szagaloree

[szagaloree]

BRUCE BANNER | HULK (mcu | avengers: age of ultron)

—

“Sensory Input” (Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader)

| After he “hulks-out” Bruce needs time to come back to himself; sometimes you help. Occasionally it’s by giving him an orgasm.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, porn with introspection, character study, reader-insert w/ female genitalia, oral sex male receiving, edging, slow

| This story has a companion fic from Hulk’s POV if you’d like to check that out. (Pic source - Avengers: Age of Ultron)

| 2k+ words

It wasn’t rare for Bruce to feel at least a bit unmoored.

It always takes him a bit to reestablish himself in his body after Hulk’s had the reins. To really believe that he’s in control, that his reality is true.

Post mission showers help. He takes that time to himself; catalogs the drops of water as they hit his bruised skin, drip over his body, and pool beneath his aching feet. Lets them ground him as he breathes against the edge of panic that never really leaves him; the inescapable edge of irritation that always has him teetering between man and monster.

When he’s back with you, though…

Back in your arms, with your big brown eyes on him is when Bruce relearns his body.

Relearns the intimate press of it to yours. The way you fit so perfectly against him, an undeniable sign that he’s home again; not safe, maybe, but taken care of.

It’s when he lets himself be pushed down onto the bed in one of his appointed suites, basking in the feel of your gentle hands pressing into his recovering flesh like he’s something worth protecting, that he starts to feel physical again.

Bruce stares at you the whole time you move to lay between the ‘v’ of his legs. Stares into shining, eager orbs as he pulls the band of his sweatpants down, and feels a spark of himself come back when he takes his time pulling himself out just to hear your breathy, impatient whine.

So, yeah, after an “episode” Bruce takes a while to come back to himself. To feel human again amidst the proof that he’s viewed as being so much more useful as a weapon than a physicist, or even a helper.

Like this, however, dark noise in his ears drowning out any audible outside stimuli and the feel of your warmth around him, Bruce hardly knows what to do with himself but to feel so very human.

Logically he knows he isn’t supposed to be doing anything while he grounds himself in your presence. He’s supposed to relax, relax in general, relax for you, and decompress from the mission— from the trauma and strain that morphing into Hulk puts on his body.

After they’d taken down that Hydra base — what must have been the sixth one this month — and your voice had filtered over through the coms he and the other guy had agreed to wear so you’d be able to verbally calm Hulk down from all the smashing and destruction, it was Banner’s turn to front.

Your voice had been nothing but soft as you’d talked him through stumbling back into the quinjet. A constant and welcome balm as he’d trembled through his usual routine after letting the Big Guy out: blocking the chaos out with his headphones and operatic vocals so he could regulate, and finding a corner to curl up in to begin calming down.

Except now you were a part of that routine. Ever since he’d reconciled with you you’ve been the best roadbump to his life that he could’ve asked for. There were only two people who’d ever been able to successfully talk Hulk down, one of them didn’t talk to him anymore (Betty had a husband and a family on the way and ultimately wouldn’t give that up for him) and the other was you.

Hulk was practically reduced to putty in your hands in the test footage you’d ran after the incident that first made Bruce realize your affect on his other half.

A few weeks back you’d flustered Bruce enough and so quickly that he’d been shifting in your lab before he’d even fully realized, but what had followed had been the most amicable Hulk interaction he’d ever seen outside of a battlefield. Bruce could even blurrily remember flashes of what happened that didn’t send him spiraling once he ruled out it wasn’t a dream when all was said and done, which practically never happened.

A hero’s welcome hadn’t ever been something Bruce thought he’d like either, but he loves how you greet him when he comes back to Avengers Mansion after missions.

How your smile lights up your face — alabaster teeth contrasted nicely by the delicate mahogany of your skin — when he banks the corner after the Quinjet docks. How your dark Bambi eyes sparkle and you just barely stop yourself from running and throwing yourself into him, instead being mindful of his still healing muscles and sensitive bones and wrapping him in the type of hug that reminds him just enough of his mom to be achingly comforting and just enough of you to make him desperate.

Bruce grips you back just as tight and as hard as he can manage with trembling limbs all the same and readily accepts the sweet kiss you both gravitate into (Tony’s wolf-whistle always accompanying). He even puts up with how you worriedly check him over and dote on him for the rest of the day.

Anyway you want him he’ll indulge you. Always.

Which leads him to now and his new state of affairs.

Relaxing.

Relaxing while laying in his reserve bed (a large, flat chaise lounge) in the “Hulk Room” of the Mansion.

Relaxing while you go down on him with soft lips and a firm tongue and an occasional series of excited little hums that drive him crazy; the vibrations traveling through his shaft feeling almost too good.

There’s an art to it. A level of precaution that marks all of your encounters, but especially anything sexual.

Like your pacing as you blow him.

Stopping and starting because his body, the parts of him that connected Bruce Banner to The Hulk, couldn’t naturally distinguish ‘good’ stress from ‘bad’. It didn’t matter the kind of occasion or how much he wanted it, his heart racing usually meant he was being attacked and the Big Guy would always slip forward into the driver’s seat due to that connotation the second his breaths started to skip and his blood started to rush a little too fast, his nervous system lighting up.

With a soft sigh that brushes through the downy, just curling hair over his pelvis you pull off of him again. He doesn’t hear the amusing pop of the head of his cock being freed from the suction of your mouth, but he can imagine it.

To himself Bruce smiles when his mind fills in the sound following your actions, his eyes closed. Finds he can’t stop his stomach from fluttering when he feels what must be your answering smile brush against the pale skin of his inner thigh.

The way the warm wet tip of your tongue presses against one of the scars he knows is there, something old from when he was a kid that his mind has long since disallowed him from remembering the origin of, causes Bruce’s breath to hitch.

He’s inclined to be a little peeved if he’s honest. Doesn’t love being reminded of the bits of himself squarely barred off in his consciousness because of some distant trauma.

Doesn’t like being reminded of his metric ton of baggage at all, in fact.

But then puffs of breath, your breath, fan over his heated skin and Bruce forgets to be irritated. Remembers to relax all over again.

Can stall the direction his internal thoughts were going in and remind himself that how much you coaxed him out of his spirals was something he loved and hated in equal measure.

Neutral, and all you.

He didn’t need to get upset and he didn’t want to be angry.

When you kiss over that scar next Bruce shutters before a whine he can feel struggles its way up his throat.

He has half a mind to balk, embarrassed and sure that if so much of his excess blood hadn’t traveled southward he’d be blushing to the tips of his ears, but then you rush to reward Bruce for the break in his composure. For the vulnerability.

Velvety lips leave his skin for hardly a second and then a series of sweet slow kisses are being pressed to his balls and he’s too busy paying attention to his heart rate and the feel of your tricky tongue darting out to press just that much more delicious pressure over his sack to worry about how he sounds.

He wines again. And despite the fact he can’t hear, he knows it’s louder.

Then you take him back into your mouth and the man’s thoughts go fuzzy around the edges.

Involuntarily, he fucks farther into you’re mouth, and by the slight scrape of teeth and the spasm of your throat he knows he’s caught you off guard.

You slap his hands away when his eyes pop open and he moves to pull you off, though, more of your drool running down his shaft to soak his balls.

Goddamnit, Bruce could die like this and be content.

Well…mostly content.

The urge to hear you pounds at his ears, drowning out the dark noise entirely as far as his brain is concerned.

Naturally, when he calls your name he feels it rumble through his vocal cords more than he hears it himself, though his mind certainly tries filling in the audio blanks.

You come up for air with a raised brow, cocking your head when he gestures to his ears. There was a specific way he was supposed to clue you in if he wanted to stop and he watches as you look to his hands for the signal; still laying against the sheets, though, all the sight of them makes you do is furrow your brows.

“No, I want to hear you. Let me hear you, Honey, please.” Bruce almost sobs in relief when you nod, and he peels off the headphones with a jerk. The blanket of plain noise around him is immediately, abruptly superseded by the sounds of your wet, stuttered gasping and then the slide of your slick mouth against him.

And Bruce loves all of it.

“Look Bruce,” you murmur at some point, when you’ve put all his nerve endings back on edge; waiting until he cracks open an eye to nod down. He does as told, pulling both his eyes open more and locking his chocolate gaze onto where you’re hovering your mouth just over the ruddy, straining head of his cock. “Look how pretty this dick is.”

The gasp he lets out quickly turns into a moan.

A wink from you and he knows he’s in trouble.

In the next moment you swallow him whole, breathing past the reflexive need to gag and helpless to how you tear up.

Bruce wants to lick those tears. Wants to kiss them from your face and then get his mouth on your clit so he can make you cry some more.

Thighs tensing he can only grind himself into your heat once before he has to pause, a tortured moan climbing up his throat, head thrown back against the chaise and fists clenched.

When you run your nails down his hips and swallow, the growl that rips itself from deep within him has you trembling and his eyes flashing green.

A part of him is morbidly fascinated by that fear — him, not Hulk — before he remembers himself.

Then you mercifully, agonizingly, pull yourself off of his cock and Bruce shutters his way through his breathing exercises as you take in greedy lungfuls of air and cough and sputter.

Shame can’t hope to reach him when you’re tied together like this. For the time being he lets himself savor the absence of that suffocating press of guilt.

How you laugh right afterwards, sniffling, is its own sort of balm. The kind that makes his stomach flutter while he watches you with more than just arousal, but that definitely still makes his cock give an interested twitch.

Airily, he laughs along until you both naturally peter off with twin sighs.

“Brucie, Baby,” you coo, visibly checking the rise and fall of his chest; waiting for it to calm more, “you’re doing so good for me.”

After that you don’t so much edge him as you take to mapping every scar, every stretch mark and stray freckle like they connect via constellations on his skin.

Even still he reacts to the brush of the pads of your fingers with a deep shudder the entire time. His body attuned to yours where you’ve taken to straddling his hips and letting him feel the fleeting slick warmth of your sex over his own.

By the grin and the supernova of light in your eyes he knows you're teasing him on purpose even as you urge the tension from his body. Drags his heavy arms up just to press bruises into your own hips with his hold on you, but doesn’t dare pull your pussy flush against him even as the mouthwatering scent of your arousal fills his nose.

Guaranteed, he’d lose all control if he slammed you down onto his erection.

Once he’s ready again you kiss your way back to his cock, over his soft belly and happy trail until you're laying nice and snug between his legs again and those pecks are being pressed down the length of his sex.

His hand fists in your tight curls, not stopping you but holding on for dear life, when you finally take him back into your mouth.

“You’re perfect. God, you’re so beautiful,” Bruce pants. He needs to take deeper lungfuls but, fuck, it’s hard when you look so good and debauched for him: lips glistening with his arousal and pupils blown.

The shine of your spit and his pre coating the length of his pulsing cock when you pull off is downright pornographic. Bruce has to close his eyes, focusing on your lips pressing soft kisses onto the ivory of his inner thigh, to calm the way his heart races.

Bruce finally cums with an over-slick cock, one of his hands curled over your hip as you straddle his leg and the other wrapped around the wrist of the hand you're using to languidly pump him with. Your breaths mingle as you match your inhales to his, slow and lingering before you let go to exhale over each other’s lips, synchronized with both your gazes locked together.

He trembles, refuses to look away from you even while his lashes flutter and his eyes threaten to shut. Gives a choked groan, air rushing in rapid fire gasps past his parted lips as the wet sounds of you milking his cock sound through the room, and then he’s spilling over your hand. The splash of his cum against your fingers is almost lazy, the slide of your hand over his head slow, and you keep working your magic until his breath hiccups painfully and he bucks, his fingers digging into your wrist for you to stop.

Immediately afterward you shift so you’re in his lap again, clean hand coming up to press into his chest, your thumb rubbing soothingly over his pulsing heart, while the messy fingers of your other hand slip down to intertwine with one of his.

“It’s okay,” you murmur above his lips, your gaze on him intent; checking for signs of Hulk peeking through his awareness. The corners of your eyes crinkle, you peck the tip of his nose. “I got you.”

No part of Bruce hesitates to look back at you when you pull back. To twine your hand with his, dragging his other one from where it’s clamped over your side to ground himself with it wrapped around your forearm instead. He squeezes around both points of contact as he pulls in deep, lingering breaths like he needs to. The hand he’s holding you squeeze back; the fingers of the hand anchoring him on his chest dig in until the pads of your fingers are firm enough he wishes for your bruises decorating his pale flesh.

The longer you whisper reassurances and pleasantries alike the further the pressure pressing behind his eyes recedes. Hulk’s consciousness always stirred when he was on the edge of an orgasm, sure enough to press but still absently sussing out his elevated heart rate; the monster within him wasn’t awake, only testing the waters.

Bruce heaves a sigh that makes you giggle, both of your shoulders slumping, once that pressure’s gone.

“You’ve got me, huh?” He pants out, wry grin ticking at the corner of his mouth, brow raised and eyes glittering. You scoff, tugging a little on the hair covering his chest in retaliation.

He chuckles lightly, still catching himself.

“Damn right,” you say, bumping your broader nose with his.

Later, the feel of your tongue lapping up the warm cum from in between his fingers like it’s something delectable kills him all over again, inducing its own type of little death as you grasp his wrist with both hands and hold eye contact.

He calls you “perfect,” while you’re kissing his fingers, some of them crooked from years of dangerous, unorthodox circumstances. Licks into your mouth right after so he can taste himself on you.

The way you eventually whisper “I love you,” into the scant air between you both after you’ve wiped yourselves clean stops his heart for more than a few seconds before it picks up in sync with your own. Bruce doesn’t say it back — can’t bring himself to, not with his track record with women he loves — but the light in your eyes doesn’t dim and the press of your lips to the furrow that creases his forehead is understanding.

“Thank you,” he whispers back. I only hope I can make it worth it, he adds to himself, pulling you into a kiss that you both melt into; his body and mind aching just a bit less.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!🫶🏾

Bonus scene: Bruce is too strung out to do anything crazy to you afterwards, but he definitely deepens y’all’s kiss until you’re panting into his mouth, greedily palming your thighs, until he can convince you (and he will beg if he has to) to let him eat you out despite his post-transformation lethargy. He does not want you denying yourself, depriving yourself of him, when you don’t need to.

Bruce shivers and his spent cock twitches as you sit on his face, eager to taste you even with his refractory period lax for the night. When you’re jerking him off he’s almost meek, but when he’s lapping up your juices, sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue he’s so loud as he focuses on his task it’s intoxicating.

Also, yes, I fucked off with Avengers Tower and just put the characters in the mansion because I hate that stupid “A” tower and everything it represents. I love Tony too much for that, that thing is still Stark Tower when I write in the MCU from now on, I don’t care.

Also, also I know that I say Betty’s got a family and is staying well clear of Bruce in this fic, but I want you all to know that Bruce and Betty in the 2008 movie are my favorite MCU couple. Like, they’re so good, I wish all the extended Hulk characters and mythos weren’t basically written out/ignored by the MCU (unless they’re being uncaringly thrown into something unrelated to be poorly conceived plot devices, at least).

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[szagaloree]

NO MORE THAN THAT- EPILOGUE

Part One— Part Two— Part Three

⸻

It started the same way so many of these nights do. Too much lighting. Too little warmth. Another industry function dressed up like something more meaningful—thin glasses of champagne, too many black suits, music you couldn’t feel in your bones. You and Rhea stood near a catering table you had no intention of eating from, half-laughing at something she’d just murmured against your ear. Her hand stayed light around your waist, fingers tucked into your belt loop like she couldn’t help herself.

You were only half-listening to the crowd. Only half-aware of the bodies shifting past in waves of designer blazers and fake interest.

Until you felt her go still.

Not in fear.

Not in tension.

Just… still.

Her arm didn’t tighten. Her breath didn’t catch. But something in the air between you shifted.

You looked up.

And that’s when you saw her.

Lauren.

You didn’t know her by name at first. Just the body language. The clipboard. The jaw that looked like it had been carved to deliver well-meaning cuts. You watched her greet someone across the room, cool and efficient, eyes sharp even as her smile didn’t reach past her teeth.

She hadn’t seen you yet.

But Rhea had already seen her.

Her whole body had changed in that quiet way you’d come to recognize—like a string had been pulled tight in her chest, and she wasn’t sure yet whether it would snap or hold.

You leaned in a little. “You okay?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Lauren.

“That’s her,” she said softly. “Lauren.”

It clicked.

Not all at once.

But enough.

You’d never seen her face. But you’d heard the name once, curled like smoke around a story you could still quote in your sleep. Three nights. Then a mirror. Then the door closing behind her.

That’s who this was.

You looked back toward Lauren. She was turning now. Clipboard still in hand. Still gliding through the room like none of it touched her.

Until her eyes landed on Rhea.

She stopped mid-step.

You saw it then—the smallest hitch in her stride. The recognition. The memory.

And then she looked at you.

At the way your body leaned into Rhea’s. At your hand resting on her hip, her hand laced over yours. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t look away either.

For a second—just one—you felt the weight of a past you hadn’t lived through. The echo of a wound you hadn’t caused.

Rhea didn’t say anything. But you felt her fingers twitch against your palm.

Lauren gave a nod. Brief. Cool. Measured.

And Rhea?

She didn’t return it.

She stood still. Let the silence stretch. Her arm slid tighter around your waist, slow and certain, and she pressed the softest kiss to the side of your head like a period at the end of a sentence no one else could read.

Lauren looked down, eyes skimming the chain around Rhea’s neck—the one that held the thin silver ring you gave her last fall. A circle she never took off. A promise you never made her ask for.

You watched Lauren’s mouth part, like she might speak.

She didn’t.

She walked on.

And you turned to Rhea, catching the faint curve of a smirk playing at the edge of her mouth.

“That her?” you asked, already knowing.

Rhea nodded once, still looking in the direction Lauren had disappeared.

You leaned into her. “Want me to accidentally spill champagne on her?”

That got a laugh—a real one, low and private.

“Nah,” she said. “We don’t need to.”

You smiled.

And as her hand drifted back into yours, her thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles, you realized the proof wasn’t in what you said. Or who saw.

The proof was in this.

The after.

The staying.

You rested your head on her shoulder, eyes slipping shut for half a second as the noise of the party faded into the distance.

“She was wrong,” you murmured.

Rhea tilted her head toward yours.

“I know.”

And behind you, the past kept walking. She couldn’t ask for anything other than the way you’d stayed for her.

No more than that.

[szagaloree]

NO MORE THAN TWO

Rhea Ripely x Reader

Part One Here.

Warnings: angst and uh…. Double angst.

—

The lip gloss is still in her travel bag.

She finds it by accident, digging through the mess of tangled cords, receipts, and half-empty bottles she never bothers to cap properly. It catches the light—pink and glossy, with a faint shimmer—and the sight of it stops her cold.

Yours.

It’s yours.

She doesn’t touch it at first. Just stares. Tries to pretend it isn’t a punch to the gut. Tries to pretend it doesn’t still smell like you.

You must’ve dropped it the night you stayed too long. The fourth night. The one that broke the rule. The one that ruined everything.

She told herself she’d toss it. Meant to. Even picked it up once—felt the sticky edges against her skin, turned it over and saw your fingerprint still smudged along the cap. But her hand didn’t move after that. Her chest went tight, and her stomach turned, and instead of throwing it away, she put it right back where she found it.

Like a coward.

Now it’s there every morning. Every night. Every fucking time she opens that bag and pretends she’s still in control.

She splashes water on her face like that’ll fix something. Like it’ll wipe away the flush in her cheeks or the memory of the last time she kissed that gloss off your mouth. Cold water. Two handfuls. Again. Again.

It doesn’t work.

She looks up. Stares at herself in the hotel mirror. The circles under her eyes are darker. Her hair’s damp from a rushed shower, but not enough to hide the mess she’s been feeling. She looks tired. And worse—she looks soft. Unraveled.

She leans her hands against the sink and breathes.

“You made the rule,” she mutters. “So fucking stick to it.”

But she can feel the lie burning in her teeth.

She made the rule because she had to. Not because it was fun. Not because it made her feel powerful. She made it because every time she let someone in, they took something she couldn’t get back. Every time she crossed the third line—past fuck, past tease, past temporary—it ended with a knife in her chest and a story about how she was too cold, too rough, too much.

So she learned.

No more than three.

Three times meant control. Three meant nobody stuck around long enough to hurt her. It meant nobody got the full picture. Nobody stayed in her bed past sunrise. Nobody left things behind—lip gloss, hair ties, questions.

Nobody stayed long enough to matter.

And then you happened.

You weren’t like the others. Too polished to be naive, too quiet to be careless. You didn’t push. You didn’t flirt hard. You didn’t act like you wanted to be the one to change her—you just… kept showing up. Calm. Steady. Sharp as hell, but gentle in a way she didn’t know how to brace for.

It was like being touched by a fire that didn’t burn.

You made her laugh backstage when she was too angry to breathe. You made her pause when she was spiraling. You looked at her like she was human—not just a weapon or a nameplate or a body on TV.

And that’s where it all went sideways. Because three was never going to be enough with you.

She exhales, hard. Rubs her face. Her jaw’s so tight it aches.

The hotel is too quiet. Her phone is face-down on the nightstand, silent. You haven’t texted in weeks. Haven’t passed her in the hallway with that little smile you used to give when no one was looking. She keeps thinking she sees you out of the corner of her eye—keeps hearing echoes of your voice when someone else walks by with your cadence—but it’s never you.

You’re gone. And it’s her fault.

Two months of silence.

Next week makes two full months since she sent that message. We’re done. Like it meant nothing. Like you were nothing.

She thought it would feel clean. Like tearing off a bandage.

Instead, it feels like she’s been bleeding out slow ever since.

She wipes her hands on a towel and glances back toward the sink. The bag’s still there. The gloss still shining faintly in the morning light. She reaches for it. Stops halfway. Her hand hovers.

She doesn’t know if she wants to throw it away or sleep with it clutched in her fist.

Her voice shakes when she mutters, bitter and low, “You were supposed to make it easy.”

But you didn’t.

You were soft, and kind, and clever, and real.

And now she’s standing in a half-lit hotel bathroom, touching something you left behind like it’s a fucking love letter, trying to pretend she didn’t ruin the one thing that ever felt like more than a rule she made to keep from being alone.

She shakes her head. Closes the bag. Seals the gloss back inside.

Like that’ll fix any of it.

—

It’s a dumb conversation.

Thrown across the locker room like it means nothing—just some offhand joke from a road agent who never learned to shut his mouth. Some filler between segments. Casual, throwaway bullshit about “media girls” and “easy lays” and how interviewers always end up on somebody’s arm.

Rhea’s not even in the circle. She’s half-dressed, tying her boots, earbuds in, one eye on her phone. But she hears your name.

Her head doesn’t snap up right away. Not until the guy laughs and says it again—clearer this time.

“She’s got a date this weekend, right? New guy on crew. Said he saw her heading into that steak place in Atlanta last loop. Said she looked nervous. Told him she’s trying to move on—but I didn’t know she was with anyone?”

Move on.

Rhea’s blood turns cold.

Someone chuckles. “Good for her, man. Honestly, surprised she lasted this long. You know who she used to—?”

The sentence dies halfway out of his mouth.

Because Rhea is standing.

And the look on her face?

It isn’t angry.

It isn’t even violent.

It’s blank.

Feral.

Like she’s trying to decide whether killing someone would be worth the paperwork.

The air shifts around her. Subtle but unmistakable. Everyone in the room feels it. The road agent fumbles a half-laugh. The others go quiet, suddenly fascinated with their bags, their phones, their shoes.

Rhea’s fists are clenched at her sides. Not shaking. Just tight—controlled in that dangerous way that means she’s two seconds from not being.

She stares at the guy who said it.

And he gets the message.

Loud and fucking clear.

Nobody says another word.

She doesn’t either.

She grabs her bag. Throws her hoodie over her head. Walks out with her jaw set and her heart thudding like a war drum.

She makes it two hallways before her breathing breaks.

Because she shouldn’t care.

She shouldn’t fucking care.

You’re allowed to move on. You’re allowed to go on a date. You’re allowed to wear that gloss for someone else and laugh at their jokes and act like you’re not still sleeping on one side of the bed because the other side still feels like hers.

But knowing it doesn’t stop the flood.

Doesn’t stop the way her chest caves in.

Doesn’t stop the way her hands shake when she pulls her phone out and sees your name still pinned to the top—still the last message she sent. No reply. Just silence.

She scrolls. Opens the thread. Stares at it.

And types:

Are you really seeing someone else?

Then deletes it.

Do you miss me?

Backspace.

She locks the phone. Leans back against the wall. Lets her head fall against the cinderblock. Her eyes sting. Her ribs hurt.

She feels sick.

Feels stupid.

Feels like someone else entirely.

Because she ended it. She made the rule.

And now here she is—two months later—ready to explode because someone else might be learning how your voice breaks when you’re close.

The image hits her too hard. Makes her flinch.

Another person between your thighs. Another name falling from your lips.

No.

No.

No.

She shoves off the wall, teeth clenched. Snatches her jacket off a chair. Pulls it over her body like armor.

But she doesn’t go to you.

She goes out.

And she finds someone else.

—

She doesn’t ask the girl’s name until after the first kiss.

Doesn’t care—not really. She just needed someone tonight. Someone soft. Someone eager. Someone who wouldn’t ask why her eyes kept drifting toward the door, or why she kept checking her phone between drinks like she was hoping it wouldn’t ring.

The girl—Ally? Abby? Something like that—giggles when Rhea presses her up against the wall of the hotel room. Her hands are clumsy. Too fast. Her breath too shallow.

It’s all too much, but Rhea doesn’t stop her.

She wants to be fucked up.

Wants to forget.

So she grabs the girl’s thighs, lifts her onto the dresser like she means it—mouth hot, eyes distant, teeth grazing just enough to make her moan.

She doesn’t feel it.

The girl tastes like strawberry lip gloss. Sweet. Chemical. Wrong.

It makes Rhea’s stomach turn.

But she still doesn’t stop. Not until the girl’s shirt is gone and her fingers are in Rhea’s hair, tugging, eager, demanding.

Rhea pulls back, panting. Muttering something about needing a hair tie, needing water, needing anything.

She slips into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

And then she sees it.

Sitting on the edge of the sink. Right where she left it. The absolute bane of her existence lately. Glittery cap. Slightly worn label. The one she meant to throw out and never did.

Still yours.

Still here.

Something in her chest splits wide open.

She exhales sharp. Grabs the counter.

Her reflection doesn’t look like her.

Smudged makeup. Bared teeth. Eyes dark, pupils wide, lips bitten from a kiss she didn’t want. She looks wrecked. Not cool. Not in control. Just wrecked.

Behind her, the girl calls out—half-laughing.

“You okay?”

Rhea doesn’t answer.

Because now she sees it.

The girl out there looks like you.

Not exactly. Not really. But enough.

Same hair color. Same voice pitch. Same black hoodie, oversized and soft.

Same fucking lip gloss.

Rhea turns on the sink. Stares into the water. Tries to feel steady. She presses her palms to the counter. Hangs her head.

What the fuck are you doing?

This was supposed to be clean. A distraction. A night.

Instead, she’s in a hotel bathroom, fists clenched, chest heaving, heart racing like she’s just taken a hit she didn’t block in time.

She grabs the gloss. Stares at it.

Then throws it.

Hard.

It hits the wall. Cracks. Rolls somewhere under the towel rack while her chest heaves more than it has in matches lately. The girl calls again.

“Babe?”

Rhea presses her knuckles to her mouth and the iron from going to hard on the bag brings her a step down. She thinks about going back out. Pretending. Finishing it anyway just to prove she’s fine.

But she’s not.

Because your name still sits at the top of her phone. She can still taste the last time you kissed her goodbye.

The girl’s sitting on the edge of the bed, confused and staring when Rhea emerges in a hoodie and sweats and a robe in hand.

“Hey… what happened?” Rheas hands shake as she holds out the fabric.

“I can’t,” Rhea mutters. “You need to go.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

The girl blinks. Gathers her things.

No screaming. No dramatics.

Just silence, the sound of a zipper, and the click of the door closing behind her.

Rhea stands in the center of the room.

Alone again.

She sinks down onto the edge of the bed. Covers her face with both hands.

—

You almost don’t answer when she knocks.

It’s late. Too late. And your heart’s already bruised from the last time she stood in front of you with that look in her eyes—like she wanted to say everything and said nothing instead. But something about this knock feels different. Heavier. Sharper. Like something’s about to break.

When you open the door, Rhea’s standing there in a black hoodie, jaw tight, eyes too bright. She looks like she hasn’t slept. Like she won’t sleep until she gets whatever’s burning in her chest out. She doesn’t even say hello.

“You went on a date?” she asks, voice clipped and low.

Your stomach drops. “What?”

She steps inside without waiting for permission, her shoulders tense, her presence loud with something unspoken. “I heard you were seen at some steakhouse in Atlanta. New guy on crew said you looked nervous.”

You close the door behind her, slow and deliberate, trying to keep your voice even. “I can’t believe you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” she snaps back immediately.

