@aellesa here is the full conversation about Annie and Smoke love scene. SINNERS IN CONVERSATION WITH KENNETH BRANAGH https://www.wbawards.com/film/?film=sinners
Authors Note: Not much of a plot, just wanted to write for his lil fine ass. Enjoy! 🩵 (unedited) gif by: blank-potato
Tyriq reached down and wrapped his hands around her waist lifting her onto the bathroom counter. Walking himself forward, he pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes rolled closed as she basked in this moment. Their tongues danced around as if they had done this before.
He lifted her legs and pushed them up to her chest and pinned them there. Gigi wrapped her hands around each leg, licking her lips in anticipation.
“Keep ‘em up.” He said, pulling the crotch of her panties to the side.
She watched as he grabbed the stool she used when she did her make up in the morning. Sitting down, laser focused on her pussy, he licked her clit before sucking it into his mouth.
She hissed, enjoying that first feel after not being touched in so long. Self pleasure was one thing. Of course her toys always got the job done. But nothing will ever come close to the actual feeling of being licked for the first time in months.
The view Tyriq had was beyond majestic. The way her legs were positioned caused her breasts to squeeze together. Dark brown nipples sat at attention as he watched them harden with every lick. His eyes rose a bit to meet her face. She chewed her bottom lip while eyes remained closed.
He slipped two fingers into her all while still teasing her clit. He was loving the sounds she was making; the moans that left her mouth and the gushy sounds of her pussy. The more he rolled his fingers in a come hither motion, the more cream built up around his fingers.
“Ohh that feels so fucking good!” Gigi cried, dropping her jaw against her chest.
He ran his tongues in circles over her clit while he continued to finger fuck her. Matching the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, it was just a matter of time before he got what he wanted out of her. He could feel her pussy clenching around his middle fingers and he knew she was about to cum.
“Fuck Riq, yesssss!”
The wet sounds of her cumming filled the room as his fingers became more soaked than before. He slowed his movement down before pulling out of her. Placing small kisses around her clit, he gave her a little time to come down.
While Gigi focused on catching her breath, Tyriq dropped his hand down to his dick and used her juices to stroke himself. Already dripping with precum, he gripped himself tight and worked his hand from the base to the tip over and over again.
He was ready to dive back in, to taste her one more time before he fucked her. His eyes raised up to her face and she seemed somewhat settled, somewhat ready for part two.
He was careful. Using the edge of his tongue to caress her clit while he squeezed the head of his dick. The taste of her made his eyes roll into the back of his head. Eventually those short, gentle licks turned into hungry suction.
Wrapping his lips around her clit, he pulled it into his mouth once again. This time refusing to unlatch.
Her eyebrows damn near lifted into her hairline. Having her pussy sucked like this was beyond any feeling she had given herself. She wasn’t sure if it was his ability to eat her as if he already knew what her body needed or the fact that he was so engulfed in ecstasy.
He was so in tune with her pussy like it was only him and her in the room. The way Tyriq allowed himself to unravel from her taste. He was so into it. As if he had been dying to be in between a woman’s legs.
“Riq please.” She whimpered.
Tyriq was so far gone he hadn’t heard her. Her thick pussy lips had pulled him in so deep. His face was soaked, chin dripping with his spit and her essence. All of this coupled with a fist full of his own dick, he wasn’t stopping until he only heard the cries of her…
“Oh fuck!” She cried out, trying to keep hold of her legs.
The more she moaned the more he pulled on himself. His eyes were slits as the whites of them poked through. He was in complete bliss, under a spell and she didn’t even have to cast it.
He was still latched onto her clit, sucking the sensitivity away. Her legs were shaking. She was torn between letting them go to free herself from his mouth and keeping still.
Gigi had never pushed herself past her limit. As soon as she came, the vibrator would shut off. She was so sensitive when it came to pleasure, she had never experienced what her body would do if it were pushed a bit over edge.
But she was finding out…
She gasped, squeezing the back of her thighs to prevent her from pushing his head. The more he sucked and rolled her clit around, the closer she was to cumming.
“Ah fuck yes…” She moaned, feeling her body jerk as she came. Her legs shook in her hands. Her stomach flexing as she rode out her orgasm all while still feeling his lips on her pussy.
He moaned heavily, loving the effects he was having on her. He knew nobody had made her feel like this before. That thought alone made his dick hard as stone in his hand.
Tyriq sat up, lapping up the juices that traveled from her pussy down to her thick ass. His tongue slipped in between her crack as he cleaned her up and she moaned from the sudden feeling. She watched him use his tongue to clean her up. Making popping sounds as he sucked on her ass and inner thighs.
After a few more seconds, he finally stood to his feet and stared down at her.
“Condom?”
“I’m on the pill.” She spoke.
He silently thanked the Gods. Tyriq was always careful with other girls. For him condoms were never optional with randoms. But he prayed that if he’d ever gotten a chance with her, he’d have permission to feel all of her raw and unfiltered.
He used his thumbs to spread her thick pussy lips. He didn’t want anything to prevent him from seeing himself when he entered her. It was so pink and gushy, shining from the mess he had made. He licked his lips again just to get a taste of the residue she left on his lips.
Gigi watched as a string of spit fell from his lips and onto her clit. The sight turned her on even more. The saliva landed just at the top of her clit before traveling down to her entrance. Before it could travel any further, Tyriq pushed into her, watching her pussy stretch around him. Her tight pussy pulled him in so well, he held his place for a few beats just to bask in the feeling.
She hissed, feeling his girth split her open. Her pussy stung a bit but the pleasure had quickly taken over.
Tyriq fucked her slowly. Pulling all the way out until he saw the tip of his dick before making it disappear again. She was so fucking wet, still so creamy from her cumming a few minutes ago. He let out a harsh breath in an effort to cover up a moan that was threatening to leave his throat.
“Pussy so fucking pretty.” He mumbled, more so to himself.
She stared up at him, mouth open. Her gaze was set on his face but all of her focus, all of her feeling had gone to her pussy.
He studied her face; bedroom eyes, parted lips and curled eyebrows. The way she looked at him as he fucked her was nothing like he imagined in his head. It was so much better.
“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” He said, still staring her down.
“No.” She breathed out.
“Since the first day I met you.” He leaned forward, pulling her legs around his waist.
She whined.
He rocked his hips into hers, placing kisses on her lips and jawline. She wanted to kiss him back but the long strokes he gave her prevented her from doing anything else. He dropped his head down to her shoulders and kissed her there.
Since he had a hold on her legs, her hands were free to roam and they landed right against his abdomen. He was so deep in her pussy, she could damn near feel him in her belly. She used her hands to somewhat prevent him from digging deeper but it was no use.
The more she pressed against him, the harder he fucked her. He wanted her to coat his dick like she’d done his fingers. She took a deep breath and when he didn’t hear her exhale, he knew she needed a little guidance.
“Stop holding it in baby, I wanna hear you.”
“It’s- so-“ She said before stopping herself.
“So what baby?” He asked, still planting kisses on her neck and fucking her.
“Deep.” She said before taking a sharp breath. He managed to walk himself forward some more, positioning himself much deeper than before.
“Breathe baby.” In her mind he was taunting her, fucking her to the point of speechlessness. But he was simply trying to coach her into a pleasurable experience.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes. They were still so low, slightly rolled up into her head. Every stroke he gave her was a full nine inches from tip to balls deep. There was no room for recovery and he enjoyed it. Although he wanted to make sure she got hers, his ego inflated just a bit from the sight of her floating due to the dick he was giving her.
“You feel so good in my pussyyy.” The words came out a bit slurred as if she was inebriated.
“Feel good baby?” He murmured against her lips.
“Yesssss.”
“You know what I need you to do?”
“Hm?”
“Cum on my dick.”
She let out a loud moan. They sat with their lips resting against one another's. The melodies of her sopping pussy and his thighs slapping against her ass bounced off of the walls.
“Can you do that for me?”
“Yea…” She whispered.
“Cream on my dick.”
Tyriq sped up, slapping his hips into hers, a stroke right after the last. Gigi bit down on her lip, trying to hold it all together. But Tyriq knew what he wanted and he was determined to get it.
“Oh my god!’ She said a bit louder than intended. ‘Fuck yes!”
Tyriq stood up straight, still keeping her legs pinned back so he could see the mess she made on his dick. His name being called out over and over again coupled with the sight of the white coating on his dick only allowed him a few more strokes before he was cumming as well.
“Fuuuuuuck.” His hips pressed against her ass as cum leaked from his dick. He squeezed her thighs tightly until he could feel all of his nut paint her cervix.
Gigi was still coming down from her own orgasm, feeling her walls pulse around him. They both sat still, breathing heavy and allowing their bodies to return to normal.
After a few moments, they both opened their eyes and stared at each other. Tyriq licked his lips and blinked slowly while he looked at her.
COMMUNITY MASTERLIST FOR @nahimjustfeelingit-writes
Hey y'all,
I'm sure most everybody knows by now, but tumblr has removed @eye-raq 's main account indefinitely. While she sees about getting the account recovered, i've started a google doc that everyone can add to with links to the reblogs of all her stories.
HERE is the link!
If you didn't know, the fics ARE still available via reblogs on Safari and in online browsers like chrome, edge, etc! In the tumblr mobile app, they are accessible on reblogs as well but only if you follow this navigation:
"notes" in bottom left corner > 🔁 (reblogs) > "View post" on the bottom of a reblog.
