stamina, more force, more speed. your sex life? upgraded for as long as a dagger doesn't get in that pretty little chest of his.

"shit��� sweetie.." he lowered his head, nuzzling in the crook of your neck. "you smell so fuckin'..." he trailed off, and you felt his dick twitching inside of you as he inhaled your scent.

his thick cock battered your insides, turning you into a limbless puddle of pleasure. his free hand—the one that wasn't holding both of your wrists—trailed down your body and onto that puffy little clit of yours. "I wanna- fuck.. wanna make you cum.." his fangs bared, "'cuz.. when you cum.. your blood- shit.. your fuckin' blood.."

and he feels like he's about to cum himself.

his balls tightened at the sound of your honey-coated voice dripping out your swollen lips, moaning his name, at the sound of your heart pounding faster by the second, at the sound of your blood rushing to flow in your veins.

he rubbed your clit faster, pinching and slapping it every so often, and when you finally climaxed, it hit you like a rocking ball.

it took you by surprise, to be honest.

one second you were listening to your demonic boyfriend ramble about your blood flow when you came, and the next, an overwhelming wave of pleasure filled your senses. and you didn't know if it was the fact that your senses were heightened aswell, or if he just fucked you that good, but you swear that you saw the pearly gates of heaven for a moment.

your velvet walls came clamping down on him, cream coating his length with every greedy thrust he made. he watched your tits bounce up and down as your body moved with his like a fucking ragdoll.

"s-shit.." was the only word he could even think of uttering when his eyes bored back down to where the two you connected, and he saw the amount of gooey cream that you coated him with and he just can't help himself–

"f-fuck baby– im-" and he's biting down on your neck. hard. hard enough to draw blood, hard enough for it hurt. the pain felt delicious, and you only ached for more, so you fought through the overastimulation and overall need to just lie down, got a hand out of his wrist lock, and pushed him even deeper on your neck.

and shit, he thinks he might just die. the smell of taste of your blood, the feeling of your oozing pussy around him, the deafening sound his tip made everytime he hit your cervix... it all catches up to him.

he cums. hard. his abs clenched like he was having a seizure and he whimpered. you vampire ex-soldier boyfriend just whimpered in your ear. "f-fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- why do you feel so fuckin' good, baby? shit.. bet you wanna- bet you wanna taste yourself huh?" and he quite literally fights gravity to bring his head back up. you parted your lips obediently and suddenly, a stream of a mix of your blood and his drool dripped down from his mouth to yours.

you swallowed as he pulled out, feeling his sticky cum dribble out of your still clenching hole, panting.

maybe this new vampire life wasn't so bad, after all.

[bananafieldnotes]

beg for me

★ abstract: it’s ‘70s chicago and stack’s a single man on the prowl for his match. you’re about to give him more than he bargained for

content disclosure: smut, technical age gap, black!reader, fem!reader x stack, dirty talk, public sex, fingering (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, canon deviation, ongoing series

author’s note: hello! this is my first ‘sinners’ fic of what i hope to be many! i’m not new to writing fanfic but this is a fresh blog, and my first time writing fic about a film. i wrote this blurb with the intention of turning it into a series so feedback is so appreciated!! i’m very open to asks and requests as well :) i had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it

🚧 edit: t*mblr fucked me over with the 'read more' bar and it cut an entire paragraph of context :/ i've added it back since this fic's original posting 5.13

You’d heard all the stories from your creole cousins about vampires, how they walk amongst the living without detection. That there were even vampires that could walk in sunlight unharmed by its rays. None of it scared you. In fact, it served as the opposite; it excited you. The danger of being caught under a vampire’s thumb brought you an indescribable rush of adrenaline and excitement and not even a pinch of fear. You wanted the gift they spoke of.

He went by the name Stack, and you’d watched him up and down the bar you worked in every night he made an appearance. At first, you thought he was a bachelor taking advantage of his good looks and suave demeanor to bed as many patrons as possible. But the closer you got to him, the more he gave himself away. The flash of color in his eyes, how he was stronger than your best security guard despite his trimmer frame, the way he never touched the silver martini glasses and insisted on a regular glass. And the dead giveaway, of course, was his lack of reflection in the mirror you passed dragging him off to the bathroom.

His hands cupped your ass, kneading the cheeks apart as your teeth pulled at his earlobe. The bathroom door was only so thick but neither of you cared, cloaked in the haze of sweat, cocaine and Marvin Gaye as you shed whatever layer of clothing you could get your hands on.

As his lips made their way back to yours, it suddenly hit you that his kisses were vintage, that he’d probably travelled the globe kissing hundreds of people in various ways at his heart’s desire. The thought spurred you on, a fresh wave of arousal glossing your panties. “Stack?” The smoky film over his eyes was back as he pulled away to look at you, fangs retreating before you could see them. “Hurry up and fuck me already.”

The tug of a smirk let you know that you were in for a rough ride. “You want it now?”

Stack’s hand snaked beneath your dress to stroke your clit, fingers gliding without protest through your sodden folds. Your head nodded eagerly at his question even though you knew he was reveling in the pleasure of your desperation. His fingers, deft and thicker than yours, pushed experimentally past your entrance, eyes locked on your face as you exhaled a moan of relief. Two digits working in tandem to curl against your sensitive walls, marveling at how wet you were. Your essence dripping from his fingers. It was the most turned on you’d ever been.

It felt too good. His hot breath fanned across your face as he pumped in and out of your gummy walls, licking at your neck like he was playing with his food. All of it was so erotic that it drowned out the music just beyond the door and dulled the way the concrete sink pressed against your tailbone. “You want it but can you take it?”

The low rumble of his voice made your pussy clench around his fingers, eyes screwing shut to bask in how lewd it was. His thumb curved up to massage your clit as his fingers worked you open, and he laughed at the way your hips bucked wildly. “I-I can take it, please, Stack!”

He was so quick to undo his belt that you didn’t even hear it, cock wrapped in his hands as your eyes drifted open sleepily. His dick was just as pretty as him; thick, long, and just the slightest bit curved. You wanted to bend over and lick the single pearl of precum leaking out of his tip, but he was already using it to tease your entrance. A shockwave rippled down your spine as he bucked once, twice, teasing you mercilessly until you grabbed hold of his cock to finally slip him inside of you.

