Summary: Beaten, bruised, bloodied, and excommunicated. John Wick has nowhere left to turn…except he does. He goes to the one place and the one person who would never sell him out for any amount of money in the world—his tailor.
Warning(s): SMUT (18+, MDNI), unprotected sex (m/f), oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, dacryphilia, mentions of losing virginity, violence, fighting, blood, guns, mentions of fertility and medical procedures.
Lovergirlnote: Sooo…SURPRISE! This is the story I was referencing while I was still in timeout. I started watching the whole John Wick series over, and whew lord Keanu can get it in every universe. I’m curious to see what y’all will think of this. Also, if y’all are looking for a good John Wick x black!reader, y’all should check out “Skyline” by @teejaywyatt1, it’s amazing!!
John closes the door to the 69’ Mustang with a hard-pained grunt. He’s holding his side as the blood seeps steadily outside of the wound. He limps toward the entrance of the house, but his vision blurs with each step that he takes.
His entire body aches with indescribable pain, but he knows he can’t stop. He has to get to you.
He falls over on the ground and wheezes as his vision blurs. Distinct barking sounds in his ears, and he can hear a growl approaching.
A soft whistle sounds out, and the growling stops. John tries to look up at the approaching footsteps, but he’s fading faster and faster.
Clicks from your shoes fill his ears, and he can feel the warmth of your body as you kneel beside him. His eyes gaze at your face, but your face looks blurry in his sight. John feels a sense of grief at the notion of not being able to see you.
He feels your soft hands caressing his face.
“Oh, John….what have you gotten into?”
John faints before he can answer.
When John comes to, he feels a pinching at his side. He winces and moves to sit up, but your hand pushes gently at his chest.
“Stay still, John. You’re gonna rip your stitches before I’m done with them.”
His eyes finally adjust to the bright light seeping in the room, and his gaze drifts to you. You feel his eyes scanning your face carefully–in that quiet, intense, creepy way that you’d grown accustomed to.
John notes all of the changes in your face. How your features are more defined, and you’ve lost the baby fat that used to be present in your face. You’d always been a beautiful girl. Many of the men in the Italian town where you lived were practically falling over their feet to have you cast a glance their way.
But looking at you now, John can’t help but think how ethereal you look. There’s a new layer of maturity present in your appearance and demeanor.
It suits you.
You pierce the needle through his skin, and he winces. Your eyes flicker to his, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” He replies, voice raspy and dry from a lack of hydration.
You pause and grab a nearby cup of water from the table. You point the straw in John’s direction. He wraps his lips around the straw, and partially his lips touch the tips of your fingers. You move your fingers back an inch, but you keep the straw in place as he gulps down the water.
He nods his head to signal that he’s done. You set the water on the table before returning to the task at hand. You finish the last stitch before cleaning around the wound. Your fingertips gently run over the now closed wound, “You were supposed to be done with all of this.”
John sighs, “I was.”
“Being excommunicated doesn’t sound like done to me, John.” You give him a pointed look before standing from the bed. You collect all of the bloodied gauze and towels before placing them in a steel pan.
You strike a match and throw it into the pan. John knew that it was a customary practice that you and your father believed in. Burning blood to keep away any bad karma.
John doesn’t say anything because, unfortunately for him, he’s always been covered in bad karma, and it only seems to get worse.
Now that you’re standing, it gives John more time to admire your figure. You had filled out since the last time that he had seen you. Although he had last seen you after you had given him your virginity.
John often thinks back to that night. Even when he was married to Helen, his mind would be consumed with endless thoughts of you and that night. John had met you through your father. Your father, Augustine, was a world-renowned tailor and suit maker in the fashion world. What people didn’t know was that there was another side to your father’s business. He was also a much-coveted member of the High Table, who happened to specialize in making suits and armor for agents.
Every assassin in the world wanted to have a piece made by your father, but your father was very picky with his clientele. It wasn’t about the money–he had enough of that to go on for generations. What your father valued in his clients most of all was loyalty. He had found that trait in John Wick, and John had been a customer of his for years.
Growing up, your father tried his best to shield you from the dark underbelly that he was involved in, but naturally, all secrets must come to light. You were twenty-five when John first met you. You were home from college, and he was there in need of a well-tailored suit.
You had practically floated past John in a yellow silk cover-up that looked like it cost way too much money for the average person, but as the only child, it was only right that Daddy’s Princess got all the best. Your father clocked the way that John’s eyes connected with yours and how the man seemed to be entranced with the mere sight of you.