The "Keep reading" button will NOT work on the mobile app, just a heads up.
I thought it may be helpful if we try to put everything in one place for convenience in the meantime.
If you see something you can add and can take time out of your day to add it, please do so!! Anything helps. Let's get this going y'all!
The Request vault, a curated collection of your wildest, softest, and filthiest ideas brought to life. Every story listed here was inspired directly by you, my beloved chaos crew, through asks, DMs, or devilish late-night suggestions.
Smoke turning Annie at 180 degree speed while gripping her waist 😂 .. he didn’t even give her time to adjust to that whiplash kiss then turn! Also .. he pulled up that dress so quick, un zipped them pants so aggressively, and then proceeded to pull down them pants 3 times. This is the sinners rough edit not the theatrical released film version! I chuckle at this version so much 😂.. smoke was so impatient paired with the sounds they’re making 😂
Ohhhhhhhhh Annie got some power in that P baby !! Them moans tell it all !! And ion know about yall but I LOVEEEEEEE WHEN MY MAN BE MOANING IN MY EAR LIKE MAXWELL !!! Their moans together was so damn sexy !! When smoke first slide in they both felt that yes lawd!!!! Smoke x Annie forever baby
I’m on part seven and the way Smoke ate Violet in that hallway and just walked off?! Omg 😂😭
I wish he would have come back to finish the job then lmao. Can’t wait to read part eight!
I wrote a part after but tumblr don’t want me to be great! Lmao I had to cut an entire scene out which is fine because we have part eight 😛 but I can share the scene here for ya’ll. It was HAWT! I was gonna add it in later but I don’t think it’ll fit much now.
The lamplight was low, just a flicker of gold swaying against the walls like firelight, catching on the barest sheen of sweat between Violet’s breasts. She was spread out on the bed, her silk gown hiked high above her hips, ribbon at her throat, silk panties tossed somewhere beside her. Her legs trembled where he’d opened them—slow, firm, without question.
Smoke knelt between her thighs, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hands warm and heavy on her skin. One pressed against the inside of her knee, keeping her open. The other—God help her—was buried deep.
His fingers moved slow. Deep. Crooked just right.
Violet couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded, voice low and smoked with heat.
She’d tried to glance away—just for a moment, too overwhelmed—but he caught her chin and turned her face back to his, holding her gaze like a grip. Like a tether. Like he meant to keep her there forever.
“There she is,” he whispered, the corner of his mouth tilting into something dark and knowing, “You feel that, baby?”
Her lips parted, a breath stuttered out—but no words came.
He moved deeper. Slower.
Each stroke of his fingers pressed against something aching inside her, something slick and swollen and desperate. He didn’t pump. Didn’t rush. He stirred her open with rhythm like honey dripping off a spoon—slow and thick, like he had all the time in the world to ruin her. Her hips rolled without permission, greedy for more. He let her, let her fuck herself gently against his hand until she gasped—until her thighs trembled and her lashes fluttered like a breeze had touched her soul.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he whispered, eyes locked to hers, “All swollen and wet for me. Clenching around my fingers like you don’t ever want me to stop.”
He added pressure with the pad of his thumb, circling her clit so slow, so precise, she sobbed. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was worship. It was claiming. The kind of touch that said he knew her already. The kind of gaze that said she was his to learn, his to open, his to ruin sweet.
“Tell me what it feels like, Violet,” he whispered, breath brushing over her cheek, “Tell me what I’m doin’ to you.”
Her voice broke when she tried.
“I—Smoke—”
He curved his fingers again.
“Yes, you do. Say it.”
Her mouth trembled. Her eyes glossed.
“It feels…full,” she finally breathed, “So full. So—deep I c-can’t…”
He dipped his head, lips brushing the corner of her mouth.
“You can,” he growled softly, “You’re gonna cum just like this. From my fingers. While lookin’ me in the eye. Don’t run from it.”
She whimpered.
He slowed again, so slow it felt like a punishment. The kind that made her want to cry and beg and thank him all at once.
“That’s it,” he praised, watching her with fire behind his eyes, “Let me see it. Let me see what I do to you when I touch you just right.”
And she did.
Her mouth fell open. Her thighs clenched. Her whole body arched as her climax rolled through her like thunder—sweet and brutal and endless. But he didn’t stop. Didn’t pull away. He held her gaze the whole time, working her through it, whispering filth against her lips like prayer. When she finally slumped, wrecked and gasping, he slid his fingers free slow, glistening and wet. And then—eyes never leaving hers—he brought them to his mouth.
Sucked them clean.
“Mm,” he hummed, “Just like I thought. Sweet as sugar.”
And Violet—breathless, blushing, still trembling—could only moan.
She hadn’t even caught her breath when he shifted lower, dragging his mouth down her belly like he meant to kiss the life out of her. One hand gripped her thigh and nudged it higher, spreading her again, wide and open like a prayer. The other—rough and veined—drew down to his lap, where he freed himself from his slacks with a slow, deliberate hiss through his teeth.
“Still quivering,” he rasped, voice thick, knuckles brushing the slick inside of her thigh, “Gon’ taste you like this…after my fingers done made you fucked-out and tremblin’ for me.”
He bent low, breath hot against her folds. Didn’t rush. Didn’t dive in.
He looked.
Let his nose brush the top of her slit, breathing her in with a low, wrecked groan.
“Fuck, baby…”
His hand tightened around his fat dick, slow strokes from root to tip as his mouth hovered just above her. He groaned again, long and low—“Nnnnngh—mmmhh.” The sound vibrated against her skin before his lips even touched her.
And then…
He licked her.
Long, slow, wet. From the bottom of her slick folds all the way to her clit, tongue flat and skillful, as if worshiping the taste.
Violet gasped, spine arching off the satin bedding.
Smoke grunted against her, “Mmmph—mmmnhh,” stroking his thickness to the rhythm of his tongue. It was unhurried, maddening, slow like the blues from the main parlor and soaked in hunger. He buried his face deeper, beard scratching soft, lips plush and hot against her swollen folds.
“Just like that,” he spoke into her pussy, tongue circling her clit with obscene tenderness, “Stay open f’me. That’s it, sweet baby. Let me get drunk on it.”
His eyes flicked up—still watching her, even as he licked her like she was the only thing on earth that mattered. His tongue slid down again, deeper, tracing every inch of her like he was mapping heaven. He sucked softly at her entrance, then dragged up and sealed his mouth over her clit with a reverent hum—
“Mmmmnnnh—shit, you taste like sin.”
He jacked himself harder now, wet sounds filling the room from both his strokes and the messy drag of his tongue through her folds. His thighs tensed. His hips flexed. But he didn’t come. Didn’t rush.
Because this was for her.
For the way she tasted, opened, panted, shook.
His tongue flicked her now—light, rhythmic strokes directly over her clit. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then slow again. Then he sucked it with just enough pressure to make her cry out, eyes rolling back.
He groaned against her again, sloppier this time, “Fffuck—mmMMmh—so sweet, baby, keep cummin’ for me.”
And she did.
Another wave overtook her—sharp and deep, body bucking against his mouth. He held her down, one arm strong across her hips, licking through it like he needed it to live. Lapping and moaning and jacking his dick like he was losing his mind on the taste of her.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, breath ragged, fingers in his hair, messing up the slick strands.
Smoke growled, deep in his throat, “Nnnnh—‘m not. Ain’t done wit’chu yet.”
He kissed her little pussy one more time—wet, sucking, obscene—before finally pulling back with his lips glistening. His chest rose and fell like he’d been running, eyes wild with hunger, still fisting himself slow and tight.
“You want me to cum with you on my tongue?” he rasped, voice ruined, “Right here?”
He leaned down again, licking the inside of her thigh like a man starved, all while stroking himself in tight, thick jerks, “Hhhhnn—shit—goddamn, Violet…”
She nodded, dazed and needy.
He dove back in with a groan so filthy, so feral, it sounded like prayer and death and heaven all rolled into one.
Smoke’s mouth was slick with her when he dove back in—deeper this time, tongue driving in as if he wanted to taste her from the inside out.
“Give me one more,” he muttered between strokes, voice wrecked, “Let me feel you cum on my tongue again, baby. Cum for me like you were made for it.”
His tongue circled her clit slow and deep, lips tugging with aching devotion. It wasn’t just skilled—it was worship, soaked in heat and hunger. His groans vibrated through her like a pulse:
“Mmmnnh—mmmhh—fuck yes, baby.”
His hand gripped her thigh harder, anchoring her in place, while the other still pumped his thick dick, slow and hard. The sound of it was obscene—slick, wet, heavy. Every stroke a promise.
Violet couldn’t look away.
Her orgasm built sharp and molten, her back arching, eyes locking on his face—so beautiful, so concentrated. His brows furrowed, jaw tight, eyes burning as he buried his mouth even deeper. She cried out—high and helpless—as her release hit, wet and aching and long. She soaked his mouth. He didn’t stop. He growled, licked her through it like he needed it to breathe.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were drenched. His chin. His tongue slid across his bottom lip, savoring her, smiling with his mouth wrecked and full of her taste.
“Shit…” he breathed, looking at her like she’d undone him, “I could stay down there all night.”