The stretch felt delicious despite his size being so… overwhelming. Your body welcomed him like it was made for him, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out. Your hands clutched to the front of his shirt, breathlessly awaiting his next move.

Stack watched you in amazement, your greed astonishing to him. It’s been years since a human could match his passion, his unquenchable thirst. And here you are in front of him, licking your lips and staring at him like you were ready for him to fuck you dizzy.

His hips undulated slowly, studying your expression meticulously for any signs of discomfort. As if you could read his thoughts, you wrapped your arms around his torso and flicked your hips to match his motion. You could take it.

“You feel that?” Stack drew his hips all the way back until just the tip remained inside of you, sliding forward in one swift move again. With your stomach pressed against his, he could feel his cock reaching unexplored depths with every thrust. “Feel it.”

He brought your hand to hover right near your belly button, pushing down gently enough for you to feel the friction from the outside in. Stack was staking his claim to your body, ensuring that you’d chase the high of this moment for the rest of your life. It made your eyes roll back, pleasure consuming your every thought, nerve and muscle. Your soul was only concerned with tying itself to his, ardently clawing at the nape of his neck to bring his face closer to yours.

His fangs appeared instantaneously, the rush of his hormones making it harder for him to hide his true nature. You were putting weakness on his knees as you taunted him with his sustenance, your blood pumping succulently beneath your skin’s surface. “Do it,” you moaned out, sensing his hesitation. “Bite me.”

You knew. You knew and you didn’t care; or rather, you cared because you knew. It got you going, it was possibly the only reason you seduced him. He knew nothing about you… how could he have assumed he had you all figured out?

Asking him deterred his desire altogether, his interest in your motives deepening as he watched you. He couldn’t acquiesce without knowing more. Even though he was more than happy to reap the benefits, Stack never asked for any of this. And if you, as gorgeous and alluring and enthralling as you were, wanted this willingly…

He needed to know more.

[brownsugarcoffy]

Soul & Sanguine

Summary

1976. Chicago.

Jackie Dubois, a confident and ambitious woman from a small town in North Carolina, has come to the city with big dreams of making a name for herself. But her reality is far from the glamorous Hollywood life she imagined. She’s stuck working as a waitress at The Pharaoh’s Den, an exclusive nightclub with an electric vibe and a dark undercurrent. The club’s owner, Elias "Stacks" Moore, is every bit the enigma—smooth-talking, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. On the outside, he’s just another businessman, but behind the scenes? He’s a vampire who rules a world of blood, power, and temptation.

As Jackie gets drawn deeper into the tantalizing and dangerous world of the club, she starts to realize there’s far more at play than she ever imagined. Stacks sees something in her—something he’s willing to help her cultivate, but at a cost. He offers her a deal: the chance to rise to the stardom she’s always dreamed of, but accepting it means stepping into a world of darkness, immortality, and secrets she isn’t prepared for.

Characters: Jackie Dubois(OC) x Stacks" Elias" Moore (Vampire/ 70's gangster)

Warning: Blood, Vulgar Language, Violence, Sexual content & more...

Chapters: PART (2) , PART (3)

A/N: Although Smoke got hold on me. Lol I been thinking about how Stacks gave pimp and rolling stone energy in Sinners. This gave me the idea to write something with a Blaxploitation vibe to it.

‐----‐‐‐---------‐--------------------------------------------------------

The Pharaoh’s Den was alive. Funk music hummed in the air, a pulsating rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the city. The heavy scent of cigar smoke mixed with the sharp tang of whiskey and perfume, filling the club with a sense of both luxury and danger. Jackie Dubois moved effortlessly through the crowd, and her tray of drinks balanced with practiced ease. The night was just beginning, and every step she took brought her closer to her dream: Hollywood. But first, she had to make the money, the connections—get noticed.

She wasn’t new to this life. She’d worked in enough dives and clubs to know how to survive in a world that wasn’t always kind to women like her. But there was something about The Pharaoh’s Den that felt different. It wasn’t just the thick, electric vibe in the air or the sharp glances that followed her every move—it was the way the place seemed to pulse with an unspoken power, as if the club itself had a secret it wasn’t sharing with her. And tonight, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was getting closer to discovering it.

Back in the dressing room, Marietta was getting ready for her set, applying bold red lipstick and adjusting her shimmering costume. Her cousin was the star of the club’s go-go dancers, her body a perfect blend of seduction and power. Marietta had been dancing here for months, her movements fluid and hypnotic, commanding the crowd’s attention with every beat of the music. She was the one who had gotten J. the job at The Pharaoh’s Den, promising her that the hustle would pay off.

“This is where the real connections are, J. You gotta stick with it,” she’d said, her eyes always sparkling with ambition.

Jackie watched her cousin for a moment, the way she moved with effortless grace, the confidence she exuded as she prepared for her stage time. Marietta had the kind of magnetic presence that made heads turn, but Jackie. wasn’t sure if that was the path she wanted. She didn’t want to dance for men’s pleasure—she was here for something more. But tonight, it seemed like something else was in the air. The energy was thick with tension, and Jackie wasn’t the only one feeling it.

The sound of the music grew louder as Marietta slipped into her stage outfit—tight, sequined, and glittering under the dim lights. She shot Jackie. a wink in the mirror before grabbing a feathered fan and turning to leave the dressing room.

“Make sure you don’t let those pigs walk all over you tonight,” Marietta teased with a grin, her voice full of knowing humor.

Jackie laughed and nodded. “I got this. You just go out there and do your thing.”

But even as Marietta walked out of the room, J. couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight might be different.

Jackie moved out to the floor, taking orders from the tables in her usual manner—graceful, efficient, a perfect blend of warmth and distance. She had no time for distractions, especially from the men who seemed to think they could treat her like an object. Her mind was on her goal—money for the Hollywood dream. She wasn’t here to entertain anyone. But tonight, as the evening rolled on, the tension only grew.

As she passed a table near the back, she felt the eyes of the men on her before she even saw them. They were rough, hard-edged, the kind of men who didn’t have to say much to make their presence known. And she could tell right away that these men were trouble.

One of them, a burly man with a scruffy beard and gold chains hanging from his neck, leaned forward and called out to her with a thick drawl.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice low but dripping with something she didn’t like. “How ‘bout another drink?”