“Careful, Jardani..” Your father warned, deep voice cutting through the tension.
“I apologize,” John replied.
He and your father made their way into your father’s workshop to talk about the specifications that John needed for his suit. You walked into the room and took the seat next to John. His body stiffened as he felt your knee touch his, but he still played the part of nonchalance. Your father looked up at you from the top of his glasses, “Come here, cara, tell me how you’d design this suit for Mr. Wick.”
You stood from your chair and walked over to the sketch pad. You picked up one of the pencils and held it between your fingers. Your dark eyes filtered over John’s form, “Three buttons, no more. He had a slim build, but for what he wants, I say that we leave some inches in the waist out for discretion.” John didn’t miss the way that you said the last word, which meant that you knew exactly who he was.
You looked down at the paper and began sketching out the design. You effortlessly switched the pencil to the other hand and continued drawing.
‘She’s ambidextrous,’ John thinks to himself.
Once you’re finished with the rough sketch, you slide the paper over in John’s direction. He looks down at the paper and back up at you. It was exactly what he needed. “It’s good. I’ll take it,” John said.
Your father smiled at you in admiration, “My girl’s a professional. She’ll be taking over the business once I’m long gone.”
You rolled your eyes, “Who else would you expect to take over, old man? I’m the heir to the throne.” You and your father exchange teasing smiles before chuckling together. It’s quite the sight for John to be able to witness. He’d never actually had an opportunity to have a relationship with his father. The Ruska Roma had been the only family he’d known for the majority of his life. John would often wonder what life would look like if he had a normal childhood.
No assassins. No High Tables. No Baba Yaga.
“I’ll let my daughter be the one to tailor the suit for you, Mr. Wick. I hope you don’t mind.”
John’s eyes flickered over to you, and you gave him a small smile. He shook his head, “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’ll do amazing work.”
You smirked, “Trust me, Mr. Wick. When I’m done with your suit, you’ll only want to come to me.”
That was five years ago. Five years ago, when he was still the Baba Yaga, and five years ago when he was buried so deep inside you that he could still feel you today.
“I heard you killed Santino D’Antonio,” You said, sitting in the chair across from John.
He nods, “I had to. He left me with no choice.”
You chuckle, “It’s always been all or nothing with you, John. Your excommunication hit my desk as soon as you shot him.”
John groans and shifts in the bed, “I’m sorry for coming here. I had nowhere else to go, and I knew that I would be able to trust you.”
The statement itself is true. John does trust you. He knows that you wouldn’t disclose his location for any amount of money. Hell, you had enough money yourself to triple the contract that was currently on the man. The thing is, John knows that no one would suspect that he’d come here to see you. They had no reason to believe that he had any dealings with you, and they would assume that you’d follow Continental Rules by not helping him.
John also knows that no one would be foolish enough to come here in search of him. In the world of the High Table, you and your father’s business were considered Holy Ground. If there was any harm that came to you, then there’d be about three continents that rally together to hurt the idiot that dared to person.
“Don’t apologize to me, John. You know you’re always welcome here. Excommunication damned. Stay here for as long as you need.” You said.
Your phone rings on the table, and you move to grab it. You turn the phone in John’s direction–Winston. You rise from the chair, “I’ll be back to check in on you later. Be careful not to rip any of those stitches.
John watches you the entire time that you walk out of the room.
“Hello, Winston. Always a pleasure to hear from you..”
Winston chuckles lightly, “As much a pleasure as it is to hear from you, darling. I suppose you know why I’m calling.”
“Yes, you’re calling about John, and I have to admit that I haven’t the slightest clue where he may be. But I do know that there’s a very hefty price on his head,” You said, briefly glancing back at the room where John was lying.
“Such a shame that you aren’t able to provide any insight on his location. I do believe that you understand that there would be repercussions from the other members of the High Table if you were neglecting to tell where our dear John is.”
You take a sip from your drink, “I understand those wells all too well, Winston. I do have to remind you that I hold one of those seats as well. Any member knows that my business is considered sacred ground. We both know that I’d have millions of people ready to wage any war should any harm come.”
Winston sighs, “Of course. I do apologize. Thank you for your assistance.”
“You’re welcome. And Winston?”
“Yes?”
“Be sure to keep my name out of any conversations that you have.”
“Of course.”
You press the end button and lean back in your chair. This situation with John could get very messy, but you weren’t about to sell the man out. You didn’t care about the rules that he’d broken in the Continental Hotel. You only cared that he would be safe with you.