Violet blinked, trembling, dazed—and then she saw it.
Him.
His dick.
Smoke was still stroking himself beside her—slow, so slow—and it nearly stole her breath. Thick. Girthy. Long and heavy, the head flushed and leaking, a thick vein running like a lightning bolt down the side. His hand looked big around it, but not big enough—there was so much of him. The way it pulsed, swollen and wet from his strokes, made her ache.
She watched him in awe, lips parted.
His biceps flexed as he worked himself, veins raised beneath his skin. His chest rose and fell. His face—God—was so handsome, jaw shadowed with stubble, lips damp from her, dark eyes wild and fixed on her pussy.
“You see what you do to me?” he growled softly, biting his bottom lip as he slowed his hand, “Look at this fuckin’ mess. All this? From tastin’ you.”
He gave his big ass dick a rougher pull, “Hnnnghh—fuck.” The sound was filthy. His hips jerked slightly off his knees, like he was chasing it.
“Violet,” he rasped, voice gone to gravel and heat, “spread yourself for me, baby. Let me see it. Show me how wet you still are.”
Her body shivered, obeying before her brain caught up.
She reached down, still trembling, and held herself open with both hands—fingers slipping on her own cream, lips swollen and slick, her entrance fluttering and raw from his mouth.
Smoke groaned—loud—his dick twitching in his hand.
“Ohhhhhh—Goddamn.”
He gripped himself tighter, fisting from base to tip with slow, filthy purpose.
“You look fuckin’ ruined,” he moaned, watching her like a man hypnotized, “Look at that creamy little pussy… fuckin’ drippin’ for me. You want me to cum while I look at that sweet mess?”
“Yes,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Please, Smoke.”
He gritted his teeth, pace quickening. “Ahhh—ahhh—fuuuuck—”
His muscles tensed, eyes locked to her center, hand pumping in rough, deep strokes.
“Hold it just like that,” he growled, “Don’t stop.”
She kept her folds open, letting him see everything. Letting him watch her twitch and gleam and throb.
Then—
His whole body jerked.
“FUCK, Violet—gonna cum, baby—just like that—nnnghh—look at me—”
He looked her dead in the eyes, moaning deep from his chest.
“Ohhhh, shit—nghh!—take it—take all this fuckin’ cum—fuck—fuuuuuck—!”
Hot, thick ropes spilled over his hand, over his abs, pulsing from him in long, hard bursts. His head dropped forward, chest heaving, jaw clenched as he let it all go—moaning, shuddering, breathing ragged and ruined.
When he finally looked up again, still panting, a drop of sweat slid down his temple. He smirked.
“Now look what you done.”
Smoke was still stroking himself lazily, his thick dick twitching with the last pulses of release—cum spilled all over his hand, his shaft, glistening down to his base. His breath came hard. Shallow. Like he’d just given everything.
And yet…
He looked at her pussy like he wasn’t done.
“Still creamy,” he spoke, voice dark, “Still swollen. Still twitchin’ for me.”
He leaned forward, mouth dragging along the inside of her thigh, then back to her slick, trembling center—slow, sticky kisses to her folds. His cum was still hot on his dick, his strokes lazy now, just enough to keep him aching.
Violet whimpered, thighs trembling.
“I can’t—Smoke, I can’t take any more—”
“Yes, you can,” he whispered against her clit, tongue flicking softly, “You think I’m leavin’ this pretty pussy without gettin’ every last drop out of you? Nah, baby. You got more for me. I feel it.”
He licked her again—long, slow, and deep. His tongue slid inside her this time, slow and dragging, before pulling back up to suck on her clit, gently at first, then with firmer pressure.
Her legs jerked.
Her hands clawed at the sheets.
“Smoke—oh God—”
“Let it go,” he groaned into her, his lips soaked with her, his mouth locked on her clit like he was pulling her soul through it, “Cum for me again. Give it to me.”
His hand found her thigh and held her down, but she was already writhing—her whole body wound so tight it felt like something would snap.
He flattened his tongue and circled.
“Mmmnnnh—fuck—there it is—don’t fight it.”
Then—
She burst.
A sharp cry tore from her throat as liquid gushed from her, sudden and uncontrollable, soaking his face, his chin, the bed beneath her. She jerked, panicked, body still twitching.
“Smoke—! I—oh my God—”
He didn’t stop. Just groaned deep against her and drank it in, licking through the mess like it was holy. His dick twitched hard against his stomach, still half-hard and glossy with cum.
“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, mouth still moving between her legs, “You squirted f’me. Look at that. Look how fuckin’ sweet you taste when you cum like that—fuck, I knew you had it in you.”
Violet trembled, breath shattering. She stared down at him—in shock, in awe, in something deeper. He looked up at her with his face soaked, eyes gleaming like he’d been blessed by the divine.
He kissed her inner thigh again.
Then lower.
Then licked the mess from her skin like it was honey.
“Every drop,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “Mine.”
They lay there in the golden hush of Violet’s room, breath soft, bodies still glowing from the heat they’d just unleashed. Violet’s thighs were damp, sticky, and trembling. Her skin still hummed with aftershocks. But her eyes wouldn’t leave him.
More specifically—his dick.
It was still half-hard, lying heavy against his thigh, glistening with thick streaks of cum. His abdomen was a mess of it—slick trails painting his skin, some dripping down to the waistband of his undone trousers. His hand, the one he’d used to stroke himself, was still coated,fingers flexing slightly like the sensation hadn’t quite left his bones.
She blinked.
Swallowed.
“…That was a lot,” she whispered, voice soft with awe, “I mean—what you did. When you…finished.”
Smoke turned his head slowly, eyes meeting hers through thick lashes.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t smirk.
He just looked at her with that quiet heat that never seemed to leave him.
Low.
Smoldering.
A little dangerous.
“Ain’t always like that,” he said, voice a slow drawl. “Only when I hold it back too long.”
Violet’s breath caught, gaze flicking between his mouth and his dick again. She tucked her knees slightly, still open but shy, her voice barely a breath.
“Do you…do that a lot? I mean, when you’re alone?”
Smoke’s brow twitched faintly. Not from surprise—but from how delicate her question was. Like she was poking at something secret. He let the silence stretch, chest rising slow. Then he reached for a nearby cloth to wipe some of the mess off his belly—but stopped halfway, caught in her stare.
“Nah,” he finally said, “Don’t do it much.”
His hand dragged across his stomach absently, smearing cum rather than cleaning it. He stared at her while he did it.
“Truth is,” he said, voice low and rasped, “I can’t even remember the last time I touched myself before tonight.”
Violet’s breath hitched.
He sat back on his heels now, dick resting against his lower belly, still wet and thick, still twitching faintly. His fingers ghosted down his shaft, slow, absent-minded.
“Always had too much tension in me,” he went on, “Too much rage. Too many fists to throw, mouths to shut. Never learned how to…take my time.”
His eyes swept over her, slow as smoke curling around a flame.
“But you…” he spoke with a hushed voice dragging low now, rough with meaning, “You slowed me down.”
He leaned in, his hand sliding to her knee. His thumb brushed tenderly across the inside of her thigh, where her release still glistened.
“That’s why it was so much. Why I came like that. ‘Cause it wasn’t just my hand. It was you.” He looked up at her with eyes that burned, voice barely above a whisper, “You made me cum like that. Big, messy, fuckin’ filthy. Because it was you.”
Violet’s lips parted, her entire body still trembling from his mouth, his voice, and now—his confession. The truth of how rare and precious this was.
He tilted his head, one brow twitching faintly.
“You like lookin’ at it?” he asked, cocky but quiet, eyes dropping to his dick, still heavy and messy in his lap, “My cum. The way it spilled for you.”
She nodded before she realized she was doing it. Her thighs pressed together again.
“I do,” she whispered. “It was beautiful.”
Smoke exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring.
His voice dropped, dark and velvet.
“Good,” he rasped, “Next time, I’ll cum on your pussy. Rub it in, watch it drip out of you slow while you squirm.”
He leaned in again, brushing his lips just over her jaw.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Violet couldn’t speak.
Her answer was in her breath.
Her shiver.
And the way her gaze dropped again to his dick—still thick, still messy, still twitching just for her.
His kiss is more passionate (grabbing her face) in this version. More heavy breathing from him too lol It’s shorter but it’s still intense and passionate. Especially the close-up of him behind her (with her hand touching his face).
Author’s Note: This is a one-shot side chapter to my series Taste of Sin. I’ll be uploading a few of these one-shots that show how Smoke and Stack treated their past dolls 👀
Warnings: +18 | Stack x Reader | Dom!Stack | Doll Reader | Praise kink | Degradation kink | Overstimulation | Squirting | Dollification | Mirrors | Your body is being pushed beyond its limits | This is long because Stack is a yapper | Stack is off his fucking rocker and should probably be institutionalized… but I love himmmmmm
Tick tock… tick tock…
An old grandfather clock in the corner of his room ticked loud enough to rattle your nerves, each second was a thunderclap in your ears. You sat perched on the edge of his bed with your shoulders straight, ankles crossed, and breath shallow as a whisper through silk. The air in Mr. Stack’s room was thick with cigar smoke, spice, amber and vetiver, a scent you’d come to associate with your boss, your trainer, your… keeper.