She kept walking, eyes straight ahead. She was used to men like him—loud, overbearing, trying to take control with their money and their bravado. She wasn’t interested.

“Can I take your order, sir?” she said, her voice smooth but firm, her tone making it clear that she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

But the man wasn’t done. He smiled like he knew something she didn’t. “Come on, girl. You ain’t got anywhere else to be. Bring me another whiskey, and maybe we’ll talk.”

Jackie didn’t stop, didn’t falter. She just kept walking, grabbing the whiskey from the bar and heading back in the direction of the table. But as she neared, the man’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with a force that made her freeze.

“Now hold on a second, baby,” he slurred. “I said, come here. Don’t ignore me.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, a rush of anger and adrenaline flooding her veins. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away immediately, but something inside her snapped. She didn’t work in places like this to be grabbed, to be made to feel small.

Her eyes locked onto his, cold and steady. “Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice cutting through the air with an edge that was impossible to ignore.

Before the man could respond, a voice, low and commanding, rang out from across the table. It was calm, controlled—nothing like the drunk banter that filled the club.

“That’s enough.”

She turned her head instinctively, searching for the source of the voice. A man sat at the center of the table, his presence like a shadow in the dim light. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, and his black hair was slicked back with practiced ease. His expression was unreadable, his eyes—sharp, calculating—locked onto hers.

The man who had grabbed her wrist quickly pulled his hand back, muttering an apology. But the newcomer didn’t even look at him. His gaze never left Jackie's.

“You’re new here,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet but carrying a tone that demanded attention. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement.

She felt a chill run down her spine. She stood her ground, the whiskey still in her hand. “That’s right,” she answered, her tone sharp. “I’m just here to do my job.”

The man leaned back in his chair, still studying her with that cool, detached look. “Maybe you should learn the rules of The Pharaoh’s Den before you go around talking back,” he said, his voice cold and dismissive.

“Here, we serve the customers. No one talks back to my crew.”

Her pulse quickened. “I’m not here to be anyone’s servant,” she retorted, her voice rising slightly. “I’ll serve drinks, but I’m not anyone’s toy.”

For the first time, a flicker of something crossed the man’s face—an unreadable expression, like he was sizing her up, weighing her defiance. But his lips stayed curled in that faint, almost amused smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’ll learn fast enough,” he said, his voice turning to ice. “Now, get back to work. This is my club, and you’re just a part of it. Understand?”

Jackie's chest tightened, but she didn’t back down. She was used to being talked down to, but this felt different. The way he spoke, the way his presence seemed to suck the air out of the room—it unsettled her.

She opened her mouth to retort, to tell him just who she thought he was, but before she could speak, the man waved his hand dismissively, turning his attention back to the conversation with his crew. As if she were nothing.

She didn’t move right away. For a moment, she just stood there, trying to process what had just happened. This man—who the hell was he? Why did everyone listen to him like that?

Still seething, Jackie turned on her heel, walking away, but her mind was a whirl of frustration. She’d just been dismissed by a stranger who clearly had some kind of control over this place—and worse, he had made it clear that he expected everyone here to follow his rules. She wasn’t used to being told what to do, especially by someone who didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself.

As she reached the bar, she could feel his eyes on her, heavy and lingering. She didn’t look back, but she could feel it, that strange, magnetic pull. She didn’t know who he was, but she was certain of one thing: This man had just made his mark on her night.

She didn’t know it yet, but she had just crossed paths with the devil who ran The Pharaoh’s Den, the man who controlled not just the club but a world of power, secrets, and blood that no one outside the shadows would ever understand.

And Elias? He wasn’t done with her just yet.....

TAGLIST:

[fckwritersblock]

I Never Told You (part 1 )

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x black reader

Description: ( unedited af ) You and Stack have been in love for what feels like forever, but neither of you has had the courage to speak up. Stack is convinced that your heart belongs to Smoke, and as for Smoke? He’s exhausted from trying to show you both that the love you seek is right in front of you.

Word count.: 3,852

A/n: this was originally one part, but I thought it’s a break it up into two because when I tell you, it’s getting a longer and longer 😭 I don’t wanna rush the way I want it to end but the way I’m craving these Sinners fic and I know some of y’all are too. I thought it would be nice to drop it now. Couldn’t contain my own excitement 😂

Part 2 - What I Should’ve Said

Enjoy ! 🩷

As soon as you stepped off the train, a smile broke across your face. The familiar sights and sounds of home wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You were excited to finally be back, but a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach at the thought of seeing your sister for the first time in ages. Yes, you guys had written to each other, and she had tore your ass a new one in a few of them letters back home bout to running off with the twins without a word. Nevertheless, you knew regardless of how upset she may be with you, she’d always welcome you home with open arms. You missed your sister. You also missed the twins, who you were eager to reunite with. It had been almost a year since you’d all been together, and just thinkin' about Stack made your pulse quicken.

Steppin' aside so other boarding the train would have access to the front door, you made your way toward the center of the station, your eyes scanning the crowd. You were sure Stack knew you was comin' at this time, so you had a feelin' he’d be lurkin' around here somewhere. Just then, you heard it—a voice that sent a thrill of nostalgia through you. You turned around, curiosity piqued, and there he was, front and center.

But your heart sank a little when you noticed the woman standin’ in front of him. Fair-skinned and confident, she had that undeniable charm—Mary. Of course she would find him, you thought bitterly.

You watched as Stack’s gaze followed her, a solemn look crossing his face as she walked away. You should’ve known he’d seek her out the moment he arrived. You’d bet money he could find her in a crowed room, without fail.

You loathed Mary.

It wasn’t a secret. You couldn’t stand her presence and that gnawed at you deep down. It wasn’t just jealousy; it was that gut-wrenching belief that Stack cared for her more than he did for you. He looked out for her in a way that was different from how he looked out for you. The attention he gave her was the kind you had secretly longed for, and judging by the way he stood there, it seemed nothin' had changed.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Old habits die hard, huh, Stack?” you snarked from behind him, the playful edge in your voice barely masking the hurt you felt.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes in resignation. He knew he was caught.

He didn’t even have to turn around to know it was you. Stack could tell by the sound of your voice that you was pissed, especially with the faux sugary sweet smile you wore when he finally faced you. That, and when you were at him, it was the only time you called him Stack and not Elias.