Besides, you’d do anything for the man that you love.
John wakes up the next day to the sun shining inside the room.
He looks down at the wound, which looks clean. He assumes that you came in the middle of the night to clean and change the bandages. Carefully, he navigates himself from the bed and walks downstairs in search of you. He finds you sitting outside at the outdoor dining table. You’re surrounded by a myriad of different foods. John can’t help but gaze at the silk dress that you’re wearing and how it contours to your body.
You look up at the sound of his light footsteps. After many years of being an assassin, John has learned to walk silently. Even when he wasn’t on a mission, the behavior still carried on. From your years of knowing John, you had developed almost a sixth sense at being able to know when the man was in the room. It was eerie seeing how in sync you and Jack were.
“Take a seat. You should eat. You lost a lot of blood. You’re going to need to recover for all of the people who are after you,” You said, sliding a plate to John.
He fills the plate with bacon, eggs, and a few pieces of fruit. You both eat in silence until he finds you staring at him.
“Winston asked if you were here with me,” You announced.
“And what did you say?”
“I told him that you weren’t. In fact, I told him that I had no clue where you were. He thought it would be smart to remind me of breaking the Continental rules if it was discovered that I was helping you,” You explained, sipping on your latte.
John winces, “I can leave if you want me to. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt in any of this.” He rises from the chair.
You roll your eyes, “Sit down, John. I’m not in the mood for your dramatics. This is sacred ground, so no one’s stupid enough to cross me. You can stay here as long as you need to recover.”
Internally, John is glad to hear you say the words. Selfishly, he wants to stay here with you. He wants to be able to look at you a little while longer before he inevitably has to go back out and face the world. You pour a cup of coffee and add two cubes of sugar. You still remembered the way that he liked his coffee.
He thinks about all of the other things that you must remember about him, or even what he remembers about you.
“Okay, and turn for me..Perfect,” You said, adjusting the tape measure about John’s waist.
He tries to ignore how close your body is to his, and how he can feel the heat radiating from you. He also tries to ignore the way that his eyes trace over your plump lips and the urge that he feels to kiss you.
“If you stare any harder, you might melt a hole into my head.”
John has at least enough decency to blush at your observation. “I apologize, that was rude of me.”
You shake your head, “Don’t apologize for staring. Just means that you like what you see.” You give him a smug smile at the end of your statement. You continue moving around John’s body, mapping out the exact measurements for the jacket. Suddenly, you kneel in front of him and begin taking measurements around his legs.
Your eyes flash up to his, and he fights off the images that appear in his mind of you in a rather different position. “So why do you do this?”
He’s silent for a while, but when you look up, he’s still looking at you with that same intense stare.
“I guess it’s all I’ve ever known.”
You nod, “That’s a very sad life to live, John.”
He knows. In fact, it creeps into his mind late at night that he lives a rather dull life besides killing people for a living. Sure, there’s perks of being able to travel to other countries, but most of that time is spent gathering intel on the target. Now, with the infamous “Baba Yaga” nickname branding his skin, it made it hard to navigate through certain spaces. Sometimes, John wishes that he lived a mundane life. Maybe with a wife, a house, and a white-picket fence. A real American dream.
But that’s just not the case for him.
You finish gathering the measurements and walk back to the table. You spare a glance in John’s direction, “I’m done. I’m sure you have better things to attend to.”
He does, but there’s a huge part of him that doesn’t want to leave your side. He wants to stay and orbit you. He wants to learn about all of the things that make you tick and come undone. He shrugs, “I don’t have anywhere too important to be. Maybe..if you aren’t busy, you could show me around town.”
Truthfully, he’s been around town. He probably knows the town better than you do, but you smile regardless.
“Sure, I’ll show you around, John.”
As you and John sit across from each other, he can’t take his eyes away from you. But you’d always had that effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time had passed. You’d always have a hold over John.
“What’s your grand plan, John?” You question, peering at the older man.
He leans back in the chair, “I’m going to go to the Elder. He’s the only one who can rescind my status.”
You nod, “And if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’ll die just like the rest of them,” John states definitively.
A second passes between the two of you before you burst into laughter. John watches as you cackle and start clutching your sides. He finds himself cracking a smile at your obvious amusement with his statement. “I’m glad you still find me amusing.”
You wipe your eyes, “I’m only laughing because I know you’re 100% serious.” You sober up from laughing and lean forward on the table, “Alright, I’ll play along with your plan, but you have to stay here until your wounds heal. I’m not letting you leave here and get taken out because of some stitches.”