You scoff—sharp, bitter. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

“I just want to know if it’s true,” she says, softer this time. Not gentler. Just tired.

Crossing your arms, you plant yourself in front of her. “What difference does it make, Rhea? You ended it. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and start asking about my personal life.”

“I—” She falters, grinding her teeth. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes,” you bite, “it fucking is.”

You move to pass her, wanting to put distance between you before the ache wins out—but then you see it. A shimmer near her jaw. Pink. Familiar. Your eyes narrow, and then you inhale, and something sweet and chemical hits your nose—perfume you don’t wear. Lip gloss that isn’t yours.

You stop cold. Your voice drops, dark and dangerous. “Who were you with tonight?”

Rhea doesn’t answer.

Your stomach lurches. “You’ve got someone else’s scent all over you.”

Still nothing.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “You fucked someone.”

“It wasn’t—” she starts, but you cut her off before she can finish.

“Don’t you fucking dare lie to me.”

Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t deny it. That silence tells you everything.

You laugh once—sharp and gutted. “You came here to interrogate me about one dinner, one fucking steak, while someone had their mouth on your throat an hour ago?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she insists, voice fraying at the edges.

“Then tell me what it was like,” you snap. “Go on.”

She hesitates. Too long. And that silence hurts more than any confession.

You step back, air gone thin. “Jesus Christ, Rhea. I knew you were scared. I knew you pushed me away because you didn’t know how to want something real, but I didn’t think you’d do this. I didn’t think you’d—”

“I stopped her.”

Your voice catches.

“I brought her back,” she says, fists clenched. “Yeah. I was gonna do it. I wanted to forget you for five fucking seconds. But I couldn’t. I saw your lip gloss in my bag and I couldn’t fucking do it. I kicked her out.”

“You what?”

“She looked like you. Sounded a little like you. Even wore the same goddamn gloss.” Her voice breaks. “And that made it worse. Because it wasn’t you. And I couldn’t stomach pretending.”

You stare at her. And for a second, your chest wants to believe her. But the fire behind your ribs won’t go out.

“You still brought her back.”

“I know.”

“You still let her put her hands on you.”

“I know,” she whispers.

Your voice shakes as it rises. “I keep doing what you ask.”

Rhea flinches, but you don’t let up.

“I let you keep it at three. I let you walk away. I didn’t text. I didn’t show up. Then you pulled me back in again. So I came. And again. And again. And then you ended it like it was nothing.”

She opens her mouth, but you’re already going. “And you still get to be upset? You get to show up at my door and demand answers? When I’m the one who’s done everything the way you wanted?”

She looks at you like you’ve cut her open.

“I didn’t beg when you cut it off,” you continue. “Even though I cried in bed alone about it. I didn’t call when you didn’t text. I acted professional on camera like you didn’t ruin me. I tried to move on—even if I didn’t want to. But you… you get to be pissed? Like you’re the one who got left?”

“I left you because I—” she starts.

You cut her off again. “Because you what? Because you were scared? Because I was too much?”

“No,” she blurts. “Because you weren’t.”

The words land like a slap. You go still. Like something hollow just cracked wide open in your chest.

She sees it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quickly. “Fuck, I meant—”

She reaches for you, panicked, but you step back.

“Don’t,” you warn, voice cold now. “Don’t try to fix it if you don’t even know what you’re trying to fix.”

Rhea’s breathing hard. She presses a hand to her forehead like it’ll steady her.

“Everyone I’ve ever known was too much,” she says, not looking at you. “Clingy. Demanding. Ready to fall in love the minute I touched them. I didn’t know what to do with someone who wasn’t like that. Who just… waited. Showed up. Made it worse.”

You whisper, “Rhea, stop.”

“I didn’t know how to want you without ruining it,” she says. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. And that scares the shit out of me.”

She looks up now. Vulnerable in a way she never lets herself be.

“I don’t do this,” she says. “I don’t sleep beside people. I don’t carry someone’s lip gloss in my bag for two months because I can’t let go.”

You shake your head slowly, voice raw. “Then why did you end it?”

Her voice is barely a breath. “Because I thought I was protecting you.”

You laugh—low, bitter. “By fucking someone else?”

“I didn’t fuck her.”

“But you let her touch you.”

“I stopped it,” she snaps. “The second it felt wrong.”

Silence folds between you. Too much unsaid. Too much screaming underneath the quiet.

Finally, she says it. Bare and broken.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is no one else feels like you. I’ve been walking around pretending I’m fine, and I hear the sound of you doing an interview and I have to go lock myself in a bathroom so I don’t fucking cry.”

You’re not crying. Not yet. But your chest hurts like you might.

Because after all of this—

You still want her.

she still wants you.

—

The silence that follows is heavy. Loaded. Your eyes stay locked on hers, but neither of you speaks.

You’re still breathing hard. So is she. But no one’s crying.

Not yet.

She shifts her weight, jaw clenched, still standing in the middle of your hotel room like she’s not sure whether she wants to run or collapse.

You drag your gaze away first. Cross your arms.

“You should go.” Rhea doesn’t move. Just stares at you like she didn’t hear you—or doesn’t trust herself to obey. You raise your chin. “You said your piece. I said mine. There’s nothing else.”

She swallows hard. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

“No?” You laugh once, bitter. “You came here with someone else’s perfume on your neck and a whole speech about me going to dinner. What exactly were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is rough. Defensive. “I thought—maybe—if I just saw you, I’d know what to do.”

“You want me to make this easy for you,” you mutter. “You always have.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You turn toward her fully now, arms still crossed over your chest, voice low and laced with venom. “You wanted rules. I followed them. You wanted space. I gave it to you. You wanted silence. You got it. And now you want absolution for showing up with glitter on your jaw and regret in your hands?”

Her mouth tightens. She blinks slowly. “I didn’t fuck her.”

“And I didn’t fuck my date either, but you don’t seem to care about the difference.”

Her head snaps up.

You don’t flinch.

There’s a long pause. Then, carefully, she says, “Did you want to?”

You stare at her like she’s lost her mind. “Are you serious?”

Rhea shrugs—forced, brittle. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what we are. What I am to you.”

“You didn’t give me the chance to let you be anything more than a mistake,”

Rhea watches you like she might shatter. And then she says, quieter this time, “I miss you.”

You nod once. Slow. “You should’ve missed me sooner.” Her eyes close. Just for a second. Then open again—calmer, but not softer.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You hesitate. Too long.

That hesitation says everything. Rhea nods once. Tight. Then turns to the door like she might actually go. And just before she steps out, she mutters,

“You were never too much. I was just too small to hold it.”

The door clicks softly behind her.

And you’re alone.

Still angry.

Still aching.

It’s getting harder to believe she can give you more than those two feelings.

—

The door closes with a soft click.

She doesn’t move.

Not at first.

Her hand stays on the handle, fingers curled tight around the cool metal like if she just grips hard enough, maybe it’ll rewind the last ten minutes. Maybe it’ll take back the look on your face when she said you weren’t, and the way you recoiled like she’d slapped you across the soul.

She breathes out—shaky, slow—through her nose.

Fucked it.

She fucked it so bad.

Botched worse than she ever has in her life.

It’s not even the fight. It’s not the glitter on her jaw or the phantom scent of someone else’s perfume still clinging to her collar. It’s not even the way you told her to leave—it’s how you looked like you meant it.

She drops her hand from the door and steps back.

One. Two.

She makes it halfway down the hall before the anger starts again. Not at you. Not even really at the girl in the hotel room. At herself.

Because you gave her so many chances.

You waited. You showed up. You followed her stupid rules even though you didn’t have to. You took her silence like a wound and didn’t bleed all over her for it. And what did she give you in return?

Three nights and a shutdown text.

She doesn’t remember getting into the elevator.

Just the ding of the doors, the metallic hush as they slide closed. Her reflection in the mirrored wall stares back—tense, hollow-eyed, bruised from the inside out.

She leans her head back against the elevator wall and exhales.

“You were never too much,” she whispers again, like maybe if she says it enough, it’ll reach you anyway. “I was just too small to hold it.”

The words sound pathetic now. Like someone trying to tape up a sinking ship with tissue paper.

The elevator dings again. Lobby. People mill around—bored, tired, distracted.

But Rhea doesn’t move.

She just stands in the corner, shadowed by fluorescent light, fingers clenched around something small and pink and impossibly heavy she should have left it with you, that’s what she had meant to do when she brought it—and wonders if this is what heartbreak feels like when you know it’s your own damn fault.

—

Your hotel room is dim, the bedside lamp still on even though you’ve been lying there for almost an hour, scrolling mindlessly. The silence is thick, too full of thoughts. Rhea’s name still sits at the top of your texts, unread and untouched.

You should call it a night.

You should move on.

But your chest aches.

And the ache doesn’t care about what you should do.

You tap your sister’s name.

She picks up on the third ring. “Hey, you okay?”

You don’t answer right away. Just press the phone closer to your ear and stare at the ceiling.

After a beat, she exhales softly. “Rhea again?”

You nod, even though she can’t see it. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause. You can hear her shifting around on her end, probably sinking into her pillow. “You want to talk about it?”

You do.

So you do.

You tell her everything.

The beginning. The rule. The three times. The way Rhea kissed you like it meant something, then disappeared. The text. The silence. The almosts.

And now?

The date rumor. The lip gloss. The knock on your door like it never ended at all.

When you’re done, she hums gently. Like she’s trying to be careful with what she says next.

“Friends with benefits never works,” she murmurs. “Everyone knows that.”

You flinch. Not because it’s harsh. Because it’s what you’ve been telling yourself, too.

“I thought we’d be different,” you say quietly.

“Why?” she asks. Not unkind—just honest. “Because you’re best friends and nothing will change it?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Your voice is rough now, almost too soft.

“Because we weren’t.”

There’s silence on the line. But she hears it.

Not just the heartbreak.

The truth buried under it.

You weren’t friends. Not really. Not like that.

You were never going to be just a fling to her. Not with the way she looked at you. Not with the way she said your name like it hurt to hold back.

But she tried to treat it like that anyway.

And it broke you both.

You swallow. “She brought someone else home.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” you admit. “I didn’t think—after all this time—that it would still knock the wind out of me.”

Your sister sighs. “That’s because you weren’t pretending. But she was. And pretending always catches up to people.”

You close your eyes. Let that sink in.

“She said I wasn’t too much,” you whisper. “She said she was just too small to hold it.”

“Sweet girl she’s held titles, belts, millions of dollars, arenas and crowds,” your sister states and you flinch knowing where it’s going. “If she’s too small to hold you she’s not making room,”

There’s a beat before you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“I don’t think she knows how.”

“Then you wait,” your sister says, firm. “Or you don’t. But you don’t shrink for her.”

You nod again. Quiet.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

She doesn’t say goodbye—just stays on the line until you’re ready to hang up first. You don’t cry. Not yet. But when the call ends and you finally roll to your side and turn out the light, your hand presses to your chest.

Right over the place where her voice used to settle like safety.

—

It’s been five days since the fight.

You haven’t heard from her.

Not a word.

You pretend it doesn’t hurt, that it isn’t what you asked for when you sent her out of your hotel room like she had to a woman earlier that night.

You’d told yourself it was final—that her leaving your room was the ending. That the silence after would be clean, like a scar sealed shut. But deep down, you know better.

You never learned how to stop looking for her.

Which is why, when you step into gorilla tonight for the final segment run, you feel it before you see her. That heat. That static charge. That ache that’s lived under your ribs since the night she first kissed you backstage and made everything unravel.

She’s there.

Across the room.

Fully geared up, taped wrists flexing. Her hair’s still damp, and she’s pacing like she’s got violence on her mind. But when she turns—when she sees you standing there, headset slung around your shoulder, mic in your hand, trying not to look like you’ve been hollowed out—

She stops.

Just for a breath.

Her eyes meet yours.

Something flares behind them.

Something not angry. Not soft, either.

Just hungry.

But she doesn’t come closer.

She just holds your gaze for one long, heavy second—then turns to the monitor again like she didn’t just look at you like she wanted to take you apart.

You inhale.

Try to stay steady.

Then, from behind you—low, careful, unreadable—someone murmurs:

“She asked to work the next promo with you.”

You turn. It’s one of the segment leads. clipboard in hand. Neutral face.

“What?” you breathe and the floor spins under your heels. Your heart feels like a dumbbell in your chest as you start to go hollow.

He shrugs. “Said it should be you. Said it had to be.”

And that’s when it hits you.

She’s not done.

Not even close.

You swallow hard.

And when the headset crackles in your ear and production calls your name for the countdown, you step forward toward the tunnel, eyes fixed on her back, on the tension in her shoulders, on the line she’s about to cross all over again.

Because this isn’t over.

Not by a fucking mile— or two.

—

Hey… I know I said “soon” THIS COUNTS AS SOON! Sorry part 2/3 is coming in so short I promise to make up for it in the finale!

For real though thanks for being patient with me ya girl sometimes has to real life job😒

Likes, comments, reblogs and follows always appreciated!😈💜

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[szagaloree]

No More Than Three

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Warnings: smut

Series now finished-

Part Two

Part Three

Epilogue

—

You know better than to stare.

You’ve been with WWE long enough to know how these things go—what happens when backstage interviewers get too friendly with the talent. It never ends well—for your job, your reputation, or your ability to walk into gorilla without a hundred eyes on you.

You’ve seen it happen.

Smiles turning to whispers.

Whispers turning to rumors.

Careers thrown sideways over a few badly timed glances.

You swore you wouldn’t be that girl.

But tonight?

Rhea Ripley is making it very hard to pretend you don’t know what her mouth tastes like.

It’s worse on screen.

You thought the first time would burn the tension out of you—get it out of your system. But if anything, it made it worse. Now she looks at you differently in every segment. Stands just a little too close. Lets her fingers graze yours when she rips the mic from your hand. Smirks at you like she knows something the audience doesn’t.

Because she does.

She knows exactly what you sound like when she pins you to a wall and whispers, “Still pretending you don’t want me?”

She knows how your voice falters when she grabs your chin. How your thighs shake when she so much as looks at your mouth.

She’s controlled about it. Professional, even. But you feel it—every show, every stare, every line delivered with a little too much venom. A little too much heat. She makes it look like part of the act.

And you’re stuck trying to breathe through it.

—

Rhea’s never been careless. Not with her body, her name, this business.Especially not when it came to this. Hookups backstage are dangerous enough. Hooking up with people who don’t wear gear? That’s how rumors get born. That’s how your legacy gets tied to whispers you didn’t ask for. So she’s always been discreet.

Always calculated.

Only ever let herself get involved if she was damn sure they wouldn’t run their mouth—or worse, catch feelings they’d try to cash in public.

She’s had a few before.

Producers, media people– one stunning camera tech with a mouth like sin and no interest in anything more than a night or two. Another with hands almost as rough as hers, who liked getting bent over the ring crates just out of sight.

Always quiet. Always clean. Always her rules.

Never more than three times. A hard line she’s unwilling to cross. Enough to make the work of hiding it worth something—but not enough for anyone to get close, to remember every detail of what she likes, to learn her habits.

Then there’s you.

Too polished to be called shy, too sharp to play dumb. You had this low, quiet fire to you—professional, warm, but hard to pin down. The way you looked at people told her you saw everything. She noticed it in your first segment together. The way your fingers twitched when she got close. The way your voice dipped when you said her name. The way you stepped back, just half a beat late—like your body hadn’t gotten the message your brain was screaming.

You were trying to be good.

And it drove her fucking crazy.

—

It started quietly.

Backstage. Late. The kind of late where the building starts to empty out and everything feels more dangerous—more secret—just by being silent. You were finishing up notes after a post-show interview, curled in the corner of catering with your laptop open and your brain fried, when you looked up and saw her. Leaning against the doorframe. Arms crossed. Eyes locked on you.

No smirk. No teasing swagger, And something in your chest went tight.

You knew that look.

You’d felt it during promos, backstage run-ins, live segments that left your hands shaking and your thoughts scattered. But this? This was different. She wasn’t on camera now. She didn’t have to play it subtle.

She walked toward you like a slow hunt, boots echoing in the quiet. You sat straighter. Forced yourself to look away. Back at your screen… lasted three seconds. Then her shadow hit the table, yo look to find her already standing over you—head tilted slightly, hands loose at her sides, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss you or drag you into the nearest wall and make you beg.

“You been watching me?”

Her voice was low. Steady. Commanding. Not teasing. Not light. Direct. You blinked, caught, already warm under your hoodie.

“Little hard not to,” you said, trying for casual. “You’re kind of loud.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t playful. It was slow. Dangerous.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me during interviews?”

Your mouth went dry.

“You think I don’t notice the way your hands shake when I stand close enough to breathe you in?”

Your stomach flipped. “Rhea—” She stepped forward, crowding you without touching. Close enough to smell the leather of her jacket, the faint trace of sweat from the match she hadn’t even changed out of yet.

“I want you.”

The words landed like a punch to the ribs.

“You want me. It’s easier if we skip the bullshit,”

You swallowed hard. Your whole body flushed hot. She was close now. Too close.

And you wanted it. God, you wanted it.

“You don’t get it,” you whispered. “This could ruin me.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t back off. Just raised an eyebrow.

“No faith in me?” You shook your head, Tried to steady your breathing.

“It’s not that. I’ve just… I’ve heard stories. About what happens when interviewers get involved with wrestlers.” She leaned in slowly. Close enough for her breath to brush your cheek. Close enough for her hand to slide onto the table beside yours—casual and possessive.

“Yeah?” Her voice was velvet and gravel. “You heard any about me?”

You froze. Shook your head.

“No.”

Her smile curved—slow and satisfied.

“Exactly.”

You didn’t remember standing. You just remembered the way her hand wrapped around your wrist. How her grip was firm, not rough—controlling without hurting. How her eyes never left yours when she backed you into the wall just outside the catering doorway.

“You tell me to stop,” she murmured, pinning you there with just the weight of her stare, “I’ll stop.”

She didn’t touch your waist. Didn’t kiss you yet. She waited. Let the heat of her body press into yours without a single hand on you. You nodded—once, barely—and whispered:

“Don’t stop.”

And that was it— She devoured you.

Her mouth was on yours before you could take another breath.

You gasped into her kiss, and she groaned—low and filthy—grabbing your jaw, her thigh slotting between yours like she already knew exactly how you’d move against her.

“You gonna pretend you don’t want this?” she growled against your lips. You shook your head, helpless. “I’ve seen the way you look at me,” she murmured, lips brushing your neck now, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. “Might’ve fooled everyone else, baby. But not me.”

You gave in so easily. You melted into her hands like you’d been waiting your whole life for this. And maybe you had.

When it was over—when she finally let you go—you just stood there, breathless, marked in ways no camera could catch.

You left fifteen minutes later. Different door. Different car.

Different everything.

But the next night, during your segment together? She stood a little closer. Smirked a little deeper. Said your name like it meant something. And when she brushed the mic from your hand, her fingers lingered just long enough to make you tremble.

—

One month later.

Everything has changed.. And nothing has.

You’re still sneaking out of locker rooms after call times. Still pretending your hands don’t twitch when Rhea Ripley brushes past you in the hallway. Still trying not to look like you’re thinking about the way she kissed you up against a vending machine and made you sob into her mouth three nights ago in a hotel elevator and walked away like nothing happened.

You pretend you’re not affected and she pretends it’s no big deal.

Neither of you say what it’s becoming.

—

You’ve had a hell of a day.

Three pre-tapes. Two post-show interviews. And one talent—who shall remain nameless—who made a point of leaning way too close during a backstage segment and murmuring “You single?” into your mic when he thought production wouldn’t hear it and you suddenly felt dirt in your bones.

You didn’t even need to respond. Rhea was in frame watching the way your body recoiled.

You didn’t look, but you felt her shift beside you—shoulders tightening, stare sharpening, jaw flexing like she wanted to rip the poor bastard in half.

She didn’t say anything. Not when she brushed her hand against yours the second the camera cut, and whispered low enough that only you heard:

“He won’t ask again.”

—

Now it’s almost midnight. You’re back at the shared hotel block. Still in your soft black travel hoodie. Room key in your hand. Feet dragging. Your phone buzzes just as you slide your card into the lock.

MAMI:

Room 409.

You stop. The second buzz hits before you can even think.

MAMI:

Door’s unlocked. Lose the hoodie.

You laugh—quiet, flustered, breathless—and drop your forehead to your door for half a second before turning on your heel.

—

She’s not even pretending to play innocent anymore.

You knock once anyway and the door creaks open as you step forward. And there she is. Damp hair. Sports bra. Black boxers. Tattoos glowing gold under the bedside lamp. One knee bent up on the mattress like she owns the room—which she does. She looks up from her phone like she wasn’t waiting at all.

“You’re late,” she says.

“I had to shower,” you shoot back. “You’re not the only one who gets sweaty at work y'know.” She raises a brow. Tosses her phone aside. Leans back on her hands, eyes dragging down your body.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” she murmurs as you step inside. Close the door behind you.

“Yeah?” you ask, voice lighter now. “What’d I do to earn that?”

She stands—slow. Controlled. Crosses the room to reach for you, her hands slide under the hem of the hoodie like it belongs to her.

“You showed up,” she says simply. Then, leaning down “And you keep showing up. No matter how many times I fuck the thoughts outta your head.”

You flush.She laughs, low in her throat, and kisses you—quick and rough and mine.

And then?

“Bed,” she says, voice already thicker.

You pause. “You’re not even gonna buy me dinner first?”

Her brow lifts.

“I had you for dinner in my shower last week. You wanna keep the streak going or get smart with me?”

You choke on a laugh.

Shove her shoulder.

Let her push you backward, step by step, until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and her mouth hits your throat.

Stretches her body over yours—solid muscle, warm breath, scent of leather and soap—and drags her mouth down the curve of your waist like she’s claiming it.

You whimper the second her hands slide under the band of your shorts.

She doesn’t rush.

She peels them down like a gift—inch by inch—revealing skin she already knows. You hear her breath hitch. Hear the low, reverent curse she mutters when she realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Her voice is wrecked. Low.

“You wore nothing for me?”

You nod, hips twitching up toward her mouth.

“Good girl.”

The praise hits you harder than her hands. You spread your thighs instinctively, and she hums—approves—pressing one heavy palm to the inside of your knee, pushing you wider, wider, until you’re open for her.

And then?

She fucking stares.

So close you can feel the heat of her breath ghosting over you. So close you can see her tongue wet her bottom lip before she dips her head—and finally, finally—

Her mouth meets you. The first slow lick has you gasping, fists curling into the sheets.

She’s patient. Devastating.

She drags her tongue from your entrance up to your clit in one long, languid stroke, groaning low in her throat like she can taste how badly you want her.

You arch up off the bed. She just presses her forearm across your hips, pinning you down.

“Stay still,” she growls against your cunt. “Wanna take my time with you.”

You sob—trying. But then her mouth seals over you—hot, wet, relentless—and your body betrays you, trembling under her weight. She eats you like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. Long, slow licks. Gentle sucks. Circling your clit with the flat of her tongue until your thighs are shaking and you’re whimpering her name like a prayer.

“Mami—”

She moans when you say it. You feel it vibrate through you.

She dips her tongue into you—fuck, so deep—and then slides back up to suck your clit just a little harder, just enough to send shockwaves through your whole body. Your hands find her hair, gripping hard. She lets you, tries to ignore how much she wants to feel it again.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” she murmurs, voice wrecked, mouth slick.

“Y-Yes—”

“Yeah?” She smirks against you. “Do it.”

She slaps the outside of your thigh and picks up her pace, licks you harder, faster. Her hand curls under your ass, lifting you into her mouth, controlling every fucking movement.

Your whole body tightens.

Your toes curl.

Your vision blurs.

And when you finally come—loud, raw, sobbing her name into the dark—she doesn’t stop.

She fucking devours you, making you ride her through it, dragging out every last pulse until you’re a trembling, wrecked mess under her. She kisses your thigh when she’s done.

Soft. Reverent. Like you’re something sacred. Like you’re somewhere else, something else than this.

And when she crawls back up your body—when she kisses your mouth and you taste yourself on her tongue—your hands fist in her tank top.

You’re still catching your breath—hips twitching, thighs sticky and shaking—when Rhea kisses you again.

Soft. Lingering.

Her body heavy over yours, her hand stroking your ribcage like she’s trying to calm you down.

“You did so good for me, baby,” she murmurs. “Took everything I gave you.”

You whimper, barely nodding, still floaty and warm. But then—you feel it.

The slow, deliberate grind of the strap against your thigh. You blink up at her, dazed.

She’s grinning. Cocky. Hungry. Possessive.

“You’re not done,” she whispers. “Not yet.”

Your whole body shivers and you whimper again—higher, needier—when she shifts her hips, letting you feel just how big she strapped up for you.

“But Mami—” you start, breathless, sensitive to the point of pain.

“I know, baby,” she coos,. ”You’re sensitive, huh?”

You nod. Fast.

She hums, leaning down, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“That’s why it’s gonna be so good.”

You whimper again, but your legs fall open anyway. Rhea kisses your temple. Your cheek. Your jaw.

Slow and careful.

“I’ll go slow,” she promises, the sweetness foreign in her mouth. She swallows that for now.

The first push is slow.

Agonizing.

You moan—high and broken—as she presses the strap inside you, inch by inch, until you’re stretched wide around her.

“Good girl,” she breathes. “God, look at you.“ Your hips buck weakly. She grabs your waist—steady, grounding—keeping you pinned as she rocks her hips shallowly, letting you adjust, letting you feel every thick inch. “You can take it,”

your hand reaches blindly forward towards her hips, a silent ask for her to move. She catches your wrist easily bringing it above your head as she leans forward “My pretty girl,” she murmurs. “All fucked out and it’s still not enough, is it?”

You shake your head.

You need more.

You need her.

“Please,” you breathe. “Mami, please.”

And that’s all it takes. She starts moving for real.

Deep, slow thrusts. Dragging the strap almost all the way out before slamming it back in, every stroke sending sparks up your spine. You sob in pleasure into her shoulder. She praises you the whole time.

“That’s it, baby.”

“Taking me so good.”

“So tight around me. Fuck—never gonna get enough of you.”

Swallows that truth too.

Her pace picks up. Harder now. Rougher.

You’re writhing under her, nails scratching down her back, tears spilling freely. And when she reaches between your bodies—finds your clit with her fingers, rubbing tight, messy circles—you lose it.

You come again—violently—screaming her name, your whole body locking up around her.

She fucks you through it.

Doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t let you go until you’re nothing but soft whimpers and spasming thighs and broken little gasps of her name. She slows, finally.

Eases out of you with a whispered, “I’ve got you, baby.”

You’re shaking. Panting.

She hovers above you with a smirk, you try and grin back lazily, you way of checking in with eachother. The strap ends up tossed near her bag as she goes to get a washcloth.

You’re asleep in the two minutes it takes her.

It’s inevitable. You’re limp and sated, wrapped in soft hotel sheets. She takes a deep breath to calm herself and throws a T-shirt over her bare frame, plopping into the arm chair, the only sound in the room is the quiet hum of the AC and the echo of something aching in Rhea’s chest.

She doesn’t sleep.

Not right away.

Instead—stares at the curve of your jaw, the necklace you have on glinting softly in the lamplight, the faint outline of her fingerprints still ghosting over your hips.

She should be done by now. Bored even.

This should be the end. Three times. That’s her rule.

More than three, and people start hoping. Start asking. Start catching feelings and pretending not to.

But you?

You never asked. You just keep showing up. And somehow that makes it worse.

You shift in your sleep—murmur something incoherent, half-whimpering— she finds herself moving to get up before her brain catches up and she stiffens. No.

Too soft.

Too much.

She runs her hands over her face, through her hair. Exhales like she’s been holding it in for weeks.

Then—quiet, disappointed, like she’s cursing herself—

“Three.”

—

It’s not supposed to happen again. She should fall into her normal routine, ignoring for the most part with guarded professionalism and when her partners look at her with curious eyes she meets them, which always gets her message across: “It’s over, and I’m not changing my mind”

But two nights later?

You knock on her dressing room door again to let her know you have to push her interview tomorrow a few minutes.

Still in your work clothes. Eyes tired. Smiling like you don’t know what you do to her. You almost escape, she almost lets you go, but the pull is strong as she watches your hair curl down your back. She tells herself it’s different this time.

“You’re coming to my place tonight,” she whispers as she opens the door for you

That the moment she backed you into the catering wall and stuck her tongue down your throat didn’t count. That wasn’t sex. That wasn’t a hookup. That was tension. That was heat. That was nothing.

It’s flimsy— but it’ll do for tonight.

—

She lays you down in her bed for the first time. Not a quick fix in the locker room showers like the first. Not a hotel mattress like the second.

Her bed.

She peels your jeans off slowly. Sinks her fingers inside you like she’s trying to memorize the way your hips stutter when you gasp her name. Kisses you under her own sheets like she doesn’t care about the clock or the noise or the way her pulse won’t slow down after you come.

And when you fall asleep on her pillow—again—her rules slip even further out of reach.

And tells herself it still doesn’t count.

—

She makes it three days.

It’s her fault this time. You didn’t initiate it.