Turning around to face you he could barely contain the smile that wanted to break out.

It had been a year since the two of you had seen each other, but for him, it felt like a lifetime. For six years, y’all had traveled the world together. You had taken care of him and Smoke, watchin' their backs, makin' sure he stayed outta trouble. You had put up with his antics for so long, and he’d never understood why you stuck by his side. That was until you decided it was time to carve out your own path, to prove you could stand on your own.

So you left them. You left him. You promised to return within a year or come runnin' if he called.

But Stack didn’t call.

He figured you didn’t want him to. Not really. A part of him was upset with you for abandoning him. He knew Smoke had written to you a few times, and he tried not to let the green-eyed monster show. Smoke would tell him when he received a letter, sometimes even havin' one for him too. Stack never wrote back, but he always read the ones you sent for him. Several times in fact. He wanted to know how you were, what you had been up to, even if he fronted like he didn’t care. You were miles away and all he wanted was you near..

And now you were back, standing right in front of him, looking as breathtaking as ever. The sun-kissed brown skin of yours practically glowed in the light. The apples of your cheeks rounded as you smiled, dimples showing, and the curves of your hips called out to him as he admired your frame in the flowy yellow dress you wore. It reminded him of your favorite flower, magnolias, and coincidentally, yellow was his favorite color on you too.

You were home for him, and you didn’t even know it.

“It wasn’t even like that, Bam,” he said, tryin' to brush off the tension and butter you up with the nickname he gave you.

“It never is, is it, Stack?” you shot back, crossin' your arms, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Come on now, after all this time, that’s the mood you wanna get off on?” He hand taken a few steps toward you and grabbed your hand.

“A brotha can’t get no love first?” He flashed you a smile he knew you couldn’t resist.

Despite yourself, your smile grew bigger as you felt the warmth of his presence pulling you in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sinking into the comfort of his embrace.

“I missed you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you melted against him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied, his words a gentle way of sayin', 'I missed you too.'

“Who’s this?” you asked, eyeing the guitar-totin' boy standin' next to them after you two finally pulled apart.

“The boy,” Stack replied, nodding in his direction.

“The boy—Little Sammie, is that you?!” you exclaimed, shocked.

“Miss Y/n?” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

You laughed, pulling him into a warm hug. God, he was all grown up. You used to help his ma look after him and his siblings sometimes, and you even sang in his daddy’s church for a while. That was until you started hangin' out with Smoke and Stack more and stopped goin' to church. You didn’t want to hear no sermons about how the devil had his hands on you and how you needed to come back to the Lord.

It was a bittersweet feeling, thinking about how much you missed them and how much Sammie had grown. You could see he still had to get his head on straight, but it warmed your heart that he was still playing the guitar Stack had given him.

“Well then, there will be plenty of time to catch up later. You boys finish up here. I’ll be in the car,” you announced a beat after pullin' away. You knew they was up to no good.

“Little Sammie, help Stack with my bags, will ya?” You pinched one of his cheeks playfully before giving the other a quick kiss, treating him like the youngin' he still was in your eyes.

“Oh and drop the ‘Miss’.” He stared after you, bewildered, as you walked past Stack, givin' him a wink while you patted his chest slowly, draggin' your hand away.

“That’s really Y/n,” Sammie said, still in disbelief, causing Stack to chuckle.

He hadn’t seen you since he was a boy, and he couldn’t believe how different you were now. You were just a teen girl girl in his eyes back then, but now you were a grown woman—an extremely attractive one, at that.

“She’s—”

“Way too much woman for you to handle, lil nigga,” Stack stated matter-of-factly, a smirk playin' on his lips.

Not too much for me, though, he thought to himself, wordlessly pickin' up both suitcases and handing his little cousin one. You would probably fit real pretty in the front seat of his ride right about now, knowin' you and those pretty pick pocketing hands of yours had already snatched the keys from his coat pocket.

“Well, are you?” Sammie quizzed.

“Am I what?” Stack frowned slightly.

“Handling it?” The corner of Preacher Boy’s mouth twitched just a little, and Stack knew the younger man could tell you were vexed with him, and he wasn’t handling shit.

“Bring yo ass on, smart ass.”

As a result of those endless hours of travel, you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep on the train, not wantin' to doze off around strange white folks. Your father had raised you and your sister to always be aware of your surroundings. After hearin' Delta’s wild stories about the men he knew from the side of the road, you needed a moment to decompress. So, you let the sounds of Sammie’s guitar and the rhythm of the car rockin' gently lull you into a well-deserved rest.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but soon you felt somethin' soft brush against the side of your face.

“Bam,” you heard softly as you began to stir.

“Bam.” This time you felt a poke to your cheek.

With a soft groan, you opened your eyes to see Stack standin' outside of the car, looking at you with that soft smile that always made your heart race.

“There’s my girl.” He smiled down at you.

“What you want, Elias?” You tried not to blush at his words.

“We made it. Come on.” He extended his hand for you to take.

You took it, pullin' yourself up to stand. Prepared to jump over, he surprised you by lifting you up in the air out of the back of the car.

You squealed, caught off guard as he held you slightly above him. You looked down at him for a minute, and he slowly set you back down, your body sliding against his.

“Thank you,” you said bashfully, pretendin' to fix your hair in the mirror.

He stood directly behind you, just close enough for you to catch a glimpse of his smirk in the car mirror.

“Anytime.”

“I—” you began, but were cut off by another car pullin' ahead. Once you noticed it was the truck Stack had said Smoke was in, you started walking quickly toward it. Stack told you the two of them had to split the work and that Smoke had a few stops and you knew it wouldn’t be anywhere else, but to see Annie. It was one thing for Smoke to be gone; of course then, he and Annie couldn’t be together. But while he was home, he wouldnt go anywhere without her.

“Annie!” You called as soon as your older sister came into view.

“Y/n?” Annie couldn’t believe her eyes as you ran toward her the biggest smile on your face.

“Surprise.” You spoke tearfully, as you slowed down taking the last few steps before crashing' into your big sister. You embraced her tightly, the two of you holding onto one another as if the other would disappear if you let go.

“Look at you.” She ran her hand up and around your face, cuppin' it affectionately.

“Look at you.” You repeated, mesmerized by your sister’s loving eyes.