“I’ve fought before with my stitches popped.”
You click your tongue, “It’s not up for discussion, John.”
You hold his gaze as a pseudo-staring contest begins between the two of you. You quirk your eyebrow and tilt your head. John relents and nods his head. He’d never been good at telling you no. You both continue eating in silence, and you beckon John to follow you so that you can check his wounds.
He sits back in the chair as your fingers trace across the wound. You take the antiseptic and pour a small amount on a towel. Gently, you run the towel across the wound, and John flinches. You both know that it isn’t from the wound feeling sore. You’d given him drugs strong enough to tranquilize a horse.
It was you. You touching him.
“I’m sorry about Helen,” You said.
It was the first time that you and John had openly spoken about the woman. You knew all about Helen Wick. You’d met her once before on the day before her wedding to John, when you personally delivered his suit. She was nice. Normal. You could see why John liked her and what made him fall for her. It still didn’t make it sting less to watch him leave with her.
What you didn’t know was that Helen Wick was more than aware of you, especially when it came to your relationship with John. She’d seen the longing and sorrowful looks that you and John had both thrown at each other that day. She knew that John loved her, but she wasn’t a fool to understand that he also loved you. She’d seen the necklace from you that John had refused to take off his neck. There were even nights when she’d lie next to John, and he’d utter your name in his sleep. Helen Wick had never mentioned any of this to John. She figured that she’d let him grieve you in peace.
When news of Helen’s passing had made its way to you, you sent a bouquet. You didn’t even leave a message. Just a simple card with your initials. John still kept it in his office next to Helen’s obituary.
“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry for hurting you,” He said.
You shook your head, “Doesn’t matter now, John. We can’t rewind time.”
He grabs your hand, “It matters to me.” He pauses and waits for you to look at him, “You matter to me.”
Subtle clicks from your heels sound out from the hallway until you walk into the living room, where your father and John are sitting. The dress that you’re wearing is downright sinful, and John’s ready to ask for penance. Your father squints at you, “And where are you going this late?”
“Papa, you are aware that I’m grown, right?”
Your father scoffs, “You are aware that you’re still my daughter, right? So I ask again, where are you going?”
“Clubbing with the girls. At The Lounge. Nothing too serious,” You said, sitting on the arm of the couch close to John.
Your father sighs. With his line of work, he always worries that someone will test the odds and try to hurt you to get to him. He looks in John’s direction, “John, would you be so kind as to escort my daughter tonight? I would be indebted to you.”
Your father opens the box next to him and pulls out one of the marker coins. He holds it out in John’s direction. John shakes his head, “You don’t owe me, I’d do it without the marker. You’ve been good to me all these years. It’s only right that I repay the favor.”
Your father nods, but chucks the marker in John’s direction nonetheless. John catches it and your father winks at him, “I’m asking you to protect the most important person in the world to me. You deserve the marker.”
For the last ten years, it had just been you and your father. Ten years ago, your mother had been as healthy as could be, but then she started to get sicker. No longer was she up early with your father and drinking coffee. Stage IV cervical cancer. It’d been building for longer than any of you knew.
One minute your mother was there and the next, you and your father were burying a cherry wood coffin six feet beneath the Earth. Ever since then, your father’s overprotection had grown significantly.
Your father stands from the chair and crosses the room to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Have a lovely evening, my love. Go easy on John.”
He looks in John’s direction and chuckles before exiting the room.
You stand from the couch and your heels click against the tiled floor as you walk closer to the door. You glance back at John, “You coming?”
He moves to follow behind you. You toss his car keys in his direction. A mischievous smile crosses your face, “I’m glad you agreed. I wanting to play passenger princess anyways.”
John follows behind you like an obedient puppy, and he’s pretty sure that you want it that way. However, he does pass you to open the car door like a true gentleman.
You smile softly at him as you sit down. Inside the car, John is careful enough with his driving with you in the car. You turn your head to you, “John, I know for a fact that you drive this car way faster. A speed bump won’t kill me.”
He chuckles lowly before speeding up. He can see the way that your eyes widen in excitement as the purr of the car increases. He effortlessly navigates through the cars on the highway. You shift which causes your dress to lift higher, and John’s eyes trail down to your exposed thighs.
There’s a dark urge to place his hand between your thighs, but he suppresses the urge. He’s supposed to be protecting you, not fucking you.
John pulls up to the club and parks his car. He opens the door for you, and you both make your way to the entrance of the club.