You didn’t even flirt when she passed you in the hallway before your segment. You had heard her silence loud and clear, disappointed? A little, but you couldn’t be upset or feign ignorance that you didn’t know what this was when it started.

And now that it has ended you were being good.

But she wasn’t.

She watched you all night.

Watched your hands. Watched your mouth. Watched some overconfident talent let his fingers brush your back too long and make you flinch without meaning to.

She saw red.

Didn’t say anything.

But when the show ended, and you were packing up in your little corner of the media suite—alone, quiet, head down—Rhea showed up in the doorway like she had every right to be there.

“You coming?”

You looked up, confused. Tired.

“Coming where?” She didn’t answer.

Just nodded toward the hallway.

You followed.

—

She fucked you slow that time.

On the couch in her room, still half-dressed, your shirt bunched around your ribs and her hand between your thighs like she couldn’t wait to get you naked.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about tension.

It was about control. She needed you to come on her fingers. Needed to hear your voice crack on “Mami.” Needed to see your thighs shake and your chest heave and your hand reach for hers like you trusted her with something bigger than your body.

When it was over, she cleaned you up gently.

Helped you dress.

Didn’t kiss you again.

Didn’t hold you after.

Didn’t say goodnight.

Because she knew she wouldn’t be able to deceive herself after.

She lay awake that night with her phone in her hand. Your name sat at the top of the thread, a soft glow in the dark.

The message bar pulsed—cursor blinking like it was waiting on her. Like it could see the truth backing up behind her teeth.

The honesty trying to force its way down through her fingers made her chest tight with a kind of anxiety she didn’t know how to fight. Not with fists. Not with strength. Not with steel chairs or kendo sticks or training until her body gave out.

This was different.

This was internal.

Invisible.

And she had no armor for it.

Being a victim to her own thoughts wasn’t something Rhea Ripley had allowed in years.

She was good at burying things. Good at locking them down, shoving them into corners of her chest no one else would ever reach. That darkness was familiar. Controlled. Hers.

But you?

You were an infection she didn’t see coming. Now she couldn’t breathe without tasting you in the silence.

And in the quiet, her mind turned cruel.

She could hear the way you laughed when she trash-talked on camera—sharp and quick, like you were trying not to let it show how much you loved it. She could hear the sound of your breath stuttering when some idiot in the crew wouldn’t shut up and you were too polite to interrupt. She could hear the pleasure she’d pulled out of you just hours earlier—hear it, feel it, like an echo in her skin. Your voice in her head wasn’t something she could silence.

Not tonight.

Not when she’d let herself believe—for just one second—that maybe this was more than a body in her bed.She should’ve pulled away. Should’ve cut the cord, like always. But she didn’t.

And now?

Now her fingers hovered over the screen, useless.

“We need to stop.”

Backspace.

“We can’t do this again.”

Backspace.

Her jaw locked. Her chest ached. that question—the one she’d stomped into the farthest pit of herself—came clawing back up with bloodied nails and teeth.

Would she want more too?

The thought made her flinch.

More.

She’d always wanted more. Since the day she stepped into this business. More belts. More cheers. More bruises that meant something. More of the things that made her feel like herself.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t about domination or drive or legacy. This was the way you kissed her without flinching. The way you made her laugh even when she didn’t want to. The way you held her after, like she was something worth holding onto.

And that scared her more than anything else ever had.

So she made a choice.

The only one she trusted herself to make. She typed it with hands that didn’t feel steady.

We’re done.

She didn’t read it over. Didn’t let herself hesitate. She hit send.

Turned out the light.

And laid there in the dark, alone with her silence and the phantom heat of your body beside her.

Didn’t cry.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t sleep.

—

Listen I know I said “coming soon,”… it’s soonish. Thanks for reading😘 likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated.

Edited by the lovely @possessedmagpie — Thank you darling💜

Taglist:

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@redrobot84

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@justagirl-420

@kagome2909

@confusedtinyhuman

@darkangelchronicles

@maddybe2swaggy

@megamultifandomtrashposts

[szagaloree]

Can I make a request for Ambessa with wife!reader and reader is a few months postpartum and she’s insecure about her figure. Ambessa decides to comfort her and show her how special she really is.

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Ambessa Medarda x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: {The birth of your child left you with many doubts and your wife proves them all wrong} CW: talks of childbirth, body image issues, themes of postpartum depression, bathing together. AN: I got so carried away with this. oml.

The birthing bed was your battlefield as the wife to a fearsome warlord— a fate that had surprisingly brought you more happiness than you had originally anticipated, that was until your waters broke and the contractions started. Then you were cursing Ambessa’s name.

You were prepared for this, your handmaidens spent day and night explaining to you the pain and showing you hand-drawn pictures— your mother had even told you of her own experiences. It was all pointless because you quickly learned that no word or picture could ever even begin to describe the pain of childbirth.

It didn’t get much easier from there. The battle continued even after the birth of a healthy baby boy and girl—oh how grateful your wife was—twins, a strong boy and girl to carry on her name… a miracle. You only wished you could share her joy, but you couldn’t. There was an odd disconnect that had managed to wedge itself between you, your children, and Ambessa.

Your skin didn’t feel your own, hell, your whole life didn’t feel like yours— almost as if you had taken the place of some stranger, a different woman that was not you. That woman was more suited to be a mother, a wife. It was a sickening feeling, one that often left you immobilised in bed.

You didn’t want to face the mirrors, hold your babies, or have your wife look at you, much less touch you—hence why you slept with a pillow stuffed between you both, not wanting to risk it… despite how much you deeply yearned for it, and oh how you really did yearn for her comforting touch.

It was the reason your maid brings you your nightly tea with just enough crushed poppy flowers to knock you out— you preferred to sleep before your wife got back from her duties, although you told your maids differently.

“Leave it on the table.” The words leave you with a sigh, not looking over to her from your place on the sofa— a deep red velvet colour, soft to the touch, your wife only accepts perfection.

“Lady Medarda, surely a simple ginger tea would be better for you?— The pain shouldn’t be lasting this long.” bless her, she sounded so concerned. Of course, your excuse of birthing pains could only last so long, five whole months had passed since— the warmth of summer slowly dwindling away, replaced by a sharp chill that autumn brought.

You shake your head, bringing your fingertips to your temple with a pitiful glint in your eyes, ready to put on a show— then the bedroom door opens and your handmaiden is bowing to Ambessa, whose eyes are fixed onto you, stepping off to the side politely.

“You’re back early.” The words fly from your lips faster than you could even process them and far more harshly than intended, however, the quiver in your voice gives you away. Your false bravado was not lost on Ambessa, that mask you wore did not fool her.

“Leave us.” Her words are sharp, stern and has the maid scurrying off— dress clutched in her hands. You could already hear the gossip she was sure to spread with the other servants.

A sigh escapes you as your eyes flicker over to the flames in the fireplace, watching the embers dance wildly within the hearth— Ambessa’s heavy, golden spear hanging above, displayed proudly, every nick and indent tells a different story. You let your mind wander in hopes she'll drop it.

“Do I need to send for a doctor?” She doesn't. Your wife was a smart woman, she knew you like the back of her hand and could read all your inner thoughts, until recently— now getting a single word out of you was like trying to get blood out of a stone. Instead, she was left with this distance you had managed to put between yourself and her. Ambessa felt it, she just didn’t know how exactly to approach it and it was driving her crazy.

She was a practical woman, fixing her problems with strength, not emotions, this was not her strong suit. But she also did not know defeat.

“No, I am fine.” The lie didn’t sound convincing in the slightest, not even in your own ears— the words make you wince and from the sound of her scoff she didn’t believe you either.

You hated to be the cause of her concern, gods only know how busy the woman already was. Ambessa watches you, studying your movements with slightly narrowed eyes as you tug your shawl over your shoulders— grasping the soft fabric as if it were some sort of protective shield, a lifeline, that you wished desperately to disappear into.

“This is not fine, lie to your handmaidens all you want but do not lie to me.” Her tone is much softer than you deserve, you can’t help but cower away with a look of shame in your eyes— it only triples when she kneels down in front of you, her big, battle-worn hands resting over your knees.

The Ambessa Medarda, a feared warrior, kneeling before you like you were some sort of deity worth praying to… no it didn’t feel right.

The words die on your tongue, getting stuck in the back of your throat tightly— a whimper is the only thing you can let out, such a weak sound, strained with this insecurity that had been eating away at you for months.

“I do not know what it is— just an ache I cannot rid myself of, no matter what I do.” you breathe, dropping your head slightly as your gaze falls to her hands, the way her thumb rubs the inside of your knee. “I bring shame upon this family— upon you.”

Ambessa tuts at your words, pinching your chin between her index finger and thumb. “Shame?— look at me,” your eyes find her own hesitantly. “You are my greatest treasure… my proudest accomplishment.”

“I can’t be— I’m not fit for motherhood, to be your wife. I am weak.”

She bristles, “No flower, you are the furthest thing from weak. Motherhood is no easy feat, but we strengthen each other… you have me. Forever.” her eyes never once straying from your own.

You have only ever heard such loving sincerity from her a handful of times, on the day she asked you to marry her and the first time she had taken your maidenhead— your wedding night, and now. It’s a stern tone that is draped in earnest, so heavy with love, leaving no space for arguments.

Ambessa wouldn’t hear another word of it, of you speaking poorly of yourself— she had taken someone’s tongue after they foolishly insulted you, that wasn’t for nothing, that was out of devotion.

So all you can do is apologise— “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” but even that she doesn’t want to hear, her lips pressing a soothing kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“No more apologies, no more distance. You have me.” She promises, words whispered against your cheek before she pulls back to admire you with a soft yet firm stare. “Understood?”

“Yes, I understand.” You whisper, leaning into her hand as soon as her rough palm meets your cheek— your chest tightens and your eyes prickle with tears, it had been far too long since you felt her tender touch. With a hum of acknowledgement, she leans forward, still kneeling before you, her hand curving across your jaw to cup the back of your head— her lips meeting your own in a slow kiss, the rough pad of her thumb brushing your tears away.

“Shh my heart, I’m right here.” She soothes, lips brushing along your jaw when you melt further into her— trembling hands resting upon her broad shoulders which she cages within her own big ones as she pulls back to admire you. “I’ll have a bath prepared for us.”

Her words make you tense, something uncomfortable churning within your stomach at the thought. “No, my body has changed— it’s—”

“—It is just as perfect as the night I first had you.”

“No, it’s different.”

“Sweetling, you have brought life into this world. It’s a beautiful change.” She murmurs against your knuckles with an almost reverent gleam in her eyes, one that almost breaks down the defences that you have built up around your fragile heart, almost.

Ambessa can sense your unease, the hesitation— the way you can’t seem to meet her eyes and it destroys her, how had she failed to protect you from this? She brings your palm to rest over her heart, her eyes searching your own. “Trust me with this, let me worship you.” there's a soft question hidden beneath her tone, behind the firmness of what sounds like a demand.

“Just— Just a bath,” you whisper, glossy eyes and strained voice and she nods in response— cupping your face ever so gently as she repeats “Just a bath.” in agreement.

You trust her enough to guide you to your shared bathroom, enough to let her peel your nightgown off with careful hands, fingertips grazing across your body ever so slightly. The comforting scent of rose and honey wisps around you, carrying memories of nights you’ve shared like this and the prospect of being close to her seems a little less daunting as the familiarity warms your heart and the hot water envelops your body.

Ambessa's form engulfs your own as she sits behind you, strong thighs caging either side of you. It was protective, how her hands rub across your shoulders soothingly and the soft whispers of sweet nothings that leave her lips, muffled into the nape of your neck. She wishes to rid you of any self-doubt that had wormed itself into your mind.

Bubbles splay across your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees that you’ve tucked beneath your chin in an attempt to make yourself smaller. “Flower?— relax into me,” her voice breaks you out of your thoughts as she slowly guides you back against her chest, wrapping an arm around your abdomen whilst the other moves to cup your cheek.

The candlelight flickers against your face as you tip your head backwards to look up at her, her thumb wiping away a stray tear that had escaped you. “Forgive me for not noticing your pain sooner,” She whispers, dropping a kiss to your forehead and then another to the tip of your nose.

The warm water laps at your bodies slightly as you move to curl up further into her, wanting to disappear in her embrace. “Just don’t let go,” and with that her arms tighten around your body, leaning to rest her forehead against your own.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Your place in my heart is yours, no one can take that from you.” You sigh at your words, letting out a teary giggle as she peppers kisses over your face. For the first time in a while, you felt whole, full, in a way you thought you would never feel again, for the time being at least… you savoured every second of it.

Her fingertips trace over the stretch marks left by your pregnancy, letting her lips trail over the dewy skin of your shoulders whispering soft “I love yous,” against you as she washes your hair— smirking at the way you let your guard down for her, how your eyes flutter close and the way sigh and hum in delight as she massages your scalp.

The water felt cleansing in a way, as it trickles down your head and along your back, washing away the months of aches that weighed on top of you. “How does that feel?” She asks, lips brushing along your jaw.

“Good, much better.” The relief in your tone brought immeasurable amounts of satisfaction to her that she couldn’t help but chuckle, happiness blooming through her chest as she replies with a soft. “That’s what I like to hear, my sweet.”

Ambessa vows to herself in that very moment to spend the night and every other night paying homage to the curves and dips of your body, to each stretch mark that maps over your skin until you feel nothing but love— she would put your pieces back together again no matter how jagged the edges were.

[szagaloree]

Pleaseee write for Sevika or Ambessa x virgin reader who finishes stupidly fast and gets all embarrassed about it!!!

⌇ FAST ノ—DRABBLE

strap , reader cums fast , mating press

ambessa was so rough with her strap as she had you folded on her expensive sheets, your pussy dripping and squelching so obscenely thanks to her brutal pace. “bessa! n-not so rough!”

you gasped out and moaned loudly but she didn't stop. instead she chuckled and went even faster if possible. you didn't know she could hit so deep when she had you folded in an easy mating press thanks to her much bigger body compared to you. her muscles, the ridges— the way they moved in the dim sunlight peeking through the window. oh you could cum from the sight of it all.

“bessa im cumming!” you cried out and your body shook in her hands before your legs fell to your sides, feeling like jelly. shit. that was a very quick orgasm. ambessa looked only slightly amused.

“that was fast, dear,” ambessa eased her strap out, resting the slick shaft on top of your pussy. “oh my goodness.” you hid your face with your hands to which ambessa laughed, shaking her head and pulled your wrists down gently. “come here,” and she kissed you.

[szagaloree]

Hi love your work but how about Ambessa seeing that y/n is not eating and is punishing her by making say things she likes about her stuff while fucking infront of a mirror chubby reader please😇 (can she lowkey be kinda toxic🙏🏾)

Toxic!Ambessa Medarda x Plus sized!Reader

TAGS: fingering, fisting, mirror sex, body image issues, slight implication at starvation, self affirmations, slightly toxic if you squint

“You didn't eat again,” Ambessa's words rang through the air with silent command as she walked in long strides across the marble floors of the luxurious bed chambers.

“I was— I'm cutting,” you said as you threw away the second top of the day that didn't fit you. “I can barely fit into my clothes anymore Bessa…”

“Why's that matter? I'll get newly tailored clothes for you,” Ambessa walked around the fallen clothes, wrapping an arm around your waist, “Is this what it's about? Cheap clothing?”

“No,” you huffed, “I'm getting fat.”

“This?” Ambessa cupped the fat of your stomach but you swatted her hands away.

“Don't—”

“But I love it. I love you like this.” Ambessa wrapped both arms around your frame, easily engulfing you in her huge muscly arms.

“I look—” you sighed. “I look like I stuff my face for a living.”

“Don't say that,” Ambessa snapped. “You look perfect.”

“I don't.” You insisted.

“I'm getting a new closet of clothes for you.” Ambessa let go of you, walking out of the bed chambers making you whine.

“You don't have to!” You called out.

“But I want to.”

You groaned and ran a hand down your face. This woman was insufferable and loving at the same time. You looked back at the mirror and looked at the way your tummy curved, your shoulders dropped. How was Ambessa in love with someone who looked like you?— that you couldn't answer.

After a few long minutes, the doors opened again and Ambessa walked inside, “New clothes by tonight,” she said with a proud smile, the locks clicking into place before she made her way to you. “Still sulking?”

“Baby, why are you with me?” You questioned, eyes brimming with tears.

“Is this about the weight again?” Ambessa asked back, taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside you. You gave her a nod and she stroked your hair silently for a while. “I love everything about you, baby, every little thing. The weight doesn't matter to me. I find your ‘chubbiness’ adorable.”

You smiled at her, still not really convinced but at least she tried.

Ambessa moved back, pulling you over her lap with your legs around her waist. “Come over here, you beautiful little thing.”

Ambessa's calloused hands palmed your body with need as she squeezed the flesh and the fat, kissing down your neck and chest. You moaned softly, voice small and meek as you tilted your head back to give her more access which she instantly took advantage of. Hickeys started littering your skin, blooming across your chest. You giggled and brought Ambessa in for a kiss. She didn't deny it, her lips moved against yours like it was just natural. No effort, just slow sensual kissing.

You felt it then— the first two digits circling your entrance like a warning, your eyes locked on the mirror behind Ambessa's back but you shyly hid your face at the crook of her neck, refusing to look at your own reflection. Ambessa tsked, her fingers spreading you out and sinking inside slowly, your warm wet heat didn't struggle at all to accommodate her fingers. You took them right inside, your pussy swallowed them without hesitation and your breath shuddered.

“Look at yourself.” Ambessa ordered, her fingers curling inside.

Ambessa didn't relent and two fingers quickly became three. Her fingers were ruthless, the callousness and scars giving them just enough texture for your pussy to tingle, your clit throbbed from need as you grinded in a way her palm rubbed that sensitive little nub for you. You gasped.

Ambessa stilled, not moving, fingers still buried deep inside. “Look at yourself in the mirror,” you pulled your face up high, just enough to look at your tear streaked face, “Say that you're beautiful.”

“I-I’m beautiful,” you croaked through your tears and Ambessa gave you an approving nod, her fingers curling. Your voice broke, you screamed. “Oh! A-again, please!”

Ambessa chuckled and curled them again before she added in a fourth finger, a loud schlik sounding out as your pussy stretched and made the most lewd sounds ever. You were trembling by now, your hands squeezed Ambessa's broad shoulders as your pussy clenched around her fingers. Your mouth was open forming an ‘O’ as her hand slowly pushed inside your wet cavern.

“Baby, I don't think I can take more—”

“You will take more.” Ambessa slipped inside four thick fingers and curled them making you scream out again, she rubbed your clit using her thumb, “I can feel you pulsing for me.”

You only sobbed in response.

“C’mon, say that you're perfect for me, look in the mirror and tell me how perfect you look.” Ambessa whispered, her voice dropping to a low hush as if this was a secret that only existed between the both of you.

“I-I’m perfect,” you cried softly, “I-I look amazing, I'm perfect. I'm gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous…” your voice broke, and pussy clenched. You were close. “Baby, can I cum? Please, I'll be good, I won't skip meals.”

“Are you really that desperate for an orgasm?” Ambessa teased and chuckled but didn't deny you, her fingers thrusting deeper, “Go ahead. Come for me.”

Then you did. You didn't care about the weight anymore. All you cared about was getting your hole stuffed full. That's all that mattered.

[szagaloree]

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

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

word count: 14k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then your steps slowed.

And then they stopped.

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

Smoke's Place.

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

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

Blues.

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

A rum and coke.

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

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

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

Her eyes...

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

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

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

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

And you did.

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

Her lips were soft...Yet cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your words were her salvation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was a bad idea.

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

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

She most likely did.

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

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

But this wasn't a dream...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But they didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Use your words."

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

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

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

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

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

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

They had taste.

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

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

Your books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even from their own father.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They seemed to both enjoy getting under your skin.

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

"Fine...I'll stay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dog tags, his brother's dog tags specifically.

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

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

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

Elijah Moore.

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

It was just the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This ain't right..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you're not leaving your room anytime soon.

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

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

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

Damn was this lady persistent...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And these two will gladly deliver.

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

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

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

But it wasn't enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hit you.

She was spelling her name out with her tongue.

On your pussy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that was enough for Elias.

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

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

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

"Good job, sweetpea."

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

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

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

Those fucking dimples will be the death of you.

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

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

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

Yet.

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

You felt whole.

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

[szagaloree]

PREDATOR'S CHOICE

Pairing: Male Yuatja x Female Reader

divider by: @sinisterexaggerator & @enchanthings word count: 5k synopsis: After killing the Bad blood who hunted you, you gain the attention of another hunter. a/n: Y'all don't judge me for my hear me out. I did not intend for this to end the way it did, but clearly I got carried away. For those apart of the Predator franchise, I'm new here and still learning the lore so I hope I got most of it correct. warning: 18+, yautja smut, biting kink, size kink, more plot than porn, etc.

The jungle was unnervingly quiet in the wake of the slaughter. Smoke curled lazily from the scorched wreckage of gear, bodies strewn like broken dolls among shredded foliage. The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burnt flesh.

Above, smoke still clung to the treetops, drifting from where your unit had been ambushed. Twelve soldiers—half gone in less than ten minutes, the other half having slowly been hunted down over the course of the day. You were the only one left, though “standing” felt generous. Your breath came hard and uneven, weight braced on your rifle, every muscle screaming from hours of evasion and bursts of return fire.

You hadn’t seen the thing kill your squad, but you’d heard them die. One by one, their voices had crackled over comms—panicked screams cut short, the sound of erratic gunfire halting as you heard pleading cries dissolving into wet, choking gurgles that left no doubt about their fate.

A sharp crack broke the stillness to your right. Your head snapped toward the sound, rifle coming up in reflex, finger tight on the trigger.

What stepped—or rather, crashed—into the clearing was massive. Armour hung on its frame in mismatched plates, rusted and scored from old battles, the surface stained with rot and dried blood. The helmet was jagged, clearly scavenged, its targeting system flickering with an unstable red glow.

It let out a feral snarl, the reminded you of battle cry before it charged. That was your only warning before the hulking shape bore down on you.

You didn’t think—you reacted. Ducking under its wild swing, you drove your combat knife deep into the unarmored joint beneath its shoulder plate. It roared, claws lashing for your throat. You ducked, but its other hand shot out, fingers closing around the front of your vest. It hurled you into a tree with bone-jarring force, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. You hit the ground hard, vision going white at the edges.

The creature lunged for you again. This time, you rolled, mud slick beneath your palms, and your hand closed around a fallen sidearm half-buried in the muck. You brought it up and fired point-blank into the gaps of its helmet until sparks spat from the damaged metal.

It staggered.

You surged forward, using the opening, and drove your blade into its throat. Hot, alien blood fountained over your hands, thick and bright green. You twisted hard, feeling resistance give way, and ripped the knife free. The creature gurgled once before collapsing in a final, heavy thud that sent leaves shivering from the canopy above.

Panting, you stood over the body, blood and sweat running into your eyes, staring down at the corpse. Only then did you sense another presence.

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward.

It was another of the same kind of alien you had just killed—but this one was different. Taller. Broader. His armour was etched with intricate markings that caught the fractured light filtering through the canopy. Every step he took set the small skulls, teeth, and bones hanging from his loincloth clattering together in a grim rattle.

You swallowed hard, forcing back the instinctive prickle of fear. Everything about him screamed superiority—the easy way he moved, the measured weight of his presence. This was no frenzied brute like the one before. This was a true seasoned hunter.

The realization struck like ice: he had been here the entire time. Watching the battled you had with his partner.

His mask turned toward the body at your feet, then back to you. Slowly, he extended one massive arm and the twin wrist-blades slid free from his gauntlet with a metallic hiss.

You were already bleeding from the ribs, every muscle aching from the last fight, but your grip tightened on your knife all the same. There was no way in hell you were going down without a fight.

A low, almost amused sound rumbled from his chest—but beneath it was something else. Interest.

Then he moved.

The world narrowed to motion—your blade flashing, his gauntleted arm swiping out a strike that would have struck a normal human. But you weren’t normal. You were one of the best, forged through years of elite military training. You were ducking the backhand before your mind could even catch up with your body, pivoting and delivering a sharp kick into his abdomen hard enough to make him grunt. Pain flared white-hot through your side from your sharp movement, but you stayed upright, refusing to back down.

Steel found flesh once—your knife slicing across his upper arm. It wasn’t deep, but it made him pause. His head tilted slightly, as though you had just passed some silent, unspoken test. Then he shifted, fast as lightning, and sent your knife spinning into the dirt.

Even weaponless, you swung at him, but his palm slammed into your sternum—not hard enough to break bone, but enough to knock the breath clean from your lungs. The jungle tilted around you. You stumbled, vision tunneling, before a massive hand caught your shoulder to keep you from collapsing entirely.

The edges of the world blurred. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the tilt of his mask, as he studied you.

When awareness returned, it did so in fragments—heat against your skin, the slow rhythm of your own breathing, the faint hum of something mechanical in the distance.

You pushed yourself upright with a groan, every muscle protesting, and realized immediately that this wasn’t Earth.

The air was thick and humid, smelling of strange herbs and cured hides. You lay upon furs softer than any wool, beneath a ceiling worked in patterns you could not read. Through a latticed wall, the light was amber and alien, casting long shadows over weapons mounted like trophies.

The fight came back to you in shards—Your murdered team, the berserking alien, the fighting. And then… him.

Your gaze flicked to the doorway as a shadow fell across it.

Your alien captor stepped inside, filling the space with his presence. Without the chaos of battle to blur the details, you could take him in more clearly now—the well-maintained armour marked with intricate etchings, the heavy, mid-length dreadlocks falling over his shoulders, and the steady, assured confidence in every movement.

In his hands he carried a carved slab piled with thick cuts of red, raw meat and a horn flask filled with water. Crossing the room, he set them on the floor within your reach, then straightened without a word. The bones and charms hanging from his armour gave a faint clatter as he shifted, his mask angled toward you, watching.

You didn’t touch the offering—not at first. Your eyes stayed locked on him, waiting for the trick, the catch. Instead of closing the distance like you might've expected, he lowered himself onto a seat across the room. Then his hands rose to the sides of his helmet, claws working the clasps with practiced ease.

A hiss of released pressure filled the air as the mask came free.

Your breath caught. This was the first time you’d seen his face—alien in every sense. The ridges along his crown swept back in bold, clean lines, their mottled patterns catching the light. A scattering of scars marked his hide—evidence of battles survived. His mandibles flexed subtly as though testing the air between you. 

What struck you most were his eyes—molten gold, sharp and unyielding, fixed on you with a predator’s unwavering focus. There was a confidence there, the quiet certainty of one who knew his own skill and strength and had proven it time and again. Everything about him was so distinctly inhuman and yet, to your own surprise, you didn’t recoil in fear or disgust.

You were… intrigued. But instead of embracing your curiousity, you looked away. You still didn't trust him. He had tried to kill you, and then abducted you. You had no idea what the hell he wanted with you.

The first week passed in that tense rhythm. Each day, he returned with food—slabs of raw meat still warm from the kill. The second day, you’d shifted closer for a better look before instinct made you recoil. He’d only grunted, as though your refusal was of no consequence. By the third day, hunger gnawed deep enough that you carved off a strip and held it over the flames, certain by now it wasn’t poisoned.

At the sight, he’d grunted again, eyes narrowing as he tore into his own portion raw. All the while, he watched you, gaze following the slow chew of your jaw as you struggled to bite through the cooked meat with your ooman teeth.

Neither of you spoke—not for lack of trying on his part. He didn’t fully understand your tongue, and whatever sounds came from him were low, clicking growls and deep-chested trills you couldn’t begin to match.

But there was no mistaking the way he studied you—the way your steps carried you through his home, how your gaze lingered on the carved trophies along his walls, the way you instinctively stiffened whenever his shadow fell across you.

Just as he watched you, you watched him. You noticed the smooth, predatory ease in the roll of his shoulders when he moved through the dwelling. The way his hands—large enough to encompass your skull—handled his weapons with a quiet reverence. You took note of the small ritual before each meal, the careful sharpening of his blades, the pause at the doorway each dawn as he scented the air like a wolf testing the wind.

He never closed the door completely when he left. You noticed that too. You weren’t sure if it was meant as a test or as bait. Without your weapons, you weren’t confident enough to risk finding out.

Yet, by the seventh day, the walls of his home as if they were closing in, even your own skin felt too tight. When he stepped toward the door with a spear slung over his back, you followed him.

“I’m coming with you,” you said.

He paused, turning his mask toward you. A long silence stretched between you. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he beckoned you forward—and held out your knife. The sight of it made your pulse quicken. You hadn’t even realized he’d taken it, you thought it had been left back on Earth.

The terrain outside his home was like nothing on Earth—mountains formed from jagged black stone, plains broken by thick forests of emerald-leafed trees. The air carried the distant roars and shrieks of unseen things.