Eyes that always looked at you with understanding, compassion, love, and support. Annie didn’t always agree with the choices you made, but she always supported you in choosin' your own destiny.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again,” she fussed, swattin' lightly at your butt.

“Stop, girl, I’m grown,” you laughed, spinning around in a circle to dodge her playful swats.

“Girl, I don’t give a damn.” Annie fixed you with a stern look. “You’re still my baby sister. You don’t just run off and leave me without notice like that. You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry, Annie. It’s not that I wanted to; I just—” you paused, searchin' for the right words.

After a moment, you realized you didn’t need to say much. Annie would understand.

“Mine doesn’t have a mojo bag; he just has me,” you said, your voice wavering, knowin' she would know you was referring to the more reckless twin.

She smiled and nodded in understanding. You stood there for a little while longer, embracing each other, tryin' to wipe the tears from each other’s eyes, gigglin' like school girls as you did so.

“We’ll take more later ya hear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Pullin' away, you angled your body a little more to the left to finally get a good look at Smoke.

“My girl!” he said with a small smile of his own, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey Smoke.” The two of you wrapped your arms around one another.

You missed the way Stack’s jaw clenched as you embraced Smoke. The latter didn’t as he grinned at his twin. It was an asshole thing to do, but he couldn’t help it. He had been watching the two of you pine after one another for years. If Smoke had a dime for every time he tried to convince his brother that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you—or to get Stack to confess his feelings for you—boy, he’d be rich.

It was your last night in town, and the three of you went out. You were currently dancin' with some random nigga from round the way. Stack watched you like a hawk, grillin' the hell outta the man who had your attention. Smoke couldn’t do anything but laugh at his brother’s expense.

“Nigga you got it bad,” he said with a chuckle.

“Shut up, bitch. You got it just as bad for her sister,” Stack shot back.

“Sho’ll fuck do. Don’t give a fuck who knows either.” Smoke shrugged blowing a cloud in Stack’s direction.

“Yeah, whatever.” Stack muttered, takin' a sip of his beer.

“Mmhmm, whatever shit, nigga. Could be you out there dancin' with her, tryna cop a feel. Instead, you’re here,” Smoke teased.

“It ain’t like that with us, Smoke.” He denied.

For the life of him, Smoke couldn’t understand why Stack was in denial about you. It was like he was purposely standing in his own way, unwilling to accept a good thing.

“Have I ever been wrong about a woman tryna throw her pussy at you?”

“Nah,” Stack grumbled, his defenses slowly crumbling.

“Aight then, nigga. Listen for once.” Smoke said, playfully mushing the side of Stack’s head as he stood up to head to the bar.

“Aye, watch out.”

“Girl follows you around the world, and you still questionin' shit,” Smoke called over his shoulder.

He could only shake his head at the memory. Smoke swore dealin' with y’all shit was gonna put him in an early grave.

Once the two of you released one another from the hug, you walked back toward your sibling, and Smoke did the same.

“You good, man?” Smoke asked, knowing full well he wasn’t. He just wanted to see if he was ready to be honest with himself.

“Yeah, uh, I’m good.” Stack cleared his throat before repeatin', “I’m good.”

“Good.” He patted his brother on the back. “Now let’s get to work.”

Now, you knew you was comin' to work, but you ain't expectin' to be put through the wringer! As much as y’all got on each other’s last nerves during the setup, it was all part of the charm. Smoke being the bossy one, always puffin’ up his chest like everybody ain’t already know he ran the place; Cornbread, with his big ass, ain’t stop complainin' 'bout how heavy them boxes was; Delta always droppin' “back in my day” stories like they was gospel every five minutes. And Stack? He was slick, finessin' Preacher Boy into doin' part of his work in the name of “respectin' your elders.”

Not to mention you, Grace, and Annie, makin' one little complaint 'bout the heat, which led to Bo shakin’ up a bottle of beer and lettin' it spray all over y’all like a makeshift sprinkler system to “cool y’all off.” But this? This was the stuff you cherished. These were the moments you missed. After hours of busting your backs, the grand opening was here, and the party was in full swing.

You found yourself wrapped up in Stack’s arms, your back pressed against his solid front. The sweet sound of southern blues wrapped around you like a warm embrace. Ain’t nothing like live music from home, and tonight, the air was thick with rhythm. Effortlessly, your body flowed with the beat, swayin' in a circle until you found yourself once again meetin' Stack's chest. One of his arms hung loosely around your waist, his fingers barely grazing your skin, followin' the pace of your movements like it was second nature.

“So, this is new,” you teased, glancing back at him.

“What’s that?” Stack’s voice was low, his eyes glued to the way your hips moved, like he was tryin' to memorize every curve.

Stack thought you was downright gorgeous, and it drove him crazy. He wished he could tell you every single day how beautiful you were. Your body? It made his heart race. Big hips, thick thighs, and those legs that seemed to go on for days. That dress you wore? It gave him a perfect view of your curves, and he found himself lost in thoughts he shouldn’t be havin’.

“You dancin' with me,” you said louder, breakin' him outta his daydream.

“I’ve danced with you before,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone.

You leaned your head back further, givin' him a smirk. “Not like this.”

Stack’s grip around your waist tightened, the two of you still swayin’ to the music. “What’s this?” His breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine that you tried your best to ignore.

“Like you tryna work your way into my drawls,” you shot back, playful but with a hint of seriousness.

“And if I am?” he shot back, spinning you around so you faced him, his gaze intense.

You were momentarily stunned, your eyes searchin’ his for any signs of this bein' a joke, you arms now loosely around his shoulders.

“Smoke told you.” you said, his words heavy like a weight on your chest, but it felt more like a statement than a question.

You knew Smoke couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it came to his brother. Stack had ditched you and Smoke for the night to run off with some floozy and you were hurting bad. Especially after the way he had been flirting with you day after day. After an attempt at drowning your feeling in a bottle of whiskey, you had confessed your undying love for Elias Moore to his other half after the world became a bit too blurry. The truth came spillin' out like vomit, then afterwards, literal vomit. You could curse the ground Smoke walked on for lettin' it slip.

Stack watched as the gears turned in your head, his eyes dropping to your bottom lip, which you had pulled between your teeth. He chuckled softly, still swayin' with you, but the tension was thick.

