#michael b jordan x black fem reader

[pyraomen]

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

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

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

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

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

everything felt just right, until she heard her name.

mary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that did it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[writerofautumnnights]

A Dance with the Devil

*No spoilers. It takes place before the brothers return to Mississippi

pairing: Elias “Stack” Moore x Black!OC

sumary: Lena Pearl, a waitress in Al Capone's world, confronts Elias "Stack" Moore, a man caught in the same violent life she tries to escape. As tensions rise, they both face the uncomfortable truth about their shared darkness. Their connection is undeniable, but will it be their salvation—or their undoing?

warmings: angust, mention of death, internal conflicts, survival and violence. English is not my first language.

word count: 4,7K

-

The Green Mill - Chicago, 1929

The cutting Chicago wind was no match for the heat emanating from the basement beneath the old barbershop. Lena Pearl adjusted her string of fake pearls as she descended the wooden stairs that creaked under her careful steps. Her emerald-green dress – simple enough not to draw attention on the streets, yet elegant enough for the job – reflected the yellowish glow of the strategically placed lamps around the lounge.

"The princess has arrived," murmured Big Joe, the security guard stationed at the inner door. He was one of the few men Lena allowed to speak to her that way.

"Mr. Capone asked for you three times today."

Lena just nodded, without revealing the weight those words carried. Working for Al Capone was like dancing constantly on the edge of a cliff – dangerous, but impossible to walk away from. There was a strange vertigo in that routine, as if she lived suspended between the urge to disappear and the need to keep being seen.

The Green Mill was buzzing despite it being only Tuesday.

The economic crisis that ravaged the country seemed only to intensify people’s thirst. The saxophone wept on the small improvised stage while white men in expensive suits mingled with South Side workers – all equal in their pursuit of the oblivion only forbidden alcohol could provide. It was ironic – the deeper the country sank, the more vibrant that basement became as a refuge for broken lives.

"Bourbon for table three and a double whiskey for the man with the hat in the corner," said Gina, another waitress, hurrying by. "Oh, and watch out for that new guy. Stack, I think. He’s been watching you since you walked in."

Lena discreetly lifted her gaze toward the indicated direction. In the shadows, partially hidden by the haze of cigarette smoke, a Black man in a dark gray suit stared at her without disguising it. There was something in his eyes – not the usual lust or curiosity Lena was used to ignoring. It was as if he recognized her from somewhere impossible, from a life she had never lived.

She looked back. For the first time in a long while, Lena allowed herself to hold someone’s gaze. There was a restlessness sneaking under her skin – recognition, maybe? Or just loneliness? Elias “Stack” Moore wasn’t just a new man at the bar. He was a living question mark, a reminder that she could still be moved by something other than fear or cynicism.

As she served the tables, she felt the weight of that gaze on her back.

For the first time in ages, Lena felt the loneliness she carried like a second skin. Among so many, she was always alone – it was what kept her safe, what kept her alive in a world where women like her served only temporary, limited purposes. And now, there was a man who seemed to see beyond the role she performed every night.

"Miss Pearl." The deep, controlled voice surprised her as she turned from a freshly attended table. Elias was there, too close, too real. "Allow me to introduce myself, Stack."

"I know who you are," she replied, offering neither a hand nor a welcome. "And I’m working, Jack."

"Stack," he corrected, with a restrained smile. "Just wanted to say Mr. Capone speaks very highly of you. Says you’re the only honest person in the entire place."

Lena couldn’t suppress a half-laugh. “Mr. Capone has an interesting concept of honesty.”

“Maybe,” Stack stepped aside, allowing her to pass – a rare gesture of respect in that place. “But I’ve learned to trust his judgment when it comes to people.”

Before Lena could reply, the back door burst open violently. Two men in overcoats entered, followed by a blast of cold wind. One of them – short, round-faced, and wearing a dangerous smile – was unmistakable. Al Capone removed his hat, revealing his scarred face, and his eyes immediately found Lena.

“Pearl!” he called out, ignoring the bows and greetings around him. “Bring me my whiskey. The special one.”

Stack watched the subtle transformation in Lena, how her shoulders adjusted, how her expression closed off even more, how she became both more present and more absent at once. To him, it was like watching a butterfly retreat into its cocoon at the first sign of threat.

As she walked away, Stack felt a strange pang. Who was that woman, really? Why did she seem so profoundly alone, even in a crowded room? And why was he, a man used to staring death in the eyes – so unsettled by a simple waitress?

“Always on time, Mr. Capone,” she replied with rehearsed formality, already heading to the bar to fetch the bottle kept especially for the boss.

Elias watched her go, realizing in that instant what Big Joe had hinted at earlier. There was something about Lena Pearl that set her apart, not just her undeniable beauty or the dignified posture she maintained in a world that constantly tried to shrink her. It was something deeper, a quiet resistance that seemed to say:

“I’m here, but I don’t belong to this place. I never will.”

Lena returned with the special bottle of Scotch whisky – smuggled in recently from Canada, on a shipment that had cost three men their lives the week before, though no one spoke of it. She carried it on a silver tray, along with a single crystal glass. At Capone’s table, the men fell silent as she approached.

“Here it is, sir,” she said, placing the tray on the table and pouring the first drink with the precision of someone who knew exactly how much pleased him.

“Thank you, Pearl.” Capone looked up, his eyes lingering on her face for just a little too long. “I missed you last night.”

In the background, the piano began a melancholic melody, blues notes weaving through muffled conversations and thick smoke. The saxophonist – a middle-aged Black man with eyes that looked like they’d seen hell – joined in with a wail that made the hairs on the back of Lena’s neck stand on end.

“I wasn’t feeling well, sir. My apologies.”

Capone nodded slowly, not believing her, but willing to accept the lie – for now. He looked at her like a man who believes he owns everything he sees. And Stack saw it. He also saw the pride in Lena as she masked her contempt behind flawless professionalism. That was resistance in its purest form. And beauty. And pain.

Capone’s gaze drifted past her shoulder, noticing Stack watching the scene quietly.

“Stack!” Capone called, his voice shifting suddenly to a louder, more expansive tone. “Come meet the Green Mill’s crown jewel.”

Elias hesitated for just a second before approaching the table – but that brief pause seemed to stretch, as if he were deciding whether to dive or retreat from the edge of a cliff. His eyes met Lena’s, and in that brief exchange, there wasn’t just tension – there was memory. Not real, but instinctive. As if they recognized in each other something long forgotten, a shared pain disguised as strength.

“Mr. Capone,” Stack greeted with a nod. “We’ve already met.”

Capone raised his eyebrows, a smile with more teeth than joy. It was the kind of smile that served as a warning.

“Have you?” he asked. “My Pearl’s charmed you too? She has that effect on men.” He laughed, but the sound held no warmth – it was just noise, like ice cracking. “But she’s different. Not like the other girls around here.”

Lena remained still, like a painting of herself. Her face was neutral, expressionless, but her clenched jaw betrayed the tension underneath. Stack noticed and understood. Capone’s words, though wrapped in charm, were fences. A territorial warning.

“I can see that,” Stack replied, his voice even, but not his eyes. His eyes said something else. They said he truly saw Lena. “Some people carry their own light. Even in the dark.”

The saxophone, almost as if conspiring with the moment, let out a sharp note – nearly a wail. The music captured what words couldn’t: That something there was on the verge of breaking.

Capone took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes following Stack with measured interest. “Stack did us a big favor last night,” he said, his tone taking on a more performative flair.

“That issue with the Irish on the North Side? Taken care of.”

Lena’s stomach tightened at the violence in the memory. That morning’s newspaper headline returned like a punch:

Two bodies floating in the river,

Enough bullets to erase names, stories, families.

Now reduced to mere statistics – and silence.

“Stack has a steady hand,” Capone continued, his pride laced with provocation. “Not like those amateurs who make a lot of noise and do little else.”

Elias kept his expression unreadable, but his eyes sought Lena’s – for just a second too long. And she saw it. There was something there – a tremor, perhaps regret, or the shadow of doubt. Not something that could be said out loud. But it was there.

“I just did what needed to be done,” Stack replied. There was weight in his words and emptiness too. Like a man used to digging holes inside himself.

Capone laughed loudly, slapping the table with delight. “Modest! I like that in a man. Makes doing business easier.”

Then he turned to Lena with that look – the one that always reminded her of her place.

“Pearl, bring us another bottle. I want to properly celebrate Mr. Moore’s success.”

"Yes, sir," she repeated. But her thoughts remained tangled in the truth she couldn’t ignore.

Stack was like the others. A killer. A man who took lives for money, for loyalty to Capone, or for any excuse that helped him sleep through the night. And still… he had looked at her as if she were whole – as if both of them might find some kind of salvation in each other’s eyes. That hurt more than any lie. Because Lena didn’t want to feel that. She couldn’t afford to.

The music seemed to change, as if the room itself could hear her thoughts. It grew heavier, more oppressive.The bass throbbed like a broken heart, while the saxophone cried notes that clawed through the air, sharp with regret.

“Pearl?” Capone’s voice pulled her back. “The bottle?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

Lena turned toward the storeroom where the special bottles were kept, suddenly suffocated by the heat and smoke in the room. She needed air, space to think. To process the disappointment she wasn’t supposed to feel – Because what had she expected? That in this nest of vipers, one man might be different?

“Stack, go with her,” Capone ordered, voice casual, but his eyes calculating. “Show her which bottles we brought back from the Jefferson Park stash.”

Stack nodded and followed Lena, keeping a respectful distance as they moved through the crowded room. The singer had taken the stage now, her husky voice rising above the instruments, singing a blues made famous by Ma Rainey:

“Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… For a man’s got a heart full of jealousy...”

The lyrics hit like a warning, a painful truth that echoed in Lena’s ears as she walked, hyper-aware of Stack’s footsteps behind her. Every syllable a sting. Every note a reminder.

When they finally reached the hallway that led to the storeroom – away from Capone’s watchful eyes and his men – Lena stopped abruptly and turned to face Stack. There was fire in her eyes. But it wasn’t just anger. It was fear too. Of him. Of herself. Of all of it.

“The Irish,” she said, her voice low but laced with something trembling between disgust and necessity. “Was it you?”

Stack glanced around, making sure they were alone before answering. His eyes returned to her with the same intensity as before but now, there was a thread of exhaustion in them.

“Is that what matters to you?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. “Or is it just something to help you keep your distance?”

“Don’t answer a question with another question,” Lena snapped, anger rising in her like a rising tide. “Two families lost their sons yesterday. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Stack stepped closer – still composed, but his eyes betrayed a storm beneath. “Those men tried to kill three of ours last week. They were planning to raid this place tomorrow night.”

“Ours?” Lena let out a bitter laugh, but it came out like a blade. “So you're one of them now.”

“I don’t consider myself anything but what I am,” Stack replied, voice quieter now, as if speaking from the bottom of a well.“A man trying to survive in a city that only gives people like us certain paths.”

The music from the club reached them like a whisper, the blues seeping through the walls like the heartbeat of a wounded creature. It echoed everything they weren’t ready to say.

“And what path is that?” Lena asked, barely breathing.

“Killing for money? Doing the dirty work for men like Capone?”

“And what’s your path, Lena?” Stack shot back, eyes burning. “Pouring drinks for men who look at you like you’re for sale? Smiling while dying a little more inside every night? Pretending you don’t see the bodies being dragged out the back?”

Lena blinked, as if his words were wind throwing dust into open wounds. He was right and that hurt more than any lie.

"At least I don’t pull the trigger," she said, steady on the outside, but wavering within. Because she knew – even without blood on her hands, she was still part of that theater of horror.

"No," Stack murmured, his tone now more sorrowful than accusatory. "You just serve the drink that celebrates after the trigger’s been pulled."

The silence that settled between them was thicker than the stifling air of the corridor. It wasn’t just silence – it was the weight of everything they felt, and everything they wanted to deny.

The music outside seemed to swell, as if the saxophone understood the gravity of that moment. A melodic lament, like a warning that what was being said couldn’t be taken back.

"We need to get that bottle," Lena said finally, her voice slipping back into a practical tone. "Capone’s waiting."

"Capone’s always waiting," Stack muttered, more to himself than to her. "The question is: how long are we going to keep doing what he expects?"

Lena didn’t respond. The question echoed inside her like a prophecy. Then she turned and continued down the hall toward the storage room, her footsteps blending with the muffled rhythm of the blues that followed them like a ghost through the dimly lit corridor.

When they reached the door, Stack reached out and gently took her arm. It wasn’t force – it was an anchor.

"Lena," he said, a vulnerability trembling beneath the surface of his voice, "we’re not as different as you want to believe."

She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. And what she saw there – honesty, doubt, fear – scared her more than any threat ever could. Because it was real. Because she was on the verge of believing it, too.

"That’s what scares me," she whispered, almost regretfully. And then she opened the door.

Stack followed her inside. He closed the door slowly, like someone closing a confessional. The sound of music became even more muffled.

The pantry was a narrow cubicle, barely larger than a closet. Shelves of worm-eaten wood supported rows of carefully organized bottles–some with legitimate labels, others with homemade seals, all containing the forbidden elixir that kept Chicago running like a drunken clock. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, casting dancing shadows on the exposed brick walls.

Stack adjusted the red handkerchief in the breast pocket of his pinstripe suit–a touch of color in a man who seemed made of shadows and restraint. His presence there, in the tight space, was like an eclipse; he occupied no more physical space than necessary, but his aura filled the environment. He was the type of man who had learned to make the minimum seem impossible to ignore.

“Third shelf, second row,” he murmured, approaching Lena from behind. It was strange how he seemed to know the place better than she did, each word measured like expensive whiskey–warm, direct, impossible to forget. “The whiskey came from a shipment we received yesterday. Legitimate Scotch. A man died for it.”

“Just one?” Lena asked bitterly, stretching to reach the bottle. The movement drew attention to the scar on her right wrist, a thin, whitish line that extended across her exposed skin. Her sleeveless dress left her arms completely bare, revealing not only the scar but also the delicate strength of her shoulders.

Stack noticed, but didn’t comment. In his world, every scar had a story someone preferred to forget. He knew that kind of silence well.

“I like to know who I’m dealing with,” he said, his voice low like a confessional. “And so do you, right? That’s why you asked about the Irish.”

Lena reached for the bottle, her slender fingers closing around the amber glass. The liquid inside shimmered under the precarious light like melted gold. Gold with the taste of blood.

“I just want to know what kind of man I’m trapped in a pantry with,” she replied, without turning. “Self-preservation.”

Stack almost smiled. There was something in her calculated coldness that fascinated him–perhaps because it sounded exactly like the lies he told himself every morning when he woke up.

“You asked me if I pulled the trigger,” he said, advancing a step. The space was so tight that the heat from his body reached her back. “You want to know if I’m a killer or a man with principles?”

“Is there a difference in this place?” She finally turned, the bottle between them like a fragile barrier.

The proximity was dangerous. There, in the yellowish light, Lena could see the golden grillz that adorned his teeth, gleaming discreetly when he spoke, the way a vein pulsed almost imperceptibly at his temple, the texture of skin marked by years under the merciless sun. Too many human details for a man who should be just another customer, just another danger to avoid.

“In 1917, I enlisted in the 369th Infantry Regiment,” Stack said, his voice suddenly distant, as if he were reciting facts about someone else. “Harlem’s ‘Hellfighters,’ that’s what they called us. I spent 191 days on the front, without rest, without replacement. More than any other American unit.”

Lena wasn’t expecting a confession. Not there, not now. The entire Green Mill was waiting for them to return with a bottle of whiskey, not with war secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with uncomfortable intensity. “I wasn’t a violent man before the war. Afterward… afterward, violence began to make sense. Something about surviving changes the way you see the world.”

The smell of old wood mixed with the subtle aroma of whiskey filled the air between them. Outside, muffled by the thick walls, the piano melody continued, an ironic soundtrack for that confession no one had asked for.

“The Irish were armed,” he continued, something trembling beneath the surface of his words. “They were going to kill everyone at the Miller’s Club on 35th Street. There were women there. Children in the back. Employees’ children.”

Lena felt a shiver run down her spine. Stack wasn’t justifying himself. He was sharing a burden with someone he sensed might understand. The burden of impossible choices.

“I’m no better than you, Lena. I’m no worse. We’re just two survivors caught in Capone’s web, trying not to be devoured.”

The light flickered for a moment, as if the building’s electricity felt the weight of that conversation. In the brief moment of dimness, both their faces seemed more vulnerable, stripped of the masks they wore in the hall.

“Your eyes recognized me when I entered that room,” Stack murmured, his voice now almost a caress. “Why?”

The question caught her off guard. It was true–something about him had awakened an instinctive recognition, like an echo from another life. Was it the way he carried his own pain without ostentation? Or perhaps it was just the loneliness she recognized, so similar to her own?

“I know your type,” Lena replied, trying to rebuild the wall he was, without realizing, tearing down. “Men who think they can save the world, or at least themselves, by working for the devil.”

Stack’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile–that rare smile Gina had mentioned, like the sun breaking through at the end of a cloudy day. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to completely transform his austere face, revealing the man behind the legend that Chicago was already building around him.

“And you?” he asked, leaning slightly. The space between them diminished with each breath. The perfectly adjusted tie at his neck seemed a contradiction to the controlled intensity in his eyes. “What do you think you’re saving by working here?”

She could feel the warmth of his breath–whiskey and cigarettes, but also something cleaner, like mint. A man who arrived without making noise, who made entire rooms fall silent by instinct, but who cared about insignificant details like his own breath, even in a world of chaos. This disturbed her more than any threat.

“I’m saving the only thing I have left,” she answered with a honesty that surprised her. “The illusion that I still have a choice.”

Stack raised his hand, hesitant. For an instant, Lena thought he would touch her face – a gesture she wouldn’t know how to receive. But he only adjusted a lock of hair that had escaped her careful hairdo, his finger lightly brushing the skin of her temple.

“We all have choices, Lena,” he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. “They’re just not the choices we’d like to have.”

The distant sound of breaking glass in the hall brought them back to reality. The world outside continued its course, indifferent to the secrets exchanged in the small pantry.

“Capone is waiting,” said Lena, resuming her professional posture like someone putting on armor.

Stack nodded, taking a step back. The space between them expanded again, but something had changed in the air. An invisible bridge had been built–fragile, perhaps temporary, but undeniably real.

“You know what the hardest part of the war was?” he asked, as she turned to leave. “It wasn’t the combat, the bodies, not even the constant fear. It was coming home and discovering there was no more home. That the place we return to is never the same as the one we left.”

Lena stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Her back was to him, but Stack could see the tension in her shoulders, the rigidity that betrayed that his words had reached some deep place.

“You know that feeling, don’t you?” he insisted. “Of belonging to a place that no longer exists.”

Lena closed her eyes for a brief moment. Images of a simple house in New Orleans, the smell of jambalaya on the stove, laughter of children playing in the yard. A world that had collapsed so long ago that sometimes it seemed to have been only a particularly vivid dream.

“We’re taking too long,” she said, her firm voice contradicting the tremor in her hands. “And that’s dangerous for both of us.”

When she turned, bottle in hand, her eyes avoided his. Stack understood the retreat. He knew that dance too well–the cautious approach, the mutual recognition, and then the strategic withdrawal. It was the only way to survive when you carried more scars inside than out.

“What do you think Capone is really celebrating with this whiskey?” he asked, deliberately changing the tone of the conversation, offering her the exit she silently requested.

“Something none of us wants to know,” replied Lena, grateful for the change. “Ignorance is sometimes the only protection we have.”

Stack held the door for her – an anachronistic gesture of chivalry that seemed almost comical in that setting of criminality and survival. But Lena noticed how he positioned himself strategically, so that he would be the first to enter the dark corridor. Protection, not courtesy. The difference mattered.

As they walked back through the corridor, the sound of jazz grew progressively, like a tide rising to engulf them. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume mixed with tobacco announced their return to the real world– a world of masks and well-rehearsed roles.

“I know you don’t trust me,” murmured Stack, leaning slightly so that only she could hear. “And you’re right. But if you ever need help…”

“I won’t,” Lena cut in, but without the coldness from before. There was something almost like gratitude in her tone.