This was the room other girls whispered about but never dared enter unless summoned. It contained no frills or softness. Just raw mahogany, brass fixtures, and the scent of danger in the floorboards. You’d been here once before, two days into your training. Smoke had watched while Stack pushed you to your edge and then dragged you back by the throat of your name. That night had ended in tears, bruised knees and your body trembling from failure.
But tonight… tonight was going to be different. It had to be.
Your palms were clammy against the silky hem of your emerald-green slip, the one he said made your skin glow like dusk. You wore it because he once called you precious in it. That word alone made you quiver.
Today you had a good day. Actually you had a perfect day and hoped it would be enough to receive more praise. Earlier you effortlessly took on two clients, men with deep pockets and darker desires. Together, they requested the Eiffel Tower, something Smoke and Stack had spent an entire week coaching you for. The moment you heard the request whispered in the hallway, you nearly fainted. But when the time came, you didn’t flinch. You moaned, you smiled, and you made your clients believe they were kings even if it was only for an hour. They tipped you like royalty while calling you an angel in silk. And when they left, one kissed your hand and promised to return with friends.
You’ve never been to Paris, never even crossed the Hudson. But you heard the twins talk about the city of love like it was a dream soaked in sin and champagne. Stack once described a woman who danced in nothing but pearls and red perfume. Smoke had scowled and said she could’ve learned a thing or two from you. Your heart swelled remembering it. Their praise wasn’t just air. It was gold in your bloodstream. A fix you’d become desperate for. And after one month of being their doll, specifically Mr. Stack’s doll and special project, you finally proved you were more than just another pretty face in rouge and rhinestones. You were resilient, lucrative and perfect… At least… you hoped so.
The sound of the doorknob turning took you out of your thoughts and you jumped. The tick-tock stopped mattering. The whole room stilled. Your heart raced, your thighs clenched, and your spine straightened like it was strung with piano wire.
And then finally, he graced you with his presence. All six feet and change of polished muscle, charisma, and calculated sin. His suit tonight was navy blue with no tie, top buttons undone to reveal his gold chain resting against his brown skin. His coat hung from one shoulder, fingers toying with the cigarette tucked behind his ear.
His gold tooth caught the light when he smirked. “Well, well, well… look what I got sittin’ pretty in my bed.”
You swallowed. “Sir.”
He chuckled low and syrupy, like molasses dripping off the edge of a spoon. The sound sank between your thighs and turned your belly warm.
“Now that don’t sound like the voice of no tired girl.” He crossed the room deliberately. Each step sounded like a warning. “I been hearin’ ya’ name all night, baby doll. Two men? At once?” He dragged a chair in front of the bed and sat down like a king in court. “An here I thought we might lose you to the angels when we first tried stretchin’ you past ya’ limits.”
Your cheeks flamed. “I—I didn’t pass out this time.”
“Nah, you didn’t.” His eyes raked down your body. “You was beautiful, baby. Damn near painted in sin. I watched from behind a curtain, you know. Couldn’t help myself. You was smilin’. Moanin’. Givin’ ‘em everythin’ we taught you.”
His voice dipped to a hush. “You made me real proud today.”
The words hit harder than any slap. Your chest lifted with the weight of it, the air in your lungs stuttered as your lips parted, soft and appreciative. Praise from Stack was like rare wine, always earned and never free.
“Thank you, sir,” you whispered.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp enough to slice you open. “That’s what you wanted, ain’t it? That’s why you sittin’ here in that lil’ slip with ya’ knees tight like a prayer an ya’ lip bit red.”
Your body reacted before you could lie. Goosebumps rippled across your arms.
“You wanted me to tell you that you did good.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hummed like a preacher deep in thought. “You look like a porcelain thing tonight. My doll. All polished up with nowhere to go unless I wind you up an make you dance.”
You trembled as Stack reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded bill. A hundred dollars. He tossed it onto the bed beside you.
“For today. Tips, bonuses, an a little extra from me. ‘Cause not only did you do the job…” He licked his bottom lip. “You made it art.”
Your eyes brimmed with tears. “Mr. Stack…”
“I ain’t done praisin’ you yet.” He stood slowly, towering over you now, his shadow swallowing you whole. His hand found your jaw, gentle but commanding. His thumb brushed your bottom lip. “You learned to take two peckers at once for me. Stayed conscious. Stayed graceful. Stayed sweet.”
“An now you sittin’ here like a good girl, waitin’ for ya’ reward. That what you came here for, baby? You want Daddy Stack to wind you up an make you feel real again?”
You nodded, breath trembling.
“Say it,” he commanded. “Say what you want.”
“I want… I want my reward. Please, sir. I wanna be wound up. I wanna… I wanna make you proud again.”
He smiled. Cruel and sweet all at once. “You already have, baby. But I ain’t just gon’ hand you a treat. You want more praise? You want more of me? Then show me how my doll moves when she proud of herself. Show me what I made.”
You immediately dropped to your knees ready to prove your devotion to a man that meant the world to you. And Stack… Stack just chuckled like the devil himself watching his favorite sin bloom at his feet.
You stayed on your knees and waited patiently for permission to touch him. The hardwood floor beneath you had long since stolen the comfort from your bones, but still, you remained. Palms pressed to the tops of your thighs, your back perfectly straight despite the way your muscles ached to curl inward. Stack didn’t have to say it, your body had learned the language of obedience under his hand. Every tilt of his head, every lilt in his voice, every breath of amusement that slid from between his gold-laced teeth told you what posture to keep and what silence to hold.
Your reward was coming. But only after he was ready.
Stack moved about the room with the same confidence he always had, unhurried and precise. He unfastened the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them to the elbows with slow, practiced flicks of his wrists. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, already quivering beneath your slip, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.
A wooden scrape echoed through the room and you could feel your stomach drop. Stack was dragging a full-length mirror from the far corner of the room. It was tall, beveled, and had a slight golden frame that gleamed under the low light of the sconce on the wall. He placed it at the foot of the bed, tilted just enough to catch every sinful inch of whatever scene he planned to orchestrate.
He then turned towards you with a grin that could melt candle wax. “Can’t give my girl a reward without lettin’ her see what she earned, now can I?”
You blinked up at him, chest tight. You knew what this was. A hidden punishment wrapped in velvet words. He knew you hated looking at yourself. Not because you weren’t beautiful, you loved what you looked like. But because when he made you fall apart… it always felt too raw, too revealing and too real. You didn’t like how Stack lived for peeling back your layers, but you didn’t call him out. You wouldn’t dare. That would be considered ungrateful.
He unbuttoned his shirt next, one bronze disc at a time, exposing the hard planes of his chest and the skin of a man that kept himself pretty while fighting the devil. His skin glowed under the low light, a mosaic of sweat and power. When the shirt hit the floor, he made quick work of his belt, unbuckling it with a soft metallic clink before dragging the leather free and letting it hang from his waistband. But he didn’t take off his pants just yet.
He sat at the edge of the bed, legs spread, thighs wide and inviting. “C’mere, baby.”
Your knees wobbled as you rose and padded toward him. The distance between the bed and your body felt like a runway to judgment, but you obeyed. You always did.
Stack guided you into his lap, your legs straddled his as your knees sunk into the plush bedding. His hands found your hips, thumbs brushing the outline of your waist through the silk of your slip.
Your breath caught as your eyes landed on the mirror. You tried to look anywhere else in the mirrored reflection. His chest. His lips. The pulse in his neck. But he caught your hesitation with razor-sharp precision.
“Eyes forward,” he grunted, voice like silk laced with command.
“I—I don’t—”
He hummed, dragging a single knuckle along your jaw. “You don’t like seein’ how pretty you look when you sittin’ on my lap, huh?”
You swallowed hard.
He leaned in, breath hot against your cheek. “That’s ‘ight, baby. I like it enough for the both of us.”
Still, you didn’t look. You focused on the warmth of his body beneath yours, on the slow glide of his hands up your thighs. That was safer. That was easier. But Stack wasn’t here to make things easy. His fingers gripped your chin, not hard, just enough to still your evasion as he tilted your face toward the mirror.
His voice dropped into a dangerous hush. “I ain’t gon’ say it again. Keep your fuckin’ eyes open.”
You blinked, heart hammering. And then… You looked. And there she was. You. Straddling a man carved from lust and heat. Eyes wide, chest rising and falling. A silk slip bunched around your hips, your legs bare and trembling, your lips parted like a prayer.
Stack’s chin rested against your shoulder now, his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place like a ribbon tied around a doll that might fly away. “You see that?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s what my perfect girl look like. That’s what success look like.”
Your heart fluttered from the praise and a soft cry trembled from your lips, needy and light. Desperately in need of more.
He dragged his fingers up your spine, causing goosebumps to rise. “You ‘member how you used to cry when I made you bend over for practice? How you’d beg to stop? Couldn’t even take two fingers without foldin’.”
He paused and placed feathered kisses on the back of your neck. “An now look at you. Strong. *kiss* Poised. *kiss* Valuable.”
He ran one hand up your inner thigh, lifting the slip higher until the cool air of the room kissed your heat. “You know what else I see, baby?” His lips were right by your ear. “I see a girl who want more. Who’s addicted to being called perfect. Who’s sittin’ on her Daddy’s lap with no panties on, chasin’ words like they holy.”
Your hips bucked without meaning to.