“Smoke been tryna tell me for years,” he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

He wasn’t sure if he was talkin' 'bout Smoke tryin' to get him to accept his own feelings or the ones you held for him.

It was the way you cared for him. In every way. You checked on his well being constantly. The effects of the war on smoke were clear. He had his issues and one of them Stack always took care of. Rolling his cigarettes, making certain shit easier for Smoke every chance he got. Stack was the suffer in silence type. No I didn’t know the trauma he had suffered. He preferred everybody think he was OK. But you saw right through him. You seem to be able to tell every time something took him back there the lifeline you’d reach out of your hand, holding his gentle caresses to the top of his hand, which is the tiniest of squeezes that will bring him back and remind him that he was here and safe and with you. Stack was the type to suffer in silence, keepin' his struggles close to his chest. But you? You saw right through him. You could tell when something haunted him, and each time, you’d reach out, holdin' his hand, givin' him that gentle squeeze to remind him he was safe with you.

You were everything to Stack.

The air between you two shifted, thickening with unspoken words and feelings.

“When did it click?” Your heart raced, the world around you fading away.

Y’all had stopped movin’, probably the only two still in the crowd of people dancing and signing having a time.

“The one you left.” Stack admitted, feeling a bit guilty for only realizing how deep his feelings and love for you really were.

Speechless you pulled away from him completely, mouth opening and closing as you stuttered trying to find the right words to say. Overwhelmed with emotion and not quite sure what to do with yourself you turned around to scurry away when he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on now. Why you runnin'?” He was holding you again, bobbing his head around trying to catch you eye as you avoided his.

“Elias, you drunk,” you said, your voice shaky.

“Baby, I ain’t had a sip of liquor,” he replied, his grip on your chin gentle, forcing you to look at him.

Big brown eyes searched yours, filled with a truth that made your heart swell with love.

“Y/n,” he started, but just then—

“Stack!” Smoke’s voice cut through the moment like a hot knife through butter.

You two pulled apart at the sound of his brother calling.

“Let me holla at you for a minute,” Smoke beckoned, clearly oblivious to the tension hangin' in the air.

You could see Stack was ready to protest, but you stopped him, gently cupping the side of his face in your hands. Stack might not have been running off liquid courage, but you had dug deep for some courage and found enough bravery to push through.

You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his cheek, and then another right next to the corner of his mouth, lettin' your lips linger just a moment longer.

“Go. We’ll talk later,” you assured him, pulling away with a grin as you turned to find a seat at the bar y’all had been swayin’ next to.

It wasn’t long before Stack's arms wrapped around you from behind.

“Count on it,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck, sending warmth flooding through you.

You flushed at the feeling of his lips on your skin, that deep baritone voice igniting a fire you didn’t know you had.

You couldn’t wait until later. But unfortunately, later never came.

[cloveroctobers]

act right | Elias “STACK” Moore x black! Reader

A/N: I thought I might dabble in some mess that involves stack idk. This is a toxic moment!!!!! but you definitely have to be if stack is your type…or are you gonna fix him? 😆

Synopsis: in which reader finds it entertaining that stack is back in town and in her face, thinking you’re about to spin the block again. He must have forgotten who tf you are.

WARNINGS: language/minor usage of the N-word, mentions of violence, cheater!stack, side chicks and shit talking, built past relationship, most of reader’s background is based off of Katherine Dunham, & this was honestly a quick write on this cloudy weekend but I hope y’all like it?

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃

It’s truly an art, pretending that you don’t see someone staring at you. There were so many people in the juke joint, many old and new faces that you didn’t mind chatting with, after Annie made you one of the best Bee’s Knees you ever had. You had no doubts about it, considering the two of you had quite the bond especially when it came to events such as these.

Usually you had no issue blending into the room and once comfortable you made effort to socialize. And usually that always ended up with you on the dance floor, you being nicknamed as, “QOD, Queen of Dance,” who always seemed to take the lead once all eyes were on you. There were many years where you were forced to be held back, shield your gift and be what your parents wanted you to be. When they found out that you opened up your own dance school just in your teens, where you spent majority of your time after school instead of helping down at the struggling local newspaper shop, your family couldn’t be more than livid.

Little did they know by you opening up this school, helped contribute to expenses but it also brought on some guilt after your brother was left alone to run the newspaper stand by the trains, which led to him being paralyzed and wheelchair bond for the rest of his life. The hate in this world is a motherfucker and regardless if you were there or not when those events transpired, it still could have happened.

These were the times you were expected to live in.

People don’t understand that some brains can be delayed but that doesn’t mean your brother was a bad person or deserved what he got. He was one of the main ones who was proud to see you dance and told you that you could always be more than what momma and daddy wanted you to be. So? You kept on dancing.

Until you felt hands on your hips, facial hair prickling the side of your neck. His front pressing into the shape of your backside so easily he felt like he belonged there. You halted your movements, hearing his voice over the blues.

“Girl you sure do look good as hell,” he comments trailing his lips up the side of your neck breathing you in, “I’ve been looking around town for you but somehow I knew you’d find your own invitation.”

Your hands touch his and shove them from your body, you spin to face him with fire in your blood. Stack looks the same as you always remembered him, a handsome yet dangerous darkness that you didn’t sign up for.

“I’m not here to support you if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” you go back to swaying your hips and Stack can’t help but to run his tongue over his bottom lip, “I came here to dance.”

Stack laughs lowly, rough like gravel and like the texture of his hands. That same hand runs at his jaw as he watches the way you move without a care in the world, as if it wasn’t easy to gain an audience.

“Is that right?” His hand reaches forward again but even with your eyes closed, you reach out just in time to smack his hand away. Stack hissed with a shake of his hand, “…See you can do all that but you and I both know, you would much prefer to dance on me.”

Your eyes rolled open at that, stopping your movements as you peered over at him underneath the yellow light. Your hand goes right to your hip, where his hand should be but he lost that right. Lost that right when he lied saying you weren’t his first thought when he got to Chicago. You went out there to pursue your dream career whereas he went out there with Smoke to make money and fuck shit up.

That’s not what he intended to do with you.

There was a time where you believed Stack did love you but you would never be someone’s second thought.