When they were about to emerge back into the hall, Stack stopped abruptly. Lena almost collided with his broad back.

“What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

“I saw something in the back of the storage room,” he replied, his voice suddenly tense. “Boxes that shouldn’t be there. With military markings.”

Lena felt a chill. Weapons. They could only be weapons. Capone was planning something bigger than the usual territorial disputes.

“Forget what you saw,” she whispered urgently. “For your own good.”

Stack stared at her, the dim light of the corridor creating shadows on his angular face. “Is that what you do? Forget what you see?”

The question hit Lena like a slap. For a moment, the air between them seemed too heavy to breathe.

“I survive,” she finally responded. “It’s what we all do.”

The music in the hall changed to something more lively, as if mocking the tension between them. A loud, fake laugh from Capone crossed the stuffy air, a timely reminder of what awaited them.

Stack held her arm gently, his warm fingers against her cold skin. “There’s a difference between surviving and living, Lena. At some point, we’ll have to choose.”

Before she could respond, he released her and went ahead, emerging into the golden light of the hall like a man without weight on his shoulders, his face already wearing the mask of efficiency that Capone appreciated.

Lena breathed deeply and followed him, the bottle of whiskey in her hands weighing like lead. As she approached Capone’s table, where Stack had already resumed his place, she realized something disturbing–for the first time in years, she felt fear. Not the familiar fear of Capone, of violence or poverty.

It was the fear of possibilities. The fear that perhaps, just perhaps, there were more paths than she had allowed herself to see.

When she placed the bottle before Capone, her eyes briefly crossed with Stack’s. In that silent look, there was an unspoken promise–or perhaps a warning. His eyes, which normally seemed always distant, trapped in a past he never talked about, were now firmly anchored in the present. In Lena. In possibilities too dangerous to name.

“Stack!” Capone’s voice cut through the air. “Where’s your brother tonight? We need the best for tomorrow’s job.”

“Smoke is taking care of that business in the South Side,” Stack replied, his voice returning to its usual formality. “He’ll be here early tomorrow.”

Lena noticed how Stack transformed near Capone–every movement calculated, every expression a perfect mask. It was as if he stacked layers of protection between his true self and the world. Stack. The man who always had something stacked: money, marked cards, too many secrets.

The future was as uncertain as Chicago on a foggy night. But one thing was certain: that meeting in the pantry had planted a seed of doubt that, like the weeds in the city’s abandoned lots, would be difficult to eradicate.

And as Capone raised his glass in a toast, celebrating some bloody victory, Lena knew that something had changed inside her–something silent, dangerous, and irreversible like the tick-tock of a time bomb hidden in the city’s basements.

Nobody knew for sure where Stack had come from, only that he appeared in Chicago–along with his brother–on a night of heavy rain, with a worn suitcase and a look that said he had left more than memories behind. Now, Lena wondered what else he hid behind that gaze which, for a brief moment in the pantry, had lowered its guard only for her.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

-

Heyyyyyyyy,

There's no tag list, I just had to launch something that was burning in my mind as soon as I left the cinema. Feel free to show your love. Until next time 🥹❤️

~

[noirsfantasy]

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 | 𝖕𝖙. 1

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Michael B Jordan as Adonis Creed x Black!Plus-sized Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Smut

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ Creed

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛3.4k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛A chance encounter between you and Adonis at a label party turns into a passionate and intense romantic night.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛Guys, guys, GUYSSSSSS!!! Y'all are gonna love this one, I'M TELLING YOU! You won't be disappointed.

Next Part

My heels click loudly as I make my way into a large bustling event. I had been invited by my best friend, Bianca to attend the label party she set up for one of her artists. As I walk in, my heart races with excitement as the buzz of the crowd fills my ears. I had been to a few of these exclusive events before and I knew how to dress the part. I'm dressed to impress, my black dress hugging my curvy frame and accentuating my hips. My hair, curled to perfection, falls gently onto my shoulders, and my red purse adds a touch of sophistication to my look.

I feel a buzz from my phone and smile, seeing a text pop up.

"Someone's looking sexy," It reads and I see that it's from Bianca. I scan around the room, looking for her as she's already spotted me. When we make eye contact, I smile and make my way over. She smiles at me and gives me a big hug, which I return.

"I'm so glad you made it!" She tells me as we part.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, B. Besides I'm always down to support my bestie." I reply with a wink, causing Bianca to chuckle.

"You sure you not just tryna steal the show?" She questions playfully as she raises an eyebrow. I giggle and shake my head.

"No way, girl. I just threw something on that I thought would match the theme." I assure her but she purses her lips.

"Really? Cus from what I'm seeing all that ass is getting more attention than my artist." She says, gesturing to my outfit and the way it complements my body. I nudge her shoulder.

"Girl, whatever! That is not true." We share a laugh and I shake my head.

"Anyways, make yourself at home. There's an open bar and, you know, just enjoy yourself. I gotta go talk to these producers real quick." Bianca takes my hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go and walking over to do some networking. I sigh a bit, rubbing my glossy lips together as I look around for anyone familiar.

I'd always been a bit shy, but there's something about being in a room full of celebrities that makes me feel like I'm living a dream. I smooth out my skirt as I weave between people, smiling politely at acquaintances. That's when I see him - Adonis Creed, a famous boxer. I've been a fan of his for a while and, I must say, he's even more breathtaking in person. His brown skin gleams under the warm lights, his goatee and large stud earrings giving him a rugged yet sophisticated edge. And those dimples? Those lips? They can make anyone weak at the knees.

I realize I've been staring when our eyes meet and he holds my gaze for a moment. A smile tugs at his lips and I have to look away quickly to hide the blush that is forming.

As the evening progresses, I find myself crossing paths with him a few times. He'd always give me a charming smile and I'd smile politely back, before going back to what I was doing. Each encounter only serves to leave me feeling more intrigued and attracted to him.

I decide to get a drink from the bar and as I order from the bartender, someone appears next to me.

"I'll have what she's having." He says and I look up to see Adonis. I clear my throat nervously and I smile politely at him as I shift in my seat. He smiles back, taking in the way I cross my legs, my movements effortless and sexy. The heat starts to rise in my cheeks as I feel his eyes on me. "I gotta say," He starts, leaning against the bar. "You killing with that outfit." I meet his eyes once more and smile at the flattery.

"Thank you, glad to know my efforts haven't gone unnoticed," I reply as the bartender hands me my drink. I thank him and then look back at Adonis.

"Yeah, you caught my eye from across the room. But I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. What's your name?" He inquires, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel a blush creeping onto my face as I take a sip from my drink for courage.

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you." I introduce myself, holding my hand out. He takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle shake before lifting it to his lips and landing a soft kiss on my knuckles.

"The pleasure's all mine, Y/N. I'm Donnie." He replies, his grip on my hand lingering for a bit before letting go. The action sends butterflies through my body. "You a friend of Bianca's?" He asks.

"Yeah, her best friend, actually," I say with a chuckle, taking another sip of my drink and feeling the warmth rise through my chest. Adonis raises an eyebrow in pleasant surprise.

"I thought your name sounded familiar," He says with a smile, his eyes studying my face. "She mentioned you a few times. Said you were important to her." His gaze roams over me, enjoying how the alcohol visibly loosens me up.

"Really? That's sweet. I never knew she talked about me to other people." I hide a bashful smile, appreciating my friendship with the producer.

"Although, I've gotta admit, her descriptions of you don't do you justice at all." The compliment rolls off of his tongue easily, but it's clear he means every word. I find myself blushing again and laughing softly as I look away. There's an undeniable spark between us and, as we speak, my shy nature seems to dissipate. We find ourselves engaging in witty banter, my lips curling into a smile as I match his flirty tone.

"So, you a fan of boxing, gorgeous?" Donnie asks, leaning a little closer, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes seem to see right through me and I get the sense that he's just as interested in me as I am in him.

"Maybe," I reply with a playful grin, enjoying the game of cat and mouse. "It depends on the boxer," I say with a shrug.

"Ah," Donnie shoots back with a wry smile, leaning in even closer. "You've got a type, I see. Let me guess, you're probably into those pretty-boy fighters, the ones who don't get their hands dirty. Guys like Ryan Garcia, maybe?" I tilt my head as if I'm thinking.

"Hmm, no not really. I'm more into the dangerous ones." I say, my eyes locking on his. A wolfish grin spreads across Donnie's lips as I share my preference.

"Ah, so you're after someone who can bring the heat, huh? Someone who gives you that flutter in your chest just by being near them." A pause as Donnie lifts his drink to his lips. "You're not afraid to mix it up and get your hands dirty?" I raise an eyebrow, biting my lip slightly.

"I think getting dirty is part of the fun," I tell him with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, I can promise you, it always is," Donnie replies, his voice low and husky. Our eyes lock, the air between us feeling charged with a heat that wasn't there before. "But be careful, gorgeous," he adds. "Some games can end in a brutal knockout."

"Really? Well, good thing I'm always up for a challenge." A mischievous glint appears in Donnie's eyes as he leans even closer.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Donnie muses, his gaze flickering with a predatory flash. We talk for a bit longer, flirting back and forth until the party eventually draws to a close. I find myself unable to resist the pull between us. With a boldness that surprises even me, I approach him, my heart pounding in my chest.

"So, Donnie," I begin, my voice having a suggestive edge, "are you going to ask for my number, or do I have to make the first move?" A flash of desire crosses his face, and he steps closer, his body radiating heat.

"I think we can skip the whole dating game charade," he murmurs, his lips inches from my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Why don't you come back to my place? I'll show you why they call me Big D." My breath quickens as I slowly nod, unable to speak past the lump of desire in my throat. Taking his hand, I let him lead me out of the event and into the night, a delicious anticipation building inside me.

The ride to his place is a blur of streetlights and adrenaline, my body tingling with eagerness. As soon as the door to his home shuts behind me, Donnie presses me up against it, his lips claiming mine in a passionate kiss. I melt into him, my hands roaming over his muscular back, feeling the definition of his powerful body.

His hands find my curves effortlessly, his touch a perfect balance of firmness and gentleness. My body presses against his as my hands caress his jaw and neck, the stubble on his face tickling my skin.

"Damn," Donnie curses under his breath as he pulls away briefly, his lips moving to explore the expanse of my neck. Each kiss leaves fire in its wake and I let out a soft moan, my eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

Breaking the kiss, he looks deeply into my eyes, running his thumb along my bottom lip. Our lips crash together sloppily as I tug at his shirt impatiently.

"Eager, are we now?" Donnie teases, his breath warm against my neck. He gently pushes my hands away and lifts his shirt, revealing chiseled abs and a defined chest. I trace the ridges of his muscles with my fingertips, feeling every contour, every line. I feel like I'm dreaming, but the heat of his body and the taste of his lust on my tongue are all too real.

He lifts me into his arms and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. I feel small in his embrace, but also protected. The way he easily carries my weight and holds me, all while showering my neck with kisses, sends tingles through me. I moan softly, tilting my head to give him better access as my hand rests on the back of his head, my acrylics grazing his scalp. Donnie brings my lips to his once more, sucking on my bottom lip slightly. He carries me into the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss, and lays me down on the edge of the bed.

Donnie's hands slide down my body, tracing the curves of my thighs and legs as he gently slips my heels off. His hands travel up my back his fingers finding the zipper of my dress, slowly pulling it down.

I lift my hips to help him undress me, a playful thrill coursing through me as I expose myself to his hungry gaze. He strips away my clothing until the only thing left are my lacy panties. His eyes rake over my body, taking in every curve, roll, and stretch mark, before returning to my face, the fire in his eyes searing me to my core. He leans down, cupping my breasts and taking my sensitive nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth as I whimper from the pleasure. He kisses the soft skin tenderly, before trailing his finger along my jaw, ghosting over my lower lip as I look up at him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers, kneeling before me and guiding my legs over his shoulders. His fingers run along my outer thighs as he presses a kiss to the damp fabric between my legs, his touch leaving goosebumps in their path. I bite my lip, watching him gaze upon me in a mix of awe and lust. "I've been dying to taste you all night."

A ripple of excitement runs through me as his eyes burn with desire. He pulls my panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. Without another word, he lowers his head, his tongue lapping at my core, flicking my clit and driving me wild.

A strangled moan escapes my lips as his mouth sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body. His talented tongue works me over relentlessly, every lick and suck driving me wild with want. My hips buck against his face as I lose myself in the sensations, my hands on the back of his head, pressing him closer.

"Donnie~" I pant breathlessly, aching for more. A low growl rumbles in Adonis's throat as he hears his name fall from my lips.

"That's right, mama," He breaths against my slick folds, sending tingles through my core. His grip on my thighs tightens as he resumes his devouring assault, his tongue lapping and swirling with unyielding hunger. I can feel the vibrations of his moans against my sensitive skin, causing my back to arch off the bed slightly.

A wicked grin spreads across Donnie's face as he feels my body react to his stimulation. He sucks and swirls his tongue around my clit, intent on driving me wild with pleasure. My hands grip the sheets, fueling his desire as he moans against my core. Donnie's strong hands firmly hold me in place as I squirm beneath his grasp.

"Oh god, I'm so close~" I moan as I throw my head back, rolling my hips. Sensing my impending release, Adonis doubles down, his tongue working my swollen bundle of nerves with ruthless precision as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs tremble against his grip as I feel my climax rising to the surface. With one final flick of his tongue, he sends me hurtling over the peak into a crashing wave of ecstasy.

My body tenses as my thighs grip his head, holding him in place as I come undone. Adonis laps up every last drop of my sweet nectar, groaning with unbridled satisfaction. When my tremors finally subside, he slowly pulls back, his lips glistening as he lightly kisses my inner thigh.

"You taste so good, babygirl," he purrs, his voice dripping with lust. I pant heavily as I start to calm down, my racing heart beginning to slow. I whimper softly as he moves up my body, pressing his hardness against my thigh.

Adonis's eyes darken with desire as he hears my whimpers and he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I'm just getting started." His fingers trail up my outer thigh, his touch feather-light but electrifying. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he whispers before capturing my mouth in a searing, passionate kiss.

My arms wrap around Donnie's neck as I whine into the kiss, tasting myself on his tongue and aching to feel him inside me. He teases me, grinding his clothed cock against my entrance, soaking the fabric. A groan emits from his throat as the delicious friction drives him wild with need. He pulls back just enough to swiftly rid himself of his remaining clothes.

Donnie's cock springs free, thick and throbbing as he positions himself at my entrance. "You feel that, baby?" He rasps, rubbing the tip teasingly against my slick folds.

"Yes-" I gasp as he prods my hole, just barely pushing in before pulling back again. I roll my hips to try and press you deeper, but you don't budge.

"Someone's impatient." He taunts, eliciting a whine from me.

"Please~" I beg, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at how desperate I sound. A chuckle escapes him as he continues to tease me with his cock.

"Say it again," he demands, drawing his lower plump lip between his teeth while pressing into my heat, only allowing the tip to enter. I grunt with frustration.

"Please, Donnie," I whisper, my voice thick with desire. "I need you. Now." Without warning, he surges forward, burying himself to the hilt with a moan of ecstasy. I let out a yelp as I stretch around him, feeling his dick pressing against my cervix. Adonis's eyes widen as he feels me tighten around his hard length.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," he growls, his fingers digging into my hips. Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, establishing a deep and steady rhythm as he fills me over and over.

"Oh my god- So big~" I manage to say between moans. I meet his thrusts, my legs locking around his waist, pulling him deeper. My long nails dig into his back, threatening to break, but I don't care. I groan as he fills me up completely, stretching me just barely past my limit.

Adonis's eyes flash with lust as I cry out, relishing the feel of every inch of him buried inside me. He groans throatily, driven wild by the sensations of my silky walls clenching around his throbbing length.

"That's right, take it all," he rasps, his hips rolling in a steady, punishing rhythm. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me flush against him as his lips claim mine again. My tongue swirls around his as I pull him impossibly closer, my body melting against his. The kiss becomes more possessive Donni's large hands roam my body.

He tears his mouth from mine only to latch onto my neck as he starts rolling his hips against mine, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. He uses one hand to turn my neck, exposing more of my skin, and the other to capture my nipple in his fingers, rolling the sensitive peak between his digits. His hips increase to a relentless pace, driving his thick shaft in and out repeatedly. The obscene sounds of our joined bodies fill the air, only rivaled by my mewls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I'm gonna wreck you." He whispers against my skin, his voice hoarse as the force of his thrust urges another moan out of me.

"Mhm, yes please f-" My breath hitches, unable to finish my sentence as he picks up speed. He shifts his weight to his knees, leaning his head back as his cock slams deliciously into my core. Donnie's powerful hips snap forward with relentless abandon, the bed creaking under our combined weight.

I press my hands to the headboard behind me for support as the force of his thrusts move me further up the bed. I look up at Adonis, but his eyes are screwed shut, his brows knitted together and jaw clenched as every muscle in his sculpted body strains with the effort. My whimpers and moans mutate into screams of pleasure as he chases his own release, his thrusts growing more erratic.

"Don- nie-" My words are stuttered as my brain turns to mush from his movements, his hands grip my hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into me, desperate to find his edge.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Let me feel that sweet pussy milk my dick." He urges, his voice hoarse. His words send me over the edge, my body clenching around him as I climax, my back arching off the bed as a flood rushes from between my legs. I let out a whine as he continues to thrust, splashing my fluids back onto me as the feeling of me tightening around him sends him over the edge as well.

A strangled cry of pleasure tears from his throat as his hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he is enveloped in the throes of his own climax. He collapses forward, burying his face in the crook of my neck as his body shudders with the intensity of his release. Waves of blissful ecstasy washes over us, every nerve ending alight with sensation. When the tremors finally cease, he rolls to the side, pulling me flush against his sweat-slicked body.

"Damn, baby..." he breaths, placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

"That was... fuck, I don't even have the words." I reply softly as my cheek rests against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat slowing. Adonis chuckles breathlessly, his strong arms wrapped securely around me.

"Tell me about it. That was..." He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief. I smile to myself as we lie there in bed, basking in the bliss of our pleasure. At this moment, nothing else matters. It's just me and Adonis. Just two strangers, yet it feels like he knows every part of me. I sigh contently, feeling the lull of sleep falling over me.

[cronaskullz]

YALL KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS 😈

NEED HIM OML!!!!!!

ALLA THEM TOO>>>>>

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

[innorality]

stack x reader (sinners)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it took you by surprise, to be honest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spookysanta]

Keep Your Eyes Open. (MBJ)

Summary: When she talks slick, she has to pay the price.

Pairing; Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: porn without plot, basically. rough sex - hair pulling, choking, spit, whole nine. unhinged michael.

a late idea i had. you're welcome.

MINORS DNI

It started with her mouth.

It always did.

She’d been talking slick since the moment she woke up. Half-whispers while brushing her teeth, playful digs over coffee, brushing up against him as she passed by just to smirk and keep walking. It wasn’t even full-blown teasing. It was worse. Constant. Casual. That quiet, confident tone she used when she thought she had the upper hand.

Michael let it ride. He didn’t say a word.

All day long he’d just watched her. Tracked every word she said, every swing of her hips when she turned a corner, every stretch of her thighs beneath one of his old T-shirts. No bra. No panties. Just the shirt and her mouth.

It had been building for hours.

When she walked through the bedroom that night, barefoot and freshly showered, humming to herself like she hadn’t been a menace all damn day, he barely looked up from his phone. But when she paused in front of the mirror, caught a glimpse of herself, and turned just slightly to admire the curve of her ass in his shirt, she did it.

She smirked. Right at her own reflection.

And that was it.

Michael set his phone down and stood.

She didn’t hear him at first. Not until he was behind her. Not until his hands were at her waist and his mouth was at her ear. “Stay right there. In front of the mirror.”

Her breath hitched. She looked up. Saw his eyes in the reflection — low, dark, unreadable.

He pushed her forward gently until her palms were on the dresser and her face was nearly pressed to the glass. Her shirt rode up with the motion, exposing the curve of her hips and the soft dip of her lower back. He stepped back just enough to look at her. Really look at her.