Stack grinned, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Look at that. All I did was talk an you twitchin’ like you already came.”
“I haven’t,” you breathed.
“You will,” he said, smug and certain. “But not before you look ‘yaself in the eye an admit how much you like this. How much you like bein’ my doll. My success story.” He slid his fingers between your thighs then, just enough to tease, to spread, to test. You gasped, your body lighting up like Harlem neon signs.
“Say it,” he murmured.
“I—I like it,” you panted. “I like being your doll.”
“My perfect lil’ money-maker.” He grinded you down against his thigh, slow and punishing. “You know what happens to dolls who do well?”
“They get rewards?”
“They get to meet God.”
Your breath came faster, and you fought the instinct to look away. But his hand was still on your chin, fingers firm with silent command. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t yank. Just held.
“You gon’ cry for me tonight, baby?” he asked, licking the edge of your jaw. “Gon’ make that pretty face crumple just like it used to before I made you perfect?”
You nodded, dizzy.
Stack dragged his other hand up to rest just beneath your throat. “Good. Then let’s see how far you’ll go tonight.”
You were starting to sweat. Not from movement, Stack hadn’t even really touched you yet. This wasn’t like how he typically touched you with an impatient and ravenous hunger that’s eager to taste. No, this was slower. Meaner. The kind of tease that made your skin hum and your nerves fray. The kind of cruel, calculated torment only he could craft.
Stack was a sweet-talking devil with a voice like jazz and a smile laced in arsenic. And right now, he had you seated in his lap like a doll stitched from obedience and desire. Legs spread on either side of his thighs, slip pushed up past your hips, bare where it mattered most. His calloused fingers skimmed the seam of your puffy slick folds, featherlight and maddening, while his other hand stayed clamped around your jaw, keeping your eyes trained on the mirror.
That damned mirror. You hated it. But you couldn’t look away. Because he wouldn’t let you.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Look at you. Look at how pretty you sit on me. Can’t even breathe right, can you?”
Your chest rose and fell in stuttered bursts, nipples stiff beneath the silk, throat dry.
“Ya’ cooze begging, ain’t it?” he whispered, pressing his fingers into your entrance just enough to breach. Not enough to satisfy. Not enough to fill. Just enough to make you squirm. “That little throb? That’s ya’ pussy talkin’. Sayin’ please, Daddy Stack, I want more…”
Your head jerked to the side on instinct, and your face flustered with shame as you tried to do anything not to look at yourself unraveling like this.
But Stack’s hand tightened around your jaw. Your lack of obedience was causing his patience to run thin. “Eyes. On. The mirror.”
You whined and reluctantly obeyed.
His grip loosened, then slid down to the column of your throat, resting there with deceptive gentleness. “This mirror ain’t here to embarrass you, baby. It’s here to teach you. You wanna be perfect, don’t you? Then you gotta see what perfect look like.”
You blinked at your reflection, tears beginning to line your lashes from the tension and the shame and the heat. You looked drunk on him. On his voice. On the coil of pressure building low in your belly. And still, he didn’t stop. He rolled his hips forward, letting the hard line of his arousal grind against your slickness through his pants. The friction made your legs twitch.
“I can feel it,” he murmured, the grit in his voice sharpening. “Feel that creamy lil’ mess you leakin’ all over my lap. So wet, baby. You drippin’ like you forgot how to behave.”
His fingers dipped between your folds again, spreading the slick and rubbing it over your clit in mind numbing circles that had you twitching in his lap. And still, he continued to whisper filth… praise… and punishment.
“All that tremblin’,” he said, voice low. “An I ain’t even took my dick out. Ain’t even stretched you. You clenchin’ ‘round air like you need somethin’ thick to plug that pretty hole up.”
You whined louder. Shame burned down your chest.
“Oh, baby,” he cooed, dragging his teeth along your shoulder. “You like when I talk like this, huh? Like hearin’ Daddy describe every filthy thing he see.”
You nodded, barely.
His hand moved faster, the circles over your clit becoming firmer and more deliberate. “Look in that mirror an tell me what you see,” he said, eyes locked on your reflection like he could peer into your soul.
You swallowed. “I… I see—”
“Use ya’ words, doll. Speak the truth. Say it proud.”
“I see your doll,” you whispered, shame threading your voice.
He growled low in approval. “What else?”
“I see… a slut,” you choked.
“Ohhh,” he laughed, voice dangerous now, almost cruel. “There she is. My good girl. My lil’ fuckdoll with manners an a mouth that finally tell the truth.”
You shuddered.
“Say more.”
“I look desperate,” you whispered.
“You is desperate,” he taunted, breath hot against your throat. “You sittin’ on my lap, beggin’ me with ya’ body an still tryin’ to act shy. Look at that slip ridin’ up ya’ ass. Look at them thighs twitchin’. You don’t even know what you want, do you?”
“I want you,” you gasped, breath breaking.
“You want praise,” he corrected. “You want me to call you perfect an stuff ya’ needy lil’ pussy full of dick ‘til it sing. You want my voice in ya’ ear tellin’ you how good you take it. You want to be seen.”
You moaned, hips rolling forward without permission.
“You ever see ‘yaself cum in a mirror before?” he asked, tilting your hips forward so your clit grounded against his thigh, sending jolts up your spine.
“No, sir.”
“Oh, you will,” he promised. “Tonight, you gon’ watch every twitch, every tremble, every goddamn tear roll down ya’ cheek as I break you just right. An you gon’ thank me for every second of it.”
You nodded in understanding, lips still trembling.
“Not yet, though,” he whispered, suddenly stilling his hand just as your climax crept too close.
You whimpered loud.
“No, no, baby,” he tutted, cupping your chin again. “That ain’t how this works. You don’t get to cum just ‘cause you want to. You cum when I let you.”
Tears spilled down your cheeks. You didn’t even realize you started crying and were no longer able to keep them at bay.
Stack licked one off the corner of your mouth with a low groan. “This my favorite part,” he said, tongue dragging slow over your jaw. “The cryin’. The beggin’. That’s when I know it’s real.”
He leaned in, forehead pressed to yours. “You gon’ beg real sweet for me, baby,” he said, voice down to a rasp. “An when I finally give you what you need… you gon’ say thank you, Daddy Stack.”
“Eyes.” The word cracked across the room sharper than a whip and you flinched. Not because he struck you. Stack never laid a hand on you in anger. But it was the tone, the drop in his voice, that gravel-dragging low timbre he used when his patience thinned and the switch from charming to cruel began.
It was all your fault this shift happened, simply because your eyes drifted again just for a moment. Just long enough to escape the sight of yourself flushed, open, and straddling him like some desperate porcelain plaything ready to be wound and used. But Stack saw it. Stack always saw everything. He sighed long and slow like he was counting backwards in his head to keep from snapping. His hand left your thigh and moved to your throat again, not to squeeze, but to hold and remind you of your place.
His gold tooth glinted as he smiled without warmth. “That mirror been sittin’ in front you for damn near half an hour,” he said, voice calm, but laced with something sharp. “An still, you lookin’ everywhere but where I told you.”
You opened your mouth, but no apology came.
“You want to be my perfect doll, huh?” he went on, tilting your chin just enough to force your gaze back to the reflection. “Want Daddy Stack to fill you up, praise you sweet, make you cry while he splits you open like a prize? Then look. AT. HER.”
Your breath hitched as your eyes locked onto the girl in the mirror. You looked blitzed out of your mind straddling Stack’s lap, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and glossy with fresh tears. Your slip clung to your body like a second skin, pulled up just enough to reveal the dripping mess between your thighs, the slick proof of how deeply he worked you up without ever letting you fall.
“She’s beautiful,” Stack murmured, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “A lil’ sloppy. A lil’ disobedient. But so fuckin’ beautiful.”
His hand slid from your throat to your chest, palm pressing between your breasts like he wanted to feel your heartbeat choke on every word he said. “I oughta leave you like this,” he muttered. “Make you sit in my lap for another hour, watchin’ how needy you look. Watch ya’ pussy keep twichin’ from how empty you are.”
You moaned while grinding down on his thigh like it was second nature and he chuckled. “All that trainin’ an ya pussy still ain’t got no patience, does it?”
His hand slid downward, slower this time over your stomach, past your navel, until his fingers dipped between your folds again, spreading you just enough to make you gasp. “You leakin’ like you ain’t never been touched before,” he hissed, voice thicker now, frustration brewing beneath the surface. “I’m sittin’ here, half-hard an starvin’, an you can’t even follow one simple instruction. Look. At. Yourself.”
You obeyed. You didn’t dare test him again. And just like that, his mood shifted again. Sometimes dealing with Stack was like dealing with a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. His tone softened into something candy sweet. “There she is,” he praised. “There’s my good girl. Look at that lil’ mouth tremblin’. You gon’ cry for real now, huh?”
You nodded slowly.
He pressed a kiss beneath your ear, then sat back, guiding you off his lap and onto the mattress in front of him, your legs dangling over the edge. “Don’t move,” he said. “Keep ya’ eyes forward.”
Then he stood and you could hear the slow rustle of fabric, the drag of his zipper and the shuffle of him stepping out of his pants. When he moved again, you felt the heat of his body as he stood behind you, his manhood heavy and hard, pressing against the curve of your lower back.