John notes that people seem to perk up at your appearance, and you give the bouncer an effortless smile. “Hi Benji, how’s it looking in there?”
“For you, amore, it’s looking good. You and your girls are gonna have a good time,” Benji explains. He steels his expression as he clocks John standing close to you. You sense the tension between the two men, but you place a hand on John’s chest, “He’s with me, honey. My little watchdog tonight.”
The tension leaves Benji’s body, and he moves to the side so that you and John can enter. Inside, John is immediately greeted with a dark room with fluorescent lights and thumping bass. Grinding bodies make up the room as the occupants lose themselves in the moment.
John keeps a close eye on you as you weave through the crowd. You stop and look in one direction before intertwining your fingers with John’s. You drag him behind him with the section. In the section, there are about four women who greet you excitedly. You squeal and hug each woman before turning back to John.
“Girls, this is John.” You take your time to introduce your friends to John. He stores the names in his memory, but he’s really only here for you.
A waitress appears with a plate full of shots for you and your friends. You all yell excitedly while downing the shots. John sits on the couch and continues to monitor the section. He tries to make himself as scarce as possible so that you can still enjoy yourself.
“Let’s go dance,” One of your friends suggests.
You nod in agreement and look back at John, “I’ll be back, okay?”
He nods.
You and your friends make your way out of the section and onto the dance floor. John keeps his eyes strictly on you. He becomes hypnotized by the way your body rolls as you dance with your friends. John’s never seen someone so sexy and free.
Suddenly, a man comes up behind you to try to dance with you. You roll your eyes, and John can see you declining the dance with the man. The man doesn’t seem to take the message lightly and grabs your arm. Without thinking, John makes his way towards you.
He grabs the man roughly and twists his arm behind his back. The man yelps in pain. For a moment, the music stops, and all eyes are on John. John twists the man’s hand further as he whimpers in pain. “She said no. Do you think that you have more authority than her, saying no?”
The man whimpers, “No! No, I’m sorry, man. No means no.”
John’s eyes grow darker as he grips the man tighter. He brings the man up to stare into his face, “Do you know who I am?’
The man’s eye scans over John’s face, and you can see the way that it pales in realization. “The Baba Yaga,” He whispers.
“Good. If I see you bothering her or any other woman, I won’t hesitate to come for you,” John mutters lowly. The man nods quickly. “Just to make sure that I got my point across, you owe me.” A sickening crack echoes through the club as the man screams in pain. His arm is now bent at an awkward angle. John roughly throws him to the floor before moving to stand beside you.
He finds you staring at him with a smirk. “I have to say, John. That was very sexy.”
The music starts back up once one of the bouncers comes to remove the man. The bodies began undulating around you and John again. You look up at him, the flashing light illuminating his dark figure. “Dance with me,” You demand softly.
John goes to protest, but you shut it down with a stern look. He stands stiffly in the middle of the floor, and you turn to press your body to his. From this angle, he can smell the perfume even better. The music changes to something slower and more seductive. You move your body along his, and for a moment, John allows himself to give in. You guide his hands around you, and he presses them against your body. John moves his head down to place it in the crook of your neck.
You moan softly as his breath dances across your skin. You look up and get lost in the dark pools of his eyes. John doesn’t know what spell you cast over him, but he allows you to bring his head closer and connect his lips to yours.
Your tongue slithers across the seam of his lips before he allows it to enter his mouth. He groans into your mouth as he starts to dominate the kiss. His hand wraps around your throat and squeezes lightly.
You and John are within each other. Nothing else matters besides your mouth and his. You pull back and look at him, “I’m ready to go.”
He nods and pulls you to the exit. You send a quick wave to your friends, who laugh and make obscene gestures to you and John. Outside the air has chilled and you lean closer into John’s side.
You both slide inside of the Mustang, but you surprise John by sliding across the seat to place yourself in his lap. You immediately attach your lips to his and rolls your hips over his. John hands grip your ass and he drags your core across his pants. You can feel him starting to harden inside of his jeans.
John detaches from your lips and moves his lips to your neck. He sucks at your neck while you moan softly. The windows inside the car are tinted enough so that no one can see.
You pull back to look at him and nervously bite at your lip. “I haven’t done this before. Not with anyone.”
It takes John a moment to process it, but it does hit him. He nods quietly, “Then we won’t do it here. You deserve better than that.”
He gently places you back in the seat before placing another kiss to your lips. Your wide eyes meet his, “I still want you to touch me, John.”
It almost sounds like a whine. You lean back against the window and part your thighs. John finally catches a view of your panties, which are dampened by arousal.