The mirror showed everything. Every inch of her skin. Every shift of her weight. Every nervous flutter of her eyelashes. “Michael—”

His hand slid up her spine, slow and firm, until it reached the back of her neck. He held her there, thumb brushing the hairline behind her ear. “You wanted attention,” he said, his voice low and calm. “So now you’re gonna watch what it looks like when you get it.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. One hand held her steady, and the other gripped her hip, guiding her back onto him in one hard, hungry thrust.

She gasped, eyes went going in the mirror, lips parting in a silent scream. Her knees almost buckled.

“Look at you,” he muttered, drawing back just far enough to slam into her again. “Watch your face when I fuck the attitude out of you.”

She tried to. Tried to stay focused. But it was impossible to hold her own gaze when the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the room and her body shook with every thrust.

Michael’s grip was unforgiving. One hand anchored on her waist, pulling her back to meet every stroke, the other sliding between her legs, fingers slick with the evidence of how much she loved this. His fingertips circled her clit, slow and brutal, until her moans got louder, sloppier, higher-pitched. “You feel that?” he said, breath hot against her ear. “You feel how soaked you are for me?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering.

“Say it.”

“I feel it,” she moaned. “Fuck, Michael—I feel everything.”

He growled deep in his chest. Fucked into her harder. Her thighs slapped against the dresser edge, hips arching, tits bouncing beneath the shirt that clung to her sweat-damp skin.

Then he stilled.

Pulled out.

She whimpered from the loss, confused and dizzy.

He turned her around by her shoulders, pushed her down to her knees. “Open.”

She did, mouth wide, tongue out, eyes up.

He gripped the back of her head, slid into her mouth inch by inch, slow enough to savor it, deep enough to feel her swallow around him. Her lips were soft and warm and so eager. Spit coated his cock almost immediately. She was messy with it, drool dripping down her chin, her own arousal practically pouring between her thighs just from the act of pleasing him. “God, this mouth,” he breathed, hips starting to roll. “I could live in this fucking mouth.”

She moaned around him. That sound vibrated against him, sent a pulse of heat straight up his spine. 

“You love when I make a mess on your pretty face?”

She gagged as he thrust deeper. Then he pulled back, wiped the spit from her cheek with his thumb, and let it trail down to her neck.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” she panted. “Love when you make a mess of me. Love when you use my mouth. Love it—need it—”

“Good.”

He didn’t warn her.

He just came.

Hot and hard across her tongue, groaning as her eyes fluttered, as her lips stayed open and perfect to catch it all. He let it drip down her chin, smearing it with his thumb, then kissing her forehead like a prize.

She was still trembling when he lifted her again.

Still dizzy when he turned her back around and bent her over the dresser.

“You thought we were done?”

She shook her head, too gone to speak.

He buried himself inside her again, slower this time. No less intense. Her walls clenched tight around him and he moaned like it hurt. “You’re taking it so well,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder, nipping the back of her neck. “So fucking good for me.”

She tried to hold herself up. She really did. But her knees gave out with the first deep thrust.

Michael caught her and kept going.

One arm around her waist, one hand gripping her hair, pulling her head back until she could see her ruined reflection again.

Her mascara had smeared. Her lips were swollen. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow bursts.

The mirror fogged.

So did her brain.

“You feel dumb yet?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I feel dumb,” she sobbed. “So—so fucking dumb for you.”

He reached around, thumb on her clit. “You gon’ tap out?”

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she cried.

He slowed.

Dragged his hips deep. “You’re mine, baby. You can take it.” He leaned in close. Mouth on her neck. Teeth scraping. “Look at you. Your head's empty, isn't it? You don’t think when I’m in you. You can’t.”

Grunting, swearing, hips jerking against her until she cried out from the sensitivity, from the ache, from the stretch and the heat and the absolute ruin of it all.

He didn’t let go right away. Just held her there, pressed against the mirror, his chest to her back, breath heavy in her ear.

Her legs gave out completely.

He caught her again. Lifted her, laid her gently onto the bed. Pulled the shirt off over her head, kissed the center of her chest, and brushed his fingers along the bruises he’d left.

She was silent. Mouth slightly open. Face still messy.

Michael looked at her like he’d just claimed a kingdom.

“You gonna talk shit tomorrow?” he asked, voice low and wrecked.

She smiled weakly. “If I can walk.”

He laughed, pressing one last kiss to her neck.

“Bet.”

—

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[araybiaaa]

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

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… modern!au, tension, flirting, cunnilingus (cause every man in this movie is a muncher!) black!fem oc, explicit sexual content.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where a good girl falls into temptation after she meets elias ‘stack’ moore.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… soooo i wanted to try something different and do a modern!au with stack. (smoke’s still my favorite twin. the real girlies get it!) but i wanted to challenge myself a bit here.. this idea honestly came out of nowhere. i opened a03 and just started typing and somewhere down the line it became a one shot with 5k+ words?? 😭 also just wanted to say tysm for all of the love on my other fics. smoke and annie are near and dear to my heart and i’m glad you guys enjoyed my interpretations/writings for them. just a fair warning, the girl in this is very unserious but who wouldn’t be if you saw a vampire that looked like mbj! requests are open so send in something if you’d like — just keep in mind of my rules. anyway. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

“he’s dangerous. if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him.” their words seemed portent at first; a precautionary warning that had her wary of him. she didn’t know him but she’s heard enough stories about him to know that he was feared by everyone. his reputation was something akin of their town’s own boogeyman or freddy kreuger — he was dangerous, menacing and someone to be fearful of.

cleo hadn’t been in town long enough to know if his reputation superseded him or if the rumor’s held some weight of validity in them but her curiosity was piqued to meet the guy that had people hurriedly locking their doors when the sun went down and removing the welcome mats off of their front porches.

at first, she wondered if everyone in town had collectively decided to pull a prank on her as some sort of initiation or simply for their own amusement. because to her elias moore seemed more like a ghost than a vampire. she lurked outside after hours, even against their warnings — completely foolish and naive, but she never saw him around.

she doesn’t know why she wants to see him so bad, maybe it’s because everyone else has and she feels strangely left out. or maybe it’s because she needs to see for herself if there was a world where mythical creatures existed outside of the cheesy television shows she used to watch and the books that she read. but much to her dismayed defeat, time continued on with her being the only one who had yet to meet the feared elias moore.

“what does he look like?” she asked, feigning innocence behind her curiosity that her best friend, naomi easily sees through and narrows a pointed glare at her. “what? i just want to know in case i see him around somewhere!” she murmurs with a halfhearted shrug. it didn’t seem like an actual possibility with how she hadn’t so far, but she didn’t want naomi to know that she was willingly seeking him out.

naomi sighs, pursing her lips as she tapped her manicured fingers against her thigh. after a moment’s contemplation, she reveals: “i’ve only seen him around a few times. he doesn’t look like any of those sick looking vampire that you see on tv. he’s actually…fine.” at this, cleo’s eyebrows raise in amusement at her friend’s description. “he has this look about him that makes you weak in the knees whenever he smiles at you. it’s effortlessly sexy and his eyes — just don’t look in them too long cause you’re gonna find yourself wanting him to turn you into a vampire too just so you can spend the rest of eternity with him. i’m only telling you this because you asked, but don’t go around asking anyone else about him. you don’t want your daddy finding out about it.”

cleo nodded in agreement, but still found her mind wandering about him. she knows that naomi’s right, her overly religious father would have an aneurysm if he’d found out that she was asking questions about the town’s social pariah. but that didn’t stop her from visualizing him through naomi’s description.

she’s only ever heard of naomi speaking negatively about elias so for her to refer to him as fine despite her disliking of him had intrigued cleo. “yeah, you’re right. i was just curious but now i know.”

naomi’s pointed glare deepens, like she doesn’t fully believe cleo. “girl…stay away from him for your own good. trust me. i know another girl who was curious about him just like you are and she got turned.” cleo wonders if she’s just saying that to scare her away, but surprisingly it doesn’t.

“i hear you,” naomi hums in acknowledgment but thankfully doesn’t reprimand her any further about her curiosity.

…

sometimes cleo makes smart decisions.

when it came to school and her grades, everything was always calculated in her mind for her to choose the best possible outcome. she was annoying obsessive like that — always planning ahead, analyzing and assessing even the most mundane things that infiltrated her life. but other times, on seldom occasions, she makes not-so-smart decisions; one’s that has her acting impulsively and deviating from her normally pristine behavior.

she was supposed to be going back to her dorm room to get ready for a party that she was planning on going to with naomi. it was twelve o’clock and she had just finished an exasperating nine hour bartending shift with annoying alcoholics flirting with her and their heady, glossed over eyes staring at her ass in the tight fitted jeans that she was wearing.

her dad was less than pleased about her place of employment, but he knew that she needed extra money to pay for her clothes, shoes, hair and other miscellaneous items so he refrained from making any comments anytime she she complained about a customer or the minimal pay that she was getting.

cleo was closing the bar; wiping down the sticky counters, recounting the money in the register and overturning the chairs when she looks up and sees him. he’s standing across the street but even with the distance set between them she can feel the smolder of his gaze as he looked at her. cleo stands there for a brief moment just staring back at him until she mustered enough courage to make her way to the front door.

the overhead bell rings in a soft bellow as she pushes the door open. the humidity of the mississippi air sticks against her skin as soon as she steps outside. but even with its scorching temperatures, elias’ stare pierces deeper and has her skin burning. when she steps outside, she sees him making his way towards her — his gait was stealth and calculated.

she feels goosebumps prickle along her skin, air catches in her lungs and warmth curls around her neck as he sauntered closer. the first thing that she noticed was that although naomi had been right in her description of him, she had greatly undermined it. he wasn’t just fine; he was handsome and she could already feel her knees buckling weakly beneath her just at the sight of him. the second thing she notices is his eyes and the phosphorescent glow of red in his pupils. when he finally reaches her, he stands athwart from her and slowly drags his eyes over her body. his eyes find hers again and for a moment she wonders if she could hear the hastened beating of her heart.

“it’s kinda late for you to be out here ain’t it?” he posits and the deepened drawl of his southern accent somehow makes him more attractive.

cleo swallows a shaky breath, nodding. “i’m closing up the bar. we just closed about ten minutes ago,”

he raises his brows, trailing his eyes somewhere offside. “and they just left you to do it by yourself? don’t they know it’s dangerous people out here? vampires walkin’ about like they’re humans.” he says with sarcasm lilting in his voice and clicks his tongue against his teeth with a reprimanding tsk that follows.

cleo juts her chin outwardly. “i’m more than capable of handling myself.” she rebuttals, her hand perched on her hip as she looked at him.

his eyes find hers again and he smirks impishly, nodding his head. “i’m sure.” he says; and it’s something hidden in the way that he says it that has her cheeks warming again. a moment passes between them as he stares at her with an intrigued expression worn on his face. “you ain’t scared of me,” it’s more of a statement than a question, though she knows it’s intended to be the latter.

he sounds and looks surprised by this, that he’d finally encountered someone that didn’t run away when they saw him. “am i supposed to be?” she was more attracted to him than anything, unable to stop looking at his lips and his bared fangs that peeked out from his mouth.

he shrugs, “everyone else is.”

“well i’m not everyone else,” at that he doesn’t respond, only smirks at her again making the butterflies she feels in her stomach somersault deeper. cleo bites her lip as she looks over her shoulder towards the bar. ‘don’t ever invite him in anywhere, that’s how he gets you.’ she ignores her father’s words, pushing them to the back of her mind. “you wanna come in?”

he raises another brow, “you want me to come inside?” this time it’s her that shrugs and he only gives her a brief dubious look of contemplation before he’s following her inside of the bar at her open invitation. she could feel his eyes honed in on her ass and unlike with the drunken middle aged men from before, she isn’t repulsed at the realization.

“you know, at first i thought people were lying about who you are. it seemed like everyone knew what you looked like except for me.” she says, folding her arms against her chest and watching his eyes lower to her perked breast. she bites on her lip, intrigued.

“you were lookin’ for me?”

she nods briefly, “i wanted to know what you looked like.”

he walks towards her until he’s standing directly in front of her; way closer than he was when they were standing outside and it catches her slightly off guard. “well now that you have…whatchu think?” the remark is undeniably coquettish — the soft murmur of it accompanied by the lascivious look that he’s giving her has her pinned beneath his gaze.

“i think you’re not as scary as people make you out to be,” she responds; avoiding the answer that she knows he was truly searching for. but he settles for this one too, indulging in her retreat.

“you think you can make that assumption from a five minute conversation? what if i am like everyone says?” the air between them shifts into this palpable tension; hot and undeniable. he takes a few more steps forward until he’s hovering his heightened figure over her. she cranes her neck to look up at him, “i could bite you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it”

“if you wanted to you would’ve done it outside,” she rebuttals, seeing the twitch of his curled upper lip.

“maybe i like playin’ with my food before i eat it.” and the innuendo behind his words has her breath hitching.

her skin pricks with goosebumps again at his teasing words. elias takes immediate notice of it; his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply with his heightened senses. and it takes a moment for her to realize that he must smell something radiating off of her body — arousal? excitement? — because he’s chuckling and licking his lips as he reached his hand out and brushed it over her hip. she shivers, not out of fear but of arousal. “and you sure as hell look and smell good enough to eat.”

cleo’s mouth gapes the only audible sound that comes out is a soft gasp. it’s the sound of her phone ringing that suddenly clefts through the tension hanging in the air. she jumps, startled, looking at elias whose eyes narrow at her phone like he’s inwardly cursing it for its intrusion. she reluctantly moves out of his grasp and walks over to pick up her phone that was sat at the edge of the counter.

picking up the phone she sees that it’s a text from naomi asking where she’s at. she’d gotten so distracted with elias that she forgot that she was supposed to meet naomi at their dorm room half an hour ago. she types a quick message in response, telling her that closing up took longer than expected and that she should go ahead to the party without her and that she would just meet her there instead.

she looks up from her phone at the same time elias is already walking out of the door, the sound of the bell ringing announces his departure as cleo stands there with her mind replaying their interaction.

…

a week passes before she sees him again. he’s standing outside of the door; staring, watching, waiting. she walks towards the entrance and holds the door open, beckoning him forward. “come in,” he walks inside as she closes the door behind him.

“you weren’t here the other night.” he says, catching her slightly by surprise. had he been looking for her this time instead of the other way around?

“oh, yeah. i was off. i don’t work on tuesdays and thursdays,” she explains watching as he nodded before looking away with a sheepish expression. after their last encounter, she spent the entire week thinking about him — how he looked at her, how his hand felt against her bare skin. cleo didn’t understand how she developed such a quick attraction for him, especially when she didn’t even give human boys any time of the day, but something about him was different.

naomi was right, all it took was one look from him and cleo found herself a fallen victim to his charm. “why aren’t you scared of me?”

she’s taken aback again, even more so than the first time. “why do you want me to be?” she challenges, noticing the pull of his jaw as he clenches it shut.

“your daddy’s a preacher ain’t he?” she furrows her brow, curious to know how he’d figured that out without her telling him. “how you think he’d react if he knew you were stayin’ behind after work to talk to me?”

ah, so that’s what this is about.

“well aside from me being grown and fully capable of making my own decisions, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” and she would definitely keep this secret from him for his sake and hers. “elias—”

“stack.” he interrupts to correct her.

“elias,” she says, unmoored by his correction. he gives her a look but listens as she continued. “i’m not talking to you because i’m trying to prove something to my dad or anyone else here.”

“then why are you?”

“because i want to.” she exasperates, frowning slightly. “why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“because you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” elias retorts through a forewarning tone that sounded all too familiar of her family and friends who initially warned her away from him. he was right, aside from the fictionalized information that she got through old cw shows she used to frequently watch, she didn’t understand the depth and complications that came along with being a vampire. but her interest in elias made her want to know more — she wanted the truth and all its ugliness.

“then show me.”

…

elias stack moore had a tarnished reputation way before he got bit and transformed into a vampire. albeit he was the more level headed of the two, the smoke-stack twins were well known for their violent behavior and short fused tempers. their involvement with the notorious al capone and then stack becoming involved in a near ritualistic slaughter hadn’t done anything to ease anyone’s perception of him. his reputation expanded over the near century with people reciting tales of his life; often times dramatizing it completely.

but regardless of the half-truths or stack’s solemn search for penance — he still remained feared to the point where people would refrain from staying outside at night too long just to avoid him. he kept mostly to himself, only indulging in his sexual needs with a few other vampires that lived amongst the town. if he did leave his house, he made sure it was brief just to avoid any inadvertent run in’s.

he knew he was feared and had stories told about him that would give kids nightmares. but she was surprisingly the only one that didn’t tremble in fear when she saw him or tightly clutch her cross necklace and recite scripture from the bible in hopes it would protect them and keep him away like everyone else did. instead of running she gravitated towards him; accepting and intrigued by him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

he was wary at first of getting close to her.

she had a reputation as the preacher’s sweet and innocent daughter. he could only imagine the outcry that would erupt if anyone were to find out that she had been talking to him. but cleo insisted that she didn’t care and expressed interest in wanting to see/know him — all of him. so he invited her to his house.

she came over at work — still dressed in those tight jeans and that cropped shirt that accentuated her lithe physique — all wide eyed and innocent and fucking gorgeous.

as soon as she stepped over the threshold and inside, he felt something shift in the air as he realized that she was the first girl he’d ever invited into his house. he watches her as she looks around spectatingly, crouching over a bit with her hands on her knees to look at the display of photos that he had. “your brother?” she asks rhetorically as she looked at the candid black-and-white photograph that he had of him and smoke taken years back during the time of their youth.

stack nods tersely, pursing his lips in a moue.

and he’s grateful that she notices his reluctance and doesn’t prod any further because even though it’s been over a century since his brother’s death, it was still hurt carrying him around in his memories.

it’s stack who segues the conversation, now turning the spotlight on her. “you said you wanted me to show you, so what do you wanna know?”

cleo bites her lip in thought. stack’s mind is briefly distracted with how sexy she looks that he doesn’t initially hear her question until she asks it again.

“it took me a while to learn how to do it. i taught myself most of what i know, the guy who turned my ex that turned me didn’t teach me much. but it’s the first thing i taught myself.”

she nods, biting on her lip again as she lowered her eyes in a shy chagrin. “so that night at the bar…when you sniffed me what did you smell?”

“you really wanna know?” she looks up, almost contemplative, but nods. “lust. your hormones were all over the place.” her expression’s caught somewhere between mortification and a grimace. “my hearin’ is heightened too…i can hear your heart beatin’ fast as hell. you nervous?”

at her nod, he posits. “cause of me? why do i make you nervous?” he takes a preemptive step towards her, closing the distance between them. he hears her pulse quicken. smells the saltiness of sweat underneath the floral saccharine of her perfume.

she doesn’t respond, only looks at him underneath her lashes. “what else do want me to show you, cleo?” her breath hitches, eyes flit from his lips back up to his eyes in a quick maneuver. her heart beats louder and the smell of her arousal is so thick that he can almost taste it on his tongue. he inhales her scent; feeling his own arousal mix with hers.

he sees her throat stretch as she swallows.

…

it’s almost feral how he bares an arm around her waist and tugged her body closer to his. she gasps a bit at his onslaught — startled by the abruptness of his movements, but she’s immediately relaxing into his embrace the moment he brushes his mouth against hers. he kisses her with a ravenous vigor, sliding his tongue over the cupping of her lower lip as a terse plea for entry. she whimpers before she succumbs to his prowess, slacking her jaw wider as he intertwined their tongues.

his kisses are bruising and greedy to the point where he steals all the air that was in her lungs. it’s a slip of tongues and a crash of teeth messily colliding, through guttural groans and breathy whimpers. stack’s arms tighten their hold around her before lowering to her ass. he squeezes her through her jeans before giving it a firm smack; smirking at the way it ricocheted. he gives it another hard squeeze as his mouth nipped at the exposed flesh of her neck. “tell me what you want,” he rasps; gruff and throaty, his breath hot against her skin.

his lips pucker as he nipped at her skin; sucking deep, purple love-bites all over. (and it feels so good that she doesn’t even care that she’ll have to cover up the evidence of his markings with makeup to hide from her father and naomi.) she grips the back of his head, holding him against her as she fluttered her lashes and indulged in the pleasure.