“Look at what you could have,” he whispered, wrapping a hand around himself, stroking slow while standing just behind your shoulder, keeping your gaze locked on the mirror. “See that? This right here?” He angled himself just enough for you to see his thick length glisten with precum.
“You want me to slide into that pretty hole ‘tween ya’ legs ‘til you beggin’ me to fill you up like the cum-hungry doll I trained you to be?”
You gasped, thighs clenching together. But he saw that, too.
“Nuh-uh, baby,” he tsked. “Keep them legs open. Let her see how sloppy she’s got.”
You forced them apart again, tears stinging your eyes.
“You gon’ behave now?” he asked, letting his 9-inch length brush the crease of your spine as he leaned over you, mouth pressed to your temple. “Gon’ keep ya’ eyes right here? Gon’ earn what’s waitin’ for you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Say what you want.”
“I want you to fill me,” you breathed. “Please. I want you to reward me.”
He hummed against your neck, dick twitching against your back. “Not yet,” he said, stepping away. “You don’t get a reward ‘til you mean it.”
Your head whipped toward him in panic, but he caught your chin again.
“You lucky I’m in a good mood tonight. Stop lookin’ away,” he said softly. “Look at her. Look at the doll I built with my own two hands.”
You obeyed and shifted your eyes back to your reflection.
“Now tell her she’s earned it.”
“I earned it,” you whispered.
“Louder.”
“I earned it.”
“Say what you’re beggin’ for.”
“I want you to fuck me. I want you to fill me up, Daddy Stack. I want your reward. Please.”
The silence that followed your plea stretched taut, like a wire pulled between lust and punishment. Stack didn’t answer you right away. He just stood there behind you and his dick grazed your back as he leaned forward again, palms bracing on either side of your thighs where they dangled over the edge of his bed.
Stack looming over you like a stormcloud. “Say it one more time,” he growled against your ear, his breath dragging goosebumps down your neck.
“I want you to fuck me,” you whispered. “Please, Daddy Stack… Please...”
He hissed between his teeth. “Filthy mouth on such a sweet lil’ doll. Can’t even keep her eyes forward, but got the nerve to beg for dick like she earned it.”
“I have,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “I did everything you said. I worked hard, I—I took both clients—”
“Oh, I know what you took,” he snapped, standing upright. His hand found your jaw again and pulled your head back so you had no choice but to meet your own reflection head-on. “I watched you. Openin’ them pretty thighs for men you don’t even know, moanin’ like a bitch in heat.”
You flinched, breath catching.
“But it wasn’t them who trained you,” he said, voice curling into venom-laced silk. “Wasn’t them who stayed up late stretchin’ you ‘til ya’ legs shook. Wasn’t them who taught you how to suck without teeth, cry pretty, an take pain with a thank you.”
You blinked, a tear sliding down your cheek.
“That was me.”
“I know,” you whispered.
“I know, sir,” he corrected.
“I—I know, sir.”
“Then show some fuckin’ gratitude.”
He grabbed you suddenly, hands hooking under your thighs, yanking you fully onto the bed. Your back hit the mattress with a gasp, the ceiling swimming above you for a moment before your vision sharpened and your legs were pulled wide. Stack climbed between them, kneeling. His hands gripped your thighs like he owned them because… technically… he did… and he shoved them open further until your knees were almost bent to your chest. Your slip rode up to your ribs exposing your core that glistened with anticipation.
You felt obscene. Like art and prey mixed in one.
“Look,” he ordered.
Your head turned, gaze snapping to the mirror. You could see everything. Your own slick smeared between your legs. Stack’s broad chest above you, muscles flexing as he gripped his dick in one hand, stroking himself slowly as he stared down at your trembling pussy.
“Been leakin’ all over my lap, beggin’ like a lil’ mutt,” he murmured, voice low and thick now. “Maybe I oughta keep denyin’ you. Teach you how it feel to want an never get.”
“Please,” you begged, fingers clutching the sheets. “I’m sorry. I—I’ll be good. I swear.”
His eyes met yours in the mirror. You weren’t sure if what you saw was forgiveness… or the storm right before it.
Stack leaned over you, the head of his length brushed your entrance, gathering slick. You gasped, trying to tilt your hips up, but he pinned you with a single hand to your stomach. “You lay there an take what’s given to you,” he growled. “You don’t get to meet me halfway.”
He pushed in his swollen tip. It was thick and heavy and stretched your needy hole in the best way possible but it made your body crave much more. Your arched off the bed with a broken sob and Stack didn’t move. He just watched. He watched your thighs tremble. He watched your core flutter around him. He watched your expression crumble in the mirror as you saw yourself impaled on just the head of him.
“Look at that greedy lil’ hole,” he whispered, dragging his hand over your inner thigh. “She takin’ me in like she was built for it. Like her only purpose is to be stuffed full of Daddy’s dick.”
You moaned high in your throat and he pushed in deeper, filling you inch by maddening inch, until he reached halfway and stopped again.
“That’s enough for now,” he rasped. “Don’t wanna break my toy before I finish playin’ with her.”
You squirmed beneath him. “More—please—”
His hand shot to your throat again, pinning you just enough to still your writhing. “You gon’ get more,” he promised, his voice now vibrating with something dangerous. “But not ‘til you behave like the doll I trained. Eyes on the fuckin’ mirror. Stop makin’ me repeat myself.”
Your gaze jerked upward, tears pooling once more and then he began to move. Just half of him grinded inside of you. Slow thrusts, deep and steady. The sound of your slick sucking him back in with every drag of his hips made the room feel smaller and hotter.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Watch that face. That’s what a reward looks like. You see her? That mess in the mirror? That’s you. You earned that.”
You cried out, hips chasing his.
He slapped your thigh hard enough to make you freeze and possibly leave a bruise tomorrow. “Stay still. Lemme’ fuck you the way I want. This ain’t ya’ reward if you try to take it early.”
You bit your lip and nodded through the haze.
He leaned in, pressed his forehead to yours, dick still rocking into you slow and deep. His voice dipped, molten and cruel. “Feel good, baby?” he quipped. “That thick dick stretchin’ you open? That’s ya’ halfway prize. You want the rest?”
“Yes,” you sobbed.
“Then earn it,” he said coldly. “Make me proud again. Show me that the pretty lil’ slut I built from scratch know how to hold her fuckin’ gaze.”
Your mouth could barely form the words you were trying to hold in, not when Stack’s length was buried halfway inside of you moving in slow and calculated strokes like he was measuring your sanity one drag at a time.
“Shhh,” he crooned, voice sweet and saccharine, lips grazing your temple like he wasn’t unraveling you at the seams. “Don’t start cryin’ yet, baby. I ain’t even given you all of it yet.”
He was playing coy and he knew exactly what he was doing. Your reflection told the story better than words ever could. Your eyes were glassy, lips swollen, neck flushed, thighs slick and spread wide, every breath a war between obedience and collapse. His hand pressed firm on your belly, thumb occasionally brushing the underside of your breast while the other hand stroked lazy patterns along your inner thigh.
And then he paused for a second. You whimpered, brows twisting in desperate confusion as he leaned back on his knees, your legs still flung open for him. You thought maybe he was going to stop, maybe the reward was being taken away entirely, but no… Stack just spat.
A thick stream of saliva hit your aching clit, catching you off guard. “Messy lil’ thing,” he murmured with a grin. “I’m generous, baby… Ya’ button need attention too.”
He used two fingers to spread you wider, rubbing the spit into your swollen nub with slow, mocking circles and your body jolted. The combination of his half-thrust dick pressing deep and the sudden flick of his fingers over your sensitive clit had you jerking upward like a live wire. A choked moan tore from your throat and your eyes squeezed shut instinctively.
“Ah-ah.” His tone snapped sharp.
His hand came up and slapped your inner thigh again and your eyes shot back open. “You look away from that mirror again, I’ll pull out an leave you empty for the rest of the goddamn week.”
You panicked and your legs shook beneath his grip. He chuckled at the desperation blooming in your face. His fingers returned to your clit, flicking it with the cruel rhythm of someone who wanted to see you break.
“You leakin’ all over my fuckin’ bed,” he pretended to scold you, though the glint in his eyes said he loved it. “Soakin’ the sheets like a dog in heat. An for what?” His hips gave a shallow thrust, just enough to grind his half-buried length against your walls. “You ain’t even got the whole reward yet, baby. This ain’t even half of what you need, an already you cryin’? Tsk. That ain’t what my doll does.”
“Sir…I—I can’t,” you whispered, voice trembling.
He leaned over again, hand wrapping gently around your throat, thumb stroking just under your chin. “You know what happens if you finish without permission, right?” he asked sweetly.
You nodded, blinking back tears.
“Say it.”
“I… I don’t get the rest.”
“An?”
“And I get punished.”
“That’s right,” he whispered. “An not the kind you like.”
His hips rolled again making sure his skilled dick dragged along your g-spot while his fingers never let up their cruel, slippery pace. Your back arched. Your toes curled. You could feel it bubbling in your gut, building faster than your will could hold it back.
“I said hold it,” Stack hissed against your ear, watching your reflection with deadly precision. “You better not disobey me, doll. Not after all this.”
You clenched your teeth, whimpering through the urge. You tried. God, you tried. But your body was trembling violently now, your pussy fluttered around the half of him inside like it was trying to suck the rest in out of sheer desperation. Your juices kept slipping out with every shallow thrust, slick glistening down your thighs, pooling under you, coating his dick and the base of his stomach.