You grab one of his hands and bring it towards your center. You run the tips of his finger across the crotch of your panties. John’s mouth waters at the thought of tasting you.
He moves his fingers and presses them into your covered clit. You move to slide your panties down your thighs. John groans at the sight of your glistening folds. He drags his fingers down to gather your arousal and moves it up to your clit. John rubs small circles around your pearl. You’re moaning into the air at the sparks of pleasure radiating through your body.
More of your arousal is leaking from you. John slides a finger inside you. He moves it in and out. When he’s sure that you can take another, he slides a second finger inside of your warm walls.
You clench around the thick digits.
“John…” You whine.
He continues to move his fingers inside you. He curls them upwards to hit the spongey spot inside you. Your head is thrown back as you lose yourself in the pleasure.
In that moment, John knows that he would do whatever he could to make you happy.
The routine between you and John has ventured into domesticity. It’s weeks now and you both know that the world is growing uneasy at not knowing his location.
Your contacts have mentioned that every assassin and agency under the High Table is scouring even the smallest pebble in search of John. Some people even wonder if he’s managed to find a way into space with how he’s managed to evade them.
John’s wound is healing. It’s only a matter of time before he has to leave.
At the moment, you and John are sitting outside. He watches you swim laps around the pool. You exit the pool and John watches the water glisten from your body. He’d never been more jealous of a droplet of water.
Hearing footsteps, John quickly turns his to face the unknown man. He hops from the chair and prepares himself to attack.
“It’s okay, John. He’s a friend.” You announce, continuing to wipe the water from your body.
You turn to the man, “What’s the latest, Luca?”
“From our reports, the underworld is growing restless with the disappearance of Mr. Wick. They’re wondering who may be hiding him, but as far I’ve heard, no one suspects that it’s you,” Luca explains.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Any other updates?”
Luca nods, “Yes, Mr. Ivy still has a late account with us. He’s currently in hiding, but our guys have eyes on him in Rome. What would you like for us to do with his account ma’am?”
“Terminate it. We’ve given him plenty of time and I don’t like repeating myself.”
Luca nods.
He eyes John and then you. John clocks it.
“That’ll be all, Luca. Thank you.” You move to press a kiss upon the man’s cheek. He leans into it. John also clocks this. Luca turns and leaves.
You flop into the chair beside John. A pair of sunglasses adorn your face as you lie back on the chair. “I can feel you staring at me you, John. Ask your question.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” John tries to keep his voice even, but he can’t keep the jealousy from coloring his voice.
You peer John over your shades and start laughing, “Awww are you jealous? Don’t act like you’ve been a saint, John. You got married and I imagine that Helen wasn’t a woman who wanted to remain celibate. You aren’t the only man who want to lick my pussy.”
John throws a stern look your way. He leans up in the chair and turns to you. You shoot him a challenging look. It’s clear that you’re dying for him to make a move.
“You’re gonna put me over your knee?”
You sit up and move to the edge of the chair, so that your knees are touching John’s. He remembers how much of brat that you could be. He also remembers how much he loved reminding you what happened to brats when they got out of place.
One minute, you’re sitting and the next you’re lying across John’s knees. A sharp sting radiates across one of your cheeks. You turn to face John, who brings his hand down on you again, “Eyes forward. Count for me.”
“Do the first two count?”
John smirks, “No. Count.”
He brings his heavy down again and a loud smack sounds out. You moan at the feeling, but count nonetheless. Ten spanks later and you’re practically leaking through your bikini.
John pulls up to straddle his thighs. He runs his hands across your cheeks, which are still heated from his spanks. He pulls you closer so you can feel the bulge in his pants.
Those same dark eyes that you fell for gaze upon you, “You let some little boy have you, my dusha moya?” (my soul)
John reaches up to cup your face in his hand, “You think I forgot about you? You’ve been on my mind for the past five years. I love you.”
You let the words sink in. It isn’t the first time that John’s said it to you. In fact, you’ve heard the words whispered to you so much by the man so much that you have inflections ingrained inside your head.
However the last time that John had said that he loved you was when he told you that he was leaving the business and that he had met Helen.
The moment becomes tense between you and John. You stand from his lap and move to put distance between yourselves. John stands and tries to move closer. You hold a hand up to stop him.
Instead of saying anything, you leave him standing outside alone.
After the night of John taking your virginity, you both had become inseparable. There wasn’t a time when John wasn’t close to you or nearby in some capacity.