That day’s quarry was a thresk—if you managed to understand his guttural growl correctly—a six-legged, deer-like creature with thick, scaled hide and wide antlers that shed once a season. It was fast and skittish, grazing in small herds on broad-leafed plants. Not harmless as you soon learned—it could gore you if startled—but it was food. He moved like the forest was an extension of him. You followed his lead, scanning the ground as he did—reading the bend of crushed stems, the imprint of heavy claws, the faint sway of disturbed foliage, caused by the passing of the herd.

When the kill came, it was sudden and brutal—your knife in the creature’s throat while his spear pinned it in place. He let you take the final strike, then showed you something strange. From his belt he drew a narrow, curved blade and cut free one of the creature’s fangs—long, polished by wear. He pressed it into your palm and curled your fingers around it. A mark of the hunt. A piece to keep even if the meat was the true prize.

You didn’t realize until later how much that small gesture shifted something between you both.

Days later, the second hunt changed everything.

You’d just brought down a gar’shun—a thick-bodied, tusked boar with spiny ridges along its back—when the air split with a scream. The sound was sharp enough to cut through the pounding of your pulse. Out of the undergrowth burst something you hadn’t seen before—a varik, all coiled muscle and hooked claws, its mottled hide blending perfectly with the ferns until the moment it struck.

You didn’t spot it until it was too close.

He did.

He slammed into you, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs, shoving you clear just as the varik’s claws tore across his chest. The sound of rending armour was followed by the wet, ugly rip of skin beneath. The fight that followed was brief but brutal—two predators colliding in a flurry of snapping mandibles, slashing claws, and spear strikes. He drove the weapon deep into its side, twisting until the creature let out a final, guttural shriek and collapsed.

When the beast hit the ground, he was already staggering.

You could have run. You could have vanished into the terrain, taken your chances finding your way home. But you didn’t.

Instead, you dropped to your knees beside him, your hand already reaching for the small pouch of emergency supplies still strapped to your belt. You cleaned the wound with what little you had, tearing strips from your undershirt to bind it tight. The alien blood was shockingly bright green, slick and hot against your fingers.

His mask tilted down at you, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and gravel-edged. “Why?”

It was the first time you’d heard him speak your language. The words were rough, growled, thick with an alien accent that rolled strangely over familiar sounds.

You didn’t stop working as you answered. “You saved my life. Now I’m saving yours.”

After the varik attack, that shift became more apparent.

It was subtle at first. He lingered closer when you moved through the forest—more protective. His gaze, though still sharp and assessing, had lost the hard edge of suspicion. When you worked together over the thresk carcass, he wordlessly passed you the choicest cuts—something you didn’t even notice until later.

One evening, as you sat beside the low-burning heat pit, he placed a strip of raw meat into your palm and gestured toward his own mouth.

You gave him a look. “It’s raw. Human's don't tend to eat meat raw.”

A low rumble sounded in his chest—amusement, maybe—and he tilted his head, urging. His massive hand came up, the tips of his claws nudging the meat closer to your face.

You eyed it warily, sighing when he gave your hand another insistent push. Finally, you lifted it to your mouth and took a small bite. The taste surprised you—sweet and tender, almost buttery, with a freshness that made Earth’s cooked rations seem dry and lifeless by comparison, and every time you’d been cooking it, the meat’s subtle flavour had been vanishing, becoming tough and leathery, but raw it was tender and flavourful.

After that, you stopped bothering with the fire.

Days passed, and you began to notice something about his speech. His helmet’s built-in translator let him understand you perfectly, yet when he spoke, it was almost always in his own language. The sounds were a mix of deep-chested trills, low growls, and the sharp clicks of his mandibles.

One evening, curiosity got the better of you.

“You can understand me,” you said, tearing off another strip of meat. “But you don’t speak my language.”

His mask tilted slightly, as though your observation amused him.

“You could,” you pressed. “I could teach you.”

He let out a low click, then gestured for you to continue. And so you did—pointing to objects, naming them in English, repeating the words until the alien syllables began to form on his tongue. The consonants were difficult for him, vowels stretching oddly in his deep voice, but you could hear the improvement with each attempt. Sometimes you corrected him, sometimes you laughed at how adorable he was trying to say the correct word, and sometimes he repeated a word so carefully with that rumbling growl it sent a shiver down your spine.

You fared no better when it was your turn. Listening to him rumble the Yautja equivalent of whatever English word you were trying to teach, you tripped over the sharp clicks and guttural rolls. He was patient in a way you hadn’t expected, correcting you with a low growl or the faintest click of his mandibles when you mangled a syllable.

Slowly but surely, you were both learning. The exchanges were broken, imperfect, but the gaps between you were closing. Bit by bit, you were beginning to communicate.

It wasn’t until a week into your growing truce that you finally asked the question that had been nagging at you.

“Why did you take me?” you asked, curiosity edging your voice.

He clicked his mandibles, as if weighing his answer, then spoke slowly, choosing his words. “You kill bad blood. Bad blood leader come. He take you. You fight… until die.”

You frowned. “Bad blood?”

“Me. Yautja,” he said, tapping a closed fist against his chest before pointing to a helmet resting on a shelf—one you hadn’t realized was there until now. Recognition jolted through you. It belonged to the Predator you’d killed. “Him. No honour Yautja.”

“So… me killing the bad blood would’ve had his leader take me and make me fight until I died?” you clarified.

He nodded once.

“But why save me from them?” you pressed.

He hesitated, mandibles clicking once before he spoke. “I don’t. I bring you to heal… and hunt. No honour to hunt broken. Only strong.” His head tilted slightly, his voice dropping into something almost gentle. “But no more. You now… friend.”

You blinked, the words settling heavily between you. “You brought me here to heal, and then you were going to finish your hunt?”

A part of you didn’t know how to feel about that revelation. Another part wasn’t surprised—that explanation fit more with the creature you’d first met than the one you’d begun to know.

“No more hunt,” he said firmly. “You. Friend.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “You know, I just realized—if we’re friends, I still don’t even know your name.”

He straightened slightly, then spoke—clicks and rolling syllables that resonated low in your bones. “Drak’ven.”

You tried it, mangling the guttural tones until his mandibles finally flared in what you guessed was approval.

“Y/n,” you replied, pressing your hand to your chest.

He repeated it slowly, tasting the human sounds, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, hearing your name in his voice made something tighten in your chest.

A few days later, you decided to test the luck of your new-found friendship.

“I need a shower,” you announced one morning. It had been weeks since your arrival, and you could take an educated guess that his kind didn’t share the same hygiene habits as humans. Still, your skin itched with the need to be properly clean, more than the small basin and a cloth you'd been using and you silently prayed he had something to help.

His head tilted, mandibles shifting slightly.

You mimed scrubbing your hair, letting your hands trail water down your arms. He watched, still as stone, for a long moment. Then his mandibles twitched in thought, and he turned, gesturing for you to follow.

The walk took you into the denser part of the forest, where the air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and the calls of unseen creatures. Eventually, the trees opened into a secluded clearing, revealing a hot spring cupped by jagged stone and draped in thick vines. Steam curled lazily upward into the shafts of golden light breaking through the canopy.

You nearly gasped. The place was beautiful, untouched. You were still taking it in when you heard Drak’ven shift behind you. Excitement to wash away days of dirt and grime overrode any hesitation; you stepped to the edge and tugged at your clothes. 

His gaze followed—steady, unflinching—as you stripped and slid into the water. Heat enveloped you instantly, seeping deep into your muscles and drawing a low sigh from your lips.

When you looked back, he was removing his armour. Piece by piece, it revealed the thick cords of muscle beneath, the mottled pattern of his skin, the faint sheen of condensation forming where steam met flesh. Broad shoulders, sculpted arms, the ripple of strength across his chest.

You caught yourself staring, pulse quickening in ways you hadn’t felt in a long while. And when his gaze met yours again, you knew he’d been doing the same.

The water rippled as Drak’ven stepped in, steam curling around the edges of his broad frame.

You swallowed, your body moving before you had the sense to stop it, wading toward him as if drawn by something you couldn’t name. When you reached him, your hand rose—hesitant at first—until your palm met the solid heat of his chest. Your fingers traced the ridges of muscle, skimming over old scars that told stories you could only imagine, then followed the curve of his shoulder to the powerful line of his arm.

A low, resonant sound rolled from his chest—something almost like a purr, but with the underlying edge of a predator’s growl. Before you could pull away, his hand closed around your hip, claws pressing lightly into your skin as he hauled you through the water until you were flush against him.

Your breath caught. The heat of him was unmistakable, the hard, unyielding press of his body against yours impossible to ignore. Instinct tugged your gaze downward—just for a moment.

And gods help you, you looked.

Your eyes widened fractionally, and his mandibles flexed in what might have been amusement… or a warning.

You’d never cared much for human men—always finding them lacking in ways you could never quite explain—but standing this close to him, feeling the hardened length that was now pressing against your stomach, something inside you tightened. The want came sharp and sudden, curling deep in your loins like a spark catching flame.

It had been too long since you’d last touched yourself, too long since anyone had stirred your interest—and now, despite the gulf between your species, Drak’ven was the first male in years to make that spark flare.

His head tilted slightly, mandibles shifting as he scented the air. You realized, with a jolt, that he could smell the change in you—the growing arousal sweetening your already sweet scent. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his gaze was not. It was filled with growing hunger. 

Yet, despite his own desires he slowly shook his head. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled low with warning. “Me too big. You too little… to mate.”

No human man had ever come close to him in scale or presence. Not even close. You should have been intimidated by his sheer size, should have let his words cool the moment—but they didn’t.

Instead, you pressed closer, your breath hitching. “I can take you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

His kind mated only for reproduction, never for pleasure, and among the Yautja, it was the females who dominated. Mating was a brutal contest—if the male wasn’t strong enough, he could be killed in the process. This was different. He wanted you despite knowing his seed would not take.

You felt so soft in his arms, pliant where his kind were unyielding. He knew you could be a vicious little thing when you wanted. Like when he’d seen you take down the bad blood, it was why he had marked you as his next hunt recognizing the predator you were. He’d intended to bring you here, let you heal, and then face you in an honourable fight. But then you had hunted with him, fought alongside him, saved him, and something in him had shifted.

He was still considered young by the standards of his people, and the elders would sneer at the idea of taking an ooman as a mate. But the more time Drak’ven spent with you, the more he found himself seeking your presence. There was strength in you, fierceness in the way you moved, in the way you met his gaze without flinching.

Still, your body was smaller, more fragile than his own. In his grip, you felt delicate—breakable—and that unsettled him. Gentleness was not something bred into his kind. He did not know how to wield it.

He let out a low, frustrated growl, hauling you up with sudden, effortless strength until your legs locked around his waist. The water lapping at his waist. Your faces were inches apart and the weight of his stare held you in place as surely as his hands.

Your gaze flicked to his mouth—not quite a mouth, not as you knew it. The mandibles were powerful, edged with faint ridges, twitching slightly as he studied you. You didn’t overthink it; you simply leaned in, closing the distance until your lips brushed lightly against the outside edge of one mandible.

His entire frame went still.

For a heartbeat, you thought you’d crossed some unspoken line—until that low, resonant sound rumbled from his chest again, the one you were beginning to recognize as approval. His head dipped, and one mandible shifted, grazing along your cheek in a deliberate, unhurried sweep.

It wasn’t a kiss, not exactly. But it felt like his version of one.

Your breath caught, the heat of him sinking through you. In that moment, it didn’t matter that you were two different species from two different worlds—you understood him. This was his way of returning what you’d offered, of saying I accept you too.

His hand tightened on your hip, pulling you imperceptibly closer as he began to move through the water toward the rocky edge. You soon realized what he was doing when he sat down at the ledge, shifting you higher on his lap. He was leaving you in control and giving you the choice to continue with what you both wanted or not.

You stared down at him, heart pounding. Everything about this was strange, and quite literally alien… and yet, you didn’t want to pull away.

Your body was already primed and aching, heat pooling deep inside you. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were and how much of it had nothing to do with your swim in the springs. His low growl vibrated through you as your hand slid lower, feeling the firm, heated weight of him resting against your thigh. You could barely encircle him, your fingers mapping the unfamiliar texture along his length.

A deep, purring sound rumbled from his chest as you explored, tracing those ridges with tentative strokes. The warmth between you grew until every nerve felt alive, and you took your time, ensuring you were both ready and his cock was throughly slick with both your fluids before lining him up with your enterance and slowly sinking down. 

You gasped as his head pushed into you, the stretch of him burning. A deep snarl tore from his throat, his entire body tensing as he did everything he could to hold back and let you adjust to his sheer size. You were so tight, so warm and soft—softer than any Yautja female—that all he wanted was to bury himself fully inside you and savour the sensation of your walls gripping him. But he held back.

As much as it drove him crazy, he let you set the pace with shallow movements, your body gradually allowing him to sink deeper inside you. Slowly, the burn faded into pure pleasure as those ridges brushed against every sensitive nerve ending within you. Soft, breathless moans slipped past your lips, your hands bracing against his hard chest as you rocked against him. His hands found your hips, steadying and guiding you until, eventually, you were taking all of him—and he was practically taking over for you, lifting you on and off his length like you were a doll for his pleasure.

Moans spilled past your lips as your nails dug into his chest in pleasure. The moment he felt the sharp pinpricks of pain, the last thread of his control snapped. In an instant, you were on your back, and he was rutting into you without restraint. Broken moans escaped you, your eyes fluttering as your head fell back against the soft moss in rapture, baring your neck. Drak’ven’s mandibles came down, pressing against your skin in a primal stake of your submission, keeping you exactly where he wanted as he claimed your body.

His claws dug into your soft skin, blending pleasure with the slightest bite of pain. Tears stung your eyes—the sensations were almost too much, yet you craved more. You urged him on, digging your nails into his shoulder and tugging him closer, earning a low growl as he snapped his hips faster, driving you steadily toward your peak. Finally, you when you were all but sobbing, that tightening coil inside of you finally snapped and your vision went white, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Your entire body shuddered as utter bliss ricocheted through you.

You barely felt it when his teeth sank into the junction where your shoulder met your neck, marking you as his mate before he pulled back with a mighty roar, releasing himself inside you.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the low, purring growls rumbling from his chest. Gradually, your awareness returned, each heartbeat pulling you further from the haze.

You slowly became aware of his touch again, his tongue lapping over the tender spot where his teeth had sunk into you. The sensation was strangely soothing despite the sting, a primal mix of comfort and possession that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“Mate,” he growled, the word deep and certain, resonating through you as much as it did in the air.

He pulled back, eyes molten and unreadable, before rolling to your side. One massive arm hooked around your waist, hauling you effortlessly against him as he curled around your smaller form.

You only sighed in contentment, snuggling closer. “Yours.”

[szagaloree]

I won’t leave ya..Neva Again.

Stack x Black!FemReader

Contains: HEAVY SMUT/Creampie/degradation/ racist encounters/ a bit of gore(possibly more)/ choking/ smacking/ overstimulation/ bondage/ a bit of a toxic relationship/sexism(in the beginning)/gun play/ rough sex/ Anal Sex

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Salone ran small club for upcoming and underground singers and musicians who wants their name out there and to be famous. She had the right connections to do so, you just have to show your talent and your willing to fight for your spot at the table of fame. Salone herself could’ve been made it but she chose not to! She wants to live the quiet life and not have to deal with bullshit nor pyscho fans and the other dark things that come to reach such high fame. she was mostly into the good ole New Orleans bayou country music, or any ancestral music. Salone does practice voodoo, since she comes down the line of voodoo witchdoctors and lineage. She even allows others to perform their musical rituals in her joint but with boundaries and restrictions! She knows voodoo can get dark and evil in the wrong hands, usually she has the power since when someone in the joint is NOT using it for good use and acts to it but sometimes people can really be good at being sneaky.

The country band plays throughout the place and everyone up and moving, dancing to the rhythm, smiling and shouting. Till the very well known brothers had made it back to town, for some visits… “aye dere’ yall the twins the towns folks he talking about?” Lavington akss with a smirk, “mhm… we tryna get in, see there’s a party and we also tryna see the owner, we have very well acquaintances with her,” stack says with a smirk playing with his toothpick he took out of his mouth to speak. “Okay, come on in, she should still be inside she has some openings for some singers tonight,” he said moving out the away “thank ya sir,” he says as they walk in, “she gone kill you,” smoke says nonchalantly, “ehh not if I let ha,” stack chuckled, “nigga all she gotta do is turn you into a ugly frog, she don’t need no gun,” smoke says looking at him, “she not gone do nun mane,” he said. That’s when he sees her, Salone, walkin up the stage “alright ladies and gentlemen, I have brought someone who’s a friend of mine, now… she is a bit shy so let’s give her a very warm welcome na folks, let’s bring to the stage, Ebony grey,” she announces everyone cheered and clapped for her as she steps off. Ebony makes her way to the stage.

Salone makes her way through the crowd to the bar, “hey lotus,” a familiar voice spoke behind her, her body tensed as she turns around, there they were, the twins..stack, here in New Orleans. Salone glares at stack “miss me?” Stacks cocky smirk only made her more mad “fuck are you doin heya?” She questioned, “just wanted to see my favorite lotus flower, that’s a crime na?” He asks sarcastically, she scowled before walking off “hey smoke,” she says, smoke snickers “told you she only mad at chu foo,” he said, stack rolls his eyes, “I got ha, why don’t you go find yo ole join while ya laughin,” stack said making smoke side eye him.

The floor creaked as she walked through her cottage home, the smell of fresh beignets feel like it could smell through the whole area, she placed them down and decide to grab her homemade chocolate fudge she made. She heard footsteps on the porch so she pulls out her gun and had it in hand, when she turned around there goes stack and smoke, “gone let us in suga?” Stack asks, “smoke can come in,” she says, smoke did in fact came in and had cheeky smile looking at stacks annoyed face “come on na.. Ian gone bite, let me come in, I’ll be quiet how’s dat?” He tilts his head, Salone sighs before nodding her head to the side telling him to come in. When he did he sat down still staring, his eyes wandering her body. “You never changed the paint in heya I see,” Annie said making Salone gasp excitedly hugging Annie.. “annnieeeeee!” She squealed, “oh I missed you,” Annie says, “she couldn’t stop talkin ma head off bout seein yu,” smoke says lighting his blunt.

Salone smiled “I made some beignets if ya want some, I know you love you some beignets,” she said, “ohh yu know I do,” Annie smiles, “I be right back,” Salone says before leaving into her bedroom. “Fuck where did I put it?” She huffs loudly, “whatcha lookin fa darlin?” Stack asks while leaning on her doorframe, “get out,” she said, when she turned around he was right behind her, she pulls out her gun aiming at his head “nigga get out,” she said, “you still angry at me? Huh… you kno you not gone shoot me,” he said, and he was right, she wasnt, she couldn’t bare to pull that trigger no matter how angry she is with him. She lowers her gun with her lip quivering, “why! Why come back? Huh! I started healing after you left me,” she says with tears flowing down her soft cheeks. He sighed “why come back huh? Why!” She slapped him, he didn’t look shock, irritated? Yes. She’s the only and ONLY person to be able to even lay a finger on stack without being six feet in the ground. “You! Left me-you left me and now you back thinking it’s okay,” she broke down.

“I had to, that was the only way,” he answered.

“Only way? To fuck me nd just leave me, after I said I love you when you KNOW I don’t say it to anyone!” She cried shoving him, “i did it to protect you!” He shouted, “the klan was after us and what the hell would ya think was goen happen if they find out about you? Where you live? They would’ve killed you just to get to me I wasn’t gone let it happen, so I left,” he argued “lost our baby..because of you, you hurt me,” she cried his eyes widen “ba-baby.. did ya just say baby?” He leans in closer with his ears towards hoping he wasn’t hearing correctly “I was pregnant Elias… I had to loose my baby and deal with it alone,” she cries, he frowns. “I didn’t know you didn’t tell me,” he said “and you left me before I even could, why are you back huh? So you can make me forgive you so ya can fuck me and leave me again,” she said. “No, Ian come back to do dat na,” he said.

“Elias just leave me be, don’t come back here,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Salone,” he said, her puffy eyes stared into his eyes, she can feel he was genuinely sorry and she knows he is because he also does not apologize for nothing! “I will not leave, I will not die till you forgive me.. just, tell me you forgive me and I’ll disappear and you’ll never hear from me again,” he says, she gulped she shook her head feeling more tears come, he steps closer “tell me” he said, “I-I- forgive..you,”. She says, her heart shattered more when she sees his eyes filled with tears, the stack… was about to cry, her mouth open but she couldn’t say anything. “I..will see you in another lifetime,” he said, as tears dropped from his eyes. He took a few steps back turning till she grabs his shirt tightly, “I fucking wanna kill you, why do you do this to me, why-why” she cries, he walks up to her and holds her tightly and she fully broke down in tears.

The Next Morning, Salone and Annie made breakfast, which made the boys get up and come out. “Smell like heaven in heya,” stack says, “goodmornin boys, breakfast is done-aye,” she gasped when stack smacked her ass when he walked by, he smirks “Ouu you made the hotcakes how like em,” he says over her shoulder, “move boi, go sit down,” she pushes him with her body, “actin up already in da mornin Elias,” Annie shakes her head, he snickers. “We got a business plan fo ya,” smoke said, “we openin up a juke joint, was wondering if ya could bring summa yo singers there, we could use yo expertise,” smoke says, “y’all two openin up a juke joint? Since when y’all was into music hm?” She asks giving stack his plate, he grabbed her wrist and pulled to make her sit on his lap, to which she did. “Just wanna move a little slow, something that us folks can enjoy, nu much,” he shrugs, “alright.. but you will pay my singers I’ll tell ya dat fosho, ion let them perform for free even when it’s their first performance,” she says.

“Aight you got yourself a deal,” smoke smiled.

“And plus… we need our ladies their with us, to keep niggas in line, I know you good for it darlin,” stack says his other hands feels along her thigh, “I wanted to be done with that old life na,” Salone whines in annoyance, “oh come on na, I know you still got that fiesty little fye in ya,” stack said, there’s a reason stack calls her lotus flower, before stack had left her they terrorized the streets together along side smoke, her name is very well known and feared with the townsfolk. “Salone, needa bring lotus back,” smoke says. Salone sighs going into deep thought. She did not want to go back to her old ways, she wanted to do better, better herself! “We best get on, gotta grab some folks up in town,” smoke said standing up, salone stands up to allow stack to stand up himself, “ya comin?” Smoke asks Annie. She shakes her head “imma stay here, catch up with salone y’all go on,” she said he nods walking out, salone looks at stack as he walks out with his brother, she sighs. “How yu holdin up?” Annie says placing her hand over her shoulder “I’m makin it through,” she responds.

“You miscarried? Why yeen tell me salone?” Annie asks, “I was to hurt I did not want to deal with nobody, be around nobody nut’en,” she answers, “stack such a stubborn jackass,” she sighs, “just wished he told me he was leaving, that’s all I wanted,” she said.

It was midnight, the crickets creeking through the night. She heard bangs on her door making her jolt up in fear she grabs her gun cocking it back. She carefully walks out “salone open the door!” Smoke shouts, she rubs to the door and opens the door, “what the hell” she blurts out as smoke enters with stack on leans on his shoulder, “what happened?” She asks “klan” he said, she took his jacket off and looked at the cut on his arm, “gone need stitches for this,” she says walking over to grab her kit. “I’m fine” stack said stubbornly, “oh shut the hell boy, you are not fine,” she hissed, she took his shirt off “woah, just say you want my shirt off darlin, gotta he so aggressive,” he says still trying to joke and flirt, she cleans the area and begun stitching him up. “Why do y’all keep fuckin with these damn white folks knowin they want you dead,” she shakes her head in disappointment, “nahh we wiped they ass, I just got hit in the mix darlin,” he said staring at me, salone took her sage and hovered it over his wolves to help heal.

Smoke already went into the guest room. “I couldn’t tell you..why I left… because if they had taken you, it’s best for you to genuinely not know where I went or even left,” he says, she eyes him “Youn trust me?” She asks in a defensive tone, “I do, I just don’t trust what they’ll do to ya,” he said, she stood and went to clean her hands, he walks up behind her and kissed on her shoulder going to her neck, hee body tense immediately to his touch, “n-no no im doing this again with you Elias,” she says trying to move from him “just a taste, I know no other nigga been innit, no nigga better not be touchin what’s mine,” he says staring hard at salone, “I have not been with no man since you left me Elias,” she huffs, he turns her and picks her up “Elias” she says with a warning, “I know you miss me, miss him,” he said grabbing her hand and placed it on his hard bulge in his pants. “Elias-uhh-" she moans when his fingers circle her clit in just the right way she loves, “yea that body misses me, you’re soaked for daddy,” he says in her ear.

“Go to the room,” she moans.

He gladly picked her up and took her to the room, he closed the door with his foot not breaking the kiss, she unbuckled his belt and fiddled with his pants, “mmm.. Youn kno how much i missed ya,” he growled throwing her onto the bed, she looks at him in shock but looked at his brown glazing body, his muscles. She undressed herself as he finish doing so himself as well, “Youn kno how much I missed this pretty wet pussy, pretty wet thang, so..needy,” he yanks her by ankles, he peppers his ankles with kisses going down to her thighs, “Elias” she moans, “tell me what ya want, Tell daddy what ya want darlin,” he spreads her legs more “please-please-I need you,” she moans, “need me? How much?” That’s when she roughly grabbed his hair pulling him down to her wet cunt only making him chuckle as his tongue plays with her folds.

She moans arching her back, “fuck-eli-Elias,” she whispers, “that’s it baby.. say my name,” he says sucking more on her clit, only making her squirm more, “this pussy so fuckin sweet baby,” he says, “wanna marry this sweet pussy, this mine, forever will be mine ya hear me,” he slaps her thigh making her jolt with a whine, she tried to turn her body to get in all fours till he pushes her back on her back, “where ya goin?” He taunts, “I was gonna turn around,” she responds, he shakes his head eyeing her “naw… I wanna see yu, wanna make love to you baby,” he said, she looks at him in shock. He has never said that before, her heart was tugging when she was trying to rethink his words, she gasped with a moan when he enters her slowly, biting on his lip with a groan.

The town was quite active today, as they drove through the town, salone pulls out a small jar necklace filled with things in it for protection. “Heya” she spoke putting on stack’s neck “what’s this?” He asks in confusion “it’s to protect you, from things Youn understand and see, just do not take it off for nothing,” she warns, he nods putting under his shirt. When they stopped stack helps out and holds her hand. “Hi sweetheart,” I waved over a small little girl, she runs over “hi salone,” she waves, “go get ya mommy fo me would ya sweet thing?” She asks, the little girl nods running inside to get mother. “I’ll be back, finna go see somebody,” smoke said, stack nods keeping his eye around “do not have to look around smoke, nobody heya will fuck with you, or ya brother,” she said, “can never be so sure darlin,” he says, “the town knows I’m lotus, that means they know the smoke stack twins, this town may be small but they know a lot,” she says. He smirks, “sounds like our name is making its way through the towns,” he wraps his arms around her, salone shakes her head and her smile immediately froze. Mary, the one girl she hates so bad. “You’re problem is here,” salone says with an angry tone, “what problem?” He asks confused “hey stack,” his eyes widen looking at Mary, “what ya doin here?” He questions, “I was in town, not happy to see me?” She smirks, “only reason ya here is cause you heard he was here, you have neva shown yo face here before,” salone sid nonchalantly.

She glared at salone “it’s best you get the fuck on na,” stack warned, not because of him, because of salone, and he knows how much salone hates her, so now that’s she’s here in her town only because she somehow knew he was in town here makes it to much worse. “Why’s that, you wasn’t sayin that whe-" her mouth closes as soon as that fine as pointed to her face “you must be heard of hearin, it’s best you get Cho white ass on out my town na! Before you end up just like the rest of those bitches,” she threatens, stack leaned on the car with a small proud smirk on his face. The people walking around shared their glances but continued moving not daring to intervene. She huffs backing up and walking away, “there’s my lotus flower, knew ya still had it in ya,” stack smirks widely his grills showing from his teeth.

Soon Chow comes out “ohh salone, I wasn’t expecting to see you, everything alright?” She asks, “yes everything is fine, don’t worry, I came to ask if you and your husband would like to join us at a good ole juke joint?” Salone smiles, “oh you’re opening up a juke joint?” She asks “naw, the twins are though, they need the help and your husband great baking,” she says, she chuckles “well I will talk with my husband, I guarantee he would be up for it especially for what you did for us,” she says, “alright then, I’ll stop by later okay,” she said, “alright, see ya later,” mrs. Chow waves, “you the towns princess huh?” He says taking the blunt out of his mouth, “you can say that,” she says, his hand wanders around her hip as they walk through the old town.

“This the place?” Salone asks looking around, she doesn’t like how it’s kinda in the middle of nowhere, feels off. A white man leaned on his car as they walk towards him, “yall twins?” He asks, “naw we cousin,” stack said with his mischievous smirk planted on his face, “tryna but this place? What brings the reason?” He asks beginning to walk to the door “the reasons that are nun of ya concern,” salone said bluntly, the man eyes and looks at the twins expecting them to correct her but they sure didn’t, “gotta mouth for a negra” that made stack dearth glare the man, all lotus did was chuckle “Youn know who I am? Huh?” She taunts “am I supposed to know?” He snickers, “it’s already dangerous enough Youn know the twins and you just disrespected one of their wives calling them a negra so now-" salone grabs the revolver from stacks waist, she opens the chamber pouring the bullets into her hand only leaving one inside. “Let’s play a little game of roulletr shall we? You fat ass cracka,” she says pointing the gun at him, stack chuckled.