“this,” she whispered, voice shaky, body trembling with an intense want. he groans against her neck; alternating between nipping and sucking. and he gets too into it because she hears a low sound that mimics a growl and feels the sharpness of his fangs grazing her clavicle. she gasps, taken back and he’s immediately recoiling — looking up at her with his swollen lips and lidded eyes.

“fuck. i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—sometimes when i get too excited it happens. but i wasn’t trying to…” he’s panicking, careening apologies to her. but she’s sliding her mouth over his and kissing him deeply with fervor.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, still pecking at his lips.

stack furrows his brow, “yeah?”

“just don’t bite too hard.”

he nods, lightly grazing his teeth into the softness of her flesh. he nibbles at her neck with the tip of his bared fangs biting deliciously into her skin. the pain is sharp but still pleasurable enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head. his hands make their way to the front of her body, sliding over her abdomen and hovering at the waistband of her jeans. she breathes softly through her parted lips, emanating a whimper when he bites into her lower lip. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, reaching his hands between the crux of her thighs and sliding his thumb over her slit — passing the pleasure over the seam of her jeans.

her underwear suddenly becomes sticky with her arousal and knowing that he could smell it on her was sending her over the edge. she feels this incessant pleasure building; coiling in her stomach and spreading through the heat of the place where she desired him the most. “can i taste you?” at her consenting nod, he maneuvers them towards the couch and eases her down onto the cushion.

he pries their wet lips apart with a ‘smack’, a string of saliva draws at their disconnection. she holds the smother head of his gaze, watching as he lowers to his knees. “lift your hips up for me,” he murmurs, already working at the buttons and zippers of her pants that loosen around her hips.

she concedes, arching her hips off of the couch just enough so that stack’s hands are able to tug the tight fitted fabric over her hips and down her thighs. “look at you,” he says; marveling at the sight of her arousal. the dark spot is visible against her pink underwear — soddening through the fabric. “already so wet and ready for me.” he kisses the inside of her thighs, nudging the bridge of his nose against her cunt.

she shivers through a moan, it’s just the barest of contact but she’s hypersensitive to his touch. his deft fingers pull at her ruined underwear, sliding them down her legs and absentmindedly throwing them aside so that she’s sat completely bare in front of him.

her cheeks warm at her vulnerability.

stack’s hand brushes against her calf as he gripped her leg and hefted it easily over his left shoulder. his eyes hone in on her cunt as she spreads open; staring in awe at the slick that’s gathered between her folds. he grabs at her other leg, barring it around his right shoulder until he’s got a perfect position of her cunt displayed in front of him.

cleo arches her hips slightly, holding herself upright as she rests the palms of her hand against the cushions. her heartbeat quickens at the desire that grows, palpable and thick in its emerging, sending another jolting throb directly into her cunt. she could feel the wisps of his breath as he leaned in. he brushes a teasing kiss against her thigh, humming softly at the way she shivers in response.

he nudged himself closer towards her cunt; pressing soft kisses against her skin in passing before he finally reaches the place where he could smell the the evidence of her want. he presses a kiss against it and she shudders, feeling the tension roll down her spine and curl into her toes. she doesn’t even have a moment to gather her bearings, because then he’s flattening his tongue and licking her up from the back of her perineum to her clitoris. “oh—fuck. s-stack,” she bellows a soft cry of pleasure, her hands grip into the couch to seek purchase.

and when he reaches the over sensitive bud, he puckers his swollen lips and sucks her into his mouth; skillfully using his tongue to massage her clit. she feels the texture of his tongue stimulating her clit, sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure burning through the crevices of her body. her breath catches in her throat and she’s shivering so hard that stack has to pull his mouth away to remind her to breathe.

she nods numbly, blinking through the fogginess of her vision. she parts her lips and exhaled shakily; attempting to lull her breathing. “grind your hips against my face,” she whimpers, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck to anchor herself as she slowly rolled her hips against his face.

“ohmygo—” the added pressure of his nose and tongue assaulting her clit has her dizzy. his hands grip her hips, fingers dig into the meat of her thighs holding her against him.

he makes his way up her vulva; pausing right before he reached her clit and increased the pressure so that the base of his tongue was forced slightly under her clit. he slows his movements, unrelentingly in his ravenous feat as he holds the pressure there. she grinds against him again, shaky, still trembling through her movements as she buried his face deeper into her cunt.

she could hear the lewd stickiness of her slick as he licked up her pussy; could see it glistening over his face — a messy mixture of her arousal and his saliva dripping down his chin. she’s already shaking towards her release but then he grazes his fangs softly against her clit and she’s suddenly bellowing out cries of pleasure as she cums.

she pulsates around his tongue, the tension tugs in her lower belly. he slides his thumb through her slickness, watching as she haphazardly falls backwards against the couch cowering away from the overstimulation. stack pulls away, lapping his tongue around his mouth as he licked up the remnants of her slick. “you okay?” he asked through a rasped breath, watching as she laid there in a dazed stupor.

she nods, just barely, feeling the heaviness of her breathing begin to lull. cleo never thought that someone as smart as her would be drawn into the temptation from a vampire, but here she was — with her cunt still throbbing around nothing, legs and body completely spent, eyes looking at his face that’s covered in her juices, and it entices her.

and it’s then that she realizes that she was totally and completely fucked. he’d warned her that she didn’t know what she would be getting herself into if she became involved with him but with the way he ate her pussy out so good and had her wanting more, cleo realized that she was willing to test the boundaries of her restraint.

…

cleo didn’t like lying, she’s always prided herself about being a truthful person regardless of the repercussions that could follow. she didn’t like people lying to her so in return, she treated everyone with the same decency of respect and remained truthful about everything. it’s not until she starts dating stack that lying easily becomes integrated into her life.

she goes to church with her father every sunday, sits in the front pew and listens as he recites sermons and scriptures about demons and evils that plagued the world. it guilted her knowing that he was wistfully unaware of the fact that she was bedding with someone he referred to as one of the demons that walked amongst them, but the way he made her feel was better than anything she’s ever experienced before.

so she keeps the secret buried deeply, and listens halfheartedly at his preachings as she finds her mind wandering on stack again. it’s easier to hide behind her fib with her father, but naomi’s naturally pestering curiosity always gets the better of her and a simple response of “i already have something planned.” does not offer enough of a rational explanation for her.

“you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks…” she acknowledges with a skeptical brow and pursed lips. she narrows her gaze in on cleo who desperately hopes that she doesn’t look too hard enough to see the hickies stack sucked on her shoulder and breast the other night. “you’re here during the day, but always sneak out to go somewhere at night like you’re meeting someone,” she accents, her perception’s dangerously close to discovering cleo’s secret.

“i’m not.” the lie falls disbelieving to both of their ears. naomi gives her a narrowed look, tilting her head. she bites on her lip in contemplation, sighing softly as she concedes. “okay! but you can’t say anything to anyone especially not my dad.”

naomi gives her a bemused look but nods.

“i might be seeing someone,” cleo murmurs, averting her eyes to naomi to see her eyebrows raise. “i am seeing someone. but don’t ask who! because i’m not going to tell you who it is. i’m only telling you this because i know you wouldn’t stop hounding me if i didn’t.”

naomi stands there quiet, considering her words. “is he married?”

“what!?” cleo beseeches, frowning at her friend’s absurd accusation. “girl, no! i am not a fucking homewrecker!”

“hey, it’s a fair assumption!” naomi rebuttals, raising her hands in the air at her defense. “you’re being sneaky and sleeping over at his place at night… it made me think that you only go over there because that’s the only time that you’re allowed to.”

“no. i’m not fucking a married man.” cleo states. she continued to stuff her clothes in her overnight bag, avid to get to stack’s place. she could feel naomi’s he eyes still piercing through her, curiosity sits on her tongue wanting to inquire further about the guy’s identity. but she thankfully relents, only giving cleo a hum of acknowledgment when she grabs her bag and clamors a parting bye as she walks out.

when she arrives at his house, she’s greeted with a smile and kiss, his arm wraps around her waist as she melts softly into the embrace. he maneuvers her bag from her hands, allowing to to fall absentmindedly to the floor with a loud thud. his hands are groping her everywhere; sliding over her ass, squeezing her titties, palming her cunt through the flimsy pair of leggings that she wore. it’s almost feral how both of their bodies aligned with the same wanton desire.

she loves how the outside world becomes a distant memory for them as they remain secluded in the privacy of his house with no worries of interruption or ridicule waiting. “if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him,” had been a warning, but she found herself gravitating towards him despite their attempts of deterrence. and she had no intentions of letting go of this feeling or him.

[thevelvetwhispers]

This masterlist is a quick guide for my favorite fics and the writers that have been putting in work since the drop of this movie.

To the writers on this platform that take time to do what you love… if you don’t hear it enough….. BABY, YOU’RE APPRECIATED!

Let us read and enjoy. I'll update when I can, or if you have some that you'd like added let me know.

NOTE: If you’d like your work to be removed just let me know.

Series

@uzumaki-rebellion — choose one [smoke X reader X stack]

@uzumaki-rebellion — ibeji series

@hotgrlcece — fever series [stack X reader]

One-Shots

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore

Read Here

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore

Read Here

Smoke & Stack

Read Here

Smoke & Annie

Read Here

Stack & Mary

Read Here

Remmick

Read Here

Sammie 'Preacher Boy' Moore

Read Here

[kittykia]

∿savoring you∿

pairing ∿ stack x black fem reader x mary

synopsis ∿ you hadn't even noticed those dark brown eyes plotting on how to lure you in. how those eyes turned into hands sinking their touch into your skin. you didn't even know why it happened, but one thing you did know, there wasn't any easy way out.

word count ∿ 1.2k+ words

warnings ∿ this is triad poly(gyny), very much "we looking for a third" marystack, is it vamp marystack or regular marystack? the world will never know, allusions to sex (?), SUGGESTIVE, lemme know if i forgot something, excuse any grammer mistakes, this is not edited

author notes ∿ i am not a writing blog, just a writer with a blog. that being said, i will write for sinners because it hasn't left my brain since i went to go see it. coming out of (writing) retirement for this one. shout out to @szatears for their work on stack and mary poly, pls make sure to go read it as it inspired this current work -> here !! this is something slight while i get my thoughts together and learn to write about these two more. need time to write for bo chow as well. sorry i couldn't write more in one sitting.

it was mary who saw you first. she was standing at the bar, catching her breath from dancing all night when she saw you. sweaty curls sticking to your forehead, panting and out of breath, knocking back a shot before following it with whatever was in the cup in front of you.

you had gone out that night with some of your friends, needing some release from the stressful week and what better way to do that than getting dressed to the 9s and 10s, dancing and drinking the night away.

it was like looking at an erotic painting, seeing you so relaxed under the club lights, watching that drop of alcohol slip from your mouth and slide down your neck, past your curls and hoops, almost felt sinful. and mary was hooked.

she was so busy watching you start to sway away, back towards your group of friends as they yell for you to join them again, she hadn't even noticed stack coming up behind her.

the way you moved your hips in those jeans made her chest tight and her throat dry. she's seen a lot of beauty, hard not to, but something about you made her feel greedy. like she had to reach out and touch, feel, kiss, devour, or she'd go insane. she could feel herself starting to salivate.

in that moment, she wondered if you'd sweat the same, if your curls would stick to your forehead the same when she's gotten you laid up underneath her. if you would knock your head back the same way you took that shot once her tongue was on you. if you would sway your hips the same in her hands as she asks you to dance.

and you had the audacity to not even notice her inner turmoil. stack did though.

"what's got you all distracted, huh?" stack's voice rang in mary's ears like an alarm, pulling her from her daydreams immediately. he felt her flinch under his touch as he wrapped his hands around her waist. "called ya name 3 times, baby."

mary turned flawlessly in stack's hold, hitting her hand on his shoulder as she huffs, "elias, don't spook me! gon give me a heart attack." stack only raised an eyebrow at her, "then pay attention when i call you. now, answer me. some nigga in here tryna die?" stack started to look in the direction he saw mary starting at.

mary sighed and rolled her eyes, "no, stack" "you sure?" stack kept searching the crowd, looking for any eyes that dared to look at the woman under his arm. "stack, nobody in here crazy enough to start shit with me especially with you around," mary called out, reaching out to turn his gaze back at her. she stared for a moment before sighing out and pointing his gaze to where you were, "just- look for ya self"

stack squinted his eyes, searching every face in the direction mary pointed him in and that's when he saw it. saw you.

he inhaled deeply, eyes widening ever so slightly as he drank you in. all curves, curls, and brown skin. his hands tightened on mary as he watched you twirl around with your friends, watching as you bump and grind in the middle with your head tilted back, neck all out on display.

he felt his teeth ache with the need to bury them in all that soft skin, to sit 'n watch as the blood rush to surface and bruise under his teeth marks. to watch your curls bounce as you climb on top of him, to feel you grind back against him. to watch the sweat form on your skin if only to lick it up as he holds you against him.

ouuu, the thought of you was bound to be just as good as the taste of you.

"whatcha think, hm? a beauty, ain't she?" stack snapped back towards mary who was back to watching you as she rubbed her hands against stack's clothed chest. she looked like she was just ready to pounce, stewing in her own anticipation, like a predator waiting to close in on its prey.

he knew that look, knew it so well cause she learned it from him. had used it on him many times before too. he knew exactly how she felt looking at you and now he felt it too, looking at you too.

"mhm...so now what?" stack asked, leaning down in mary's ear, slowly dragging his eyes back towards your swaying figure, squeezing mary's waistin anticipation.

mary giggled before responding, "well that'll depend...feelin' greedy, stack?" she turned back towards him grinning. he tore his eyes away to look at her's, smiling like the cat that got the cream. "i'm feelin what you feelin, baby" ever the smooth talker, mary grins right back. "then im starving."

as for you, all you could hear was the beat of the music blaring all around you and the giggles and yelling of your friends surrounding you. you felt more though.

more then the sweat and heat in the air and on your skin, then the ache in your hips as you swing your hips and arms, then the curls sticking to you, or the weight of your hoops as you throw your head back.

you felt eyes. people usually say to dance without a care, dance like no one's watching but not this time. somebody is watching you and you feel their gaze ooze over your skin like molasses.

every inch of your body belonged to the gaze of whoever was watching you dance.

you subtly tried to look around, look for whoever was staring at you, trying to psyche yourself out, to tell yourself that was just your imagination.

and if it was your imagination, then you would never have thought up a woman lounging at the bar, drinking your body in like she had been walking in the Mississippi heat all day and you were her first mirage in miles.

you caught her eyes but she held your eyes. she almost looked excited, giggly, with a soft smile to finally have your eyes looking back at her. but it was something about those eyes that didn't seem all too innocent.

she was petite, small but curvy, wavy brown hair, pale skin reflecting all the lights, and brown eyes flitting all across your body as she undressed you slowly, right there from the bar.

and it only got worse when you looked at the man behind her, intense eyes staring right down to your soul as he smirked.

he tipped his head towards you, shamelessly looking up and down as you saw his arms flex around the woman. like looking at you made him tense and impatient, like he was just itching to touch you. and she was too if the grip she had on his clothes were anything to go by.

he was strong, built, and tall. thick with muscle and strength under those clothes. you could just imagine those arms wrapping around you tight, holding you nice and steady. his hair was cut short but his line up was as sharp as his jawline that he flexed. exhaling as he smiled even bigger watching you check him and her out.

and without noticing, you had turned towards them, dancing in their direction. feeling drunk on their heady gazes as you moved. mary felt her breathe hitch as you turned, not even thinking for a second as she slipped away from stack, their hands lingering before she made it to the dance floor, stack leaning against the bar and watching her go.

you could feel exhilaration rising as you dance between all the bodies to get closer to her, reaching out for her. you don't even know this damn girl, but you would be lying if you weren't on the edge of your seat to get her in your grasp. your friends hadn't even noticed you abandoned them.

once she finally touched you, you felt a pleasant shiver run down your spine. she curled right into your space, chest to chest, her soft skin and smile taking up all of your attention as you leaned into her.

she slinked her arms around your neck as you wrapped yours around her waist, her following your moves perfectly. you met her eyes dead on, feeling a knot in your stomach begin to form while looking into a pool of desire.

you leaned towards her ear, her eyes following you as her swayed and grinded against you, "what's your name?"

you spoke loud enough over the music. you swore you heard her groan at the sound of your voice so close, felt her twitch feeling your breath on her ear and cheek before she tucked it away and answered, "name's mary." she answered in a sweet yet husky voice that made your legs tremble ever so slightly.

"you gonna tell me yours?" mary teased as she spun you around, pulling you closer to her, hands moving to grip them as you move to the beat of the music.

you melt into her embrace with your eyes closed like you were meant to, resting your head on her shoulder as she nuzzles yours, resisting putting her lips to it, taking in your scent as it wafts towards her nose.

you open your eyes to catch stack, still at the bar, no longer smiling. his arms are crossed as he watches you two dance together, clenching his jaw and body twitching as he shifts his hips, pants getting tighter and tighter with every passing second, but staying put.

he isn't much a vouyer but watching you two might just make him one. he can't bring himself to join but feels the tension from not having a body on his.

you see him power struggle as you finally turn your head to mary, distracted in feeling you up, hands gliding up and down your torso stopping right before you chest and right under your belly button.

"i'm y/n," you whisper back, revealing in the way mary groans under her breathe in response to your sultry tone.

©2025KITTYKIA ━ all rights reserved. any works on this blog belong to kittykia and should remain on this blog only. refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. refrain from sharing my works to any another app, if only as references. do not adapt or alter my works. just enjoy them y'all.

[massiv3tr33p3rsona]

Home | Annie X Smoke X Lucinda (Black Fem OC)

Home Part I.

Pairing: Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore (Sinners) x Annie (Sinners) x Lucinda (Black Fem OC) (Woman in GIF: Yseult)

Summary: Lucinda is doing her chores at Annie’s shop when the latter’s estranged husband, Smoke, returns following a long stay in Chicago, where they engaged in a very tense conversation that ends in a long session.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, a bit lengthy, threesome (f-m-f), oral (m receiving, f receiving), fingering, mastrubating, handjob, titty sucking/playing, slight choking, slight vouyerism, face riding, slapping, slight worshipping, angst, snowballing (hehe), saliva play, creampie, aftercare, emotional feelings, mentions of death, Hoodoo practicing, slight knife play, cursing, smoking, drinking, slight pregnancy ritual (but it’s not who you think), slight spoilers

Parts: II • III • IV • Epilogue • Prequel

Dividers Made By: @uzmacchiato

THIS IS MY WORK, SO PLEASE DO NOT STEAL IT.

Inside a wooden brown home, on a huge king sized bed, laid two curvy black women, sleeping peacefully with nothing on in the hot airy room.

Surrounded by candles, minerals, jars of different liquids and herbs, this was the work done by Annie, who practices Hoodoo and her Louisiana Creole girlfriend that follows and helps around, Lucinda.

The sun shines through the window, reflecting on the women. A few minutes go by and Lucinda is awoke, rubbing her eyes. She sits up, looking around to make sure nothing seemed off before looking at Annie, who is still sleeping.

She traces over her face, admiring her beautiful features that enhances her face as she checks to see if she’s still wearing her mojo bag necklace Annie made her as soon as they started seeing each other.

“Annie.” as she kisses her cheek, waiting to see if she moves.

Annie moves a bit, but is not fully awake. Lucinda laughs, gently moving herself between Annie’s legs as she kisses her lips a few times, placing her arms on the outers of Annie’s hips.

“Get up. We have to open shop really soon.” Lucinda whispers as she traces over one of Annie’s breasts, hearing her breathing pitch up a bit.

“Stop…..just a….few more…minutes.” she said in a sleepy voice, gently pushing Lucinda back before adjusting her head on the pillow.

Lucinda chuckles before taking herself into Annie’s mouth, giving her a sloppy kiss and massaging her breasts. Annie slightly fights back, letting herself succumb to Lucinda’s attack.

She breaks the kiss, beginning to place them on her neck, breasts, and stomach as she trails lower and lower to her pussy, stopping as it comes into her view.

“What are y….you doing, Lucin…da?” asked Annie.