In fact, he had purposefully been taking contracts if it meant that he could be closer to you. Your father wasn’t the least bit surprised of your relationship with John. He knew that when you wanted something (or someone), it always ended up in your favor to have it.
With John, it was all passion.
It seemed like you both were insatiable for each other. There wasn’t a moment that he wanted to spend apart from you. There wasn’t a moment that he ever got tired of being with you.
But…there was still something.
John was getting older and as a result of all of the men that he killed, he grew weary. He wanted normal. John had been killing people since he was a teenager. He wasn’t getting any younger, and he refused to be one of those men who clung to stay in the game.
He had long acquired enough wealth to be able to retire. For John Wick, it was time. No more Baba Yaga.
He would announce the retirement soon enough, but he needed to tell you first.
He had a house in the same town as you. A place where he could always remain close to you, along with giving you both the privacy that you both craved.
You had came over earlier in the day, and it was spent with you and John walking around the city, enjoying each other’s presence. When you both got back to the house, you and John took the opportunity to have sex all over the house.
You had moved into the bedroom, your body withering in pleasure as John’s lips attached to your pearl. You grabbed at his dark locks as you pushed your hips further down into his mouth.
“John…” you moaned out into the open. In response, he reaches an arm up to begin kneading at your breast and nipples.
His dark eyes watch as you get lost in your pleasure. It’d been an otherworldly experience for John to watch you discover your own pleasure and what you liked.
He moves his tongue down to slurp your juices into his mouth. He moans at the taste of you. He attaches himself back to your clit and applies just the right amount of pressure that he knows will make you cum.
John watches your body arch from the bed as your release washes over you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of seeing you let go. He places a lingering kiss to your overstimulated clit.
John maneuvers your body so that you’re lying on your stomach with your hips hiked into the air. You arch in the way that you know that John likes. Almost immediately, he slides inside you. A low moan leaves your body.
There was almost always a 100% guarantee that you still made that same sound whenever John entered you.
John pulls back slightly before thrusting inside you. He grabs your hips in his hands and starts the pace. He doesn’t rush it–he wants to savor this.
“Harder,” you plead,
John gives in. He leans his tall, muscular body over yours as he grabs your hair in his hand to deepen the thrusts. Your walls clench around him as he can feel you growing wetter. He looks down to watch the way that your ass bounces and jiggles against his harsh thrusts. He admires the ring of cream already forming around the base of his cock.
You’re moaning unabashedly into the air. John always loved how you weren’t afraid to tell him how good he was making you feel. He loved the way you got lost in the pleasure. You weren’t performing–you were experiencing.
He leans over to place a wet kiss on your mouth as you whine into his mouth. You’re close. John can tell from by the way that your walls are clenching around him and the way that the tears are gathering in your eyes.
He figured out rather quickly that you were a crier during sex, which turned him on more when he’d see the big tears welling in your eyes and trailing down your cheeks or temples because he was making you feel so good.
He leans closer to your ear, “I can feel you. Let go for me.” He wraps a hand around your throat as he pushes your front onto the mattress and increases the pace of his thrusts.
Your moans get louder until you let out a needy, “I’m coming” and release. Your body shakes in his hold, while he continues chasing his own release. John leans across you to put his mouth by your ear. He groans into your ear and shoves himself deeper until his white release starts to fill you out.
He’d always been a quiet lover in bed, but he knows that you like the sounds of him groaning and moaning, so he obliges.
He moves to slip out of you and watches intensely as his cum flows out of you. He had been going raw inside you since the first time. You both didn’t need to worry about any surprise pregnancies because John had gotten a vasectomy a long time ago.
Another requirement thanks to the Roma Ruska. John gently lays your body down on the mattress and massages your legs. He doesn’t move to wipe his cum from you because he knows that you like the feeling of it inside you. There’s a perverse part of him that enjoys knowing that you like having him apart of you that way.
He only cradles your body closer to his.
After a few moments, you rise from the bed to go to the bathroom. You throw on John’s discarded shirt, along with a pair of underwear. John slides on his boxers.
He goes to begin preparing dinner for you both. While he’s cooking, you watch him. He’s quiet. He’s always been a quiet man, but he’s never been this quiet.
He sets the plate down in front of you as you both sit across from each other. When you finish dinner, you and John wash the dishes side by side. You had developed a sort of domesticity here in this home.
You dry your hands on the towel and turn to him, “There’s something wrong.”
He keeps looking down, but you turn his face to yours, “Talk to me, John.”