“Oh, baby…” he said with a devilish smirk. “Look at that sloppy lil’ cooze just floodin’ for me. You holdin’ it like a good girl, but ya’ body’s snitchin’.” He tsked, grinning. “Ain’t nothin’ but a fuckin’ faucet down there.”
You sobbed, biting your lip until you tasted copper.
“Poe’ thing,” he cooed mockingly. “Workin’ so hard to be perfect. An still drippin’ all over my thighs.”
He spat again right on your clit and resumed his flicking, faster now, more precise. “Lemme guess,” he murmured, voice low and smug. “You feel like you gon’ explode? Feel like your guts gon’ split if I don’t give you the rest?”
You choked out a sob. “Yes, sir.”
“Mm. Ain’t that a shame,” he drawled, slowing the movement of his fingers to an agonizing tease. “You so close… an yet… you still ain’t proven you can listen.”
He bent lower, his lips brushing your earlobe. “So here’s what we gon’ do, baby. You gonna lay here with Daddy buried halfway inside. An you gon’ let me tease this pretty lil’ clit ‘til ya’ legs forget how to work. An you ain’t gonna cum. You hear me?”
“I… I hear you,” you whimpered, voice broken.
“Say it again.”
“I… I… I… hear you, sir.”
“Good girl.”
And then he started again, flicking and circling, dragging his spit-slicked fingers over your clit while his rod pulsed deep inside you, like a reminder of what you still hadn’t earned.
He kept going for an entire minute and you felt a tiny ripple inside you. A shiver that climbed from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. Then came the tightness… low and coiled and unbearable, blooming like a firestorm behind your navel. You bit your lip hard, eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror like he told you, forcing yourself to hold on. To obey. To be perfect. But your body… it had other plans.
The rhythm of Stack’s fingers never faltered. Not once. Each flick of your sensitive bundle of nerves shot another lightning bolt through your thighs, sent your toes curling, made your stomach clench, and caused your vision to blur. You were unraveling at the seams and Stack knew it. He felt it in the way your walls tightened around him like a vice, squeezing and twitching, trying to drag him deeper. He felt it in the way your hips twitched against his hand, the desperate hiccups of air you sucked between sobs, the way your slick painted his thighs like spilled honey.
Your body begged loudly for more but your mouth didn’t dare. But then it hit. A sudden collapse of restraint so violent it felt like reality gave out beneath you. Your body spasmed, back arched clear off the bed, legs shook violently, and a long, broken sob escaped your lips as your climax slammed into you.
“S-SIR!”
Your cunt clenched tight—way too tight—and pushed. Stack hissed as your walls squeezed down, slick flooding out in a hot gush, forcing his member to slide out of you entirely with a wet and embarrassing pop. The sound echoed in the room like a gunshot.
The aftermath of your orgasm left your body trembling, sensitive and empty. You barely registered the ruined sheets beneath you, soaked in the evidence of your disobedience. All you could do was look at him with eyes pleading for forgiveness.
Stack didn’t speak at first. He just looked down at his dick that was glossy, twitching, unwelcome and then up at you. His lip curled. Not in rage. Not entirely. No, it was worse than that. He was amused, annoyed and beneath all that… hungry.
“Aw, baby…” he drawled, shaking his head slowly as he stared at the mess between your thighs. “You just couldn’t help ‘yaself, could ya’?”
“I—I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, I know you ain’t mean to,” he cut in, his voice sticky-sweet like spoiled syrup. “But that’s the thing about dolls… they don’t mean to misbehave. They just… break.”
You looked away, shame swallowing your voice. But Stack’s hand shot out, catching your chin and snapping your head back toward the mirror.
“Oh no,” he hissed, the sweetness in his tone now dripping with venom. “You look. You watch what you did.”
Your eyes met the mirror again and you looked wrecked. Tears streaked your cheeks. Your chest heaved, breasts rising and falling with every panicked breath. Your thighs were still spread open, glistening and trembling. And between them… nothing… because you’d pushed him out.
“I was bein’ real generous,” he said as he rose onto his knees, towering over you now. “Plannin’ to stuff you full and call you my perfect girl. But now…”
He reached down and gripped the base of his swollen length, guiding it back to your entrance. “…now you don’t get a reward. Now you get a lesson.”
You whimpered, but your hips still tilted toward him. The punishment hurt, but the ache for him hurt worse.
“Uh uh,” he smirked. “You want Daddy to fill you up again so bad?” He pushed forward—slow, slow, slow—until he was buried deep inside this time. “Then you better take it all without misbehavin’ again. ‘Cause I ain’t gettin’ pushed out twice.”
You cried out, eyes wide, body arching at the stretch and Stack just held himself there, his hands pinning your thighs down to stop your squirming. He leaned down, dragging his tongue up your tear-stained cheek. “Do you still think you deserve a reward, baby?”
“N-no, sir,” you choked.
He smiled, all gold tooth and cruelty. “Good girl. ‘Lemme remind you of what happens when Daddy gives instead of you earnin’.”
Then came the false praise. He whispered it like poison sugar. “Look at you just layin’ there, lettin’ me use this greedy lil’ hole like a fuckin’ cumdump. That’s what you are, ain’t it? Just a pretty doll who soaks my sheets the second I breathe on her.”
You whined, trying to pull back, overwhelmed. But Stack snapped his hips forward with the strength of a black panther's pounce. Hehehe. You screamed, legs shaking.
He growled into your ear. “Don’t you run from it. You want the real thing? You stay the fuck open.”
His hands slid under your ass, gripping, adjusting, locking your body to his as he began to move. Each thrust was intentional, like he wanted to reshape you from the inside out.
“You’ll cum again,” he murmured, voice dangerously low. “An this time, I ain’t stoppin’. I want that mess. Want to feel you milk me ‘til I can’t breathe. But you ain’t gettin’ no sweet words this time, baby. You get truth.”
You gasped, body already quaking from overstimulation.
He licked your throat. “You wanna be perfect again?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then take your punishment like the dirty lil’ doll you are.”
You didn’t know if you were begging anymore. Or breathing. Or even thinking. Your brain had been reduced to static and need. Your body was quaking, soaked, overstimulated and was no longer yours. It belonged to Stack. His hands were locked beneath your trembling thighs, arms caging your hips against his so you couldn’t move, couldn’t shift, couldn’t push him out no matter how violently your body tried to squeeze him out again.
And oh, were you trying. Your walls fluttered in frantic spasms, clenching hard around him, pulling and pulsing like your body wanted to devour and eject him all at once. Your forbidden honey gushed with every twitch, a thick, watery mess that coated your thighs and the ruined sheets beneath you.
And Stack? That nigga was laughing. “Now why,” he drawled, voice thick with amusement, “why you tryin’ to kick me out again, baby? Hm?”
He gave a shallow thrust forward that was deep, mean, unrelenting. He was bullying the most sensitive spot inside your cooze and you yelled in overstimulated delight.
“Ohhh, you cryin’ baby?” he cooed, rocking his hips again, this time slower. “You doin’ all that clenchin’ an squirtin’, makin’ a mess all over Daddy’s dick like he don’t belong there. What kinda message you tryin’ to send, baby?”
You couldn’t answer. You could only sob through the overwhelming pleasure as his dick dragged along your swollen, sensitive walls, his thrusts forced you into a purgatory realm of pleasure and pain.
“Feelin’ full?” he asked, twitching deep inside. “You should. I’m so deep, baby, I could press down on ya’ belly an feel myself wavin’ back.” He did exactly that, one palm pressed against your stomach just above your mound.
You choked on your breath.
“Yup,” he whispered, smiling like sin. “There I am. Deep in ya’ guts an still, you tryin’ to push me out like I ain’t earned this spot.”
Your hips bucked like your body didn’t know if it wanted to send a plea or surrender. But Stack held you tighter, jaw flexing as he rocked his hips harder now, dragging his member from the very end of you all the way back in, grinding on every tender spot like a man who knew your body better than you ever could.
“You wanna know somethin’, baby?” he muttered, sweat beading along his brow, sliding down his chest. “You feel too good.”
He hissed through clenched teeth. “Every time you try to kick me out, these greedy lil’ walls start suckin’ me right back in. You squeezin’ me like ya’ pussy tryin’ to milk every drop outta me an still throw me out the door.”
You whimpered, the pressure building again in your gut.
“But guess what?” he growled, voice suddenly hard. “I ain’t leavin’.” His hips slammed into you, once, twice, until the air left your lungs in sharp cries. “I’m stayin’ right here,” he taunted, “‘til you learn to behave.”
Your hands clawed at the sheets, the pressure unbearable, and your body started pushing again. You couldn’t stop it or control it. Your core clamped down so tight it hurt and your juices coated his rod.
“Already?” he chuckled, mock-sweet. He shifted and hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he slammed back inside so deep you almost partook in a tea party with your ancestors.
“Yeah,” he growled, voice now fraying at the edges. “‘Lemme see you push me out from here.”
You screamed, tears streaming freely down your cheeks as his dick bullied your soaked, fluttering walls into submission. He was so deep, so hard, you could feel your climax rising again, sharp and feral this time. His voice dipped to a whisper, syrup-thick with fake tenderness. “You want praise, doll? Here.”