A cold smile passes over your full lips, “Oh Elias…you think if I let you dick me down on this ol’ dance floor things will be forgiven? We had our fun in Chi-Town and you had even more with your hussies out there. Even gave one of them the ring that belongs to me and now you want to be in my face thinking shit is sweet? You should go play with Mary who’s over there lookin’ as if she could throw a tornado our way…she always did put up with your fuck shit better than me.”

Stack’s jaw ticked out of frustration. He didn’t need you to bring up old shit right now, not when he was already having a good night with the vibe of success in the air. When he spotted you, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Wouldn’t. He should have known coming over here wouldn’t be easy…something you never were. Stack ignored Smoke who told him, “If you go over there, you might want to Bob to the left since her hook’s always been sharp.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you took your frustration out on somebody. Obviously it wasn’t always the best choice and you knew when to apologize when you knew the person behind your wrath didn’t deserve it.

Elias Moore was a whole another story.

“I don’t give a damn about her right now,” Stack stepped to you but you didn’t flinch just folded your arms with a smirk on your mouth, “I’m talking to your ass. And I know you missed me as much as I missed you, sweetheart.”

“What gave you that idea?” You laugh, “Every call I never returned? I was too busy living life, just like you.”

Stack’s known all about your adventures after Chicago. From Martinique to Jamaica and Trinidad. His gut was telling him then to follow you, he should have followed you all over the world but his ego got the best of him. He even came to a few of the shows, tucked away in the dark corners of the theatre and felt like he was the loudest of applauses. He was sure you could pinpoint him out as you curtesy at the end of the shows, even thought about sending you flowers but felt like that would be doing too much. Especially when you caught him with one of the other dancers in the hallway.

He sniffs, fingers flexing at his sides, “You cant live no damn life without thinkin’ of me.”

There goes that ego again.

A scoff of a laugh flies out of your mouth, hand going to rest against your cheek afterwards as you peek into the anger on his face, just as you would when surveying one of the his drink’s you would always sample first before handing it over to him, much to his annoyance.

“If you really think that then I’m really about to break your heart, boo.” It’s your turn to step even closer to him, “You come and go out of my life as much as you please. What’s the harm in me doing the same?”

His teeth are flashing at you now, gold grill glistening beneath his beautiful smile. “You always did know how to knock a man off his feet.”

Your head tilts to the side, eyes almost glancing around his frame, just knowing what he was referring to. You shot him in the ass after you found out from some friends that he fucked Mary in the back of his car one night. At that point the both of you were just friends but…he should have never shown up and got in the way when you were letting out your frustrations! You claimed you were aiming for his leg once you got back into bed with him weeks later but the both of you knew better.

“And you always knew how to make love hurt.”

Something shifted inside of Stack at your snapping words just then.

It was no secret that stack hurt you.

When he was able to sit alone with his feelings and look back on it all, he knew he fucked up. There were times where he just felt like his brain did more than his heart would allow him. He knew you deserved better but ultimately he felt like nobody else deserved you more than him.

“Whatchu want a sorry?” Stack clasped his hands in front him, guard up, “Will that get you to stop acting so stank and admit that you’re not gonna find anybody that loves you more than me?”

You’re shaking your head now, “Fuck your sorry, Stack. Especially since you think that’s enough. I just wanted you to act right and you never could.”

Your hands softly trail against his chest and his breath hitches, tempted to watch your hands skillfully dance across his broad chest but like he said, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. That moment of tenderness is brief as you shove him back, actually making him budge.

That makes a cruel smile past over your features, knowing you got him in a trance as you step around him, ready to bump shoulders with him but he side steps you. His hand shoots out to grip your wrist, turning you roughly back to him. He pulls you tight against his frame, making sure you’re nose to nose as you stumble. You’re breathing him in when you want to keep him out.

His mouth is open like he’s got something smart to say but his heart is the soundtrack in his ears instead of the harmonica now.

“If you don’t have anything else to waste my time with, then you best unhand me before I make you a new headline, Elias.” You say into his face, eyes strong and bold on his whiskey hues.

Stack’s grip slackens, very slowly because he still wants to have a hold on you. You’ve always liked your personal space and it took time for you to open up to him just as him with you. Maybe he shouldn’t be holding on if he didn’t know how to do it right or the way that you needed.

Just giving you the inch, you slip out of his touch, that lingers as it glides over your bare back in that low-cut dress. A wink is sent his way, making him twitch and let a sickening grin appear over his own face, although he knew you were far from joking, ready to set it off at any given time just like him—although you claimed to be a changed woman using forms of dance as the best outlet—Stack still knew you even if you thought he wasn’t shit.

You even shoo him away, yelling over the music, “Why don’t you get you one of those sidecars from Annie? Maybe that’ll uplift your spirits because it damn sure won’t be from me.”

And with that being said Stack had to swallow that as he watched you again, slipping through the bodies, dancing with a few on your way by, before finding another stranger to sink your body into. A scowl is on Stack’s face now, as your hips swung left and right while another nigga buried his face in what should be his.

Rightfully.

He promised he wouldn’t cause a scene tonight and he would keep his cool but he remembered faces. That nigga wouldn’t be allowed back in this spot ever again after disrespecting him. Once he was able to get moving again, he tapped one of his boys, pointing out some red dude that had his hands on you for his men to take care of some time tonight.

While he leaned against the bar with Annie giving him a knowing glance which he held his hand up to before she slid him a sidecar—without that decorative shit on the side of the glass she tried to give him last time during one of your birthday parties—Stack couldn’t help but to wonder if you’d ever dance his way again but deep down he already knew the answer.

Yet everybody that knew Stack was aware that he was hardheaded. Once he set his sights on something, he knew how to be persuasive…in his own way. It was his turn to smile behind the rim of the glass as he watched two of his men snatch the red man away from you as you twirled from his grasp, hands up in the air, briefly distracted from their attack.

When you turned back to the missing man, a look of confusion passed over your face before you shrugged, moving through the remaining crowd to plop down next to Sammie, who sported his own guitar lounging by the stage.

Some heartaches you freestyle around, twisting and turning, and some you drink through—and some may just cause you to bleed out.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃

FIN.

[solastarr]

Ms.NotSoIndependent

Stack Moore(Sinners2025)x black reader:

Genre: smut with very little angst

Summary: once stack comes from chicago. he realizes how independent you've become and the tension you have towards him

Preview: “I knew you’d be mad... but you been treatin’ me like I'm just any other normal ass nigga. Like I don’t mean nothin’ to you,” he said, squatting in front of you so you were eye level.“Obviously, you forgot who the fuck I am... so let me remind you real quick.”