He gulps in fear, his foot walking backwards “oh you don’t like that game do ya?” Stack taunts.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t kn-know what came over me,” he apologizes in fear, “now, can we continue? Let nigga come out yo mouth again I’ll blow yo jaw off yo face boy,” she threatened. He gulps “ya heard da lady, na back to business,” smoke said.

“Lookahhh here,” stack smirks looking at salone as she walks out of her room in her red silk dress that fitted her curves well. He grabs her hand giving it a soft kiss, “sweet like honey,” he smirks pulling her closer. “Aight yall two let’s go, before y’all start hunchin,” smoke says walking out, “ole jealous ass,” stack said. The group made their way to the juke joint and everyone already started to arrive. Everything was perfect, stack and smoke stood next to each other as they watch salone sing. “Lookah here,” stack says pulling out a small velvet box, he opens it reveal a beautiful ring, smokes eyebrow lifted in surprise and shock “you plan on marryin her?” He asks, stack sighed with a nod “mhm.. I want to do it tonight,” he spoke, “you think she’ll say yes, after everything?” Smoke asks smoking his blunt, stack didn’t answer because he didn’t know, half of him knows she’ll say no the other she’ll say yes.

Before stack already stated he wasn’t keen on marriage but he’s been considering it the longer he was with salone. There’s no other like her, no other! I couldn’t see his life without her. After a while the juke was thriving. But somehow trouble still makes it’s way through. “Hey stack,” that familiar lustful voice spoke, it was Mary who walks in front of him with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Look na ya best get goin, don’t know how you got in here but you need to leave,” he said annoyed, “why’s that? Huh? She here? That lil bitch ain’t no better then me,” she spoke, he glared at her “it’ll be funny if I tell klan who ya really is, let them handle yo ass,” he said her jaw clenches “it’ll better fo ya.. because Youn wanna deal with my wife,” he said, “ya wife?” She repeats in shock, “uhuh… I left yo ass in the pass for a reason you wasn’t nun but a hit and pass,” he said harshly causing her mouth to open but nothing came out, her eyes became glossy as her arms hugs her around her in embarrassment.

“Don’t come back around heya! This wife’s shit and her town,” he said.

He then left her there, making his way through the crowd his eyes stayed upon salone as if she was the only one in the room. She was angry as she took a shot of the alcohol she had, when he walked up to her he took his hat. “Why is that heffa here?! You brought her here?” She snapped “Ian bring ha here,” he said sternly as he stared into her eyes, she reached for his gun but he grabbed his wrist “let me handle her, I’m sick of her bein in my town, tryna bring the klan here! Tryna get to you!” She said, “na na, I handled it, matter of fact,” he grabs her wrist taking it away from his gun and lifts it to his lips kissing her lips. “It’s best if i speak to you privately,” he says, she notices his demeanor changed a bit, he looked nervous “about what?” She gives him a suspicious look, “you’ll find out when ya come to the room na, come on,” he nudged his head to the side signaling for her to come. She decided to follow him. He leads through the crowd to the empty room. He closes the door behind her and fidgets with his wrist.

“It’s been something I been wanting to tell you,” he says.

“What is it Elias?” She asks, “ever since we met, you.. you’ve been my peace, Ian felt that inna long time since mama been gone.. you not like any other,” he says, “not like any other?” She cocks a brow “I’m serious salone… you do know you are my first and I mean first person i fallen in love with and fully been with,” he said, she squinted her brows, she wouldn’t say she’s shocked but kind of surprised, but as she thinks more she can see why. He never gave lover type, just somebody who can give you good D with a bit possibly money and riches if he likes you. He steps closer to her beginning to reach into his back pocket “you know, I.. always said Ian cut fo No marriage,” he said, salone felt her heart begin to race feeling nervous as to what he was getting to.

He knelt down on knee pulling out the box “but I can’t hope but fight that feeling to marry you,” he spoke, she gasped as tears filled her eyes “el-Elias please don’t fuck with me,” she begin to cry “Ian fuckin wit ya, I’m serious so…” he grabbed her hand as the box open revealing a beautiful gold and diamond ring.

“Salone Smith, please… on everything I love, on my life I promise to love you, and treat you right, I’ll die fo ya… please, will you marry me?” He asks.

A tear fell from his eyes as he looked up at her teary eyes she nods “yes.. yes I’ll marry you Elias,” she says, “for real?” He stood up quickly nods “yes yes” she cried, he slid the ring on her finger and waisted no time kissing her deeply. He lifted her up spinning as she smiles, “might as well start callin you misses Moore,” he smiled salone smiled laughing, “I love you Elias,” she says “I love you too salone,” he said. “I gotta tell them,” she quickly ran out, he only shook his head with a smirk knowing her excitement. Salone ran through the crowd to Annie and smoke who were dancing “guys” she squealed “what is it? Why are you crying?” She asks in concern bo chow and Grace chow also walked over, “you can say hey to misses Moore,” she says excitedly as she raised her hand showing off her engagement ring, Grace was the first to cheer in excitement and hug her, “ohhh congratulations,” she says, smoke looked completely in shock, when stack came behind salone, bo smirked goving stack a pat on the back “aye congratulations man, bout time you settle down,” he says, stack chuckled Annie hugs salone “I’m so happy for you,” she says.

“Congratulations sista, welcome to the family, even though you been family,” smoke hugs her, stack wraps his arms around her “sounds like we gone have ourselves a big wedding,” he said, salone smiled “big wedding? You ain’t to big stuff like that,” Annie says, “anything my lady wants,” he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two danced for a few after that weird encounter with these certain white folks who wanted to come into the juke joint but was turned down. They were enjoying their time till stack felt very touchy and needy, “baby, there’s a room we can go to,” she said, “naw let me see it bag let em see it,” he says causing her to laugh, “naw naw,” she shakes her head. She grabbed his hand leading him back to the empty room, he closed the door and she was on him immediately. She unbuckle the belt to his pants “damn baby hold on,” he spoke helping her out, “please fuck me right now baby, right now,” she begged he ain’t waist no time putting to the floor and bending her over. He pushed her dress up revealing a big plump ass with no panties, “you wanted to be fucked huh? No fuckin panties,” he slaps her ass making her moan, “fuck me big daddy, please,” she pushed her hips back trying to grind on him till he held her hips still, she soaked to the point it almost slipped in, she jerked a bit a with a whimper “unt unt take it, you beggin me to fuck you right huh? Take it!” He smacks her ass harder, she threw her hits back moaning loudly, he grunted allowing her to fuck herself on him, “mhm.. throw it back in daddy.. fuck just like dat,” he bit down on his bottom lip.

“Fuuuck! Please! God daddy, you feel so good,” she moans.

He started moving his hips harder pounding the daylights out of her, she was so loud she could almost be heard from the juke joint even wit the loud music playing. “Fuck fuck!” She yells, soon the door opened and stack and Mary were standing at the door, “oh shit,” he spoke, but Mary looked heartbroken, it’s surprising she was still there, “fuck y’all doin! Get the fuck on unless y’all really wanna watch me fuck my wife,” stack said still pounding into her, “I’m finna cum,” she moans, the door soon closes leaving them back alone.

Meanwhile smoke was only laughing as Annie walked up to him “what you laughin at smoke?” SHe asks, “oh nun, my brother bout to give me a niece or nephew,” when he said she knew exactly what he meant “oh Jesus,” she could grin, “Ian gone lie.. my brother was breakin it down,” he bursted out laughing causing her to shove him playfully “I can’t with you,” she says.

After a while salone was laying on his chest, “I’ll be right back baby,” salone says, “aight don’t take long baby, goin round 2,” he says, she smirks she got dressed and left out the room. She head over to annie who was sitting down, “you able to walk? Y’all been in there making a baby for a long time,” salone gasped “girl stop playing with me,” they both laugh, “how ya feelin? You finst to be married na,” she asks, “happy, just feelin whole now, stack has been provin himself lately, I’m just hoping he doesn’t get taken away from me again,” she says, “y’all have each other, keep him grounded, smoke learnin himself, the twins both got work on them, just takes time and patience,” she says, I nodded in agreement. Me and Annie jumped when we heard shots and it came from the room stack is in, I ran over there “salone!” Annie calls, when she made it to the door she says Mary running out covered in blood, her heart sank, when she went to the doorway her heart sank, “no-NOOO!” She yells, she drops to stack who was bleeding out through his neck. She tried to cover it “no no no please! No nooo! Stack wake up right now,” she cried as she lifted him to her, he had the face of anger. “What the hell was that? Why did she do to him?!” Salone questioned, looking at everyone who was in the room wanting answers “WHAT DID SHE DO?” She screamed, everyone still stood silent, “baby please wake up, we supposed to be getting married! I just got you back,” she cries “salone, come on baby, he’s gone,” she places her hands on saline’s shoulder “please wake up,” she then noticed something, the jar necklace she made for him it was gone, “it’s gone,” she said looking around, “what’s gone?” Smoke asked, “the necklace I gave him, the jar, it was to protect him, it’s gone,” she says, her suspicions were growing, first the wound on his neck, then the jar of protection is gone and Annie covered in blood running out. “S-something evil is here,” she said, “it must’ve broken off because it was to much bad energy,” she said, she observed him and looked at his neck, she notices the two holes where the blood was coming from, her eyes widen. She gently placed him down, “Annie, his wound on his neck is not human, it’s not even knife wound,” she said, Annie’s heart sank.

“Shit” she said walking out, salone did the same, “close the doors now!” I said, bo stood in shock seeing me “what happened? We heard gunshots,” bo asks in worry, “stack, he’s..dead,” I said, “oh I’m so sorry,” Grace says, “close the doors, nobody leaves right now, for y’all’s safety,” she said. Some people already started to leave “I’ll start the car, we need to get back to Grace,” Bo says to his wife, she nods. “Everybody leavin,” Sammie spoke looking nervous “let ‘em,” I said walking past, “what we gone do?” Pearline asks…..

After a while, salone messed with the ring on her finger. The flashes of when he got down in one knee, when he asked her to marry him, everything..flooding her mind. “Salone” Annie spoke “that bitch took him from me! I’m gone kill ha, I’m gone kill ha dead!” She says in rage, “I know, we have to figure out what’s goin on right na, we’ll handle ha later,” she says, smoke walks up to her soon there was banging on there “yo smoke! Stack! Somebody open the door!” Cornbread shouted from the other side of the door.

Salone gets up with her gun in hand, marching to the door, when she opens it she glared at him with her gun raised to him, “salone” smoke spoke “where the fuck you been at nigga?” She questioned “woah woah what’s with the hostility salone? I was juss tryna take a piss,” he says with a playful smile, “does it look like in laughin you fat nigga!” She spoke, “calm down, stack needa come get her,” he says, “stack deas, fuck you been?” Smoke asks eyeing him, “I told you already, taken a piss, can we all just getting along,” he says smiling, salone knew something was up, the way he was acting, the real cornbread would be scared to shits right now since he’s damn near bout to die. “Come on let me in,” that’s when her eyes widen, “why we gotta let you in?” Annie questions, “so I can get in,” he said.

“Naw… yeen gettin in, I know what you are, you dead nigga,” she says.

Cornbread lips slightly faulted like he knew he was caught but he quickly just smiled “man what you talking about salone, come on let me in,” he said, “you not bein let in, vampire,” she said, his jaw clenched. “Vampire?” Grace said outloud. She shot him in the head and closed the door, “give me garlic,” salone said. “What the hell, you just shot him,” pearline said, “you wanna go with him, yeen fuckin hear what I said?! That nigga a vampire he ain’t alive,” salone snaps. She stood silent as salone kept walking, “somebody give me garlic,” she demands, “why?” Sammie asks “cause I’m gone figure out if one of em is in here,” she said sternly, Grace runs up to her giving her a jar of garlic “each one of us is gone eat one, so we’ll know who’s human,” Annie said.

I took one then gave it to Annie, has it goes in a circle pearline was hesitant! “Why do we have to do this?! I don’t wanna eat that,” she said then smoke pulled out his gun aiming it at her “then you gone die,” he said, “wait come on man, can’t we-ah" Sammie winces when smoke hits him in the nose with his gun, “eat it,” salone said glaring at her, she finally realizes that it’s either you eat the garlic or die. After everyone has eaten the garlic and wasn’t a vampire now it was to figure out they were gonna do, the only thing they can do is wait it out till morning as long as they don’t leave or let anyone in human or not. But salone, was struggling… she couldn’t get over how he was taken from her….

“Stack?” Mary says behind behind him, his jaw clenched as he stood silent, his body tensed in anger when she placed her hands on him trying to be lovey dovey. “I finally have you, we can live the life we wanted,” she says, he shoved her her off him “what fuckin life!” He yells at her, “you think I was still gone be with yo stupid ass? Huh?” He glares at her, she frowns “ even in hundreds of other lifetimes I wouldn’t be witchu,” he said, he walks away and then looks at the shack, only thing in his mind is to get her. He knew he couldn’t be alone, he knows he doesn’t want to leave her alone.. not again…

Salone walks over towards a room till she heard a whisper, “hey…salone,” she looked around and didn’t see anyone “over here” she looked to see stack himself, “no you can’t come in,” she said instantly “I know… but… I can’t leave without ya, not again,” he said, “i can’t be alone,” she whispers, “I know baby, that’s why I want you to come with me, we can be together forever, just me and you baby,” he lifts hand for her to take, she looks back then looks back at him. “I didn’t get on one knee to loose you, I won’t leave ya.. neva ever again,” he said.

Her heart ached, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle him being gone again, not after he just came back to her. That’s when she took the ultimate decision, she grabbed his hand, she quietly closed the door and he stared at her, with those dark eyes, only the pupils bought the white glow. His hand caressed hee soft skin on her face. She felt scared not because of him, because she was now outside where the other vampires were. “Hurry, before the others get to me,” she says, “they ain’t gone touch you, I won’t let ‘em,” he said, her eyes fill with tears as she looks up to him, his hand now slide to her throat tilting her head a bit. “Relax baby, I got you,” he said, she gripped his waist nervously as she feels his sharp teeth starch to her skin. She winced squeezing her hands tightly.

He pulled away, to end up catching her as she fell weak. He picks her up and walks away before taking a quick glance to the shack and leaves… after a while salone eyes open as she gasps, “hey baby,” stack says with a soft smirk, she placed her hand on his cheek trying to feel of it’s really him, “Elias” she whispers, “how you feel? Feel great huh?” He asks as she leans up, they were at her home. “We’ll be togethe forever now, we’ll never part,”

[szagaloree]

New Life, New Love

🤍 | Pairings: Tsu'tey x fem!sully!reader , jake sully x fem!sister!reader

Summary: When your brother Tommy and twin Elizabeth die, you and Jake are sent to replace them on the mission. You never imagined you would live with The People and learn there ways. And maybe fall in love too.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, violence, cussing, tsu’tey is sweetie to reader, reader is a whimsical girly, (will add more as the series continues on)

Wordcount: 4.8k (currently)

Read time: 11m (currently)

: ̗̀➛ masterlist

Chapters:

01: mip tirengop (new life)

02: munge sätswayon (take flight)

03: 'uo (something)

more to come . . .

Other:

readers clothing

comment to be added to taglist

Inspired by this series by @avatarloverfrfr

[szagaloree]

New Life, New Love

O2: munge sätswayon (take flight)

previous chapter | 🤍 | next chapter

Pairings: Tsu’tey x fem!sully!reader , jake sully x sister!reader

Summary: When your brother Tommy and twin Elizabeth die, you and Jake are sent to replace them on the mission. You never imagined you would live with The People and learn there ways. And maybe fall in love too.

Warnings: check series masterlist

Wordcount: 2k

Read time: 8m

: ̗̀➛ series masterlist

As Tsu’tey leads you to wherever he is supposed to train you, you think of why you didn’t come back. You still haven’t had the chance to talk to Jake yet.

“Hey, do you even speak English?” You ask him as you walk behind him, trying to mimic his steps and go as fast as him. “I mean, it would be pretty hard to teach me if you don’t understand me.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

He continues walking. The forest is absolutely like nothing you have ever seen before. A little lizard walks towards you from a branch nearby. You stop to look at it.

“Hi, little guy.” You whisper, reaching out to touch it. It lets you pet its head before a disk pops out from the top of its body, and it floats away. “Wow.” You turn to see Tsu’tey watching you, his glare is sharp. You wince internally. You probably upset him.

“I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’m stuck in this body. I don’t know why or how, even. And do you also have that other heartbeat in your body? Can you hear it too?” Sentences exit your mouth like rapid fire. You just nervously ramble to Tsu’tey. You’re looking down at some other creatures when you run into Tsu’tey’s strong back.

“Oopsies, sorry.” You step away from his back and pat it nervously, to make up for the run-in. You don’t know what you’re doing.

“What heartbeat are you talking about?” He questions as he continues to walk forward. His voice isn’t kind and almost patronizing.

“So you can speak English, “I can’t explain it. It’s not mine.” You assure quickly. “But, ever since I got inside this body, I could hear it. And Jake can’t. And you probably can’t because of the way you’re talking to me. And now I probably sound schizophrenic.” You laugh at your joke, touching the leaves as you pass. They tickle your hands and arms. You still have to get used to using your right hand.

“What is this schizophrenic you speak of?” Tsu’tey steps into a clearing where many horse-like creatures roam. The type of horse Tsu’tey was riding yesterday.

“It’s a mental disorder.” When he still looks confused, you say, “It means you see things or hear things that aren’t there. Like being crazy. I meant to say I’m probably going crazy. And I want to go back home, to Earth, in my human body.” You start to whine in the last sentence.

“We do not want demons here either, demon.” He looks pointedly at you, and you realize you are a demon. You realize he feels the same way you do.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t considering how you feel.” He goes to pet one of the horses, and you see Jake next to Neytiri, many feet away. You smile at the horse, petting its head. A happy grumble releases from its mouth. “Is it a boy or a girl?” You ask Tsu’tey.

“A boy.” He answers sternly. He almost sounds confused as to why you’re asking.

“You’re so precious.” You murmur to the horse. “We don’t have anything this awesome on Earth.” You continue to pet the horse, uttering sweet words to it.

“It is called a pa’li.” Tsu’tey looks expectantly at you, and you realize you’re supposed to get on.

You place two hands on top of it before lifting yourself slowly, and you lift a leg over onto the other side. He hands you its kuru, you hold it while pulling yourself from behind your head. Your kuru connects with its kuru, and you can feel everything. You can feel his breath, his feelings, you can feel him.

“That is tsaheylu,” Tsu’tey states. “The bond. Feel him.” You close your eyes and focus on the feelings of the Direhorse. "Feel his breath. His heartbeat. His body.” Tsu’tey pats the horse's side. “Tell him what to do. Inside you.” He places an aggressive hand on your head. A grin fills your face.

Take steps forward. You think in your brain, communicating with him. You can feel him take in your thoughts. He takes a few steps forward slowly before you tell him to stop. You pet him on the side of his neck, saying thank you.

Tsu’tey gets on his horse, motioning for you to follow him. Follow Tsu’tey. You command, and the horse follows. Tsu’tey moves through the clearing closer to Jake, and you realize he fell in the mud. You stop next to him, laughing.

“Did you fall?” You let out a quiet laugh, a smile etched into your features.

“Shut up.” He mumbles, giving you a half-hearted glare.

“You should go away,” Tsu’tey states with a rude smile.

“No, you’d miss me.” Jake gets some mud off his tongue and points at Tsu’tey. “I knew you could speak English.” Tsu’tey lets out a chuckle. He points to you and Jake as he speaks in Na’vi. Neytiri hits the butt of his horse, motioning for him to leave. You follow behind Tsu’tey, look back at Jake and give him a look that says, ‘I’m better than you.’ He flips you off, and you let out a laugh before continuing to follow Tsu’tey.

—

“It appears you are stuck as a Na’vi forever.” The Tsahìk said. Tsu’tey and Neytiri took you to the Tsahìk because you were stuck. Jake had told you how your human body was dead. No heartbeat. No breath. Nothing. You were stuck.

The air left your lungs, and your mouth hung open.

“You-you’re serious?” You questioned. You knew she was, but you were in denial. You couldn’t believe you were stuck. You looked at Jake, who had a sad expression on his face. You were supposed to spend six years here, then return home. He would go back home on his own.

“Of course I am, girl. Eywa has chosen for you. I can sense you have a good connection to Eywa. She sees you as her child. She has chosen you.” The realization hit like a bullet train. That heartbeat was Eywa’s heart. Her heartbeat. The great mother chose you.

—

“Pxun.” Tsu’tey pointed towards his arm. You were both sitting up on a branch in the trees. A private area where Tsu’tey can yell at you for messing up words.

“Psun.” You repeated, pointing towards your arm.

“No, Pxun.”

“Psun.” You tried again. You could tell he was getting angrier.

“Pzzzuun,” he said, slower this time.

“Pzsun.” He flicks your ear in irritation. “Ah!” You clutch your ear. “What was that for?”

“Bah!” Tsu’tey exclaims. “You are not listening. You deserve it.”

“Okay, Jesus Christ.” You utter under your breath. His ears twitch, so you know he heard it. “Pxun.” His lips quirk up faintly before his face is blank again.

“Good. Now I have a question.” Tsu’tey readjusts how he’s sitting to get more comfortable. “Who is this Jesus Christ? Is he your friend?” You giggle but quickly cover your mouth.

“No!” You laugh, doubling over on yourself.

“What? What is it? What is so funny?” He looks mildly offended but mostly amused.

“Jesus Christ is like Earth Tsahìk. That’s the best way to explain it.” You cross your legs to mimic Tsu’tey. “But, nobody knows if he is real or not. I know Tsahìk is real, though.” Your lips quirk up.

“Jesus Christ knows the will of Eywa on Earth?” Tsu’tey asks.

“No, it’s hard to explain. But if someone were to say ‘Eywa, you scared me!’.” You mimic a clutching your chest action and jumping. “It is the same on Earth, only they say ‘Jesus Christ, you scared me!’. Understand?”

“Understand.” He affirms. You smile at him.

“Now, I have a question for you.” Tsu’tey nods for you to continue. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

“Fly, Ikran.” He answers quickly. It’s second nature to him.

“Ikran? What is that?” His lips form a mischievous smile, and he starts to get up.

—

When you get to the top of hometree you’re out of breath. You put your hands are your knees and pant. Tsu’tey makes a sort of bird call. A—what you can only assume to be an Ikran—flies down towards Tsu’tey. You gasp at the big animal and inspect it.

“Do not look him in the eye,” Tsu’tey informs you as he pets his creature. “Mawey, Txiza, mawey.” Tsu’tey makes Tsaheylu with the Ikran and gets on. “Ikran are different from Pa’li. When you form a bond, it is for life. To become Taronyu, hunter, you must choose your own Ikran, and he must choose you.”

“When?” You ask with a smile in amazement.

“When you are ready.” He answers with a smirk before taking off in flight.

When he lands again, he asks you a question. Want to ride with me? Of course, you say yes. His flying seemed so fun. So you hop on and wrap your arms around his waist. He shoots up into the skies, and you let out a scream, hugging him tighter and sewing your eyes shut.

“It is near eclipse. Open your eyes.” When you open them, you’re glad you said yes.

The sky is a beautiful mix of oranges and blues, and pinks. It is nothing like you have seen before. Everything on this planet is nothing like you have seen before. You reach out a touch a cloud, some wetness getting on your fingers. You let out a laugh.

Tsu’tey is looking at your reaction. He has a weird feeling when he sees you smile. Like his stomach is flipping, like he is free-falling. But he loves seeing you smile. It makes him smile. He barely knows you, and he has already fallen for you. The hours he spends with you are filled with teaching, barely any joking or small talk, yet he has fallen. Hard. You are nothing like he has seen before. Even though you had demon hairs above your eyes and five fingers, you are not ugly. You are beautiful. He thinks Jake is ugly and a demon, but you’re nothing like he has seen before. You lock eyes with him, both of you not looking away. He has a look in his eyes.

“What?” You ask, you can’t decipher what the look is. And you want to. Tsu’tey is handsome. Any of the other Na’vi don’t interest you. But you can point out Tsu’tey in any room. He is like no other being. His gaze makes your stomach do gymnastics. You know you can’t admit these feelings because he is promised to Neytiri.

“Nga lu sevin.” He whispers into the air. You don’t know what he is saying, but the tone in which he is saying it settles in your bones.

“Why do you say things I can’t understand, in that way?” You whisper, breathless. He truly takes away your breath. His smile is warm as it makes its way onto his face. He turns to look away from you.

“You will just have to learn, Syulang.” He says, louder this time.

“Hey! Doesn’t that mean-“ right as you’re about to finish the sentence, the Ikran dives down, definitely Tsu’teys doing. You let out a scream of terror, clamping your hands around Tsu’teys middle. “Tsu’tey!” You yell out when you get closer to the ground. The Ikrans' wings spread out fully and stop the falling. “Tsu’tey!” You repeat, but this time in anger, though it is also amusement. You hit him in the back of the head.

“Ow! I joke, I joke!” He shouts, covering the back of his head. You tighten your hold on his midsection and rest your head on his back as night falls over Pandora.

“Yeah, you better be joking, skxawng.” Your threat doesn’t sound scary, though, as a yawn follows, making your voice slower. You see a little surprise on Tsu’teys face. “And don’t look surprised at my rude words. I learn from the best.” Tsu’tey lets out a laugh.

“Yes, you do. Time for sleep.” He says, steering his Ikran back to hometree.

comment to be added to taglist

[szagaloree]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀 ᝰ 𝐃𝐀𝐘 5 — 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆… Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒… The whole clan respects that Tsu’tey is your future mate, except for Ka’lan. When Tsu’tey notices Ka’lan eye you like prey for the hundredth time, Tsu’tey drags you into the forest and fucks you breathless, wanting Ka’lan to know you’re already claimed.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓… Explicit! Mature audiences only! ᝰ porn w/ plot, fem!na’vi!reader, jealousy, territorial acts, possessiveness, rough sex, outdoor sex, implied voyerisum, p in v, fingering, backshots, kissing, choking, implied breeding kink, nipple play, marking/biting…

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍… 3.6k words

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑… Another installment for my event is here! I’m a Tsu’tey girly so I really enjoyed writing this one, especially since this is my first time including marking in smut. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒… event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

You’re standing a few feet away from the training grounds, waiting for Tsu’tey to end his lesson so you can spend some quality time together.

As Tsu’tey’s watching his trainees spar with one another he can’t keep his eyes off you and Ka’lan talking by a nearby tree. He’s taken notice of how much time you’ve spent with him lately and it’s been bothering him because he doesn’t understand why both of you need to converse so much.

You and Tsu’tey aren’t mates yet but you’re towards the end of the courting stage and he feels like he’s made that very clear with the extravagant items he’s created from his bare hands and gifted to you.

Each bracelet, necklace, and piece of clothing are created as statement pieces to make sure every Na’vi knows you are to be mated soon and he feels like everyone respects that except for Ka’lan.

Tsu’tey isn’t upset with you having male friends, he’s fine with that because being Tsakarem means you have to be friendly with everyone. The reason he doesn’t like Ka’lan is because it’s clear he doesn’t just want to be your friend, he wants to come out of the friend zone and step into a romantic light and that’s what pisses Tsu’tey off.

Tsu’tey has noticed Ka’lan eyes hone in on your ass as you walk way, he’s overheard him talking to some of his friends about how he wants to bend you over and make you his, he’s even heard through the whispered gossip that he’s planning to try and court you, show you that he’s better suited for you than Tsu’tey.

Oh, how the future Olo’eyktan wants to just snap the skxawngs [moron; idiot] neck for even looking your way but he knows he can’t do that, especially with so many people around to bear witness so he just bottles up his emotions and tries to focus on training the eager warriors around him.

“Focus! Straighten your posture!” Tsu’teyshouts as he walks around, fixing a few of the warrior's stances around him before his gaze wanders over to where you and Ka’lan are. He doesn’t see anything going on between the both of you that should worry him but a few seconds later he sees Ka’lan place his hand against the tree next to him and lean over a little so he’s closer to you.

Tsu’tey can see the mixture of a smirk and smile that’s on Ka’lan’s face, how his eyes are focused on your plump lips and how every few moments they stare at your breasts.

Seeing Ka’lan in your personal space plus the looks he’s giving you is enough for an anger fueled growl to erupt from his lips. This is the last straw for him and he’s going to put an end to this once and for all.

Tsu’tey quickly ends training for the day, sending all his students away before walking over and grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from Ka’lan. “‘tey what are you doing? I was in the middle of a conversation!” You shout as he continues dragging you into a secluded area of the forest where no one would be able to intervene in your pending argument.