“I’m hungry.” replied Lucinda as she spreads Annie’s legs open, placing one leg on her shoulder as her hand traces over the outline of her clothed lips.

Annie lets out a quiet moan, rubbing Lucinda’s arm as she pushes her underwear to the side, feeling her breath blowing at her dripping heat.

Lucinda pushes on her clit, watching more essence spill out of her, wetting up her finger. She looks at Annie, who is still half asleep before placing her tongue inside her hole, beginning to suck and flick around it.

“Fuck….” moaned Annie, now fully awake and arching her back a bit.

Lucinda smiles, letting out a POP! sound as she removes her tongue, seeing a trail of her saliva connecting to it.

“You’re so wet for me…” she whispers, licking her clit before diving back in, speeding up her pace.

Annie lets out a few expletives, feeling herself getting hotter and intense the more quick Lucinda’s tongue and mouth was moving.

Suddenly, Lucinda stops, sitting herself up. Grabbing her hips, she pulls Annie into a lay down position, but her waist and legs are bent towards her, making her have easier access to her pussy.

“You good?” she asked, locking eyes with her.

Annie nods feverishly before Lucinda resumed, this time rubbing her clit in a circular, right motion, causing Annie to squirm a bit.

“Don’t. Do tha—fuck!” yelped Annie as Lucinda inserted a finger inside, pumping in and out.

“I don’t run from you when you got me like this. Don’t do that with me.” said Lucinda.

She stops, placing her mouth over her hole again and begins eating her out, causing Annie to let out a variety of moans.

Lucinda slaps her thighs a few times, feeling her tense up a bit before relaxing again as she continuously licks over a sweet spot, making Annie speak in a different language.

“Maṣe dawọ duro. Ahọn rẹ jẹ ki inu mi dun! (Don’t stop. Your tongue is making me feel good.)” yelled Annie, trying to filp them over, but Lucinda holds her in position with her legs pinned against her, licking and slurping everything in a sloppy way.

Annie feels her climax building with each swipe, making her cry out in tears as she tugs on the sheets, being unable to move. She looks at the picture of her and Smoke at their wedding on her nightstand, slamming it down before placing her hand on Lucinda’s hair and pushing her face deeper into her heat.

Lucinda obliges, pushing in to the point she can’t breathe, but is consumed by lust to finish making Annie release all over her.

“Let me cum please. I need it.” whispers Annie, grabbing one of Lucinda’s hands and cupping it around one of her breasts.

Lucinda squeezes it, speeding up her finger and tongue, feeling Annie gripping around both. She moans, letting the vibrations add on to her attack.

“Cumming. Cumming!” yells Annie as her release washes over her body, making herself squirt and spaz in Lucinda’s grip.

Lucinda lifts up her head, face fully soaked from her essence as she watches Annie come down from her high, gently laying her lower half down on the bed before getting up going to the bathroom.

Annie catches her breath, reliving the moment that just happened while filling the soreness grow. She slowly drifts back to sleep when suddenly, she felt something wet between her legs.

She opens her eyes, seeing Lucinda wiping away her essence with a wet cloth, holding a bowl in her hand. She dipped the cloth into the ball and brings it up to her breasts, wiping her chest.

“You know you don’t have to do this..” said Annie.

Lucinda chuckles, bringing the cloth to her hands and wiping them as well.

“We’re behind schedule. Today feels like it’s gonna be one of those chaotic days.” She replied, placing a kiss on one of them.

“Every day is chaotic when practicing what we do. Life can be very unpredictable.” said Annie.

“Mmhm. Now get dressed so we don’t have angry customers questioning why we’re not opened.” said Lucinda.

She gives Annie a kiss before walking to the bathroom, pouring the bowl out as she starts washing her face.

Annie gets up, walking toward the closet and vanity as she looks through what she wants to wear. She sees the photo of her, Smoke, and their infant daughter hanging up, making her grab it to hold.

“Oh how I miss the both of you..” she whispers, holding the photo to her chest as tears begin to form in her eyes.

Lucinda watches from the bathroom, knowing how much pain him leaving to go to Chicago with his brother and the death of their daughter caused on Annie.

Inside the small shop consists of candles, herbs, oils, incenses, tarot cards, bowls, books, statuary, posters, and altars as both women are working, fixing up the shop.

Lucinda is refilling the mini jars of cinnamon and different herbs as Annie organizes the candles, making sure they are aligned perfectly.

Small movements on the steps caused both women to look at the door, seeing two small children enter.

“Afternoon, Miss Annie and Miss Lucinda!” said the little girl as she and her little brother walked up to the counter where Annie was.

“Afternoon, little ones.” said Annie, a smile formed on her face.

“What can we help you with?” asked Lucinda.

“Our mama sent us here to pick up some snack powder.” said the little brother.

“Sack, Donny. Saaack.” said the little sister, looking at her brother, who laughs.

Lucinda chuckles, adoring the mispronunciation of satchel from both kids as Annie steps up, walking them to a shelf of different ones.

“I think I can help with that. Did she say which one in particular?” asked Annie.

“Something with luck. And….benny mat?” said the little girl.

Banishment. The word she’s trying to pronounce is banishment.

Annie nods before taking out a tray of them, looking through each one. Lucinda finished the last jar, placing them on the table. She grabs a sun hat and puts it on, walking towards a corner.

“Ima go water and trim the flowers and herbs, Annie.” she said, grabbing the water can and garden tools sack.

Annie nods as she watches Lucinda walk to the back, turning her attention back to the children.

In the small garden that stays behind the shop, Lucinda is trimming branches and dead plants, throwing them into the bag near her.

“My, my. You blue hydrangeas have gotten so beautiful the last time I see ya.” she said, rubbing her fingers over the petals.

She moves to the sage and flax seed next to it, adding a bit of water to it so it doesn’t get ruined. She cuts off some lavender, placing them in her chest pocket, before resuming watering and trimming.

It took a lot of conviction to Annie to add flowers to the garden to update its appearance when they first began to see each other. She was against the idea, saying they were “ruin” her herbs with all of their different chemicals, but Lucinda convinced her to expand the garden to give each plant some space and making sure that they don’t mix in with each other.

She notice a group of blooming baby breaths next to the chamomile, gently picking them out instead of cutting them. She examines them, taking in its very soft and small details that Annie was telling her about, understanding why she likes them so much.

She gets up, walks over to the grave of Annie and Smoke’s daughter, which had a bottle of sugar, a blueish paper, and a rock with the baby’s hand print laying on top. She gently places them next to the bottle, fixing their appearance before standing up.

“You don’t know me…but your mama has told me about you, little one.” she said, looking at the hand print.

The story of how Annie and Smoke met is a little confusing to her, but she remembers some important details: they met after him and his brother returned from serving in World War I. He was a bit weirded out with her Hoodoo practices, but respect it everything she did. Their relationship caused a slight strain between him and his brother, who clearly had different lifestyles as his brother was running around, getting himself in trouble and fucking other peoples women. They got married very fast and soon after that, she became pregnant with their daughter. However, just a few weeks after she was born, she passed unexpectedly.

Lucinda never asked how, but she always felt the pain each time Annie mentions her. This caused a strain in their marriage as Smoke blamed her practices for her death as it should’ve protected her as well and immediately left to work in Chicago with his brother, never contacting her once ever.

She doesn’t understand how can someone who married and welcomed a child with not contact their spouse for years, but life goes on and hopefully, Annie moved on.

Lucinda walks back to the garden, resuming her work. As she dumps out the sack of dead plants and branches into the trash, she hears a car pulling up.

Taking out her knife, she hides behind the cornerstone, making sure she isn’t visible to whoever it is in that car. The car door slams, with footsteps moving. She peers from the corner, waiting to see who is this individual walking back here.

Coming into her view, a man in a blue plaid tailor suit, wearing a blue wool hat, walks up to the grave, holding a bouquet of white hydrangeas. He kneels, gently placing them behind the rock before tracing over the grave, sniffling.

“Pa was here.” he mumbles. “Pa was here.”

Smoke. That’s who that was is what Lucinda said to herself.

She walks out, carefully not making noise or else, he will see her until she stops when Annie comes out, looking at her.

“What’s going on?” she asked before turning her head.

Seeing Smoke at their daughter’s grave, she pauses, intensely breathing quiet as she watches him get up and look at her, stunned at her and Lucinda standing there.

“You’re back.” said Annie, with anger slightly peaking in her tone.

He removes his hat, showing more of his tearful face, wiping them away.

“Yeah. I am.” he replied, a small smile appearing on his face.

As much as she wanted to hear the reason why he hasn’t contacted or sent anything to Annie in the years he’s been gone, Lucinda can feel herself getting anger, not wanting to snap at him.

“Mm.” whispered Lucinda, grabbing the things and walking towards the shop.

“I’ll let y’all talk.” she utters, ignoring Smoke’s intense gaze.

Annie nods, walking forward to stand more in his view.

“How you been?” he asked.

“Busy. Running the shop and living my life to deal with the emptiness you left me with.” Annie replied bitterly.

Lucinda pulls the blinds shut, not wanting to hear more of the conversation. She looks at the children, who are still here, examining each powder, trying to figure out the ones their mother wants.

“Y’all doing okay?” she asked.

“Yeah!” they said in unison.

“Alright, let me know if you need any help. I’ll be here, cleaning off the tools and wash my hands.” she said, placing the tools in the sink.

The children nodded, continuing to look at the powder as Lucinda turns on the water, grabbing the sponge and soap.

A few minutes goes by and Annie reenters the shop, walking to Lucinda, who just finished washing her hands after cleaning the tools.

As she’s drying her hands with a towel, Annie wraps her hands around her waist, pulling into an embrace.

“Woah. What are you doing?” ask Lucinda, cut off guard by that.

“I can’t give you love?” asked Annie, placing a kiss on her neck.

“Yeah but…. You still got some young customers in here and I don’t think they should see that.” whispered Lucinda, tilting her head towards the children.

Annie pecks her lips, gently squeezing her hip before walking towards the kids.

“I’ll take care of them.” she whispered, winking at Lucinda before turning her attention back to the kids.

Lucinda smiles, removing her sun hat placing on the counter before turning around to see Smoke in the door frame, staring at her before walking in and examining the whole room. Lucinda stares back, a fiery scrunity now settling over her.

“That’s all for you guys?” ask Annie as she places some of the powder into a little bag.

”That’s all, Miss Annie.” said the little girl.

The little boy hands over the two dollars to Annie, who takes it as she hands the bag to the girl.

“Be careful with walking home with that powder now. I don’t want your mama coming in here, crazy because of something that happened.” she said, stepping aback and placing the money on the counter.

“Thank you, Miss Annie.” said the little boy.

“Bye, Miss Lucinda!” the little girl.

Lucinda waves at them as they walk out, leaving her, Annie, and Smoke in the shop, silence brewing in the air.

“Why do you like taking that money when I can give you real money?” he asks, picking up the money off the counter.

Annie whips out her blade, holding it to Smoke’s throat as he takes out a band of money to hand to her.

“I don’t want that blood money you bought up in here.” she replied.

“Girl, if you don’t get that blade away from me-“

“Or what? You’re gonna abandon her again, but take her money along with you?” asked Lucinda, cutting him off.

Smoke snapped his eyes at her, annoyed that she butted herself in.

“You’re gonna let this woman—“

“Lucinda is my name, thank you.”

Smoke huffs, clearing his throat before looking at Annie.

“You’re gonna let LUCINDA talk to me like that?” he said in a loud voice.

“She can do what she wants. Considering she filled in what you left. Now give me my money back before I cut you.” said Annie, pushing the blade slightly into his neck.

Smoke sighs, handing her back the money. She takes it, putting the blade away. Lucinda rolls her eyes, taking out the lavender in her pocket.

“You know which bowl is not filled with any of the sands?” she asked, looking at each bowl on the surface.

“The cracked white one.” said Annie.

Lucinda grabs it, placing the lavender inside and crushing it with a pestle. Grabbing a rolling paper, she sprinkles some lavender inside before grabbing some grinned chamomile in a jar and sprinkling some of it as well.

“You’re not gonna tell me more about your little follower you got in here?” said Smoke, walking around the front of the shop.

“You come back after eight years of no contact and now wants to run shit because your little adventure with your brother has ended. I guess that’s how the relationship of the SmokeStack twins goes, huh?” said Lucinda, rolling up the paper into a cigarette.

“Mm. You just like Stack. Running your mouth, knowing what trouble you might get into.” said Smoke, sitting in a chair.

“That’s funny. I don’t see any trouble in this room right now. Better yet, a real man.” she replied, cutting her eyes to Smoke.

Annie looks at her with a pleading expression, begging her to stop.

“Really? What does a real man look like to you?” he asked, looking at the both of them.

“Supportive. Loving. Communicative. Happy. Making sure his family, including his wife, is good. Not just leaving because life is getting tough and you need a way out.” she replied, crossing her arms together.

“Huh….” is all he could say, his anger slowly rising.

“Mmhm. I get it’s common for you to do that since you did fight in the war. But wow. Abandoning your grieving wife is quite a new low for you, Smoke.”

“Lucinda, that’s enough!” said Annie, standing in front of her.

“No, no. Let her continue. Pretty sure it’s the practices you’re teaching that’s coming through.” he said, standing up.

Annie looks at him, infuriated as Lucinda chuckles, placing the cigarette in her pocket before slowly walking up to him.

“Teaching, aye? You mean the teaching that has protected you and Stack over the years you’ve been gone? How you’re still able to stand up here with all limbs and how you haven’t put a fucking bullet through your head? I wish I had discovered this much sooner this because if I did, maybe my husband, who served in the same war you fought in, would still be here with me haven’t he not gone crazy and took himself out.”

“Baby, please.” whispered Annie.

“No.” she replied, looking at her. “Because I’m sick of him constantly shitting on this as if every bad that has happened to him was avoided because of it and you’re only taking it because you married him. I’m not doing that shit this time because if it’s all such hearsay to him…”

She rips open Smoke’s coat, revealing a mojo bag necklace he’s wearing underneath, shocking him. Annie, with a surprised look, walks up to him, touching the bag.

“Why is he still wearing it? Hm? You would think he took that shit off, but surprisingly, no. Just all talk like the rest of them..”

“All talk? Like I’m not the one who keeps my brother in check every single time we’re doing something?!” he yells, getting in Lucinda’s space.

“Both of you, stop!” said Annie, pushing him back a bit.

“You wanna know why I don’t believe in it, but I’m still wearing this? She made it. Every single day I was gone, I always remember that Annie was with me. Through the good. The bad. The ugly. I never took this off, even when I was showering. That’s my ode to her.” he said, holding the mojo bag up.

“What I don’t understand how can all this work for me…..but did nothing when our daughter died? Was she a sacrifice for all of the things we did? Can you answer that? Or you don’t know either?” he added, staring her down.

Annie looks at the both of them as a hazy vision comes over, making the room blurs out a bit as Lucinda looks at him, matching her energy.

She questions if it’s even worth responding, considering he’s hardheaded and anything he says could make things worse. She looks down, noticing how tense his body was until she got to his dick, which was throbbing through his pants.

Is he getting hard off this? she asked herself, contemplating if she should mention it or just let it go. She sighs, looking at him again, who was waiting for a response.

“….I couldn’t tell you. But what I do know is I would never bring up a dead person in the midst of a conversation. Especially calling them a “sacrifice”. Cause that was her child too. And that was something you were just crying over when you first got here. You can believe in anything you want…..but I would never disrespect a deceased baby of someone I love. That’s all I have to say.” said Lucinda, turning away.

Smoke is about to say something, but Annie silences, taking the mojo bag off his neck. Lucinda blinks, trying to prevent the tears from falling as she grabs a glass from the cabinet, a bottle of whiskey, and a lighter.

Annie opens the mojo bag, pouring all of it into a bowl as she lights up candles and an incense as Smoke grabs a smoke pipe, lighting it up.

“Bring that whiskey to me, please.” she asked, looking at Lucinda.

The latter walks over, pouring some in her glass before placing the bottle on the table. Before she sits down, she looks at Annie, gently rubs her face before giving her a kiss, squeezing her ass.

Smoke smiles a bit, inhaling the pipe as Lucinda breaks the kiss, taking a seat in the chair near the table. Annie licks her lips, pouring a bit of a whiskey into the bowl and on the table before citing a spell quietly, bowing her hands as they watch her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, looking at Smoke.

“Stack and I are having our grand opening of the juke tonight.” as he blew some smoke out, not looking at her. “We was hoping you and her can cook for us. Was thinking some catfish. About a 1000 people.”

Lucinda sideeyes him as she lights up her cigarette, inhaling some of the lavender and chamomile. Annie stares at him, not believing what he’s actually saying.

“Elijah…..” she said, making him look at her.

“Why are you really here?” she asked again, the candles flickering.

Smoke looks down, clearing his throat as he looks at Annie again, guilt running all over his face. Lucinda downs her whiskey before pouring a new one.

“…..I love you. And I miss you. I miss us. I’m sorry….” he said, his voice trembling on the last one.

Lucinda looks at Annie, who is now on the verge of tears. She walks over to Smoke, who pulls her into an emotional embrace, laying his head on her chest as she consoles.

Lucinda looks away, wondering if she should leave and let them be as she feels like she’s invading their privacy. As she looks up, she sees them making out with each other, with Annie wrapping her hand around Smoke’s throat.

Lucinda becomes enthralled at the sight, feeling herself getting wet as Annie moves her other hand toward Smoke’s private area, gripping his throbbing dick. He winces, feels himself get harder as her grip around his throat tightens a bit.

“Ara rẹ ko gbagbe mi (Your body didn’t forget me).” she whispered, moaning at his hot breath breathing over her chest as he stands up, putting his mouth over hers again.

Lucinda puffs out the remaining of her cigarette before getting up, slowly walking over to them. She stands behind Annie, caressing her side as she begins kissing all over her neck and shoulder.

Annie moans, pulling away from Smoke to make out with her, turning her body to rub against hers as she rubs her ass against Smoke’s print, earning a few slaps on her cheeks.

She breaks the kiss, moving to the side as she pulls Smoke and Lucinda close, stopping at a certain distance.

“Go ahead. It’s just me here.” whispered Annie.

Lucinda and Smoke hesitated for a bit before kissing, both fighting for dominance. Annie smiles, turned on by her husband and her girlfriend making out with each other. Carefully, she slides her hand under Lucinda’s dress and into her panties, fondling her clit as she slide her other one into Smoke’s pants and into his underwear, jacking off his dick.

Both lovers break the kiss to gasp and moan, but Annie stops, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say you can stop now. Continue and I’ll resume my play.” she said, looking at the both of them.

Lucinda grabs Smoke’s face and continues kissing him, biting his lips in the process as Annie resumes, speeding up her pace.

Annie growls at Lucinda’s essence and Smoke’s pre-cum wetting up her hands, forming a puddle in her panties. She removes her hands, standing up to remove her dress as they broke the kiss again, lips all swollen.

“Strip. Now.” utters Annie, removing her panties.

The lovers followed, with Lucinda being the quickest to removing her clothes as Smoke got his underwear off finally, his dick swaying up and down.

“Sit.” she orders him, point at the chair.

He obliges, sitting down and making sure his legs stay open. She walks up, kneeling in between them as she turns to Lucinda, motioning her to do the same, scooting over a bit. She obliges, getting into her exact position.

“Follow along.” she whispers before giving Lucinda a kiss.

She grabs Smoke’s dick and begins jerking it, making him flinch a bit. She grabs Lucinda’s hand and places it above her, motioning her to stroke. Both women began moving their hands, creating a sensual sensation for Smoke, who is fighting so hard to not release all over them.

Annie takes his tip into her mouth, beginning to bobble her head up and down as Lucinda fondles her breast, watching in awe.

“Fuck……” mumbled Smoke, throwing his head back.

“Suck that dick real good, Annie.” whispered Lucinda, placing kisses all over her shoulder.

Annie sucks for a few more minutes before removing her mouth, bringing Lucinda’s mouth to his tip and watching her engulf it, moaning at the sight. The latter begins moving her head up and down at a fast pace, her saliva coating her and Annie’s hands.

“Mo fe ki o gun oju mi (I want you to ride my face).” whispered Annie as she removes her hand and gets into position under her.