Word count: 1,192

Warning: the content with in this story contains sexual themes of aggressive conversations, fingering, smut, cunnilingus

It had been about two weeks since Stack came back into town after he and his brother's unannounced trip. He returned thinking the same sweet, charismatic, and loving girl he left behind would greet him with hugs and kisses. Instead, he was met with a cold, nonchalant, and independent woman who wouldn’t even give him a passing glance.

He knew leaving without telling you was wrong, so he had been trying to make up for it by helping you reach dishes on the top shelf, fixing the leaky sink, even offering to carry your groceries home. But every time, he was either ignored, brushed off, or straight-up told you didn’t need his help. Stack had been trying to keep his cool, hoping you’d eventually break out of this bratty phase. But today... you pushed him too far. And he snapped.

You were already having a rough day. The chores around the house stacked up as high as the dishes in the sink. Your mood was on edge when Stack decided to stop by.

“What you got planned for today?” he asked, trying to start a conversation.

You didn’t even bother responding to the man whose voice irritated you every time he spoke.

“Okay… still being a brat,” he mumbled under his breath. You turned around and shot him the dirtiest look you could manage.

Leaning lazily against a chair in the kitchen, he stayed unfazed. “Me and my brother are having the grand opening of the juke joint tonight. I want you there for me.”You immediately responded, almost cutting him off, “Not interested. I got too much to do around the house anyway.” You went back to scrubbing the dishes without giving him another look. Stack took it as another chance to lend a hand. “Well, then let me help you. I really wa—”, “I don’t need your help, Stack!” you snapped, swinging around too fast. The dish in your hand slipped and shattered across the floor. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath. You dropped to your knees to pick up the broken pieces carefully. “I don’t even know why you’re here. You left me. I’ve moved on. You need to do the same.”you said coldly.

Stack’s face dropped. His patience finally ran out. “You know I’ve been tryin’ to be nice to you,” he said lowly, the tension in the room thickening. The house grew suffocatingly silent.

Stack started walking toward you, the crunch of porcelain under his boots echoing off the walls.

“I knew you’d be mad... but you been treatin’ me like I'm just any other normal ass nigga. Like I don’t mean nothin’ to you,” he said, squatting in front of you so you were eye level.“Obviously, you forgot who the fuck I am... so let me remind you real quick.”

You stood up just as he did, trying to hold your ground.“I don’t know what the hell you talkin’ about.”He stepped forward, closing the space between you, backing you into the kitchen counter.You could feel the heat radiating off his body.“Boy, move,” you warned, trying to slip past him, but he grabbed your wrists, holding you in place. He leaned into your ear. “You forgot what it felt like when daddy was here to take care of you. But I'm back now... and I ain't goin’ nowhere.” His words made your breath hitch.

Your eyes scanned his face, trying to tell if he was serious. He started kissing down your neck, rubbing your curves, slowly lifting your dress. You gasped at the way his hands roamed, but you had longed for his touch for too long to push him away. “Stack... move,” you tried to protest, your voice trembling with hidden moans.His mouth found your sweet spot near your jawline, making your knees buckle. Stack noticed immediately, smirking against your skin.

“See? All that 'I don’t need you' bullshit...” he murmured. “But your body can’t lie to me, baby.”

You hated how your body betrayed you.But with Stack... you couldn’t even fight it.You barely registered being lifted onto the counter until you felt the cold countertop on your skin, making you gasp. Stack ran his hands up your thighs, giving small squeezes, reaching your panties.The rough pads of his fingers and his husky cologne made you melt.

He stopped, looking you directly in the eyes as he rubbed you through your panties.

Your moans slipped out despite yourself.He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough. He leaned closer, only inches away from your face.

“Tell me you want me to leave... and I'll go.”You wanted to slap him. Push him away. Cuss him out for the pain he caused when he left. But no words came out, only breathless moans. Because deep down, you didn’t want him to leave. And he knew it.

Stack smirked, feeling your surrender.

He ripped your panties off, slipping two fingers inside you, massaging your breast with his other hand.“I know you’re mad at me for leavin’,” he growled, “but daddy’s back now. And I’m gonna take real good care of you, okay?”He slowed the movement of his fingers to an agonizing pace, waiting for your answer.“O-Okay,” you finally whimpered out, desperate for him to keep going.

He chuckled lowly. “...Okay what?” he teased, stopping again.“Okay, Daddy!” you cried out. Proud, Stack laughed in your face, cocky as ever. “There’s my girl.”

He slipped his fingers out and pushed them into your mouth.You sucked eagerly, happy to have your man back. Then he kissed you, a long, heated kiss that felt like a lifetime of waiting poured into it. When he finally broke away, he stared at your swollen lips, the hickeys blooming on your neck, the sweat forming on your skin.“Let me take care of you. Make up for lost time.”

Stack dropped to his knees between your thighs, kissing you everywhere until he reached your pussy. Without hesitation, he started devouring you, like he had been starving for you.You almost lost control instantly, gripping the back of his head, moaning his name.When you started grinding against his face, chasing the high he was giving you, he locked eyes with you.The sight nearly pushed you over the edge. But just when you were about to cum, Stack abruptly pulled away.

“Wait—Stack, please,” you whined, desperate for more.

He smirked, standing up, adjusting his suit while your juices still coated his face.

“And you said you didn’t need me,” he teased. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small wad of cash and tucked it between your breasts, brushing your skin just enough to make you shiver. “Now go get you a new dress, shoes, and get pretty for me. Cause we're going dancing tonight” He kissed your lips one last time before heading to the front door.Before closing it behind him, he turned and shot you a wink with his signature smirk. You couldn’t help but smile, still aching for the touch you swore you didn’t need.

~ first post I hope yall like it!💫

[mrsknowitallll]

Soon As I Get Home

Elias Moore “Stack” x Black Plus Size Reader

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

Warning: Filthy smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elias.” You breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced up at him expectantly.

“You baby.” He laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He immediately stopped shooting you a worried glance.

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes at his antics, laughing too.

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

You bit your lip getting more aroused by the minute.

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

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

“Oh yeah?” You questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum with me baby, let it all out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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