He doesn’t answer, just continuing to pull you away which annoys you. “Tsu’tey, answer me!” You pull away from him which forces your arm to release from his hold and Tsu’tey turns around to face you. “If this is about Ka’lan I have told you a million times me and him are just friends!”

“And how many times must I tell you he wants to take you from me? He does not want to just be your friend!” He hisses as he throws up his hands in confusion, wondering why you won’t believe him.

He knows his intuition was right, after all, he’s a male himself and he knows you are attractive so he understands other men will take a liking to you, he just doesn’t appreciate Ka’lan doing it so blatantly in front of his face.

Tsu’tey’s husky tone mixed with anger, heightened voice, and possessive demeanor makes a heat spread through your core. You love him being protective over you, you find it sexy and the more he shows his anger the more you feel the need to clench your thighs to create some sort of friction to give yourself the slightest pleasure.

Even though he’s titillating with his actions you’re still upset with his behavior from a few moments ago. “Yes, he does! He tells me about other women he likes in the clan all the time!” It’s true Ka’lan did tell you about the other women he was drawn to but he always left one out, the woman he’s head over heels for.

“What do I have to do to make you understand?!” With you and Tsu’tey going back and forth it only made his anger bubble over even more, he was about to conjure up another rebuttal until he noticed the way your tail was moving behind you.

Being Na’vi, your tail is always moving subconsciously but when you are aroused your tail moves in a specific manner which Tsu’tey always takes notice of. When it clicked in Tsu’tey’s head he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle out of amusement.

Here he is upset that another man was making passes at you and you’re getting turned on from his anger, probably not even listening to what he’s saying.

He walks up to you, wrapping his hand around your neck, causing your eyes slightly widen as you slightly bite down on your lower lip. “You like this don’t you?” He growls in your ear while slipping his free hand into your loincloth, moving his fingers along your folds that are drenched in your slick.

You hurriedly nod your head, silently gasping when you feel Tsu’tey’s fingers force their way into your pussy, his digits getting immediately soaked in your slick.

He maneuvers his fingertips and starts pressing against your sweet spot, making you grab onto his bicep to keep yourself steady. “Seems like I will have to make you understand another way.” You look up at him with half lidded eyes, watching his lips curl into a slight smirk. He tugs on your bra top, giving it a quick yank and ripping it in half, causing your breasts to pop out.

Tsu’tey has a plan in motion, a plan that consists of putting you in multiple positions, fucking you until your voice is hoarse, and making you scream his name to make sure everyone roaming the forest knows that you belonged to him and no one else.

—

Ka’lan is walking through the forest trail with his bow slung lazily over his shoulder, half-listening to the rustling trees, half-lost in his thoughts. He’s still replaying your laugh from earlier, the way your smile curled when you teased him by the tree, how your nose crinkled when he made that stupid joke about his hunting mishap.

Ka’lan has always liked you, ever since you both were teenagers chasing palulukan [thanator] pups after your parents told you not to. He’s always been able to keep his feelings at bay, but lately? That small crush has stretched into something much deeper than some sort of puppy love.

It’s the kind of wanting and desire that lingers behind his ribcage and causes his throat to tighten every time he sees you walking beside Tsu’tey, holding hands and being lovey dovey. For the last few weeks he’s been noticing something different between you and him.

You laughed at something stupid he said earlier, your fingers brushing his arm without a second thought. Just a small touch, light as a feather, but it lit something in him. ‘She doesn’t touch Tsu’tey like that’, he thought.

But that was a lie, a hopeful delusion and he knows it. Still… things felt different, he can tell. You linger longer when the two of you speak. You look him in the eyes when you laugh, not past him like other women do. Sometimes, you let the silence stretch too long, as if something unspoken hung between you, which leads Ka’lan to believe there’s still a chance to win your heart.

Ka’lan has been telling himself to back off, that Tsu’tey is the future Olo’eyktan. A man who can decide his fate in the clan. A man who can make his living hell if he crosses him. But that feeling only lasted until he saw the way Tsu’tey gripped your wrist too tightly when he dragged you away earlier.

Seeing the way Tsu’tey’s eyes followed your every move in a possessive and controlling manner made Ka’lan angry. That moment made him realize that Tsu’tey didn’t deserve you. Simple as that.

When Ka’lan starts trying to think of ways he can woo you, he hears something strange. A noise, something that sounds similar to a muffled cry. He stops walking for a moment, allowing his ears to hone in on where the sound is coming from. His ears perk up at the sound of a particular voice, yours. It’s immediately recognizable. It’s sharp and breathy, echoing faintly through the trees.

At first it sounds like you're screaming and then it turns into a loud cry, causing a panic to flutter in Ka’lan’s chest. Was someone hurting you? Are one of the sky people torturing you? He doesn’t know what’s going on but if someone is hurting you he’s going to come save and protect you.

He picked up his pace, following the sound deeper into the forest. As he walks, the voices grow louder. Your voice. A moan? Then another, once he can’t make out at first but it sounds much louder than yours, needier even.

Ka’lan’s chest rises and falls quickly now, his feet moving faster over the roots and moss-covered earth as he weaves through the trees. His grip on his bow has tightened, fingers flexing as instinct braced him for the worst.

He can hear you clearly now. Your voice floating through the air in waves, uneven and raw. “Please—” you gasp.

The word jolt Ka’lan’s heart, making him think you’re now begging your captors for your life. He breaks into a sprint. The trees thinned ahead, sunlight streaking across the clearing. ‘Just a little further’ he says to himself, scanning his eyes across the forest for the sight of you. ‘Just get to her. Get to her and—’

Out of nowhere he stops dead in his tracks. The sound of his breath caught painfully in his throat, as if the wind had been completely knocked out of him. Out of all the scenarios his mind created in his mind, this is the last thing he thought he would witness. The last position he would find you in.

You're bent forward on your hands and knees, body arching into each thrust of Tsu’tey’s hips as he grips your waist with a bruising force, making you claw your nails into the ground underneath you for support. Your mouth is wide open, and your eyes squeezed shut in overwhelming pleasure.

Tsu’tey’s behind you, his chest gleaming with sweat, the muscles in his back flexing with every deep roll of his body against yours, like he’s trying to fuck every ounce of his love into you while making sure you know that you’re his.

Ka’lan’s eyes widen at the sight before him, heart lurching violently inside his chest while the scene unfolds. He can see and hear everything: the way your breasts bounce with every harsh thrust, the wet slapping of skin, the creamy ring forming on the base of Tsu’tey’s cock, the possessive grip of Tsu’tey’s hands like he wants to mold your body to his forever.

You aren’t being hurt.

You aren’t in danger.

You’re being claimed.

“Oh, Tsu’tey—harder, please!” you cry out, and Ka’lan flinches at the desperation in your voice. At how your voice isn’t filled with any pain or discomfort, but pure desire. It sounds as if lust is leaking out of your pores.

His heart cracks clean down the middle as he watches the two of you move together like you’ve been made for this. Like you and him are made for each other. He tried to look anywhere but your face, but your eyes, even closed, somehow glowed with something Ka’lan believes Tsu’tey didn’t deserve but still owned completely.

He should turn around. Should walk away and give you and him privacy. But he can’t. He just stands there frozen, hidden partially behind a thick trunk, his large eyes wide with quiet heartbreak and shame. His ears twitched at every wet slap of your bodies meeting, at every moan you gave to the man who clearly had your heart. A man Ka’lan hated. Envied. Even secretly feared.

Ka’lan’s grip tightened on his bow, trying to keep himself together, not knowing what to do. He thinks he’s in the clear, that no one will see him here hidden away in the shadows… until Tsu’tey looks up and meets his gaze.

Ka’lan doesn’t know what he expected him to do. Maybe a flinch, a flash of surprise in eyes, him stopping his attack on your pussy and trying to cover your exposed flesh. But Tsu’tey doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, Tsu’tey looks him right in the eye and smirks. That same cocky, knowing smirk that has always made Ka’lan want to punch a tree.

Tsu’tey isn’t one bit surprised to see Ka’lan because he knew he was there. Knew he would take this route on his way home, knew he would be nosy enough to come and take a look. He strategically set this up. Tsu’tey wanted Ka’lan to see him destroy your guts, see you in the same position Ka’lan wishes to have you in, and listen to you cry out his name in the process.

Without saying a word, he slips his hands around the front of your body, tightening one hand around your throat, lifting your head up and making your body press closer against his, driving into you deep enough to pull a broken cry from your lips.

He slows down just a tad, rolling his hips in a deep, grinding motion that makes you gasp his name again, unaware of the silent audience just beyond the tree line.

Tsu’tey smirks, leaning over your shoulder, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple until you spew out a moan. “Say it,” he growls. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, baby.” you cry softly, feeling his cock press against the spongy spot in your core, your walls fluttering around him each time your ass slams into his pelvis.

Tsu’tey thrusts himself harder into your wetness, enough to make your knees buckle from the force. When he sees your stability falter he catches you with ease, huffing a dark chuckle as you mewl against him. “Say it louder, need the whole forest to hear you.”

“It belong to you, Tsu’tey! Just you!”

“And who do you love?” he asks, voice getting louder, not for you, but for Ka’lan so he can hear that your heart belongs to him.

“Tsu’tey… I love you.” you whimper, clawing at his arm that’s snaked around your pretty frame as he picks up the pace again.

“Tell me who is your future mate.” he demands, glancing up at Ka’lan one more time, a wicked gleam in his eye as he thrust hard, making your entire body jolt forward, practically knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“You! Tsu’tey… only you!”

Ka’lan swallows hard, his jaw locking so tight his teeth aches while his heart twists in his chest. Every word you speak, every moan he hears, is another arrow to his pride, another nail in the coffin of the wishful fantasy he’s been desperately clinging to.

For the final blow, Tsu’tey places soft kisses on the back of your neck before turning your head towards him and engulfing your lips in a sloppy, wet kiss, your tongue and his swirling around each other, fighting each other for dominance.

When he pulls away there’s a line of saliva keeping you and him connected, making everything unraveling between you two even hotter. His hand is gripping your jaw, making sure since you’ve opened your eyes, your focus is on him and him only.

When you look into Tsu’tey’s eyes you see they aren’t their usual golden color, they're much darker, filled with lust, jealousy, and other emotions you can’t put a name to at the moment. Tsu’tey’s voice is low, so low that Ka’lan almost misses it but you hear him clear as day: “No one else will ever get to touch you. Not in this life, not in the next. You are mine.”

Tsu’tey turns your head slightly to the side, giving him a clear view of your throat, the same one he loves shoving his cock in whenever you're giving him attitude. He grazes his tongue across his fangs, looking down at you with something primal in his eyes. His mouth hovers over your skin, then he lowers, biting the nape of your neck.

When you feel his teeth sink into your skin, you let out a sharp hiss, your tail instinctively wrapping around his thigh, and your body melts into Tsu’tey’s, enjoying the euphoria that fills your veins as he marks you.

Marking is one of the oldest Na’vi customs, meant to bind two souls together. A territorial act, born from a time when clans had to fight for their mates. It’s not done lightly. And once it’s done, it’s seen as a vow, a warning, and a claim all in one.

While Tsu’tey marks you, with the taste of your blood on his tongue, he’s looking Ka’lan dead in his eyes, sharp as blades, while he hides behind a tree like a cowering child. Tsu’tey holds Ka’lan in his stare like a warning: You will never have her.

Ka’lan’s heart pounds in his chest, shame and fury tangling together so violently it makes his stomach turn. He wants to fight. He wants to scream. But instead he leaves, not being able to stomach the sight of you being fucked by Tsu’tey any longer.

He turns and walks away, heart pounding so loud it drowns out the sounds behind him. The soft cries, the whispered praises, the wet rhythm of two people tangled in something too deep to ever be undone.

Once Tsu’tey sees that he’s gone, his lips curl into a smirk against your skin. When he’s satisfied, feeling like his point has been proven to Ka’lan and to you, he takes his fangs out of your skin, allowing your blood to settle on his tastebuds. It’s warm but somehow sweet, making him fall more in love with you than he already is, feeling like now your souls are deeply connected now that your blood runs through his veins.

After a while, you and Tsu’tey fall into a steady rhythm again; his thrusts are long, deep, and deliberate, each one pressing into the furthest part of your womb like he’s trying to carve his name into you from the inside. The way his hips roll, slow but firm, makes your thighs tremble with every stroke. His groans turn to curses in Na’vi, breath hot against your neck, voice hoarse and ragged with need.

You cling to him, moaning his name like a prayer, and just as your walls begin to spasm and squeeze around him, he lets out a sharp grunt and buries himself deep, hips locked against you as his hot seed spills inside.

Your back arches as your climax washed over you in thick, aching waves, your vision going white as he fills you, until the pressure is too much and his seed begins to leak out of you, smearing on your thighs, Tsu’tey’s groin, and soaking the earth beneath.

Tsu’tey doesn’t pull out immediately. He stays deep inside you, his breath slowing as he holds you close, one hand splayed possessively over your belly. He presses a kiss to your skin, heart still pounding, and you can feel the weight of something heavier in his touch.

Tsu’tey closes his eyes for a moment, lips brushing against your ear. He doesn’t say it aloud, but it pulses between you anyway. There’s a hope, a want, even a silent wish.

He secretly hopes his seed will take root. That maybe, soon, you will swell with his child. That your womb will grow full with proof you belonged to him, and that no one will ever dare to look your way again.

And beyond that: he wants a family with you, he always has. He wants little feet running through your shared mauri, braids tied with the same beads he once gifted you, a child that had your eyes and his temper, clinging to your hip. Raising children with you would be a greatest honor in his eyes.

Eventually, your trembling slowed, your breathing softened, and the two of you sank into the moss beneath you, limbs still tangled together.

Tsu’tey cradles your face and kisses you again, this time slow and sweet, full of warmth and affection. A stark contrast from earlier. You sigh against his mouth, smiling lazily as you look up at him with tired eyes. “I’m not going to speak to Ka’lan anymore.”

He exhales through his nose, forehead pressed to yours, happy to hear you’re finally seeing things his way. “Good.” It satisfies his soul to know that you’ve finally taken heed to what he’s been expressing to you and that he won’t have to worry about Ka’lan anymore after the show you both just put on for him.

Tsu’tey is never allowing a man to think they have a chance with you, he’ll fill your neck with markings to let every single Na’vi know that you’re bound to him until the end of time.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓… @eme1hyst @o-kingston @erenjaegerwifee @Kaydoux @biaaaaaaaa1 @hikotaru @thisaintredwine @lexieeeeeeeei @that-gurl25 @Peanut713521 @anemonelovesfiction @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @makaylalovessmut @lustforlana4 @Anita @pandoraslxna @iris-xoxo-juhu @Domineezy @hc-geralt-23 @ikeyniofthetayrangi @hogwartsismyhome @himikoquack @strawberriesvt @wolfhowling5234 @t-wylia @emilymikado @atomicslimetoadstudent @shmaptainbonky @moonstidalwaves @rae @bigdikzaddy @roseblushpink1 @3xclusive-kylani @sussybaka10 @galactict3a @shima @deadgirlrin @Tssavatartey @buble787635 @normspellmann @em-x0 @sliqeramx @lexasaurs634 @simpformelissa @headsincloud9 @jane-3043 @bakugouswaif @Tssavatartey @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @savagemickey03 @yetanotherattemptatanaccount @neteyamsblog

— all rights reserved © 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐙𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost repost on other platforms (ex. AO3 or Wattpad) nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[szagaloree]

Part One

Part Two

[szagaloree]

~* Suga' Sweet: Part 2 *~

(18+ Minors DNI)

Modern AU, Elias "Stack" Moore x VirginChurchGirl Reader

Note: Thank you so much for all the love shown to part one! It means so much to me and I'm so happy you all enjoyed the story. Let me know how you feel about this second installment!

P.S. I'm thinking about putting together a playlist for this story, is that something ya'll would be interested in?

So far, I have Heaven Ain't Hard 2 Find by 2Pac. I just feel like that's the perfect dynamic for Stack and Reader.

Hope you love it.

~ Muah

Trigger Warnings: Religious abuse

You woke up in a borrowed bonnet with the sun in your face and a tenderness between your thighs. Your foggy eyes came to rest on a dark curtain gently rolling in the breeze from the cracked window. You rolled over, searching for warmth and meeting it when you rolled right into the body beside you. Your eyes lingered over the broad plane of Stack’s back, watching him breathe, your body smoothed over, your chest still in a tangle. Memories from the night before came filtering back piece by piece. The dancing, which rolled into the time spent in the office. All the things he’d said to you come back in a hot flush.

Say ‘yes Daddy Stack’

You ain’t never been her girl, always been my Suga’ sweet.

A thud of leftover pleasure moved through you in a shudder. You remembered sitting in the backseat with him while Smoke and Annie were in the front. The pile of your clothes and belongings charred and smoldering on the curb. If not for Stack’s arm around your waist, you might have fallen to your knees to sift through the mess for something salvageable. With him there, you resolved not to let your momma lower you to your knees. Not on the very same night you’d gotten your wish. 

You remember Jorna emerging from around back with a box in her arms. It was strange seeing her out in the small hours in the morning. Had she snuck out? You hadn’t thought she knew how to do that. But there she was, stepping through the grass along the side of the house to come and meet you on the sidewalk. 

“Grabbed whatever fell outta her arms while she was draggin stuff out.” 

In the box she handed you was some underwear, a few photos, a tube of lipstick, a dress, and a pair of shoes. You stared at the last of your belongings, too tired to cry. 

“Thanks.” 

She sighed, shaking her head. 

“Why’d you have to go and do that?” 

A lump formed in your throat and Stack took in an agitated breath.

“I’m grown, Jorna.”

She gave you and Stack a hard look, your mother’s look. 

“Yeah? And what am I supposed to do?”

Guilt spread sour in your stomach and you looked down into the box. 

“You ain't got much school left. Just don’t make my mistake, you gotta leave the minute you hit eighteen.” 

“Says the one who already had her college paid for.”

You took her hand while she wiped her eyes with the other. 

“All I know is, the longer you stay, the longer she owns you. Everything she do for you feels like you owe her back for it."   

Jorna wiped her eyes, and you wanted to hug her, tell her everything would be alright, mother her like your momma couldn’t, but she left without another word. Stack took the box from your arms, and you followed him into the car. 

The next morning, box sat beside the bed, and you rolled over to examine the dress, a wave of pink linen. It wasn’t your favorite; that one was gone, but this one had been a gift from your dad. Pink and modest, and falling to your ankles. You stared at it awhile, wondering what he'd had done while momma set about burning his daughter out of their lives.

You muddled over the question until movement broke you out of it. Stack’s arms came around your torso and pulled you into his warm chest.

“Whatchu doin’?” He mumbled, his voice rumbling and tired, transferring bass right into your back. He wrapped your arms up in his, and it made your eyes close. 

“Pickin’ over the bones,” you said. 

You kissed his forearms. His lips met your neck and your head clouded over again. His hand massaged over your chest, finding your nipple between his fingers, sending a warm buzz between your legs. You sighed, curling further into him.

His other arm snaked around from under you, and his hand found its way to your panties. The heat of his palm brought heavy sighs from your lips, and he started nibbling to your neck as he was rolling you in his hand.  

“Betta shit to do on a Sunday,” he mumbled, his teeth in your skin.   

A moan rose soft and high from your throat, and your mind stumbled over his words, nearly missing the day until it looped and announced itself in bold letters–Sunday! 

“Oh no, oh Christ,” You pulled yourself away and grabbed the dress from the box. Stack sat up, irritation clear on his face.  

“Tell me you ain’t rushin’ to no church.” 

“I’ve never missed a Sunday, Stack. I can’t start missin’ Sundays.”

Your heart was pounding, stomach falling. He sucked his teeth as you rushed to the bathroom. You ran toothpaste over your teeth with a finger and sprinkled water on yourself, saying quick prayers asking God for forgiveness. When you came back into the room, Stack was sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling on the tray in his lap. He gave you a skeptical look you couldn’t stand. 

“I just–I’m still the woman I was, ya know? These people are family. One of us is gone, the rest don’t feel whole.” 

Stack stretched and then sat admiring the blunt he’d finished. You put your fingers in his goatee and kissed him when he looked up. A deep kiss unfit for the Lord’s day. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For everything.” 

You put on your heels from the night before, your purse was empty and your phone was dead but you grabbed them both and rushed out the door. 

You were sweating by the time you made it to the church and stood just outside the chapel doors in the little velvet-carpeted atrium. You leaned with your hands on your knees, trying to breathe.  The door opened behind you, and you shot up, pretending you weren’t dying from exhaustion. Inside the chapel, you could hear reverend Moore leading the congregation in prayer. You couldn’t interrupt.  

You peeked at the people who’d just come in and found it was the Carmichael family. Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael and their young sons. Mrs. Carmichael and your momma were friends, and usually when she saw you, she pulled you into one of her famous hugs. Today, when you smiled at her, her eyes stayed cold. She turned her face away and shielded her sons like you were about to snatch them from her side. Mr. Carmichael only shook his head. Your smile faded, and her coldness sank into you. 

The prayer ended, and you went into the warm, damp space, the door groaning as you pulled it open. Eyes turned to you and flicked away amid a wash of whispering. There were shaking heads and downturned mouths and rolling eyes. As you moved along the pews, you tried to smile at every face, to find a little recognition in these people who’d known you since you were a baby. These people who had welcomed you as their church family and vowed to stand beside you through trials and tribulations. Your spiritual backbone. 

No eye would linger. No one offered a smile. You found yourself coasting, a hollow smile stuck to your lips, your heart hidden behind your ribs, eyes burning. Then, from the other side of the isle, Saleema Oberland’s gloved hand shot up.

Saleema and her daughter, Dee had lived two doors down from you for years. Saleema was always in church on Sundays but, for some reason, your momma never warmed up to her the way others did. Now, she waved and smiled like she hadn’t seen you in years. You circled the chapel to reach her, and once you did she pulled you into a hug and had you sit beside her. She gave you her handkerchief and you wiped your eyes with the soft little item, and then she pointed at the words embroidered on it: 

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

The words drew tears. Saleema rubbed your back and let you cry them. After the service, Saleema stayed back to talk and you went downstairs to see if you could catch your momma. You found her in the office talking to Doreen and approached with a timid knock on the door. Doreen’s face gave away that it was you in the door, so, without even turning around, your mother spoke with her back a stern wall. 

“What is it?” 

Your throat tightened. 

“Good morning, momma.” The words had none of the anger you felt, because the truth was you were scared at the moment. Terrified that she really was done with you. “You need something from the office?” 

“I don’t see what business that is of yours,” she turned then, her brows arched and severe, her lips pursed. “You don’t work here no more.” 

Your weak smile wilted. 

“I…” 

“So you think you can disobey me, run the streets, and come back here?”  she shook her head, “No…no, that’s not how it works–”

“What did you want me to do?” you asked, Doreen snuck by you, then, her eyes lowered and closed the door behind herself. “What hadn’t I given you?” You asked, “You wanted my whole life? Every decision I made needed to be yours, is that it?”

“You had your life and it was a good one. I didn’t want you to throw it away on some low-down pimpin’ criminal.” 

“You don’t get to judge, momma.”

“Oh I don’t? You think they doing something good for the world? Selling women? What you think you look like to them? Another piece of meat to turn out.” 

 “If you don’t give people a chance to change, they never can.”

“Oh,” She laughed, “he got you. I see that, now. The devil sends his best soldiers, but your corruption ends with you, I won’t have it in my house.”

You stood, shaking your head. 

“You’re the most hateful person I know.” 

“Count yourself lucky. There’s people in this world who would hang their daughters if they stayed out all night with some man and came crawling into church the next day with his stank still in they hair.” She was shaking her head like you were despicable. “You used to be a good girl, Y/N.”

“I’m still good.” 

She pointed a firm finger. 

“Don’t you lie in the Lord’s house. That I won’t stand.”

You couldn’t help the trembling of your lip. 

“Momma…” all your words left your mind. There had been something grand you wanted to say to her, some reality check you wanted to deliver, but suddenly it felt like you were standing way out in the middle of the ocean and the boat that’d brought you there was nowhere to be found. You didn’t remember why it was so important to get to that island anymore. “I’ll stay with a friend for a few days, alright? Maybe we can talk later.” 

Her eyes remained cold. 

“You thought I was playing when I said don’t come back?”

You didn’t let the question settle. You sniffled and wiped the tears which had fallen to your chin and you tried to smile. Tried to build a bridge off that island.

“I’m gonna go see about findin work somewhere else. But I’ll see you, Momma. That’s a lovely dress.” 

You’d never been afraid of the members of your church before. Even on those occasions when your mom was upset with something you’d done and those other church women became clones of her, ready to punish you in her place, you’d never hidden yourself from their eyes the way you did that Sunday. For the first time in your life, leaving the scope of the church parking lot felt like being released from a firm grip. 

As you made your way into town, you saw here and there, people you’d seen at the club the night before. You saw them leaving the post office or going into the grocery store. They sat outside at restaurants and lived their lives as normal. Nothing was falling apart for them. 

Annie answered the door when you got back to the twins’ apartment. You stood in the air-conditioned hall feeling silly for showing up back there like a lost puppy. 

“Hey, Annie,” you said.

She scanned you top to bottom. 

“Not welcome in the holy house?” She said with a smirk. 

You shook your head, and she stepped aside to let you in. 

“I’ve never had them look at me like that,” you said, slinking into the foyer. 

“You mean the way they look at other folks?” 

Annie passed you, making her way into the kitchen where she was prepping something for an early dinner. Your heart sank remembering all the things your mother had ever said about her. 

“I never believed anything they said about you,” You said. She raised her eyes from her work, “For what it's worth.” 

“Well, for what it's worth, I never believed what they said about you, either.” 

You perked up. 

“What they say?” 

Annie laughed, her fingers coated in flour from the chicken. 

“I'm just messin with you, girl. Shit, it's yo momma people don't like.” 

You couldn't help laughing. 

“That I can believe.” You looked around the living room. “Where the twins?” 

“Went to see a man about a dog.”  

You raise an eyebrow. 

“That's what they told you?”

“Nah, that's what Stack told me. Smoke said they had some business they needed to check on.” She shook her head. “Ain't been a week and I'm just about through askin’” 

What you think you look like to them? Your mom’s words came back loud and painful. You bit your lip, hating that she was stuck in your head. You sat on a stood and tried to think of something else, but you found yourself speaking out of the anxiety she gave you. 

“You ever worry about what they get up to?” 

Annie looked at you. 

“Worry’s the most unproductive emotion there is.” 

Your leg started bouncing. You got up and started chopping onions to give yourself something to think about. Still, your mom's words come back. You keep your mouth shut and rubbed your burning eyes with a napkin. 

“They got good hearts,” you said, “I always knew that, no matter what I heard.” 

“We all heard things bout the twins.”

“Right.”

“So what changed?”

You shook your head, turning back to chopping. 

Annie sighed and put the flour-covered chicken back on the plate. 

“Look,” she wiped her hands on her apron. “Somethin’ I wanna ask you.” 

You looked at her, and she leaned against the counter with her arms folded. 

“Go on,” you said. 

“You said people can't change unless you give em a chance.” 

You look at her in surprise. 

“How'd you know that?”

“Stack told me.” 

Heat filled your cheeks. 

“He did?” 

Annie chuckled. 

“Girl, he used to tell that story all the time. Talkin bout that sweet lil church girl. Used to drive Mary up the wall.” You feel a mix of emotions, but the largest of them is relief. You get back to the onions. “My question is, what were you hoping would change about them?”

You’re taken aback by the question and look at her for a long moment. 

“Well, at the time it was just something I told Officer Daniels cause I thought it sounded good.” Annie considered that. “I never thought they needed to change. Seem to me like they Daddy needed to change, or the world. They was just boys. And they always had good hearts, like I said.”

“So, like I said, what changed with you?”

Annie’s question caught in your throat. You were back in your momma’s house all of a sudden. Then you were younger, peeling yourself away from Stack so you could receive your punishment for speaking to someone momma didn’t deem worthy. Annie was rubbing your back before you realized you were crying. 

“That shame she put in you,” she purred, “It’s a poison. Make you an enemy to yourself. But ain’t nothing dirty bout you and Stack. As far as what they done, oh, I know some of it ugly and bloody as anything. But you just gon have to decide what you can live with. Now…” She took the knife from your hand. “You done cut enough onions to make these black eyes peas three times over.” 

You laughed at yourself, sniffling as she gave you that motherly smile of hers. 

“My momma got in my head today.” You said, “But after I left her I kept seeing people who was at the club last night and they looked so happy. It was like…”

“Like you ain’t fallen from grace?”

“Like my happiness ain’t evil,” you laughed.

She squeezed your shoulders, shaking you. 

“That's what I'm sayin!” 

The two of you shared a laugh and a hug, and you were finally able to shake off the shitty mood the morning had put on you. You shuddered, like an old heavy coat was falling off. 

“God, I need a shower. Feel like I been dipped in dirt.” 

Annie laughed again, getting back to the food. 

“You smell like it, too.”

“Hush!” 