He kissed your tear-soaked cheek. “You’re doin’ so well, baby. Such a good, obedient lil’ slut, takin’ my dick like a champ. Mmhm, that’s right. So fuckin’ proud of you.”
You shook your head, sobbing. You hated when he praised you like that, when it was laced with mockery. But your body loved it and Stack knew.
“Oh, I know you hate when I talk to you like that,” he crooned, still thrusting deep and slow. “All that fake sweetness makin’ your pussy throw a tantrum.” He dragged his tongue along your neck tasting more of your tears. “But you still fuckin’ soak for it.”
He pulled back just enough to watch his dick slide in and out of you slick, messy, filthy before ramming back in and holding there. “Look at her,” he growled, one hand grabbing your jaw, forcing your gaze back to the mirror.
There you were again—wrecked. Tear-stained. Stretched wide, your pussy sucking him in and spitting juices like it had its own mouth. Your body trembled beneath him like a song reaching its final note.
“There you go, dollface,” he crooned, voice dripping sweet venom. “Such a good little slut for Daddy Stack, ain’t you? Cryin’ so pretty, squeezin’ so tight.”
You shook your head weakly, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, but your hips still jerked upward to meet him, craving every word you hated.
Stack laughed softly as he watched the contradiction on your flushed, tear-streaked face. “Oh, you gon’ tell me that ain’t true, baby? You don’t like hearin’ Daddy call you a slut while ya’ pussy tries to take me for all I got?” He punctuated each word with a sharp, bruising thrust, smiling wickedly as you sobbed louder.
“You floodin’ like you tryin’ to drown me, darlin’. Feels like you fuckin’ cryin’ from down here too,” he said, grinding himself deep and slow, pressing so firmly against your cervix your entire body trembled violently beneath him.
Your thighs shuddered, limbs shaking uncontrollably from overstimulation. Your muscles ached from being stretched and used so ruthlessly, your nerves frayed raw, but Stack gave no mercy.
“I ain’t ever seen you make such a pretty mess before,” he drawled, lips curled in a smug, hungry smirk. “Looks like I finally found what breaks you, huh? Bein’ stuffed an praised like you nothin’ but a pretty hole.”
His voice lowered, dipped into a silkier menace as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “You like bein’ broken, dollface?”
You whimpered brokenly, unable to form words. His hand came up, cupping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at your reflection again. Your face was stained and glistening with tears, eyes red-rimmed and desperate, lips parted as needy moans escaped your throat uncontrollably.
“I asked you a question,” Stack whispered against your neck, voice hot and dripping poison. “You like me breakin’ you like this?”
Your mouth opened, struggled to respond through gasping sobs. “Y-yes, sir.”
He chuckled low, dark, utterly pleased. “That’s right. Good girl. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
Your body tightened again, clenching involuntarily around him, desperate for release, fighting to shove him away as your climax built violently inside you once more. But Stack was ready this time. He anchored himself deep, hips locked firmly against yours, length throbbing and pulsing inside your trembling walls. You spasmed around him, waves of heat rising like an unstoppable tide.
“C’mon,” he urged mockingly. “Try an shove me out again. I dare you.”
You gasped sharply, your muscles contracting painfully, desperately, and failing miserably as he stayed rooted deep.
“Ohhh, there she go againnn,” he laughed huskily, a genuine ripple of pleasure breaking through the cruelty. “Look at that pussy tryin’ to push Daddy out like he ain’t meant to be there.” His laughter grew ragged, darker, filled with a sinful kind of pleasure as he watched you break apart beneath him. “Try harder, baby. Go ahead, milk me and evict me, all at once.”
Your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as the dam finally broke.
You came apart brutally and your climax shattered you into a million pieces. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around Stack’s unyielding dick, your essence pouring from you like a river, soaking both your bodies, the sheets, your thighs. Your entire body convulsed beneath him, hips jerking upward, walls pulsed wildly in a desperate attempt to either claim or reject him—but he refused to move, relishing every moment of your breakdown.
And Stack… oh, Stack was losing himself too. His eyes fluttered closed briefly, jaw clenching tightly, lips parted as a deep, ragged groan slipped past. He shuddered, hips faltering slightly as your climax battered his control. His hands tightened around your thighs as he forced himself steady, watching greedily as you unraveled beneath him.
“You see this, doll?” he panted, leaning down so gazes locked in the mirror. “That’s how good you take punishment. Cryin’ like it hurts, cummin’ like you love it.”
Your chest heaved in trembling sobs, breath ragged as aftershocks rocked your frame. His hips remained pressed deep, manhood still twitching mercilessly inside your raw, spent heat.
Stack leaned forward, whispering silkily into your ear, voice like honeyed elixir of death. “I might have to take you off the floor for two weeks, baby. Keep you locked right here in my bed, makin’ sure you feel this every single day, no interruptions.”
You whined brokenly, thighs convulsing at the idea, the sensation.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” he asked, tone dripping false sweetness. “Poe’ thing. Must be so hard bein’ Daddy’s favorite doll, gettin’ fucked an praised ‘til you break. But don’t you worry…”
He began moving again, slower now, controlled and relentless, every thrust deeper than the last.
“You’ll get used to it. Hell, you might even start beggin’ for it.” He grinned against your temple. “An I promise you, doll… I’ll always be right here to give it to you.”
The room was still thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heavy perfume that clung to the walls like memory. The mirror, now fogged at the corners, still captured the final image of you spread out beneath him: trembling, slick, eyes swollen with tears, mouth parted with the aftershocks of ruin.
Stack’s dick rested deep inside you for a moment longer, a final act of possession. Then, slowly, gently, he pulled out.
You whimpered at the loss, your body too raw and wrung out to hide the sound. Your juices spilled out of you in waves, soaking the sheets further, smearing your inner thighs like a promise kept too long. Stack watched the mess, jaw clenched. He sighed, rolled his neck with a sharp crack, and finally stood. He didn’t say a word as he moved. He didn’t praise you any further or scold or tease you. Instead he collected a warm cloth from the basin in the corner of the room and returned to the bed like he’d done it a hundred times before.
You flinched at first touch, but his hand was tender now. His fingers stroked gently as he wiped you clean with warm water and soft pressure. He cleaned between your legs, down your thighs, and over the shivering curve of your belly. Quiet. Focused. Like he was erasing the chaos he’d carved into your flesh moments ago.
“You did good,” he murmured finally. Not the sing-song, mocking praise he used before. This one was lower and honest. “Even when you didn’t listen. You still held on longer than I expected.”
You blinked through the fog, lips quivering. “…thank you, sir.”
He nodded once then reached for a towel to dry you before pulling a blanket up over your spent form. You relaxed into it instinctively, muscles aching, breath slowing. Your body was still twitching now and then, but the heat of the aftercare softened the ache into something bearable.
Stack climbed back into bed beside you still nude and half-hard. His chest rose and fell with that smooth, unbothered confidence only he possessed. A moment passed and then the sound of a match killed the silence. You turned your head, eyes heavy-lidded, watching him bring a cigarette to his lips. He took the first drag slow, leaned back on one elbow and exhaled smoke toward the ceiling.
And still, he said nothing because you knew what came next.
Carefully, quietly, you pulled the blanket down and slipped between his legs, your sore body moving with caution as you lowered your mouth to the source of your earlier destruction.
He watched you silent and amused as you licked and sucked the mess you’d made from his dick. You took your time. Let your tongue trace the length of him, gathering your slick and the taste of your own sin with every lap. You pressed a kiss to the base, then up to the tip, taking him into your mouth softly.
Stack groaned around the cigarette, lips curling into a playful grin. One hand found your curls and stroked lazily through them.
“Mm,” he muttered. “That’s my girl. Clean it all up.”
You did until he was spotless, shining, and satisfied. You kissed the crease of his thigh once more before crawling back up to his side, your body still humming from being shattered and pieced back together.
Stack tapped ash into the tray on the nightstand. “Like I said, you off the floor for two weeks,” he said casually.
Your eyes widened. “You… you were serious?”
He didn’t look at you. Just took another drag, exhaled long and slow. “Dead serious. Full pay. No interruptions. You gon’ stay in this bed an learn how to take what I give you properly. We ain’t doin’ no more of that shy shit when the mirror’s out.”
You blinked. “But… the floor—”
He turned then, eyes cutting toward you like a blade. “You more worried about the floor than stayin’ in my bed?”
“…no, sir.”
“Thought so.”
You fell quiet.
He took one last pull from his cigarette, then crushed it into the tray before lying back on the pillows, one arm slipping under your body, pulling you to his chest. You melted against him, sighing as his fingers dragged slowly along your spine.
“You too pretty to be so shy, baby,” he murmured into your hair. “In two weeks you’ll be the perfect doll.”
.
.
.
.
.
Author’s Note: Y’all got to experience Mean Smoke but now it’s time to experience Psycho Stack… good gawdddd 🥴🥴🥴😮💨😮💨😮💨 if this was his idea of a reward then you know his punishments are CRAZY because he’s fucking CRAZY. He’s still my lil pookie wookie bear.
AND BAKARI I KNOW YOU ARE LURKING! IF I CATCH YOU WEARING JADE AGAIN WE ARE GOING TO FIGHT!
vaporwave
blakekathryn
2087
dailybridgerton
stormborns