Lucinda lifts up a bit without missing a beat as Annie guides her back down onto her face, positioning her pussy over her mouth, tighten her grip as she begins to eat her out.

“Mmm fuck!” she moaned around Smoke’s dick as she begins grinding her hips over Annie’s face, creating a rhythm.

Smoke grabs a handful of her hair and begins pumping his hips against her face, practically face fucking her. She makes incoherent sounds, taking in the arousing position she’s currently in.

“That’s right. Slop my shit up with that reckless mouth of yours.” he said, forcing her to look at him.

He pulls her off, slapping the tip all over her face and tongue before reinserting it, watching her bop her head up and down. Annie begins rubs her clit fast, making her whimper and try to get up, but Smoke hold hers down, grinding his hips into her face.

“You don’t run from her when she got you like this. Don’t do that now that I’m back.” he added.

Lucinda feels herself getting close to release, speeding up her hips and mouth, not caring about how sensitive she’s about to feel afterwards.

Finally, her release washes over her, with her moaning loud, her hips bucking, and squirting all over Annie’s face as Smoke holds her head down, shooting his seed down her throat as he lets out so many expletives.

Lucinda falls to the side, catching her breath as Annie lays next to her, catching hers as well.

Smoke stands up, jerking his dick as he looked at the two beautiful women glistening from the sun reflecting on them. He smiled, looking at the time on his watch before looking back at them.

“We ain’t got much time, so who wanna go first?” he asked with a smirk in face.

Both women smiled weakly as they opened their legs, exposing their soaking pussy to him.

“Oh? I see I got options.” he mumbled before kneeling in front of them.

Sounds of excessive moaning, skin slapping, and the floor creaking fills the room as Smoke fucks Annie while she and Lucinda are in a 69 position, with the latter slobbing down her pussy.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” he asked, pulling Annie close to his chest.

“Yes, yes! Don’t stop please!” she replied, feeling him kiss her ear as Lucinda flicks, her tongue fast.

Smoke slams his hips into her ass hard, filling himself poking a sweet spot inside her, which is making her moan loud.

He stops, push her down towards Lucinda’s pussy, where she began sucking on her clit as he resumes fucking her.

“Oh shit!” cried Lucinda, feeling very overstimulated.

Annie kisses her lips a few times before slurping it, gently plumping her fingers inside. Smoke chuckles, slapping her ass a few times before speeding up his pace, giving her brutal strokes.

Annie whines, squeezing around his shaft as his tip continuously hits her sweet spot, rubbing Lucinda’s clit very hard.

“I’m about to cum.” said Lucinda, gripping down on Annie’s fingers.

“Same, mmm! Same!” said Annie, throwing it back to speed it up.

Smoke wraps his hand around Annie’s neck and slightly chokes her, feeling his own release approaching at well while matching her pace.

“Let’s all cum together then!” he grunted as he continuously slams into Annie, feeling her walls tightening around him.

A few moments later, Lucinda and Annie’s release washes over both women, with each squirting all over each other’s face, moaning in unison.

Smoke yells “Shit!” before filling Annie up with his cum, coating up her womb, moaning at the feeling. As he removed himself, he watches his seed slide out, drip down Annie’s lips and into Lucinda’s mouth, who slurps every last bit of it up.

“You’re so nasty….” he whispered, rubbing his tip all over Lucinda’s mouth.

A dazed Lucinda smiles, sucking the tip as Annie removes herself, watching these two from afar. Suddenly, an idea came into her head, making her get up to grab something.

“Everything okay?” asked Smoke with a concerned look on his face.

Annie goes through the bottles of oils, looking at each one until she finally found the sandalwood and lavender, walking back over to them.

“I have an idea and you have to trust me on it.” she replied as she kneeled next to Lucinda.

“….dont tell me it’s one of those bullshit magic things you’re attempting.” he said, getting up but is stopped by Lucinda.

“You’re hard again…..” she said quietly, gently stroking his dick.

Smoke tenses, wanting to remove her hand but won’t as Annie looks at him, tears slightly forming.

“Please……it’s for me and you. She’s perfect for it and it can help us heal from her.” she whispers, grabbing his hand.

Smoke sighs, looking at the time on his watch again before looking at her.

“Guess I can spare some more time. But if it’s doesn’t work…..we’ll try naturally again. Understood?” he said, grabbing her hand.

Annie nods. Smoke repositions Lucinda on her back as Annie opens and rubs the oil over Smoke’s dick and Lucinda’s pussy.

“Mu oyun ni ilera ati ọmọ. Ko si ohun dudu ti yoo wọ inu rẹ. (Bring her a healthy pregnancy and baby. Nothing dark will come inside her).” is what Annie chanted as she rubs some over her breasts, hearing her whimper a bit.

“It tingles a bit.” said Lucinda.

“That means it’s working. Come on. Get in position, Elijah.” she added, bringing Lucinda’s legs to her chest, holding them open.

Smoke spreads the excessive oil around his balls and pelvic area before lining himself up at her entrance, rubbing the tip around it.

“You ready, Lu?” he asked, looking at her.

“We’re at nicknames now?” she replied, smiling a bit.

“Yeah now that you about to be family.” he replied, grabbing her legs to hold them down.

He inserts slowly, making her groan a bit and him cursing under his breath.

“Careful now.” said Annie.

“You just took all of me when you were riding me while Annie was on my face. How you tight yet again?” he asked, filling her up with the rest of him, making her pant hard.

“I think it’s the oil…..you feel much bigger inside me now.” she replied, wrapping her hands around his waist.

Smoke looks at Annie, who motions him to start. Going at a steady pace, he begins fucking, gripping her legs to hold himself up.

“Shit….” whispered Lucinda, feeling him getting closer and closer to her sweet spot.

He removes his hands and wraps them around her neck, adding some pressure. She begins rubbing her clit, slowly building up her release as Smoke speeds up his strokes.

“God, you look sexy as hell, doing that in front of my wife.” he grunted, slamming a little rough into her, making her moan louder.

“Annie..please. Touch me.” she whimpers, locking eyes with her.

Removing her hands from holding her legs, Annie wraps her hands around Lucinda’s breasts and begins fondling them, earning a moan from her.

Smoke chuckles, kissing Annie before grabbing Lucinda’s face and giving her a fat sloppy kiss as he deepens his strokes, moaning at her getting adjust to his size again. Her incoherent sounds overpowers his, making her fall into a deep sexual haze.

“Oh my god….I’m getting close.” he moans, grinding his hips. “I can feel myself aching for a release.”

“That’s good. Continue doing her.” said Annie, removing her hands and getting up to grab the oil.

Lucinda whines about Annie not touching her anymore, until Smoke lowers his head, taking one of them into his mouth to suck and using one of his hands to find out the other, his strokes becoming sloppy.

“Keep doing that. You’re about to bring me to mines.” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist, which he groans in response.

Annie stands behind them, pouring some oil into her hands. She massages his balls, hoping it will help with his release.

Finally, he gives one final stroke before shooting inside her, letting out tearful moans as he pulsates as a gleeful Annie watches. Lucinda’s release follows, letting out some whimpers as she holds onto Smoke tightly.

He lays on an exhausted Lucinda, catching his breath as Annie heads to the sink, filling a bowl up with water.

“What the hell did you…mmm. What did you put in that shit?” he asked, feeling himself shooting even more inside Lucinda.

“Special ingredients that will help with having a healthy pregnancy. And a healthy, long lasting baby.” she replied, grabs a towel before walking back over.

“Or babies.” added Lucinda, feeling Smoke smirk.

Carefully, Smoke pulls out, making sure nothing spills out before lay against the chair, catching his breath.

Annie kneels next to Lucinda, dipping the towel into the ball, and begins wiping her skin at a gentle pace.

“……I love you.” said Smoke.

“I know, Smoke.” replied Annie.

“….her too.” he added.

Lucinda laughs weakly, closing her eyes a bit to rest as Annie cleans her.

The trio rides in the car together, with Lucinda sitting in the middle of the couple, rolling up a lavender cigarette for Smoke.

“You know I only smoke tobacco, right?” said Smoke.

“Well, this is much healthier cause I don’t want that smell getting all over my clothes…..or the baby.” replied Lucinda, lighting up the cigarette before placing it in his mouth.

Smoke inhales, blowing some out before nodding his head, impressed with the taste. Lucinda hands it over to Annie, who takes it to finish the rest.

“You sure it’s gonna be a thousand people tonight?” asked Annie.

“More like a 100 probably. We just wanna have enough catfish for everyone to eat.” he replies.

“You guys are not worried about the KKK showing up?” asked Lucinda.

“They won’t. Or else, Stack and I will gladly take them out.”

She nods before laying her head on Annie’s shoulder. She’s excited to see their juke joint come to life, but something inside tells her that this night is not gonna go smooth but can’t detect why….

A/N: Started this Sunday because I can’t get this damn film out of my head and now I’m glad that I finished this today. I am hoping to finish the other three parts that are planned. Otherwise, thanks for reading!

[novahreign]

Sinners

Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Lucinda “Lu/ Lil bit” Hawkins.

A/N: I wanted to give it a try. I’m a Smoke girlie. That’s my type of man.😜💙 I hope that you enjoy.

“Elijah. Please, don’t do this.” I begged gripping his bicep. “Please.” He gathered me in his arms.

I had been cheesing and humming all morning. Mama had gone into town and daddy was working, this was the only day that both of my parents would be gone and Elijah could come over. I finished my morning chores and freshened myself up from this hot Mississippi weather. I had been having sex with Elijah or Smoke, what most people called him, although I never taken a liken to it, for two full months and my folks were non the wiser. I smiled to myself, I just didn’t understand how something that was such a sin, felt so good. Elijah always knew how to me feel good, how to make me feel like a woman. He was always gentle too. Never harsh with me like he was to everyone else. My mother didn’t know what I saw in him, she just I didn’t understand, that’s all.

When Elijah came in, I was prepared to make love. He always did know how to work that thing between his legs to bring me so much pleasure, oh, and his tongue, sweet Mary, did he know how to use it on me, have me saying swear words that my mama would have my hind for, but instead of my sweet Elijah, I got the one with fear in his eyes. One I only saw a few times. He rushed inside and told me that he and his brother were leaving town. I could feel my heart bout to beat outta my chest. He gathered me in his arms, kissing the side of my head. “I gotta go Lu, don’t make this any harder for me.”

“Why are you doing this? Where are you going?!” I could feel my heart slowly crumbling as he worked to avoid my eyes. “Elijah, what did you do?”

His twin brother Elias “Stack” laid on the horn “Hurry nigga. We gots to go.” He seemed nervous as he scanned the dirt road. A man, I didn’t recognize sat in the drivers seat, kept his gaze straight ahead. “Smoke, let’s go!”

He looked at me with wary eyes “I gotta go baby.” He kissed me harder than he’d ever had before. I tried to savor every moment as I melted in his arm. “Promise me you’ll write.” I sensed his hesitation “You don’t have to say where you are, just let me know that you’re alright and that you’re thinking of me.”

He nodded his head “I’ll do that. I promise.” He kissed me one last time but before he made it to the end of the yard, I yelled out to him. “I love you Elijah.” He smirked “I love you too Lil bit.” I smiled faintly at the nickname that I hated, but would give anything to hear him say it forever. He hopped in the back of the car.

“Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t! I promise.”

The car sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dirt behind. I waved until I couldn’t see them anymore.

Sometime later, I learned that the twins killed their daddy or that’s Bessie’s grandmother was telling everybody. I know how cruel and evil his daddy could be and if that’s why he left then I could accept that. That was seven years ago. He never did write like he promised. I waited for years for a letter. Eventually I picked up the pieces of my heart and moved on as I best I could.

“Alright. Class is dismissed. You all go and make it home. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Bye, Ms. Hawkins.” The cute little brown faces of boys and girls exited the white painted barn that was used for schooling during the weekdays. I sighed as to face one little grumpy face child. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling but I put on my serious face.

“Lester Sims, You oughta be ashamed of the way that you carried on today.” His little frown loosened up some. “I expect better from you. You’re a smart boy and have a brain.” I tapped his head “Use it, because the next time you act like this, I’m liken to take a switch to you and I don’t want to have to do that, You hear me?”

He nodded his head and let out a gruff “Yes ma’am.”

“Alright now, gon and head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stomped his way out of the barn as I began tidying up. I unsnapped the button to my blouse, it was hot as Satans tail in this classroom. Hearing footsteps I turned around.

“Lester, you’re always forgetting something, I tell you ever-“ my words got caught as I looked up.

“You as hard on poor Lester as your mama was on me and Stack.How you doing, Lu?”

I gripped the chair, to keep myself from falling, it was like looking at ghost. Elijah Moore stood in front of me. Bigger and more put together than I’ve seen a colored folk before. He tipped his hat “Elijah.” I said, my voice coming out way softer than I wanted or needed it to. Hell, I was mad at him. Seven years you’ve been gone and got the nerve to come back looking like this?! I cross my legs at the ankles. Seven years wasn’t enough time for my body to forget the only man to ever touch me. Then anger boiled in my chest. I dropped the broom, brushed past him, stomping my way out of the school, like Lester did. I was almost far enough when I felt a grip on my arm. I turned so fast bumping into his rock hard chest.

“Can we talk?” Tears welled up in my eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I tried my best to keep myself together. “Just stay the hell away from me.” I jerked from his arm, headed down the road, not once looking back. I couldn’t, not yet.

[noirsfantasy]

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 | 𝖕𝖙. 3

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Adonis Creed x Black!Plus-sized Reader x Dame Anderson

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Angst

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ Creed

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛4.2k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ You find out everything was not as it seems and end up in the middle of Adonis and Damian's mess. Now you have to deal with the emotional fallout of a love triangle.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ The DRAMA that was infused into this chapter... I really hope y'all enjoy it, because there is more to come!

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰 ➛ @cardi-bre91 , @champagnesugamama

The room is dark as I slowly wake, the sounds of Dame's snoring filling the silence. I can see the sunrise peeking through the curtains as I shift slightly, feeling his arm wrapped securely around me. As my eyes land on his sleeping form, I am reminded of the night we had shared and a shiver runs through my body. I don't move. I just lie there, letting the warmth of his body comfort me and admiring him as he sleeps.

For a brief moment, everything feels perfect. I can almost still feel his fingers gripping my thighs, feel his teeth on my neck, the way he completely wore me out. Just thinking about it makes me want to do it all over again. It's a feeling that's hard to forget. Now, here I am, in his bed and clothed in only a t-shirt of his. I don't know what is to come, but I have good feeling about it.

That is, until reality starts to creep in. I'm reminded of just exactly who this man is. My thoughts wander back to Adonis. Was it only a fling? Did he really mean all that stuff he said? Why did he ghost me? So many questions...

But my eyes fall back on this man I've become tangled with. The night we shared fills my thoughts and I can feel butterflies. He's different, I know he is. Is he really?

It doesn't matter right now. I've got my cheek pressed against his bare chest, listening to his breathing, to his heart. If I have to be delusional right now to stay in this moment of bliss, then I'll do it. I run my hand up and down his muscular torso ever so gently, letting out a sigh.

After a few minutes of this, I feel his hand cover mine and I glance up to see him already looking at me. I shift so that I'm resting my chin on my hand as we gaze at each other.

"Hey, beautiful~" He says, his eyelids still heavy with sleep as he smiles warmly at me.

"Hey~" I say back, returning the smile. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a while." He admits with a chuckle as he pulls me closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I sigh contently as I lay my head back down, but then a distant look flashes across my face, which he catches instantly.

"What's on your mind, mama?" Damian asks, his voice low and gentle, he eyes narrowing slightly as he searches my face. He tightens his hold on me, his fingers pressing gently into my skin as if to keep me anchored to this present moment. I take a deep breath and smile again.

"It's nothing... I'm just tired." I reply, attempting to convince him with a grin. Dame's gaze lingers on mine, his eyes piercing as if trying to see past my words. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't wanna push it either. Instead, he nods slowly, pulling me in for a gentle kiss on the lips.

"You're a terrible liar," he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. "But I'll let it slide... this time." He smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. I chuckle in response, thankful he's not digging any deeper.

I lean in and kiss him deeply, my hands cupping his cheeks as a satisfied groan escapes me. Dame's eyes flutter closed as he melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around me to pull me even closer. He deepens the kiss by tangling his tongue with mine as he takes control. The kiss is slow and sensual, filled with a hunger that's more than just physical.

As we break for air, he whispers against my lips, "I'm gonna enjoy having you around like this~" His voice is low and husky, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

"Well, get used to it, cuz I don't plan on leaving this bed anytime soon," I tell him playfully as I shift to sit on top of him, straddling his waist. A wicked grin spreads across Damian's face as he looks up at me, his hands resting on my hips. His fingers dig into my skin as he pulls me down for another kiss. This one is different, though - It's harder, more possessive. He's asserting his dominance, claiming me as his. I feel a rush of excitement at the raw energy emanating from him, and I respond in kind, our lips and tongues battling in a fierce passionate dance.

I manage to break away slightly, breathing heavily. "Round two??" I suggest, my lips brushing against his. I can see the hunger in his eyes and I just know it's gonna be a long morning.

"Mhm, round two." Damian growls, his grip on my hips tightening as he surges up to capture my lips in another bruising kiss. His hands slide up my sides, bunching the borrowed t-shirt as he goes. In one swift motion, he rolls us over, pinning me to the bed as he hovers above me. His eyes are dark with lust, a predatory gleam in them.

Without warning, he brings his lips down, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down the side of my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands roam freely, touching, caressing, staking his claim. The intensity between us is electric and I can't help but arch into his touch, my soft moans begging for more.

Just as the atmosphere starts to get steamy, we're interrupted by a loud, obnoxious beeping. Dame's head jerks up, his eyes flashing with frustration as he glares at his alarm clock. He mutters a few curses under his breath, his chest heaving with unfulfilled desire. He lowers himself onto me, lying there for a moment as he lets out a groan.

Then he lifts himself off me, tossing his legs off the side of the bed. I whine quietly at the sudden lack of warmth, my body craving him. He lets out a low hum as he reaches for the alarm, silencing with a swipe of his hand before turning back to me with a look that's equal parts of hunger and regret.

"I don't want to leave you," he starts, his voice low and rough. "But I have to go. I've gotta get to training soon and I still need to get ready." He pads back over to the bed, his eyes never leaving mine, and drops down beside me. He rests his hand just below my buttcheek as I lay down, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "But I'll make it up to you, baby. I promise."

"Mmh, you better." I reply with a sigh as I roll onto my back, sitting up and stretching.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I always keep my promises." Dame gives me a wide grin, his voice laced with a familiar confidence. He watches my movements, his gaze roaming appreciatively over my form. He reaches out, trailing his fingers along my waist in a featherlight caress. "M'already thinking of all the ways I'm gonna make it up to you~" His words cause me to feel flutters in my stomach and I giggle a bit, shifting closer to the edge of the bed.

"Well then, let me put my number in your phone. Maybe you can start making it up to me with dinner." I suggest with a wink. His eyes lock onto mine, a slow smile spreading across his face as he sets his phone down on the bedside table.

"Now that's a plan I can get behind," he says, leaning in and capturing my lips in a soft, possessive kiss. He pulls back, his eyes never leaving mine, and hands his phone to me. "Put your number in there and I'll make sure to text you as soon as I'm done with my training. And then... dinner. Yeah?"

"Yeah~" I reply, taking his phone and punching my number in. He disappears into the bathroom as I tap away. While saving my contact, a notification pops up on the screen from someone named KC.

It reads, 'Yo, I got the pics. Just sent them in this morning.' I don't pay it any mind until it's followed up with, 'Lil Creed gon really feel this one.' I raise my eyebrow and glance toward the bathroom, hearing Dame moving around. I take a deep breath, impending dread rising my chest as I tap the notification to open the message. Scrolling through the chat, I begin to realize that these texts mention me and Donnie quite a bit.

They mention me being at the club last night, describing how I look so Dame will know who I am. It looks like this was all planned out... like last night wasn't just a once-in-a-lifetime interaction. My heart pounds in my chest as I read through the disturbing messages on Damian's phone. My fingers tremble as I scroll, piecing together the implications.