You let yourself feel peace while she filled the kitchen with laughter and the smell of hot herbs. 

You hoped Stack wouldn't mind you borrowing some of his clothes. You found a 2Pac T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and slipped into them. You'd never been a TomBoy, but the outfit felt comfortable and the clothes smelled like him. It felt good to be clean again, with your hair taken care of and food on the table. 

You were just setting down the pan of cornbread you made when the keys rattled in the door, and your heart jumped into your throat. The twins came in and you tried not to look too excited to see him, but the minute Stack saw all the food he was cheering, and you were grinning. 

“Oooooh, yes ma'am! Yes ma'am it's good to come home to women, ain't it good, Smoke?” 

Stack wrapped his arms around you from behind, all in your ear, kissing your cheek and telling you how good you smelled, how nice you looked wearing his clothes. His mustache tickled your neck but that's not the only reason you were giggling. You were happy to have him wrapped around you, again. Happy as a pig in shit. 

“Alright, alright, now. Before the food gets cold,” Annie chided. 

Stack wouldn't take his hands off you, guiding you to a chair he pulled out for you, and settling beside you with his hand on your knee. You asked what the twins had been out taking care of, but they dodged the question and Annie gave you a little conspiratorial grin. 

After dinner, you settled in Stack’s room. The space was cloudy with cologne and Warren G while he got ready for the club. You watched him fresh from the shower, only a towel around his waist, water dripping. You sat on the bed with your phone open to job listings, but when he came in you suddenly couldn’t focus. 

You tried to pretend you weren’t staring, tried to keep your eyes on your phone, but he was looking way too good. You bit your nail while he got himself lotioned and dressed. He caught your eyes in the mirror while he did his tie.

“Help me get this straight, Shug.” 

His tone seemed innocent enough but his smirk said otherwise. You crossed to the dresser, and as soon as you were within reach his hands were on you again. On your hips and palming your behind while you straightened the tie. Being so close, the look in his eyes had your stomach falling. 

“Seem like you ain’t you in ya head,” he said, his voice low and smooth. You let his eyes unmoore you, and truth slipped from your mouth all slick and easy. 

“Turns out they didn’t miss me. My momma, least of all. Got me all twisted up about everything.”

“Wha’s everything?” 

 You hesitated, his hands holding your hips against him, your lips so close to his. 

“You,” you said. “She had me wonderin what was real.” 

“You don’t know?”

You dropped your eyes and he lifted your face so you’d bring them back to his. 

“If you could say it once…I know it’s early…” 

He shook his head. 

“It ain’t early, Shug. Been since we was kids.”

He took your face into his hands and kissed you, and you breathed into it like it had been the last piece of a difficult puzzle. 

“We here,” he said, “You wit me and I’m wit you.”  

You stared. 

“That’s it?”

“Das it, das all. You spoken for, Sweet.”  

Your smile was wide and soft, the relief so light and sweet it made you laugh. Your breath suddenly coming in easy waves. 

“She works so hard to get to me,” You said, “I think she hates me, Stack.” 

“Aye, come on, Shug. She don’t hate you. She don’t mean it.”

“You wouldn’t stick up for her if you knew what she said about you.”

“I ain’t stickin’ up for her. I’m stickin’ up for you. She can’t hate you. Don’t you know dat?”

You saw certainty in his eyes. 

“That how you felt?” You asked. 

“I know my daddy ain’t mean what he did,” he boasted, “Just feelin’ something he couldn’t take, and he put it on me. Das all. Same wit yo momma. I know damn well you ain’t nothing nobody can hate.” 

You soften.  

“That's the sweetest thing I ever heard.” 

He's looking at you with the most sincere eyes. The way he was last night just after he'd finished. He looked at you like the whole world had boiled down to the rounds of your eyes. 

“You da sweetest thing I eva seen.” 

He said it low, like a private thing, and his eyes dropped to your lips a second before he pulled you in. His kiss was like you remembered, his tongue just as nimble and inviting. Your mouths moved together, which started a rushing in your head, and stirring the desire you'd been holding in that secret place below your naval. You put your hand on his as he held your face, and as the world around you began to fade, a soft sigh sounded in your throat. 

Stack responded with a deeper, quicker kiss. His hand moved to your chest and then slid down your stomach. You were breathing harder, then. When his hand nestled in between your legs he pulled back and looked you in the eye while he rubbed. Embarrassment made you turn your eyes. 

“Uh uh, look at me.” You did. “Lay down. I'll be back when ya eyes open.” 

You nodded. 

“Okay.” 

“What you say?” 

His hand was feeling good rolling over you and heat rushed into your cheeks. 

“Yes, Daddy Stack.” 

He smiled and kissed you goodbye. Left you missing his hand. 

You felt him before you heard him. A swell of buttery pressure between your legs and his heat enclosing you from behind. His strong arm was warm under your hand and you held on as you rode the first swell of pleasure rolling through your cunt. He caught your moan under his other hand, muffling your sounds so they wouldn’t reach out into the rest of the apartment. 

“Sound so sweet,” he murmured warm liquor and cologne into your ear. He took the lobe into his mouth and pinched it between his teeth. He massaged your pussy, fingers gliding across the wetness, pressing you back so your hips rolled against the hard curve of him. The pleasure charging under his hand kept growing, your breath shuddering in your throat as you whined into his palm. 

He started sucking and biting your neck, adding to the rush sparkling in your clit. Stack brought his middle finger to your mouth and you accepted it onto your tongue, sucking and swirling your tongue around it. A sigh rolled out of him while he deepened the pressure on your neck and the sweetness enveloping your pussy. 

“You know you had me thinkin’ bout it all night?” He spoke into your neck. “Thinkin’ bout all the ways I was gone get ma suga’ sweet sweatin’ and cussin’ wit ma dick up in her.” 

A rush of pressure forced your mouth open and you moaned around his fingers. Your mind went blank and your body turned loose as you came, moaning into his palm while you held the arm doing the work, still anchored across your body. Still rubbing the mess, making the sweet melting last. You felt the fall keep going, a well getting deeper and deeper. You were shuddering, your mouth hanging open as he moved his hand to gently hold your throat. 

“Stack,” you whined. 

He kept going, kept drawing out that hurting twist of pleasure until you were pushing against his wrist, trying to escape. It was no use. His arm was firmly locked in place. 

“You ain't done,” his voice was heavy and close, “Keep fightin’ me you gone get yourself in trouble.” 

You surrendered, whining, trying to breathe and choking on too much sensation gnawing into you. Finally, Stack pulled away and you were left panting into the pillow. You didn’t have a moment to think before he pulled off your shirt and the sweatpants were tossed aside. 

“You gone learn to ride tonight, Suga sweet.” Stack arranged himself on the bed, blue moonlight shining beautifully across his chest as he lay stroking himself. He had you straddle him and a lump came to your throat. 

“You gone…tell me how?” 

He smiled, showing off his gold while his hand moved up to play with your nipple.

“Nah, I ain’t gone say a thang.” He laughed at the look of panic on your face and pulled you down to kiss you long and deep. You felt him move against your entrance and pulled back to look in his eyes, which were serious again. “Raise up a lil, don’t take much, den come down on it slow.” 

You raised up, felt him there, and started lowering yourself. Stack took in air, closing his eyes, his hands resting on your hips. The stretch didn’t feel quite so brand new as it had the night before, but you couldn’t take much before stopping to breathe. Stack kissed your cheek, moving his hands up to rub your back. 

He let you take it slow, let you pause, and you were so grateful. By the time he was all the way inside you were in awe with yourself, resting against his chest while his hips rolled gently, pushing himself that much deeper in. 

You looked at him with a proud little smile. 

“I did it.” 

He smirked and chuckled to himself. 

“So cute,” he licked his lips, “Get up on ya feet, Shug.” 

You were confused, but he helped you rearrange until you were sitting on your feet with him so deep inside it wiped the smile off your face. He put your hands on his biceps and pushed his palms underneath you. 

“Bet you know what to do, don’t you?” 

Your face was hot, but in a general sense, you did know what to do. Had overheard it being described by some men outside the post office once. When she's on top, bouncing. 

“Yes, Daddy Stack.” 

He smirked.

“Gone den.” 

He helped you as you started to raise back up. The slide of his length caressing you as you rose to the tip, filling you again as you lowered down. You took him inch my inch with a shaky breath leaving your body. He had you so full it took effort to come all the way back down each time. Stack helped, lifting you and letting you sink back down. You watched the pulsing veins in his arms as he lifted and lowered you on his shaft, air hissing out between his teeth. 

“Dat shit good, Shug. Damn it's good.” 

A blush of pride made you ignore the pain and suddenly all you wanted was to hear more of how you were making him feel. You moved a little faster, letting yourself whimper every time you came down. 

“Yeah, shit, dats my suga baby.” 

You were taking all of him with every rush, letting a little smack sound each time you landed while his face etched into such serious focus. Your thighs started to burn, distracting from the discomfort inside you, or maybe they were melding into one. 

“Look,” Stack said, and you followed his gaze to where his dick was meeting your lips. 

There was a ring of glossy wetness around the base of him, slicking his pubic hair. You watched the length of his shaft appear and disappear in and out of you. Your mouth fell open, and the corresponding feeling of him stuffing you made your tongue slick. He was in there, all the way in there. You raised your eyes and found he was looking at you. Fuck. He was looking at you. A moan slipped out, and he smiled. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth. You hadn’t meant to make that sound, but it couldn’t be stopped. It hadn’t asked for your permission. Your whole body shivered and the shiver squeezed a sound from you, too. Your body was doing things on its own. The glide of his dick became a rhythm and your bouncing had fallen into habit. Something you weren't really thinking about anymore, just doing, feeling like when you stretch just the right way and something deep in your body feels like honey.  

Something thick moved in the muscles wrapped around his dick and you knew the pain had eased. Your heart was racing in your throat, thighs still burning, but inside you were going soft. You felt another shudder and had to brace yourself with both hands against his chest again. 

“Show me dem eyes.” 

Stack’s voice was heavy, and when you looked at him, it felt like he was working some kind of magic on you. Knowing he was watching you while you took him inside only weakened you further. His smile spread. 

“Daddy in there, ain’t he?” 

You nodded dumbly. Something sweet and tight started tingling inside, and it seemed like every time you came down on Stack the feeling got brighter and closer and harder. Your legs were shaking. There was a whine in your throat and you bit your lip, trying to keep quiet. 

You needed to tell Stack that something was wrong. Something was rushing up inside you and it couldn’t be right, it was too big, and you knew if it got ahold of you it would break you. You sank your nails into the muscle of his chest and tried to gather words, but they scattered in your mouth before they could get out. All you could do was say his name with that tragic, terrified look on your face.

“Stack,” you whined. He let you get back on your knees and folded you against his chest, letting you put your face in his neck. 

“Stay right there,” He said.  

That’s when the real torture began. Stack started fucking up into you faster than you could’ve and you gasped. You covered your mouth but the sounds came, anyway. A stream of moans crumbling against the rhythm of his pumping hips, knocking your mind loose. Stealing all sense of yourself until you were rolling into a pit with no bottom. 

“Stack,” you whined, “Shit.” 

He was rushing up into you, his hands gripping on your cheeks while you squeezed his firm shoulder. The hand that had been muffling your moans had gone limp and you were right in his ear as a horrible, consuming wave of heat ran through you. Stack let out a bevy of low groans your body shivered and your moans came out all helpless and soft. 

“Yeah, Shug,” his voice was low in your ear, “cum on dat shit.” 

The waves kept coming, and like the man you knew he was, Stack didn’t stop until you were begging for mercy. But ‘please’ wasn’t good enough. He made you get back on your feet and keep riding until you said it right. 

“Please, Daddy Stack.” 

He was gazing up at you with a lazy, teasing smile, his gold gleaming in the moonlight. 

“What?” He teased, “Daddy still feels good, don’t he?” 

There was no question that he felt good. He felt thick and smooth, and the soreness inside you had faded to an afterthought. You nodded, your mind hazy.  

“Then what you wanna stop for?” 

Pressure was building again and the truth was you were scared as hell to feel that rush again. You were certain it would kill you. Unfortunately you couldn’t put those words together, so you moved on to the other truth weighing on you.  

“My legs hurt,” you sobbed. 

He sat up, tucking your knees in by his sides, finally relieving the strain in your thighs. 

“Why ain’t you say dat?” 

He was still grinning, still amused by the drunken anguish you were going through. He put your arms around his shoulders and told you to move your hips against him. You whimpered and started moving, grinding gently in little rolls of your hips, moving him deep inside. You tucked your face into his neck as the thickening mound of warmth came pressing into you. 

Wrapped in his arms, your mind miles away, your body descended again. Your clit melted where it was rubbing warm and wet against his pelvis, and his hands helped your hips scrub against him. He was moving so deep in you then, you felt bottomless. Your mouth fell open and once again you were calling his name and cursing, just like he’d wanted. This time, you felt him cum, too, warm and slick inside you while he gripped your hips. 

You cherished his moans with your cheek pressed against his, deliriously happy. Delirious in general, as you returned for the final time back to the present moment. Stack held you tight, both of you breathing hard in the relative quiet of the room. You rested on his shoulder, trying to ease into your breathing while he hugged you close. You sat nested together, and outside, the sound of rain came in a hush. 

“Thought I was dyin’” you whispered and the two of you shared a little laugh. 

“Yeah, you almost took me out, too,” he chuckled, kissing your neck, “got some magic in you, sweet.” 

You hid a bashful smile behind your hand, but he caught it, and laughing he tried to pull your hand away from your mouth. 

“Uh uh, don't hide now,” he teased. 

By the time the two of you had cleaned up and returned to bed the sky was lightening, and you were both half asleep. He dragged you in close and you laid with your head on his chest, his hand resting on your hip. 

“Me and Smoke goin to the bank, handle some business in the mornin.” His voice was soft and you hummed. Your eyes were closed, and you wouldn't even bother asking what business the twins were tending. Stack played with the fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing. “Figure after we done, I'd take you downtown, get you somethin nice to put on.”

It took a moment for the words to set in. Then, your eyes opened and you looked up at him, ready to ask if he was serious, just to find he was asleep. He looked so peaceful resting there. With a gentle finger, you traced the places you loved most. The apple of his cheek, the plush of his lips, the arch of his brows. You pulled your hand away and stared. There he was. The man you'd been holding in the privacy of your heart since you were a kid. 

He was right when he said this wasn't sudden in that sense. But you stared and you couldn't believe you were there. You'd taken one step off the predetermined path you'd been walking and it led you right there. You remembered then why you came to your island. What you'd wanted when you told your momma you'd be back by morning, was to be free. 

His eyes opened and you quickly looked away, your face hot with embarrassment. He chuckled, lifted your chin, and kissed you to sleep. 

Hope you loved it, let me know.

muah~

@underated345-blog @cardi-bre91

[szagaloree]

Suga' Sweet

(18+ Minors DNI)

What can I say? A girl was inspired.

Modern AU, Elias "Stack" Moore x VirginChurchGirl Reader

Note: While I love and enjoy high fantasy in fics, I prefer to write about a character's first time in realism. If you're new to my writing, I love angst and when it comes to writing about someone losing their virginity, I stick very close to what I know to be realistic (at least for some people, no one's experiences are all the same).

What I like about writing this way is the emotion of it, I like to deal with characters that feel conflicted and in virginity stories I want to be as realistic as possible in answering the question: "What would it be like to lose your virginity to this person?" I've tried to do that here.

If you choose to read this story I hope you love it.

~ Muah

Trigger Warnings: Religious abuse/ Oral both ways/ Angst

Stack had never paid you much attention, at least not that you knew. You'd grown up in the delta but in different neighborhoods, with different friends. Your momma kept you and your sisters in the church and his momma disappeared when he was little. He and Smoke came up with Mary and her kin, while you and your sisters grew up with the daughters of deacons' wives and choir women. You were never allowed to speak to anyone who didn't show their face every Sunday. In fact, you'd only spoken to Smoke and Stack one time. 

You were 15, running to the grocery store to pick up this and that for your momma's Sunday Lunch Club. The heat was thick and pressed in around you, making your dress stick. You spotted the twins on the side of the store where nobody parked, Stack shooting dice while Smoke kept watch. 

Smoke’s eyes cut through the white glare of the hot midday sun and caught you as you made your way by. You remember the way your heart started sizzling anytime you saw him, because you knew where one Moore brother was, the other wasn't far. That's when you heard Stack hollering like he'd just hit the lotto, his joy felt like a cool breeze cutting the heat. The older men they were playing with complained and threw their money on the ground.

Stack was shining, smiling bright and fanning himself with the dollars while he boasted around. Then, his eyes landed on you. To him, you were the sweetest thing around. Your dresses always clean, your hair always right. He never heard a bad thing about you, not even from the city's most passionate anti-churchgoers. More than that, you never joined up with those church folks who sprinkled shame on the people around you. You kept yourself sweet, and he liked sweet. From a distance of course. 

At 15, a sweet girl was admirable, but there was so much fire around him he couldn't resist. Oh he had his eye on you, but he had his hands on other girls and his mind on sinister things. He could've approached you, anyway. He could've said things to sway your attention, knowing he wasn't gonna keep his promises, but he didn't wanna do that to someone like you. Seemed like bad karma, something Annie warned about.

So, he was free and so were you, too sweet to touch, but so much fun to look at. When he saw you that particular Sunday noon, he was struck again by the particular way you had. Your smooth-hipped walk and those pretty lashes turned down. You moved like you'd stepped out of a painting. Stack felt a heat rise in him as he saw you crossing the street. A desire to put his hands all over your nice, white dress. 

Your eyes rose to his face and he could swear you were lingering, taking your time moving slowly by. You nodded gently, with a sweet little smile. Stack licked his lips, as if he could taste the sugar of you on his mouth already. That's when he decided he'd call you Sugar, right then, in his mind. 

“Hey,” he called, though you didn’t dare respond beyond that smile. Later, when you left the grocery store, hugging a heavy grocery bag, you saw a policeman talking to the twins. Two of the men who'd lost their money were already in handcuffs and the boys stood against the wall.

You rushed over and hope sparked in you when you recognized the cop.

“Excuse me, Officer Daniels, did something happen here?” 

Your mother knew Officer Daniels because she and his wife served hot meals at the veterans hospital every third Thursday and they were deeply bonded over The Young and The Restless. Officer Daniels’ eyes brightened when he saw you. 

“Why miss L/N, it's nice to see you this afternoon. This here is none of your concern. These boys were gambling, s’what I’ve been told.” 

“Oh but sir, I can't believe such a thing. The twins were here helping the old women carry their bags, it's community service, sir. I saw them just now as I went in. They even offered to carry my bags, you see?” 

You offered your paper bag to Stack, who hesitated only a moment before taking it into his arms. 

“We've been doing our part best we can,” Smoke said, his dead-serious expression selling the whole thing better than you could. 

Officer Daniels looked from each of the boys back to you. 

“I can't imagine your momma's gonna be pleased with your choice in company Miss L/N…” 

That could only mean he planned to tell your momma, which could only mean a switch would be waiting for you at home. Your throat went dry. Still, you smiled. 

“If you don't give people a chance to change, they never can.” 

Officer Daniels let the three of you go, and you set off down the street. 

“You ain't have to do that,” Smoke said. 

“Happy you did, though, sheeit, Officer Daniels almost had two more niggas up at the jail.” Stack chuckled, “Aye, you like that? Two Moore niggas,” he laughed, pulled out his crumpled winnings, and quickly started counting. Smoke clamped his hand over the money. 

“Nigga, put that shit up.” 

“Why should I? I won it, I oughtta get to count it.”

The two fussed, and only when Smoke threatened to make his brother sleep in the crawlspace under the porch did Stack acquiesce and put the money away, all while juggling the bag which slipped for a moment from his arms. He caught it with a start, his hat falling off. You giggled. You'd never seen Stack fumble. He'd never been clumsy or rushed in anything. He was all ease and dark beauty. All Elias Moore. At the sound of your laughter, Stack turned his head. 

“Oh you laughin?” 

You shook your head, hiding your mouth though the laughing was on a roll now, and his smile let you know he wasn't upset. 

“That's a pretty laugh you got,” Stack said, shining his smile at you. There was a gleam in his eye you recognized from some of the deacons. It made your laughter hush and curl down into your throat like a shy child. You looked to the ground, a rush of nerves moving in you. The silence only lasted a few steps, just until you realized how close to home you were and stopped. The boys stopped with you. 

“I better walk the rest myself. It's bad enough momma's gonna know I was with boys. Best not let her see you.” 

You reached for the bag, opening your arms for it the way one asks to hold a baby. Stack stepped close, your eyes held on each other while he got the bag into your waiting arms. For a moment, the two of you were hugging it between you, and his arms slipped out from under yours, hot skin on hot, smooth skin.  

“Who do the discipline in yo house?” He asked. 

“My momma,” you answered, your voice soft as you remembered what was ahead of you. 

“That's good,” Stack said. 

“Not the way she does it,” you say, “Daddy never could raise a hand to us, but it seem like that only makes momma come at us harder in his place.” 

You look on down the road like you can see into the future. 

“She don't mean it,” Stack says. His eyes are focused, serious in a way you've never seen them. You've heard about mister Moore and how tough he could be. You shook your head, eyes burning. 

“They don't know what it does to us,” you said, “it's one thing being hit in anger by some fella on the street, but when it's your own mamma or daddy?” You shake your head, “They can't remember how it feels. Otherwise they'd never do it.”

Stack grinned, a little sadness in his eyes. 

“You a big girl, ain't you? Just like you know what's gon make her mad, you know what not to do. Like standin here with us.”

“I wasn't gonna let you get arrested,” you said, and Stack's grin stretched into a smile. 

“Real good of you, what you done.” Smoke added

“Real good,” Stack added, his burning gaze never leaving your eyes, “Real sweet. And when she's givin’ you the switch, just think a something else, take the sting out of it.” 

That's exactly what you did. While your momma had you bent over her knee, going at your behind with the switch, and your sisters were in the hallway giggling at your misfortune, you closed your eyes and thought of Stack. 

Your parents kept up their close scrutiny of you and your sisters. Never again were you sent on an errand alone, and by the time you reached 23, you were still single, still a virgin, and still living at home. 

You went to community college and earned an associates degree which got you a job as a bookkeeper at the church. A “clean” job where your mother could keep an eye on you through the eyes of Sister Doreen and Mother Jacobs. Every day you went back and forth from the church to your parent's house and back. Whether for service or to balance the books, church and home were all your life consisted of. That is, until the Smoke Stack twins came back. 

You woke up tense that morning. The summer sun was blistering, and you kept getting this funny feeling like you were forgetting something. Stack’s name was on your mind so bad, you couldn’t keep it out of your mouth. Every time you spoke to someone, it rolled out hot and eager from the tip of your tongue. 

“Stack these papers over there for me, Doreen?” 

“Biggest stack of Bibles I’ve ever seen.” 

Stack, Stack, Stack. He was being whispered into your ear, and just like every time he came to mind, the mention of him removed you from your current time and place. Over and over your mind left your body in the little office at the church and floated back to that hot summer day when he spoke to you. When he called your laugh pretty. By the time 5pm rolled around and Smoke strolled into the office, you were so disconnected from reality you thought you'd gotten heat stroke. He stood in the doorway of the little peach-colored office in the nicest suit you’d seen in your life. 

“Evening,” he said, removing his hat. 

“Evening,” you answered, your heart in your chest. “Been a while.” 

Never one for small talk, Smoke gestured to a chair near your desk. 

“Please,” you said, “can I get you anything? Some water? Sweet tea?”

He turned down your offerings and said he and Stack were home. They’d bought that abandoned saw mill from the city and were fixing it up. Tonight was opening night of their new jazz club. 

“We need a third set of eyes on the books tonight, make sure we get off on the right foot. If you know what I mean.” 

“I do.”

You pulled a fan from a desk drawer and started fanning yourself. 

“Smoke, I do appreciate you asking me, I just don’t know if I can get away from home.”

“You gotta man keepin’ tabs?”

You chuckled. 

“I got the same momma is all.” 

Smoke nodded once, knowing without being told what that meant.

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend lying to Mrs. L/N, seeing as how she can read the face of God. But should you find your way to Club Juke tonight, I know Stack would be happy to see you.” 

Your mouth wouldn’t open. You sat there radiating heat and fanning furiously. Smoke took his leave, and you were left to melt. At home, you were restless, your mother eyeing you as you tapped your foot through dinner and barely ate a thing. After, you sat with her and your younger sister, Jorna in the living room.

Gospel shouted from the radio while your father read the paper and Jorna did her school work. You sat in the nook of the bay window with your knitting in your lap, but you were looking out at the world. The low rows of houses along your street and beyond their roofs to the horizon, where the sun was setting. Something was itching in you. 

“Heard them no good Moore boys came home,” your momma said it like she wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, but when you turned she was looking right at you from her chair beside your daddy's. Her lips were pursed and she was peering at you from over the rim of her glasses. Folded between her hands was her prayer book. 

“Samuel's off with em now, Lord help reverend Moore, that boy is running towards sin.” 

You looked back out the window. Little Sammy was surely with his cousins tonight. Singing and playing his guitar like he was famous for. You'd always wanted to hear him play, to see the joy you knew music could bring to people. You'd always wanted to feel that joy yourself. What little dancing you did was private. Late night sessions of scanning the radio for 'hip-rolling music' and practicing in the mirror.

You sat there, squeezing the knitting needles and staring out into a world you needed to be a part of, a world that wanted you in it. You took a breath. 

“Momma, it slipped my mind, I promised miss Elena I'd help her recount the bingo money tonight.” 

You hurried yourself, stuffing your knitting away into the basket beside the window. Jorna and your father lifted their eyes to watch your sudden fluttering. Your mother cut her eyes at you but you didn't stop moving, you rushed to the stairs. 

“It’s quite late for countin' Bingo money,” your momma said. 

Your heart jumped into your throat and your foot paused on the stair. 

“It’s a last minute favor, momma. Miss Elena don’t see too well these days, she needs the help.” 

She held you there in her hard gaze and for a moment you were petrified. But why? Why should you be so grown and still afraid to disobey her? It wasn’t fair. Your older sisters Belle and Lily had both lived under her until they got married to church men who took over her role as watchers. Prison guards. Whatever fun they had was hidden to escape the judgment of people like momma. Why couldn’t you be happy in the open? Why couldn’t you have fun? You set your jaw. 

“Momma, I’ll be back in time for church in the mornin’.”

You didn’t wait for another word from her. You left to your room, knowing she didn’t believe your lie, but why should you care? You didn’t care. Your heart was racing something fierce as you changed into a dress you’d bought with no place to wear it to. Long and fitting, purple lace over a sewn-in slip.

The sleeves were long and lace, the neckline just above your cleavage. You adjusted your hair and touched a little liner and mascara to your eyes, then stared at yourself in the mirror of your bedroom. Stared at the woman looking back at you like you were meeting her for the first time. 

You turned this way and that and saw that the body your momma had been trying to hide all these years had become a woman’s body. You grabbed your purse and descended the stairs to find your momma was the only one still in the living room. She watched you come down with such coldness in her eyes it snapped the heat out of the air. You stood tall. 

“Don’t wait up for me, momma.” 

Your hand touched the knob. 

“You turn yourself loose tonight, don’t come back into my house.”

Your eyes were burning as you looked at her, anger rising from your stomach. You wanted to yell, ask her why she couldn’t see you didn’t belong to her and never had. Instead, you considered the time, and left without another word. 

Club Juke was a hive, and as you approached the doors you found the music was reaching out to pull you in. Not that you needed more of a draw than Stack. Cornbread was working the door and greeted you with surprise. 

“Even the church girl up in here tonight?” He laughed, “Now I know we got something special.” 

The feeling in the club was pure electricity, as you made your way through the grooving bodies you felt goosebumps prickling up your arms and a smile fastened itself to your face. The lights were low and warm, and the space full of chocolate brown and emerald. As you looked around, you saw beauty shining back at you. Passion was all over the room, in the low tables with their velvet tufted chairs, and in the brass and gold fixtures, the cocktail napkins and the dresses of the women.

You were rushed by the warmth of a world you’d been taught to look down on. There were folks dancing close, women with their fingers caressing their men and drinks gracing lips everywhere you looked. The energy buzzed through you, making you giddy. 

You made your way to the bar and were excited to see Annie tending it.

“Hi, Annie.” 

The woman behind the bar lifted her eyes, staring for a moment like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.   

“Well, look at this. I see one more member of the church in here I’ll swear we’re turning the whole flock.” 

You laughed and God, it felt good! 

“I’m here to do the books,” you said. 

“Nothing to drink, then?” 

You considered it. It would be your first drink since that one taste you snuck when you were 17. Annie saw the desire in your eyes and started to pour, making you laugh again. 

“Oh Lord,” you said, accepting the glass, “what have I gotten myself into?”

“Just a little freedom, that’s all,” Annie’s kindness put you at ease, and made you regret the things your mother had told you about her ‘dark-sided ways’. No one had ever seemed more wise and peaceful than Annie. 

The second the liquor hit your tongue your face was twisted up in disgust and Annie was chuckling. You managed to get it down with a shiver. 

“Jesus on the cross!” you called. Then, you paid for the drink and ordered one more. After the second drink, you were warm and loosened down to your toes. It felt like kicking off a tight heel, like a wash of relief so strong it made you close your eyes, which you did. You closed your eyes and hummed; the music had gotten into your bones. 

When you opened your eyes, Annie was smiling. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, at your momma, at the tickle down your back, at everything.  

You felt a hand on your back and when you turned your head, your heart leapt into your throat. 

There was gold in Stack’s smile. You felt your breath leave you only to find you couldn’t call it back for a moment. 

“Only one girl got that pretty laugh,” Stack said, “Miss Suga sweet.” 

Stack’s voice rolled over you warm and thick as molasses. Finally, you were able to collect yourself enough to speak. 

“Since when you call me Sugar?”

“Since you kept my black ass outta jail.”

You couldn’t help but smile. 

He offered you his hand and your stomach rolled with a flutter, but you took it and he helped you stand, whistling as he looked you up and down, bidding you to spin around for him. 

“You always dress like dis for work?”

You shrugged, feeling lovely in the light of his attention. 

“Didn’t just come for work. Thought I’d have myself a drink and maybe dance a bit, too. If I can.” 

“Oh you can,” his eyes were still dragging up and down your body, and that gaze felt just like hands, on your thighs and hips and moving over your chest. “I know you can.” He bit his lip and your nipples tightened. You were embarrassed thrilled to notice Stack’s hungry eyes lingering there, watching your chest rise and fall. 

His smile grew, and since he was still holding your hand, all he had to do was tip his head, and lead you to the dancefloor near the stage. 

She said “Take your time, what’s the rush?”

I said, “Baby, I’m a dog, I’m a mutt”

Stack pulled you against his body, and as he started to move, your nerves rattled higher, worried you wouldn’t know what to do. It was one thing to dance in your bedroom at night, and dancing at church socials was all shoulders and two-steps. This was different, Stack was pulling your hips in close to dip and sway with his. You kept up by imitating the women around you. Your hands moved to his shoulders and you swiveled in time with him, your chest up against him, your heart pounding like a fist. 

“Yeah das it,” he murmured, his breath on your neck, “Just like dat.” 

Lord you could’ve passed away. You focused on the movement, let it ease into you and soon you were feeling it naturally. His hands made themselves at home along your back and then lower. 

“Been thinkin’ bout that ass so long.”

You looked up into his chocolate eyes. 

“How long?” You asked. 

“Too damn long.” 

His mouth was soft. You didn’t think he’d be kissing you so soft but he was. His lips plush and smooth as they pressed against yours. Your head was full of clouds, your body full of fire. You followed his lead, slipping your tongue against his as he was doing to yours. A sharp pulse rang right up the center of you and a little moan rolled into his mouth. He tightened his grip on you, and you looped your arms up over his shoulders. 

Stack pulled away first, and you were about to ask what was wrong when you realized someone was calling your name. Cornbread was shifting through the bodies yelling for you to come to the door. 

“She won’t leave till you come out,” He called over the music. 

Your heart dropped, imagining it was your momma. 

Stack went with you to the door, but instead of your momma, it was your neighbor, panting like she’d run all the way there. 

“Dee? What happened? Is my momma okay?” 

Dee leaned against the door catching her breath. 

“Ya momma’s fine– but all yo shit – on the sidewalk–set on fire.”

Goosebumps raised along your body, your stomach clenching in a wave of nausea. You pictured everything you owned in that house you grew up in, burning in the street like trash. You knew she’d intended to hurt you and you didn’t wanna let her win, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes burned imagining every picture you’d drawn her as a kid, postcards from friends, yearbooks, your music, your favorite dress. All of it, she’d destroyed. Why? 

You felt an anger taking hold in you like never before, but you wouldn’t run to her, that’s what she wanted. Instead, you turned back into the club, unsure where you were going. Smoke and Annie had shown up to see what the issue was, and now stood back to give you space, Annie with a look of regret on her face. You burned with embarrassment. Stack caught your hand and led you upstairs to a storeroom that hadn’t been cleared out yet. Ten feet of space mostly taken up by an old desk and card table. The furniture was covered in sheets, the only light a weak fluorescent panel near the door. You rushed into the room, slamming your purse onto the table. 

“I can’t believe her,” you say, shaking your head as you pace the small room, “Always preachin’ bout God’s love but she sits up there judgin’ everything and everybody! Like she’s so good! Like the church is a perfect place when really there’s just as much evil and meanness in there as anywhere else! Years–my whole life I been livin’ how she wanted me to, Stack! I ain't do SHIT she ain't know about! And now this! I ask for one night to just do something for me, something that feels good and she does this?!” 

You sat on the desk, wiping carefully at your eyes, trying not to further smudge the already cloudy makeup. Stack approached slowly, his hands warm on your shoulders. You shook your head again. 

“She told me I wasn’t welcome home if I came out tonight.” 

“But you here,” He said, his voice mellow and caressing. You looked up at him, into the beauty of him. “Seem like she don't own you like you thought.”

“I can’t be her girl no more. It hurts too much.” 

He traced a thumb over your bottom lip. 

“You ain’t never been her girl,” he said, moving in close to your mouth, “always been my Suga' sweet.” 

His kiss was rougher this time, more stern and intent and it rushed inside you like a blow of flame. His hands gathered you up and his tongue took up against yours and you knew it was true. You had been his all along, and he’d known it. You pushed yourself deeper into the kiss and let yourself be mulled over, let yourself love the heat of his hands. A pulse between your thighs pushed a small, hurting sound out of you and he licked it off your tongue.

Your arms were around his neck and you felt him lowering you onto the desk, felt him shift his leg between yours so when your hips met your muff was pressed right up against the hard mound in his pants. He lifted your leg and you hooked it around his hip, his hand palming your ass, his fingers so close to your middle you shuddered. 

He moved his lips to your neck, kissing at first and then biting, rolling his tongue over the skin, making little beads of light gather and pulse in your clit. He pushed himself against you, rubbing and drawing more whine from your throat. You pushed your hips up to catch more and felt his hardness grind against you, striking you like a match. Your moan thickened. 

“Das my Suga',” he mumbled warm against your neck. He scooped his hand under your ass and pushed your hips harder against him, groaning as a shudder wracked your body. You held onto him, the heat of his body all over you. 

His hand moved to your chest, palming and rolling your breast in his hand, your nipple squeezed between his fingers, adding to the rolling heat inside you. You’re whining and moaning, moving your hips against him. He reached down, hooking his fingers into your panties and anxiety rushed you in a flash. 

“Stack,” You panted. He lifted his head, his eyes clouded as he looked at you, “I-I…”

“Talk to me, Shug.”

You swallowed. 

“I’m a virgin…”

His eyes cleared and he blinked a few times before sitting up a little, his brows pulling together. You rose up on your elbows, face warm. 

“A virgin,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. “You ain’t never?”

You shook your head. 

“Never. I sometimes…visit on my own, but never…never had anything in there.” He looks you up and down and your nerves get the better of you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just…”

He hushed you, taking you under your chin to make you look into his eyes. 

“Ain’t no problem, Shug. Shit, let me be honest, I like it.” 

You studied his face. 

“You do?”

“Always did wanna be the first man to make you say his name. Just figured I lost ma chance being gone so long,” He moved his hand from your jaw and slid his fingertips along your collarbone, then, dipping his fingers into your cleavage, he slowly pulled your dress down, “Now I come back, find out ma Suga sweet been waitin’ on me.” 

A spark of pride made you wanna argue the point, say you hadn’t been waiting for him just waiting in general, but as he freed the swell of your breasts from the lace bodice, his hands claiming them like they were his, you felt the truth of it. The quiet hope you were holding onto every time you turned down the advances of a boy from church or a cousin/nephew/friend of one of the deacons. You don’t tell him you’d been hoping and praying that someday he’d come back. You certainly don’t tell him you would’ve settled down with some nice enough man if you were still alone by 26.

His mouth came down hot and wet over your nipple and the shock of pleasure made you suck in a breath. You grabbed his arms, anchoring yourself as the rolls of pleasure started to move again. From your nipples down into your middle where Stack was still grinding himself against you. A hot surge was growing in you, and your moans turned desperate as they built. Stack's hand moved between you, his fingers meeting the wetness of your slit over your panties. 

“My Suga's wet like dis for me?” 

You nodded. His fingers swirled in circles. He stood back to look you in the eyes. 

“What you say?”

“Yeah,” 

He shook his head. 

“Say ‘yes Daddy Stack’”

Heat rose in your face. 

“Yes Daddy Stack.” 

He sighed, and pulled your panties off in one quick motion, stuffing them in his pocket, all the while his eyes don't leave yours. When he returns his fingers to your pussy, he rubbed the wetness in circles, pushing it over the lips, watching the motion as he did it. Then got down to eye level with it and a flutter of embarrassment came over you. Being seen for the first time. 

“Pretty pussy,” he said, “jus like I thought.”

His mouth landed hot on your clit, stealing the air you would've used to whisper ‘thank you’. Instead, the shock made you squirm and your thighs tried to close, but he pushed them apart, making room for himself, for his tongue to start curling into you. His mustache tickling as he worked. His slurping and swirling had your head full of static, your breathing heavy and split with high moans you couldn’t control. Your hips rocked up, greedy and shameless.

Stack’s arms wrapped around your hips, pushing you closer onto his tongue as he lavished attention on your swollen pearl. The fever spreading in you suddenly surged, and with it came the feeling of teetering on a high ladder. You grabbed onto his arms like a woman suffocating. 

“Stack,” you pleaded, conflicted, wanting more, wanting it to stop, afraid of the oblivion he was giving you. You tried to scoot away but he only yanked you back. 

“Uh uh,” he said, his eyes full of warning, “You stay yo pretty ass where I put you. Hear me?” 

You shivered, trying to catch your breath. 

“Yes, Daddy Stack.” 

His smile dropped your stomach, and before you could say anything else he was tearing into you again. The surge was only stronger for having had a break and you felt yourself shuddering with ragged, whining moans, his name in your mouth. His name inside your body as you broke, your pussy melting on his tongue. The moans you gave up then were the loudest sounds you’d ever made and they shook in your chest, your legs shivering, as well. It felt like softening and being rushed through, like your body had turned to silt and slipped away; it felt like dying. 

You lay drained and dizzy, while Stack stood over you, licking his lips, undoing his belt, and looking at you like a meal he’d just begun to enjoy. You lay there re-learning how to breathe while Stack pulled himself free from his pants, and you got to see the part of him you’d been guessing at for years. It was more than you could’ve imagined, and you bit your lip watching him polish it with both fists. 

“Now Shug, don’t be scared. This here gone be ya best friend.” 

He came around to the side of the desk, bringing his dripping tip to your lips and you opened your mouth without being asked. He slowly filled your mouth, hissing as he sank into your throat. You gagged but recovered, trying your best to take all of a length that just kept coming, till he was flush with the back of your throat. 

“Das it,” he groaned, his hand came down on the back of your neck, guiding you forward as he started fucking. He groaned, again, rolling his head back, “yeah, das my lil suga sweet.” 

He reached a hand to your chest and started playing a nipple. 

“Put a finger in dat pussy, loosen it up for me.” 

You reached down to the tender, slippery place his mouth had been and started to push your middle finger inside, feeling the muscle hug and resist every bit of it. Stack was rushing his dick in and out of your mouth, giving you quick breaks to breathe before rushing back in to plunge the back of your throat.

You tried hard not to gag, the effort pressing tears from your eyes, saliva running thick and hot with every thrust. You moved your finger in and out, hoping for a little give but the stretch stayed the same. You pressed for a second finger, eager to get yourself ready for what was in your mouth. You moved your two fingers and your pussy held them firm, the stretch like a sore muscle. 

Stack pulled your hand away, then pulled out, and with his dick came thick saliva. He opened his palm near your mouth. 

“Gimme dat,” he said. You spit a pool of it into his hand which he transferred to your pussy, looking you in the eyes while he rubbed the wet heat over your clit and lips and opening. He bent and kissed you again, his tongue returned soft and cool, a brief and lovely reprieve. When he stood up he was stroking himself and moving to stand between your legs. Your nerves rose, watching his approach. He rubbed the inside of your thigh, shushing your nervous fluttering before it even got started. 

“We gone get you opened up tonight, Shug,” he leaned over you again and you could feel his tip waiting at your entrance, swirling as his hand kept moving. His eyes were focused and close, his voice low. “You trust me?” you nodded, though your face had apprehension all over it. Already, the heat between your bodies was drawing sweat. “Good,” he said, he nestled his lips into your neck, “You just stay still.” 

Stack brought a hand to your hip, and started to push. He went slow, with a quiet suck of air as he felt the resistance. The stretch began and you gathered air, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, the feeling of stretching a sore muscle slowly grew to an intense over-fullness that made your breath catch and shake out. He kept pushing, and you squeezed your eyes closed.

There was no space inside your body and as he pushed, you felt yourself pulled taut, your heartbeat thumping around the length of him. He kept pushing and you tried not to squirm, tried to hold the little whimpers working their way up your throat but there they were and he heard every one. Every pained little sound. 

He shushed you and sweetly kissed your neck, but he kept pushing, and then came an ache so deep and rich it made you quiet. You lay still, afraid to move, afraid he would keep moving, but he didn’t. He rested the base of himself at the center of your body and held there. He raised his head and found you slack-jawed and teary-eyed. Inside, you were aching, every thump of your heartbeat pulled tight around him, your cervix screaming. You focused on him. 

“You good?” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Thinkin bout the day you walked me home,” your voice was worn to honey, your throat sore. “Thinkin bout somethin else, takes-”

“The sting out of it.” 

He finished your sentence and looked at you with the kind of admiration you’d always hoped for from him. Like he was really seeing you for the first time. His brows hard and furrowed, his eyes warm and focused, and also shining. It was the shine which had been missing all this time. An extra glimmer of wonder while he studied your face.

He took his time kissing you, then, the two of you locked into focus with each other in a way that was new for the both of you. Stack, who had finally found himself ready to take care of such a delicate thing, was, in his mind, making grand promises to himself and to you. About how he would treat you. The man he would be from that moment on.

Meanwhile, you were slowly losing awareness of the ache, and awakening to the fact of your body being yours to do with as you please. Including giving it to him. As much control as your momma thinks she has, she couldn't have stopped this by any means other than those which broke commandments.

After a time, Stack’s hips slowly got moving again, pulling out to slowly push back in to his base. The pull remained the same, the heartbeat still fresh and sore, but you didn’t feel the need to cry anymore. Stack took his time, but he didn’t stop again until he was cursing and biting your neck, so close it hurt.

“Cum for me, Daddy Stack.” 

It was just what he needed, and he was emptying himself inside you, humping deep and hard and squeezing your hips. It was the first thing in your life you’d asked for outright. 

He settled into your arms, kissing your throat and collarbone and shoulder. A knock came to the door, and your heart leapt as the handle rattled. 

“Aye, Stack?” Sammy’s voice called muffled through the door and Stack leaned back, an aggravated vein rising in his throat. 

“Gone, Sammy!” he called, his voice booming. You touch his chest slicked with sweat, admiring the toned muscles of his stomach.  

“Man, Smoke looking for you,” Sammy called, “Not too happy you ran off, neither.” 

You cover your mouth, hiding the amusement on your face, of course, not before Stack caught it. A playful smirk revealed the gold in his smile.  

“You laughin?” You shook your head. “You lucky you new to dis, or I’d give you somethin to laugh about.” 

He helped you off the table, your hips stiff and sore, and while the two of you got yourselves together, you felt yourself finally settling from the high of what had just happened. You watched him button his shirt and you helped him straighten his tie, his cologne thick and beautiful. You didn’t want to go back to the club just yet, would've much preferred to be in his arms for a while. It felt like too much to ask. After all, you didn’t really know what this all meant.

Your momma had always told you men like Stack only wanted one thing. They’d say anything to get it, but once they did, you were no better than a rock on the ground to them. She told you to pinch a penny and never drop it until your wedding night. You were supposed to give yourself to your husband on clean white sheets in a proper bedroom, not in some dusty old office. She said men wanted loose women, but never respected them, and certainly never married them. You stood fiddling with your nails, mulling over every word Stack had ever said to you, scanning them for truth and lies. 

“Aye,” he lifted your chin with the edge of his finger and you found his eyes picking apart your worries. “You hurt?"

You shook your head.

"Kinda sore, but I'll be alright."

He didn't seem satisfied with that answer.

"Come on, now, Shug. We ain't gotta tell nobody we was in here.” 

“It’s not that.”

Pounding on the door made you jolt and Smoke’s voice came firmly through the wood. 

“Stack, 'less you dead, I suggest you bring yo ass.” 

“Nigga, I’ll be out when I’m out!” Stack gave back, then returned to you with a lowered voice. “Tell me wassup.”

Your nerves shook, and everything in your head felt like too much to say and so needy. You wanted to be with Stack but you wouldn’t rush at him with all the questions and worries on your mind. 

“Can you just…hold me a minute?” 

His shoulders lowered, and you watched his expression soften into one of slight surprise, and then slight amusement. 

“Shit, das all?” 

When he took you in his arms, you tucked yourself into him and let yourself believe the things he told you. It felt real. The timbre of his voice, the petting way he called you Sugar sweet, the warmth between your bodies. All of it was real. You felt the urge to say you loved him but you held it in your chest. Sheltered, for the time being, under the glow of a lifelong wish come true. 

Hope you all enjoyed it. For now I'm viewing this as a stand alone story but let me know if you want more, I could see taking this a few more chapters.

muah~

[szagaloree]

FYT (Stack.M x R)

Summary: “I might end up with us kissing, touching, fuckin’…girl ya body’s callin’ for me, I’m fucking you tonight.”

Contains: my extremely poor self control, everyone has a country accent, this is still for the _ strictly for the _, cursing, smut, kissing, oral (fem receiving), he’s not a vampire but he’s STILL a munch, his di€k is big and fat because cmon look at this man, nasty kissing seriously, unprotected s£x, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, rough s£x, I’m talm bout innnitttt, choking, one spank, petnames, begging, nippIe sucking, biting, u got that WAP fr, it’s cool bc Stack ain’t scared of drowning, he’s also a pvssy bully, smoke got jokes apparently😒and anything else I know I’m forgetting 🙂🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n- this is long so good luck🤝🏽🫶🏽 @childishgambinaax @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @twistedsistas-stuff @ayeeeitsmiracle @browngirldominion

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

The room was silent.

Nothing besides the sound of your breathing and the muffled music from downstairs but the air buzzed with an electric kind of tension, thick and dangerous.

“Last chance baby, you wanna tell me what was that earlier?”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel yourself grow even more restless. The fact that he was giving you an easy way out already tipped you off that you were about to get put through your paces and that was fine because you didn’t want it easy, you wanted it hard. And in order to guarantee that…

“Not unless you wanna admit that yo’ ears was working just fine and that you don’t really need me to tell you a damn thing, then nah. I’m good.” You snark as you tilt your chin up and it actually does get dead quiet. Stack squints, furrowing his eyebrows while blinking because it’s no way he heard you correctly…except he did.

There’s a click of teeth and before you can brace yourself or open your mouth to sass him some more- you’re flat on your back with your heart in your neck and a big hand locked around your throat getting tighter by the second.

It doesn’t paint you in the best light as a lady, especially not one who’s supposed to be respectable the way you soak through your panties, hips twitching upwards and your dress pooling around your hips from because of the man standing between your thighs looking down at your everything as you whine- shamelessly. Stack watches the way your eyes flutter, mouth dropping open as you gasp. Partially because of the lack of oxygen and also because of the arousal burning though your body.

His grip is tight.

Tight enough to make you lightheaded but he knows you wouldn’t have it any other way; so wet he can taste you in the air and he smiles at how your mouth wasn’t the only thing slick about you. The sight of gold adorning his canines almost make you pass out. Shuffling your hips back a bit, you go to hump up against the fat swell in the front of his slacks and surprisingly, not only does Stack let you- he meets you. Grinding down heavily against your cunt, bending over to suck wetly at your mouth and you’re in heaven.

Bringing a hand to his belt, you pull softly at the leather and instead of taking it off, he pulls away, cooing in mock sympathy at the needy frustration on your face.

“You want it, sweet thing?”

Instinctively, you almost close your eyes because it’s bait and you know it is. It always is when he gets to talkin’ to you like that- low and indulgent. Still,

“Mhm”, you swallow; breathing somewhat clearer with Stack’s hand loosened, “I-I want it-”,

“Tough, ‘cause you can’t have it.”

Your blood is boiling underneath your skin from how bad you need him and pissed off tears begin to bud in your eyes as you glare up at him with all the heat in hell itself but his grin stays in place. Moving his hands on either side of your head as he starts moving against your core, hitting your button with every filthy grind and you moan weakly.

“Why n-”,

“Because I’m in charge and you ain’t ask nicely enough for my tastes.” He purrs against your collarbone before licking a hot wet stripe up your throat to suck nasty bruises under that spot beneath your ear that makes you keen. Large hands grope all over your body, settling on the low cut of your dress and Stack slots his mouth over yours again, tongue filling your mouth and you’re rutting against him just as hard while sucking on the muscle in pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you run your nails down the nape of his neck. Bad(good) move.

All of the sudden, there’s a loud rip. Stack yanks away from your lips to look at the torn top of your dress. Was it expensive? Yes. Did you care? No. He swears before taking one of the swollen buds into his mouth and you gasp, drawing your eyebrows together in bliss- head spinning. Yet before you can loose yourself, Stack rolls the bud between his teeth and bites.

Pain blooms through your chest instantly making you choke, Stack tugging it before he lets go, letting the swell bounce back into place. The sting lingers something real fierce though and before you can bitch at him for it, he laves his firm tongue thickly over it, soothing the tenderness and you shudder.

Unfortunately for you, it’s only the start of the cycle as he gives your other nipple the same treatment. Sucking, biting to the point of pain, then heavy licking. It hurt but it was also good. So good that the thrumming pain in your nipples paired with the delicious waves of pleasure in your rutting core has you coming hard.

Stack doesn’t take his eyes off you.

No, he loves to see the way your pretty face forms into a pout and your swollen lips form that sexy O as you gasp and cry for him, smooth skin and licked raw nipples. Biting his lip, he watches dazed as you writhe in ecstasy, panting when you start to come down.

You’re dizzy and sweaty but you’ve never felt better still you need more. When try you catch your breath, you end up swallowing it when Stack begins to undo his vest and shirt with one hand and sliding your cum slick panties off then pocketing them with the other. You get to drink in the hard lines of muscle before he drops to his knees, pushing your dress up all the way n pressing a fat wet kiss to your clit before sucking it into his greedy mouth and you hear colors.

He’s got you sobbing in under a minute because normally when you cum, he’s kind enough to give you a couple minutes.

You really should have taken him up on taking the easy way out.

Nestling himself further into your cunt, it’s lick after lick between your swollen pussy lips, electricity running up your spine as you tremble. Heat rushes over you in mind numbing waves and threatens to overtake you completely when you’re filled with three of his thick fingers, back arching as they start to swirl harshly against that spot inside you that makes you melt, thrusting sloppily.

Stack presses his lips tight around your nub and when he starts to suck, you fall apart and he groans into your pussy while you lose it and it’s music to his ears.

And just like he knew you would, you beg.

Between the sobbing, the screaming, gasping, moaning and even apologizing…you beg- certain you were gonna lose your mind if he kept going. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear so he kept lapping away. Drinking you down like you were the best liquor in the country.

“I- uh! Said I was s-sorry- fuck!” Shaky, worn out moans break up your sentence as Stack pulls away with an obscene smack, looking up at you with a wet mouth and lidded eyes- he licks his lips, humming at your taste.

“I heard ya but you know I want more than a lil sorry..”, he trails off and you know what he means; left to choose between your pride or your sanity.

In the moments that you decide, Stack resumes. You feel him roll your nub around with his tongue and when you feel the start of teeth- you break.

“Okay! Okay! Before- I-i said somethin’ under my breath! You was right..”, and Stack looks like the cat the got the cream.

“And what did y’say, pretty?”

Your face burns but you still speak loud enough for him to clearly hear that:

“I said that I..,” you swallow and decide to just get it over with.

“‘Said that I wish you’d break me in.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfaction rolls off Stack in waves as he nods slowly, rising to his feet with a smirk. He hums to himself as he manhandles you onto your stomach, pressing you down into a deep arch and when you hear his belt and fly come undone, blood rushes through your ears. The fat head of his tip presses at the messy wetness of your hole and he bites his lip.

“Y’ready for me to break you in, sweets?”

A warbled moan is the best you got and he takes it, stuffing you full in one thrust. Jesus Christ, it’s such a tight fit that it hurts but in the best way- back arching further as you grapple weakly at the desk. Sobbing moans and wet smacks filling the room. Stack lets out a heady groan, watching the fat of your ass recoil with every thrust, thick strings of your wetness dripping off his cock every time he slides out and he snaps.

Tangling his fingers through your hair, he gets a good grip and pulls, landing a heavy smack on your ass too. The sting makes your eyes water, intensifying the pleasure you already feel as you tighten around him and he’s fucking into you hard enough to knock the air clean out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Stack’s so overcome with pleasure that he can barely think, tingles coiling up is spine as his cock is wrapped in the tightest heat he’s had in his life, ears ringing with your moans that are rising and he knows that when you cum, it’ll be heard-even over the music.

He’s so big that he doesn’t even have to try to hit that spot inside you- shifting a little, pounding away at the nerves n’ the way you go boneless tells him all he needs to know.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

It feels like his fat head is snug up against your stomach and you just can’t quiet yourself down. Broken cries spilling from your throat with drool pooling underneath your cheek and the sight makes his chest burn; railing more than a few of your screws loose.

You were so close.

You’d been close before you waved the white flag by admission and of course he knew that. The twitching of your cunt is on the verge of milking him and he lets go of your hair to wrap his grip around your throat instead, biceps bulging as he squeezes, lips flush against your ear whispering the nastiest things and it’s too much.

Clamping down around his fat cock so tight, he can’t even move as you cum. Its like each and every one of your nerves sizzle before exploding while you leak messily around him, almost blacking out from the overwhelmingness of it all. Stack hisses at how your walls pulse around him, fucking into you with his grip tight around your windpipe until soon enough he lets go too, shooting deep into your pussy with a heavy groan.

You both take a good couple minutes to catch your breath but Stack recovers first. Pulling out slowly then adjusting himself before helping you turn over to lay on your back, breathing heavily. You’re sweaty, you can’t feel your legs, you didn’t have an extra dress to change into, but you got what you wanted and that’s what matters. A lazy grin comes over your face and Stack smiles with you, leaning down to kiss you softly and you purr happily.

“See? Y’so much nicer after you get sum ‘act right’.” Stack’s grin broadens, dimples deepening when you roll your eyes, unamused.

“Not true. I always act right.” Now that was a lie. A lie so blatantly obvious that he laughs, chest warm as it moves against yours and your face warms in affection.

“Right. And I’m Jim Crow-”, his chuckles cut off his own sentence as you swat him on the arm, laughing with him and he’s all too content until there’s a knock at the door.

“Stack n’ company? Y’all decent?” Smoke’s voice is muffled through the wood. You snort at the ‘n company’ part while Stack hurries to cover you with his jacket. It’s big so it works and kind of itchy but smells wonderful and you glow as you nod at him to respond.

“As decent as we’ll be tonight. Come in.”

Smoke comes in and his eyes widen at the state of you two. Whistling,

“Damn! You know it’s bad when you can tell who floats like a butterfly and who stings like a bee-”,

You cover your face in embarrassment as Smoke laughs so hard he has to lean against the door to hold himself up. Stack has to bite his lip to keep from laughing with him too. Sucking his teeth instead.

“Man, what do you want?” Smoke shakes his head before answering like it’s obvious.

“To see if y’all ready to go home or if y’all staying here all night.”

Huh?

“Smoke, what time is it?” He looks at his watch then back at you.

“1:47- almost 2 in the mornin’.”

Damn. The joint closed at one. Wait-! That meant-

“Could y’all-”,

“Hear? Nah, we imagined it. Cornbread gon be talkin’ bout y’all though. Anywho-“,

Your lips thin into a line and you feel a headache coming on before Stack tells his brother that yes, you’re going home and to go wait by the bar and while y’all fix up and he shoots him a look before going, turning on his heel and closing the door. You look up to find Stack already looking at you, smile soft as cotton.

“You alright, baby?”

Warmth blooms all over and you just wanna cuddle him but that’ll wait until you’re back in bed. Leaning up, you kiss him sweetly on the cheek.

“My back hurts but m’ absolutely perfect, now cmon. Smoke’s waitin'.” He nods, kissing you one last time before pulling off you. Making himself presentable and buttoning the oversized blazer of his you have on.

Stack’s carrying you down the stairs to meet Smoke and go home when you gasp, remembering something.

“Do you think Cornbread’ll have told the entire world by tomorrow?”