It's finally clear to me that this was all a ploy - me being at the club, our encounter, everything. Damian was in on it all along... Was any of it real? Was this just a game to him? I don't even know what I feel right now. Betrayal, disgust, a hell of a lot of anger. I can't believe- I let myself get used like this...

Just then, the bathroom door creaks open and my grip tightens on the phone. I clench my jaw as Damian emerges, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. There's a warm smile on his face, but it does nothing to ease the fury seeping within my chest. He walks over to the bed, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

"Hey, all set?" He asks, reaching for his phone to grab it from my hand. Our eyes meet as I don't let it go right away and I can tell he's noticed the intensity in my gaze. "You good."

"Who the fuck is KC?" I ask in an even tone, but with a subtle warning not to even think about lying. I sense the change in his demeanor and can tell he knows what I saw in his phone.

Damian grabs my hands, either to calm me down or keep me from hitting him. "Look, I- I know how this looks..." He starts weakly.

"You know how this looks, do you?" I repeat, my hands clenching within his grasp. "It looks like I'm a little pawn in whatever fucking game you have going on with Adonis!"

I can see him wince at my words and I immediately try to pull my hands away from his.

"Y/N, wait. Please just hear me out-" He pleads, but I'm not having it.

"What pics does 'KC' have and who the hell did he send them to? And don't fucking lie to me." The look in my eyes says I'm not the one to play with right now.

"Listen, KC is one of my boys. I just had him take a few pics last night... of us at the club..." He admits reluctantly. I can feel the anger rising within me.

"And? Let me guess, he sent them to Adonis? All this was just to throw 'Baby Creed' off his game?" I can see the hesitation on his face as he wants to tell me I'm wrong.

"I'mma be straight with you. I did approach you to try and get with you, because I wanted to show him I could take everything from him, including his girl." He swallows hard as he sees me fuming. "But it ain't like that anymore. I realized that it was a mistake and that I really was feeling you, so I called it off."

"Oh, you called it off, did you? So why's your boy texting you that he sent them already? Huh?" I finally yank my hands away and I get up from the bed, bringing the blankets with me. Damian's expression turns confused.

"That's not right. He didn't send them. I told him not to do it, I sent him a text earlier." He tries to tell me, but I let out a wry chuckle, searching around the room for my discarded clothes from last night.

"I'd double-check if I were you." I suggest in a sarcastic tone, my lips turning into a scowl. I can't believe I let myself get into a situation like this. He unlocks his phone, opening the texts to show me proof of him telling his friend not to go through with it. However, the only thing he sees is a prewritten, unsent message and the confirmation of the done deed.

"It... didn't send." He says under his breath.

"Thought so." I nod my head and start getting dressed, ready to get as far away from him as possible.

Damian gets up, holding the towel up around his waist as he follows me around the room, trying to get me to look at him.

"Y/N, I promise I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Look at me." He tries to touch my shoulder but I pull away from his hand.

"Don't touch me! I can't believe I actually let myself get used like this. I hope you got what you were fucking looking for." I say as I reach for my coat.

"Wait, please. I swear I didn't mean for any of this-" His words are cut off abruptly.

"You didn't mean to lure me in so you could try Adonis's sloppy seconds? You didn't mean to photograph that shit? Or you just didn't mean for me to find out?" I interrogate him, pressing him for an answer.

"Y/N, please, let's just talk about this. I made a mistake, I know. But I'm being for real when I say I feel something between us. I know you do, too. Come on, let's just work this out." He pleads, walking closer and wrapping his arms around me.

I can feel the heat rising within my chest and the angry tears forming at the corners of my eyes. He is right, I do feel something between us. Something that gave me hope after these last few weeks. Something that made me think I could move on from Adonis, but it all just leads back to him. I'm in this mess because of him. Or... is it because of me?

I wouldn't be in this situation if I had minded my own fucking business and hung out with my girls. But I was the one that kissed Dame, knowing exactly who he was and that he knew I was with Adonis, and I made the decision to leave with him. All because I was hurt. I want so badly to lean into his touch and let him hold me, but I can't. I harshly wipe my eyes and hesitantly push him away from me.

"It was a mistake coming here." I mutter as I grab my phone and keys, walking out of the bedroom and heading for the front door. Dame is calling after me, but I don't look back as I open his front door and slam it behind me.

"Y/N, wait!" I hear him call out after me, desperation in his voice. I don't respond, stepping into the elevator and heading downstairs as a tear slips down my cheek.

I get an uber and beat myself the entire ride home, trying not to burst into tears in this stranger's car. So much is going through my mind right now. How could I have been so gullible? What's Adonis going to think of me? Why did this happen to me?

As I get home, I feel my phone vibrating. I furrow my brow, thinking it's probably Damian, but my heart drops as I look at my screen. It's Donnie. I didn't expect him to even call me and I panic a little. Taking a deep breath, I pick up the phone.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Y/N?" I hear Adonis's voice on the other line, his tone cold. "We need to talk." Without giving me a chance to respond, he continues, his words filled with barely contained anger. "So you went behind my back and got with Damien Anderson, of all people?" His accusation rings through the air and I feel a pang of guilt as I gather my words.

"Donnie, I-" I pause for a moment, unsure how to respond. "I can explain...."

"Then explain what the hell I'm looking at." He replies harshly and I feel heat rising to my cheeks. I take a deep breath and try to keep my words from shaking.

"I was at the club with some friends last night and I met Dame there. I figured it was random that he was there and then he started flirting with me. I was just tryna have fun-"

"So, you hooked up with a random guy you barely knew at the club?" Adonis speaks sharply and I feel my own anger starting to bubble up.

"Oh, please don't you act like that's not how we got together, Donnie." I retort, pointing out the hypocrisy. I can tell he's taken aback and he takes a moment to respond.

"Fine, you know what? You're right. We did get together that way. I just thought what we had was more than that. Instead, I open Twitter to see pics of you two all over each other." His words are laced with disgust and I furrow my brow.

"Are you just gonna skip over how you ghosted me? What we had couldn't have been that special if you could just push me aside like-" I stop mid-sentence as I realize something. "Hold up, what did you say about Twitter?"

"That I saw you and Damian all over my feed. In my fucking face." He spits and my eyes widen.

"Wait, wait... Damian said you were the only one it was sent to."

"Yeah, well, your little boyfriend lied to you, what a surprise." He says coldly. I don't have any words. Or at least, none that might make this sense of guilt go away. "Just tell me one thing... why Dame?"

"It's not like I sought him out, Donnie. I just happened to be at the same club as him and he approached me." I explain, not liking this conversation one bit.

"And you didn't think for one second about the effect that might have on me?" He questions.

"First of all, I wouldn't have even been there if you hadn't disappeared on me like you did! You're saying I went 'behind your back' but if you hadn't turned away from me I wouldn't have done that shit!" I bite back. "Besides, I'm a grown-ass woman and I can make my own decisions. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't need to explain yourself to me. But you gotta understand the consequences of your actions and how they hurt other people, how they hurt me." I could tell he was starting to lose his temper by the quiver in his voice.

"I was hurt first!" I shout in response, not caring about how childish I may sound right now.

"Come on now, Y/N." He starts.

"No, since you want an explanation so bad here it is. I was hurt because I really liked you and I thought things were actually going well with us." My voice cracks a bit. "Until you just randomly stopped texting and calling back. You left me like I was just some piece that you had your fun with and so yeah, I was really fucking hurt, Donnie. And to hear you try and put all the blame on me like I did all this shit hurts 20 times more!"

Adonis is taken aback for a minute by what I had said. He knows I have a point and that this would've been avoided if he was just straight up with me. I didn't know the stuff he'd been dealing with Dame or the extent that it went and that led to me being pulled into their drama.

Adonis sighs loudly and I can tell he feels terrible. He's been acting cold and absent towards me when I didn't deserve it at all.

"Listen... I- I'm sorry, okay. You're right, I shouldn't have stopped talking to you like I did. I was going through a lot between training for this fight and getting stabbed in the back by someone I thought was my friend. But I didn't stop to realize how you might've felt about this." He tells me.

I bury my face into my hands, wiping my tears and inhaling deeply as I try to reign in my emotions.

"I'm sorry, too." I relent. As angry as I am, I do know that I had some part in hurting Adonis, even if a part of me wanted to. "Where do we go from here?" I ask, shaking my head.

"I'm mad, Y/N, hurt... but I can't pretend I don't love you." He admits and I chew on my lip. "This isn't how I wanted us to go. I know I fucked up and I wanna make this right. But... right now, I gotta sort this stuff out with Dame."

"I guess I do, too..." I mumble, realizing I still have to deal with him. A part of me feels bad, because I already miss his touch, even after just one night. "Maybe... we both need some time to figure this out," I finally say, my voice low but steady. "This fight, everything with Dame... it's too much right now."

Adonis lets out a slow, heavy sigh on the other end. "Yeah, maybe we should take a break... at least until this fight is over." His words are reluctant, but there's a hint of understanding beneath them.

"Okay," I whisper, my heart sinking. "Good luck, Donnie."

"You too, Y/N."

I hang up and sit in silence for a moment, staring at the dark screen of my phone. My chest feels tight, my emotions tangled in a web I can't unwrap. I don't get much time to dwell on it before my phone vibrates.

I glance down, half-hoping it's Adonis calling back. But no, it's Dame. Hesitating for a beat, I answer.

"Y/N," his voice is softer this time, almost cautious. "I... I just wanted you to know I got the photos taken down. You won't have to deal with them anymore."

I should feel relieved, but instead, his words only stir up more frustration. "Why did it happen in the first place, Damian? You said it was just sent to Donnie. Why were they sent everywhere?"

"I don't know," he admits, his voice laced with regret. "I didn't mean for it to blow up like that. I just wanted him to feel what I felt... but now I see it just made everything worse. For you, especially." I close my eyes and let his words sink in.

"You think that fixes this?" I question, disbelief evident in my voice.

"No," he replies quickly. "But I needed to make it right. Because... I care about you, Y/N. Really. And I don't wanna ruin what we could have."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and for a moment, I'm speechless. Damian Anderson, the same man who dragged me into this man, is now confessing his feelings to me?

"I don't know if I can trust you," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand that," he says. "But I had to let you know how I feel. Even if you don't choose me. I'm the one who started this off wrong, trying to use you to make him jealous. I didn't consider your feelings in all this and I was too stupid to realize that my actions could affect someone else. If you could just give me a chance, let me make this right, I won't let you down. That's all I needed to say..."

The call ends, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. My heart feels like it's being tugged into two different directions—one pull stronger than the other, but neither feels completely right.

As much as it hurts to admit, I got myself here. I didn't get coerced into this or forced, I made all the decisions that got me where I am today. I was the one who kissed Damian and left with him, all because I was hurt.

I sit on the edge of my bed, letting the weight of everything crash over me. How did it get to this? One part of me wants so badly to have my lips pressed against Donnies, missing how safe and right it felt to be with him. Another part craves Dame's touch, how he can be passionate and gentle at the same time. I want to believe Dame and I want to trust Adonis.

But right now, all I feel is confusion.

As I lie back, staring at the ceiling, one thought keeps circling in my mind: No matter what I choose, someone's going to get hurt.

I can only wonder if that someone will be me.

[woodle-isbae]

"Don't run from me now."

He pull you back by the waist, chuckling at how you whined from the fill he gave you. Stack had you bent over in a deep arch, screaming his name into the sheets of your bed.

"Oh c'mon now, ain't you the one that said–shit– you can take it?"

He groaned, slowing down his thrusts to get a better view of him dissapearing inside you, the thick ring of your juices rimmed around his base, some of it running down your shaking thighs.

"Mmm-fuck! Stack–waitt.!"

You tried grabbing at his hand to slow him down, only for him to grip at your wrist and use it as an anchor, pulling you slightly back to get a deeper arch and deeper range inside you.

"Allat' talk, look where that big mouth got you!"

He hissed out, grinding his hips oh so painfully against yours, managing to wrap his other hand right under you and rub at your clit, drunk on the way you clenched around him.

"Mnghf–fuuck! I'm gon' cum, Stack pleaseee!"

You cried out, body pushing right back against his in pursuit of your orgasm, the man above you only pressing his fingers down as he drew faster circles while drilling himself into you.

"I ain't stack 'round here baby, you know my name pretty."

It's cruel the way he had you right on edge, holding back from letting you burst–oh but you loved it, drooling into the pillow beneath your head from this.

"Mm..Elias—please, Elias!"

He groaned out, satisfied with the way his name was sung from your swollen lips, eyes rolling back as he gave a few weak thrusts. Your breathe caught in your throat before you broke out in curses and moans.

He had pulled out and layed next to your numb body, thumb rubbing at your shoulder after he presses delicate kisses.

Savoring the moment of his skin on yours and the intimacy of his embrace.

[tallulahneale]

Dear Diary: Part 2

A/N: Requested by @chanelbarbbb and @yamst3rdamctrl

Warnings: Smut 18+

Part 1

The raw energy and self-control emitted by the twins was unmatched. She needed to do what she came to do and leave. Tallie turns away quickly, reeling from the pressure of Stack’s tongue deep in there waterfall and teasing from Smoke. The air around her was dense and sticky just like her inner thighs. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she washes her hands preparing to bake their tarts. 

Returning to a focus state is so hard.

Emptying her mind seems merely impossible as the question rings loudly in her ears. ‘Do you want a bun in your oven?, she shivers with euphoria while folding the dough for maple pecan pastries. A deep laugh from Stake and slight chuckle from Smoke, distracts her once more. The tempting fantasies of what could happened present in her mind, a myriad of positions, angles and manoeuvres. She ignores them while rolling out the puff pastry, preheating the oven to 350 degrees.

Humming and tidying up as she goes, Tallie feels two pairs of eyes on her form, she deflects turning to wipe down the countertop. The lyrics of song playing in the background agree with her inner thoughts and wants.

“You know I'm saucy and it's always wet, a bitch never ever had to use lip gloss on it”, swinging her hips to the tune, she pops the pastries in the over to bake.

Stacks lowers the volume to turn and look at her, “I know you’re saucy, might have to suck you some more… get my bearding growing”. She giggles with a wink at Stack, bending over to check the pastries.

“Tallie” Smoke calls in a firm tone “Come here.”

Tallie looks around for her doppelgänger, Smoke is definitely not talking to her like that. She shrugs and keeps checking the pastries, switch out the tray for a new batch.

“Second time you’ve ignored me Tallie, don’t get yourself put out because of pride.” He shares, waiting for her response.

She rolls her eyes and grumbles, throwing the tea towel down after reducing the heat for the final set. 

“It’s your fault if they burn, Smoke” she sasses. 

Shuffling slowly to where she was beckon, Stack watches her leisurely stroll with an amused look. “You better listen to him, he’s not as nice as me” Stack tells her as he walks off to grab a piece of the warm tart and turn off the oven.

Her face betrays her as she takes in Smoke’s form. His legs are stretched out in-front of him, thighs wide enough to kneel before him in submission. Hands rested on the velvet blue cushions beside him, an unspoken invitation to suck at them again. The sweet scent of the freshly baked goods acts as an aphrodisiac causing Tallie to clenches as her centre starts to pulse. Smoke scans her from the corner of his eye, taking in her not so subtle shudder and soft gasp. 

Moving closer towards him, she squirms glancing at his hands then to his face. Smoke reads her request and lifts his hand to his thighs, creating space as she takes her seat. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to say something but Tallie remains verbal silent. He reads her face, eyes are much bolder, quietly telling him what she wants. She mumbles something and gently brings his hand to rest on the fabric of her dress.

It’s not enough.

She shimmies her dress up to her hips, showing him the wet spot on the drench cotton panties, allowing for direct contact with her skin. Smoke bites his lip and grips the mass of her thighs. Smooth in the shade of Hersheys kisses, he caresses the outer area with the back of his hand. Tallie leans into his gentle petting but as quick as he starts, he snatches his hand away from her, not wanting to give in till she begged.

“Smoke?” Tallie whines futilely at his withdrawal, his length twitches at the alluring sound of his name on her lips. She notices the growing swell of his slacks clamping her hands on her dress to keep from latching onto him. The pressure and lack of release was too much to handle. She stares in envy at the darken patch formed under his slack from his weeping arouse, wishing it was against her skin instead. She needs to-

“You want to touch it?” Smoke mocks cunningly at her lost attention.

Tallie nods frantically, her eyes fighting for focus between his smug gaze and the bulge that calls to her. He grants her access as her slips her fingers across his thighs and up to his navel, unbuttoning his fitted slacks, pulling down the zipper agonisingly slow. Smoke bucks up into the warmth her touch, eager to meet the touch of the supple skin. She lets his thickness out of the restraints, pre cum oozing from the tip and dripping down to her awaiting fingers. A grunt escapes his throat as he watches her play with the slippery tip. She licks her index finger before returning back to his bare length, embrace it with the palm of her hands. Hungrily, Tallie lean closer and closer to the dripping tip, needing a taste from the source, but Smoke refuses.

“Asked you if you wanted to touch it, not suck Sugartits” He warns as he grips her throat, forcing her to face him. The tears of love and lust at the corner of her eyes make him smile as he pushes her flat out on the couch, faced up to keep her neck exposed.

But an interruption is present.

She looks up to find Stack above her; robe off, free from any undergarment, just the thickness of his dick blocking the view of his signature smile. Her mouth waters, drool dripping down the side of her cheek. A mewl escapes from her throat as Smoke tugs her breast from the constraints of her dress, tweaking her sensitive nipple to bring her focus back to him.

“Until you learn to divide your attention equally, you’re not getting anything” He adds in a nonchalant tone, Tallie knows better than to disregard him again. So she apologises the best and only way she knows how.

Staring into his darken heated gaze, she raises her hips to slip off the drench panties, holding her thighs back to expose her pussy. Out in the open. Her folds are glistening, the trimmed hair laid flat and soaked. Her clit swollen and pulsing at him, throbbing at his scrutiny. She pins her legs under her head ensuring nothing obstructs his view.

His eyes are stuck on her core as it leaks essence with each throb and pulse of her tiny needy nub. Smokes demeanour is breaking, having her laid out before him like a prize.

“Fuck” He whispers as he peers at her teary eyes.

She is waiting for him to do something. Anything. Everything. 

All the while, Stack remains speechless at her manoeuvre, his dick bouncing and dripping precum at the tip of her nose watching it slide down to her upper lip. Eagerly, her little pink tongue darts out, licking it away, eyeing it again before returning to Smoke.

He breaks.

Rubbing his fingers across her folds, she shivers and glances at the manly fingers outlining her juicy fruit. His eyes meet hers again as he leans forward, knocking his dripping head up at her clit, sliding it down her core and back to her desperate nub. Tallie tries to grind up into him, tired of the teasing, but fails. She whimpers, her speech no longer coherent.

Reaching to grab his length and slide it in, Stack instantly catches her arms and clasps them together with one hand. She seeing this position as a positive, his length is closer than before. The thick vein running under his shaft is rested against her lips. With a gentle kiss, she places little licks along him before he pulls back.

Smoke leans into her folded form, gliding along her wetness still holding back.

“Please!” Tallie screams, panting like a bitch in heat, her pussy leaking, tongue out and throat dry

“You’ve got to invite me in first” Smoke tells her, tapping his tip on her folds, knocking like a vampire at the front door.

“FUCK ME NOW!” She wails, Smoke grins and pushes past her folds into her warm, gushing wet hollow with a grunt and sigh of relief. Her walls grip at his length, keeping him trapped and secure as he builds a rhythm within her sweetness.

Her eyes lift up to peek at Stack, his eyes remain lost at the pointed peak of her chest, mesmerised with every breathe she inhales and exhales. Tallie draws him back, licking at his thickness. Sucking along the shaft of his length she mewls, Smoke is hitting her sweet spot, the left curve of his dick caressing the back of her tummy. She might not last long.

“Stack baby… I want…” She moans, the pleasure from below has her mind foggy and misplaced.

“You want this?” Stack asks from above, his shaft stroking across her lips. She nods as best as she could, eyes bright with desire and want. He clicks his tongue in thought, taking a step back to observe her form.

“Nah you’re not ready for this” He says, gripping his length in his palm. Massaging from tip to balls leaking onto the cushion just out of her reach. She snarls at him which Smoke admonished with swats on her rounded cheeks. He pushes into further into her waterfall, her back arching as he hits at the sweet spot again giving her a better view of Stack’s sinful activities. 

“You good?” Smoke checks in with a smirk.

“Maybe preacher boy would rather-“ 

Stack bends her head back and with glee, Tallie opens her mouth for him, as he slides down her throat keeping the sentence stuck like his long girthy thickness.

The walls of her pussy clenches as her eyes roll back, she gushes wetness all across Smoke, her thighs are sticky, his chest is drenched with the squirt of her essence.

“Whose eyes are rolling back now?” Smoke asks with a grin, keeping his rhythm as he and his twin feed on her desire.

They keep going. Stack slides deeper into her mouth holding it there, groaning at the tremble of her moans against his tip.

“It’s coming Tallie” Smoke alerts her.

“Bout to be full at both ends” Stack echos as his clench his fists on the cushion underneath her head.

All is heard are the grunts and moans of two grown men as Tallie’s fades to black from pleasure.

——

The scent of cedarwood and new leather tickles her nose as she wakes up on a fluffy comforter. She squirms at the gentle licks on her sensitive lips and caress on her ample chest down to her tight hard nipples. A sharp breath escapes her throat, revealing her consciousness to the twins. Stack leaves a final smooch on her breast as he moves to peck her lips with a sweet smile.

“What was that about preacher boy?” He challenges, nipping along the nape of her neck.

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Smoke adds as he spoons her, lifting her hair to suck along her collarbone, leaving wet spots and drool across her naked skin. She giggles at how it tickles and suddenly remembers what got her into this situation.

“Can I have my diary back now?” She inquires, hoping to disguise her dread. Her slip up about preacher boy was not purposely said but in the pleasure foggy of her lust, it seemed to emerge.

And her diary knew the truth… she has thoughts of him too.

Smoke is diligent in noticing the change of her breathing, he looks at Stack and they share a telepathic thought.

“What’s going on?” She asks, trying to sound unbothered but fails to fool either of them. Smoke pinches the warm orbs of skin that lay perky on her chest as Stack steps out of the room. He walks back with her diary in his hands, flipping through all pages from the beginning. His eyebrows raise in shock, followed by a nod of approval. 

“Wait- Don’t read-” Tallie tries to distract him, but the secret is out.

Smoke holds her flush against his chest, grinding his hips into her trembling cheeks as she raise her hips for him. Slipping past the cleft of her ass, he glides across her puffy lips. The telltale signs of her desire are no secret this him.

“You want him too huh?” Stack smirks deviously, reading snippets of her diary entry.

“So fucking greedy” Smoke groans as he slide inside her warmth again, she purrs in delight. She reaches for Stack, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

“I’ll stay awake this time” she says obediently, submitting to bliss of round two. 

—The end—

A/N: Thank you for all the love for Part 1!!!! Y’all are amazing

[spookysanta]

Keep That Same Energy. (MBJ)

Summary: Michael has lost all common sense when they step out and she's wearing that dress.

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT, public sex (kinda)

yeah no the mbj fixation has yet to die down.. sorry not sorry

from the drafts

MINORS DNI

She loved the red dress.

It was tight. Short. Loud. Everything she knew would catch eyes.

Which is exactly why he told her not to wear it.

He saw it laid out on the bed that morning and froze in the doorway, a slow smirk crawling across his face before it dropped into something darker.

“You wear that tonight, I swear to God.”

She turned, hand on her hip. “What? It looks good.”

“It looks like you’re trying to get punished.”

She smiled. “Maybe I am.”

He stepped closer, eyes raking down her body. “Try it if you want to.”

He said it with a grin, gold grills flashing in the hotel lighting, but there was weight behind the words. A promise. A threat.

She wore it anyway.

By the time they hit the red carpet, he had his hand was on her ass, tucked low like it was casual. Like no one would notice.

But they did. Everyone did.

Photographers? Ate it up. The crew? Pretended to be shocked. His co-star Wunmi clocked her instantly. Hailee barely glanced before giving Michael a pointed look. “Y’all gonna make it through the night?” She asked with a smirk.

“Barely,” she said, cheeks already burning.

The girls exchanged a look. Hailee whispered just loud enough for her to hear: “Girl, he’s obsessed. Like rabid. That man has not blinked since you walked in.”

“I know,” she said under her breath, trying not to shiver. “I can feel it.”

Michael was standing feet away but looked like he was on the verge of dragging her into a wall. His jaw clenched when she laughed too loud. His fists curled when at his sides when he had to step away from her for a photo.

During the cast shot, he stared down at her silhouette. Gripped the back of her waist like a warning. Licked his lips when she shifted. “Stop bein’ nasty,” Jayme muttered through a clenched smile, catching him in the act.

He just smirked. Didn’t even try to deny it.

During the couple photo-op, reporters and photographers asked who he was wearing. He mumbled through the answer. Because all he could focus on was her hand around his waist. Her fingers slipping low when they weren’t looking. The way her perfume hit him in waves.

“You trying to fuckin’ test me?” he growled in her ear between shots.

“I’m just standing here.”

“You’re pressing your thighs together like you want me to fuck you through this carpet.”

She didn’t reply. Just smiled sweetly for the cameras and dragged her nails down his spine as they walked away.

He blinked hard like trying to shake it off. But it didn’t work.

The afterparty was loud. Champagne-slicked. Full of industry names and fake grins. Michael tried. Toasted. Chatted with Jack and Ryan. Talked distribution with producers. He kept it together for thirty minutes.

But the second she stepped into the room again, laughing with Wunmi, the hem of that red dress riding higher with every step?

It was over.

He didn’t even excuse himself. Just walked.

Straight to her. Through the crowd. Cupped her jaw in front of everyone. Kissed her cheek. Bit her ear. “You don’t fuckin’ listen,” he growled to her.

“Hmm?”

“You think I didn’t feel your nails on my back?”

“Maybe you imagined it.”

He smiled like a threat. “No, baby. What I am imagining is dragging you into that fuckin’ bathroom and making you scream my name until the mirrors fog.”

“I thought you said you were gonna behave?”

“Mm. Never agreed to that. But I am gonna ruin you. That’s a guarantee.”

She met his gaze head-on, fingers curling into the lapel of his jacket. “Make it quick.”

He barely got the bathroom door shut.

Mouth on hers. Hands clawing the dress up. Tongue licking into her like he couldn’t breathe without her taste. His body pressed hers against the tile wall.

“You fuckin’ tease,” he snarled, biting her jaw. “Walking around in this dress. Laughing. Touching me.”

She moaned. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He grabbed the back of her neck and spun her toward the mirror. Bent her over the sink so fast her heel slipped.

“This what you wanted?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“Yes, Michael.”

He pushed her panties aside and slid in hard. No warning. No patience.

She nearly collapsed.

He gripped her hips, snapped his hips forward. Rough. Vicious. The mirror shook with each thrust.

“Keep that same fuckin’ energy,” he panted. “You wanna act like a brat in public, I’ll treat you like one in private.”

“Michael—”

He grabbed her hair, yanked her up against his chest, one hand at her throat.

“You fuckin’ love this. Say it.”

“I do. I fucking love it.”

He growled and buried his face in her neck. Thrusting deeper. Meaner. Until her whole body was quivering.

She came hard, shaking in his grip, and he didn’t stop. Just chased his own release with a hiss, coming so hard he went still for a moment, breathing ragged.

When they stepped out, she looked wrecked.

Lipstick smeared. Hair askew. Dress creased.

Hailee handed her a drink with a grin. “Don’t even lie. I timed you.”

Wunmi raised her brows. “Was it as filthy as it looked?”

She took a sip, voice hoarse. “Worse.”

Michael walked out like nothing happened. Except for the sweat on his brow. And the wild look in his eye. And the fact that he gripped her hand like he’d murder anyone who even looked.

Then the DJ dropped something low. Horns, bass, heat. He turned to her. “Dance with me.”

“I need a second—”

He pulled her close. “You’ve had long enough.”

He spun her. Pulled her back. Ground against her like they were alone.

“You think this shit is funny. Driving me insane.”

“Maybe.”

“Wearing that fuckin’ dress. Making me act out. Making me want to fuck you on a speaker.”

She rolled her hips again.

He groaned. “Car. Now.”

“Michael—”

“I said now. Get your purse.”

He dragged her to the lot, slammed the car door shut, shoved coats aside, and pulled her onto his lap.

“Can’t make it home. Not when you’re lookin’ like this. Drippin’ for me.”

She gasped as he slid her panties to the side again, rubbing slow circles against her until she couldn’t think.

“You ever embarrass me like that again,” he growled, “I’ll make you cum in the fuckin’ elevator. Say you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Liar.”

He shoved into her, made her scream.

And did it all again at home.

When he carried her through the door, she clung to him.

“You trying to break me?”

“I haven’t even started.”

“Same dress tomorrow?”

“You better hope you can walk.”

She laughed. Then moaned when he kissed her again.

He didn’t stop until sunrise.

And even then, he whispered, “Still not finished.”

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[araybiaaa]

❝ held by you.❞ annie x elijah “smoke” moore

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… domestic fluff, pregnant!sex, fingering, anal sex, comfort, canon relationship, alternate universe, heartwarming fluff. porn without plot. (very minimal plot) multiple orgasms, penetrative!sex, unprotected sex.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… a quiet moment shared between annie and smoke.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… i watched the movie the other day and was absolutely obsessed with these two and their chemistry! i haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since 😭

she stirs awake to the feeling of lips brushing against her shoulder; soft in each peck and descending lower as they reached the middle of her back. annie flutters her eyes open, blinking through the bleariness of sleep that fogged her vision before peering over her shoulder. “you’re back late.”she accents, gently maneuvering out of his embrace so that she’s able to turn around.

despite the window being pulled open, perspiration sticks against her skin from the sweltering mississippi heat; causing the fabric of her nightgown to cinch tightly against her body. she could see smoke’s eyes wandering over her body, widening slightly at her nipples that were prodding through the flimsy material. he licks his lips, almost instinctively, pressing his knee into the worn mattress as he hovers himself over her.

“got caught up. had to handle somethin’.” he remarks, palming his hand over her thigh as he absentmindedly pushed up the hem of her gown — caressing the slit of exposed skin that comes into view. he leans over, nearly sprawling himself over her as he closes the distance between them.

annie gives him a pointed look, pressing her hand firmly against his chest. “you and stack been up to no good again?” she questions, though to no avail because as he nudged closer she could see a spot of blood on the collar of his shirt and bruises already deepening on his knuckles. “elijah,” she condemns, only ever using his real name whenever he was in trouble (or in quiet moments of intimacy shared between them.)

he chuckles smugly, gently pushing her hand away from his chest as he continued to kiss along her neck and clavicle, undaunted by her reprimanding tone. “i love when you say my name like that, makes me wanna do somethin’ else to make you say it again.” he whispers as his fingers continue their exploration until they’re caught at the edge of her bloomers.

his breath’s hot against her skin; but somehow still sends a cold shiver down her spine. smoke crowds closer to her, now bracketing her body between his and the mattress. his hand slides over to palm her through her bloomers, a choked gasp catches in annie’s throat at the teasing friction. “went in town…had to get some money from a couple of people who owed us.” he offers in explanation, his attention’s thwarted as he feels her cunt throb against his hand.

he presses his tongue against his cheek, watching her face go slack with pleasure as he slid his thumb over her clothed slit. she whimpers, feeling her hips chase vainly after the pleasure. he hums, pressing his thumb more firmly against her as he oscillated his movements. “you know how i f-feel…fuck…” she moans shakily, feeling him slowly shatter through her reprieve. “about you and stack gettin’ into trouble.” she condemns but it comes out more airily than she intends and has him smirking again.

his fingers pull at her bloomers, gently tugging them over her hips until they’re in a bunched up pool around her ankles. “you don’t need to worry about me and stack…” he slides his hand over her mons, easily slipping a finger through her slickness.

her clit dragging against the thickness of his calloused fingers has her body shaking. he alternates through his dexterity, sliding his fingers through her cunt and fondling the overly sensitive nub of her clit as he watched in mesmerization. “all you need to worry about is stayin’ off those feet and relaxin’.” he says, gliding his other hand over the swell of her stomach that seemed to grow every time he looked at it.

he still couldn’t believe the miracle they were awarded with. though it hadn’t been planned, the news of annie’s pregnancy left them both elated at the prospect of them having a family. his life had been far from easy, but after learning that he was going to have a child smoke had promised himself to give their baby a life full of love and affection that he and stack were deprived of when they were growing up.

“there ain’t no such thing as relaxin’ with you and stack around. i swear you two cause me more trouble than this baby,” smoke glides his finger further up her cunt; slowly dragging his scissored fingers against her walls feeling her flutter wantonly around the girth of him.

“there you go…” he murmurs softly, briefly looking away from her face to watch his fingers messily lap with her slickness. she whimpers again, the sound high and loud as she feels a tightness curling in her belly. his dick strains painstakingly hard against the seams of his slacks as he watched her come undone.

she shakes through her release, reaching a hand out to grip his forearm to steady herself.

her chest heaves as she laid there attempting to lull her breathing. she blinks, mind still dazed from her first orgasm and looked down at smoke as he maneuvered between her legs. he presses a kiss against her calf as he hefts her right leg over his shoulder. he settles himself between her thighs with his face directly in view of her sopping cunt.

his mouth salivates at the sight of her slickness that spills messily from her folds. “just relax, baby….i got you,” he avows before he’s leaning forward and burying himself in her cunt. she shivers, handling a grip on his head as he flattens his tongue and laps up the remnants of her orgasm.

he slides the tip of his tongue against her swollen clit before puckering his lips as he suctioned her in his mouth. he moans at the tangy taste of her.

her hips cant back and forth while his tongue fucked her; licking and sucking on the pink flesh of her vulva. his fingernails dig into her thighs securing her in place as he swirls his tongue up her slit and gently tugs on her clit with his teeth. “e-elijah!” her body lurches at the overwhelming pleasure as her eyelashes cling wetly with tears. he continues his ravenous feat, encouraged by her breathy moans that ricochet loudly through the room.

he slides another finger inside of her; feeling the immediate and responsive clench of her gaping around him. she shudders through her second orgasm that feels even bigger than the first. he looks up at her with face covered in a mix of her juices and his saliva. he laps his tongue around his mouth, swallowing the residuals of her cum.

“think you got another one in you?” he asks as he began to doff out of his clothing, finally freeing his cock from the confined barrier. her cunt throbs at the sight of him despite her body’s exhaustion. he grabs ahold of himself and rolls his dick against his hand; undulating in slow strokes from tip to base as his cock swells in its girth.

she only whimpers tersely in response which is enough to have smoke stand on his knees in front of her. “turn around for me. just hold on and i’ll take care of the rest.” annie musters enough energy to sluggishly turn over. she sits herself up on her knees, holding onto the wall for leverage as she arched her ass in the air.

smoke’s hands grip her waist as he angled himself behind her. he nudges her gown up, pushing it further over her hips until it’s no longer hindering his view of her ass. he bites his lip at the sight of her, feeling his dick twitch against his thigh in anticipation of being inside of her again. grabbing ahold of cock, smoke jerks himself off until he’s fully hard and throbbing. then, he stances himself and angles his dick at her entrance. with a gentle roll of his hips, his dick begins its slow penetration as he stretches her open.

he groans through bared teeth, firming the grip that he held on her waist as he lowered his eyes to watch the lewd sight of his intrusion. annie mewls; the sound is caught between a cry and a moan as shivers roll deliciously down her spine. her hand reaches behind her, desperate to seek purchase on something. “i got you…i got you,” smoke whispers through shaky reassurances, feeling her hole clench so tightly around him that he staggers a bit.

it’s only a few inches buried inside of her; but fuck if that wasn’t enough to have smoke already teetering towards his own orgasm. he waits for a brief moment; allowing them both a moment to adjust. there’s a delicious burn that spreads through her thighs as he penetrates her inch by inch, nudging her open until her body’s swallowing his dick whole. the pain subsides and is immediately replaced by pleasure — he continues to nudge until he feels the tip of his dick buried completely at the hilt as he bottoms her out.

his pelvic bone brushes against her ass as he holds her there. smoke leans forward and pressed a kiss against her back, caressing a hand against her round ass. “ready?”

tears sting in the back of annie’s eyes at the first thrust. she feels every inch of him in his intrusion; how he retreats torturously slow, sliding and brushing his dick against her walls.

annie’s eyes flutter and her throat clicks when he rolls his hips and fucks a long stroke back into her. her jaw goes slack as her mouth parted open slightly ajar while she keened loudly in pleasure. he rolls his hips up into her, hitting her in her g-spot that makes her croon and nearly melt into the mattress. her skin is sticky and slick again; sweat cascades down her face starting from her hairline and trickling down her torso where droplets of the salty body fluid travels between the valley of her breasts.

she pushes her ass back meeting him thrust–for–thrust, feeling his dick curl past her perineum. smoke groaned, enticed by the noises of their wet skin slapping against each other’s. “you feel so fuckin’ good. make me wanna put another baby in you.” he mutters, his eyes now heeding their focus on the sight of his dick extracting and reentering her. he hastens his thrusts and fuck into her unrelentingly until he hears her sobs catching in the air again. smoke thrusts into her with abandon, grabbing her ass, pulling her already working hips closer to him, pushing himself deeper as he watched his balls slaps against her with every ricochet.

she chokes back a sob once she feels the precipice of her orgasm creeping up on her. smoke grunts as he thrusted shallowly inside of her, repeatedly brushing against her g-spot until she quivers tightly around him again. she cums with another loud cry, her legs shake beneath her as her balance falters.

smoke continued to fuck her through it, milking her completely dry until she goes boneless. his hips jerk and it’s not long before he’s succumbing to his own orgasm. he cums inside of her, the thick white fluid spills into her as he falls forward with a groan.

when he pulls out when his dick goes flaccid. annie whimpers from the sensitivity, feeling a trail of smoke’s cum spill out in his withdraw. he reaches over and grabs his shirt and wipes away the sticky residue. “you relaxed now?” he asks as she sprawls out on her side. he rubs his hand over her stomach, watching as her eyes fluttered softly.

she hums, nodding her head as she pointed a finger against his chest, “but don’t think just ‘cause you fucked me good that i’m not still mad about whatever trouble you and stack have been gettin’ into!” he chuckles as he adjusts his position, spooning himself behind her as he pressed a kiss against her shoulder.

“what should we name her?” he questions, seemingly changing the topic of conversation. annie gives him a slightly narrowed look but acquiesced to his subversion.

he intertwines his fingers within hers as they rest against her stomach. annie yawns softly, feeling a heaviness pulling at her eyelids. she snuggles further against smoke’s chest wrapping herself around the warmth of his embrace. “beatrice?” she suggests in a murmur, already feeling his disapproval from the incoherent noise that he makes. “carol?”

“carol?”

she rolls her eyes, gently nudging her elbow against the side. “i don’t hear you comin’ up with any suggestions.”

he sits there in quiet contemplation. “anna. after the beautiful woman who made her.” she turns her head and gives him a sleepy smile. her hand reaches behind his neck and tugs him forward to brush a kiss against his lips.

“mmm!” she whines softly, feeling smoke’s hand raffishly slip beneath her nightgown again. he leans his forehead against hers, staring at her underneath his lashes — watching as she bites on her lower lip. his finger easily slides in; brushing through the coils of pubic hair as he sought after her clit. “i won’t be able to walk tomorrow if you keep doin’ this.”

he huffs a small laugh, reaching his other hand around her as he palmed her breast. “that’s the plan. relaxin’ and restin’, baby. that’s all.” he brushes his thumb over her taut nipple; hearing her soft gasp ring in his ear. annie moans, her head lolling backwards on smoke’s shoulder as she thrust lazily against the thickness of his fingers.

“i love you,” she murmurs with a soft sigh as he brushed his nose against hers. her body goes lax as she cums, shivers roll down her spine as her body succumbs to the pleasure. she feels her eyes flutter close as smoke recites an equally heartfelt i love you before she’s falling back asleep.