Your warm eyes search his. He sighs, “I’m leaving.”
Your frown and think it over for a few seconds before your eyes widen a fraction. “Why now?”
“I think it’s time.”
You nod, “Okay. How do you think it’ll go over with the high table?”
“Doesn’t matter. I have no outstanding contracts. No reason for them to keep me around,” John explains.
“You’re one of their best, John. Of course, they’ll want to keep you around.”
“I know. I just want this to be over. I’m only getting older, and I want to be able to have a normal life.” You get it. A man that’s been in the game as long as John has is bound to grow tired of this eventually. Killing people never got easier—only more bearable.
He looks down and the guilt is clawing at his chest for the next words that he’s about to say.
“I met someone.”
Oh.
You stare off into the distance, “What’s her name?”
“Helen.”
“Is she nice?”
“Yes.”
“Good for you, John.” You move to leave the sink and John goes to grab you. He can see you purposefully ignoring his stare. He turns your face to his, “I’m not leaving for you, and I’m not leaving you for her. I’m leaving because I want to be normal.”
It’s a bitter sting because you know what he means. You’re still connected to the life that he wants to get away from. Eventually, you’ll take over for your father and John will still be attached to the world. It isn’t freedom.
But that doesn’t mean that it hurts any less. The man that you love moving on with someone else. Loving someone else.
Your lip trembles at the thought. John wipes the tears as they trail down your face and connects his forehead to yours, “I’m sorry. But I need you to know that no one will ever have me the way that you do, dusha moya. You’re my beginning and end. I love you.”
“I love you too, John.”
That night, he takes his time with making love to you with the moonlight coloring your bodies. He whispers into your ear in native Russian tongue. He pours every ounce of himself into you. Every part that he’ll never give to Helen. She gets his heart, but you get his soul.
A month later, he’s gone. He leaves a ring on your finger.
John Wick is a selfish man when it comes to you. Even after he leaves, he never fully leaves you. He still keeps tabs on you and your wellbeing. There are late nights when he finds himself reviewing the pictures that his source has stealthily taken of you.
You look good. You always do.
He catalogues all of the pictures of you and stores the book on his shelf. He doesn’t even try to hide your presence in his life from Helen. She’d ran across the book of you and quietly admired the pictures before placing the book back in its respective spot.
She didn’t mention to John that she’d seen it.
Your father dies two years later. Cancer. You take over the business without problem. You have all of your father’s men and mentors at your disposal. They’re on board to help you in your transition of power. John attends the funeral. He stands at the back of the church in a suit that’s been tailored by you.
Despite his instincts telling him not to, he visits you. Your grief had made you a lot more mature. He watches the way that your father’s men flock to do your every whim. It doesn’t even faze you.
You ask John about his married life and he sparsely provides you with details. It only takes one look and he’s fucking you across the counter with your legs thrown over his shoulders. He stays the weekend and you make love the entire time.
Then he returns home to Helen, who pretends that she doesn’t see the love bites littering John’s neck. She figures that you and John needed the moment. She doesn’t mind.
When Helen Wick gets sick, she calls you. You’d never told John about the call because Helen had asked you not to. You weren’t cruel enough to disobey a dying woman’s wishes.
She only asks you for one thing: Love John.
She knows that John will try to do the noble thing and not run to you in his mourning, but she knows that John will need you. Before she dies, she finds comfort in knowing that John won’t be alone.
In the present after you’d left John standing there, he stands there dumbfounded. He enters the house and listens for you. He hears the sound of the shower running upstairs.
His body yearns for him to go, but he figures that it’s best to give you some space. He goes to sit in the living room.
You exit the shower and throw on an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants. You walk through the bedroom, but freeze as you hear footsteps creeping through the house.
They aren’t John’s.
They’re too heavy. Someone’s here. The man rounds the corner with the gun pointed at you. Your eyes scan down his face. Red hair. Green eyes.
“Stay right there. Let’s not get hasty, little lady,” He announces with an Irish accent.
You tilt your head, “I do hope that you’re aware of all the rules you’re breaking.”
The man frowns, “Me? You’re the one housing a man who’s excommunicated!”
You shrug, “If you know what’s best for you, then you’d leave. After all, these are sacred grounds.”
“Shut up! You’re breaking the rules. I’m sure the High Table will have a field day with knowing that you’ve been shacking up to John Wick.” The man sneers.
He points the gun at you and tilts it, “Out of the room now. We’re gonna go downstairs with your little boyfriend.”
You oblige and move to start exiting the room. You only make it halfway beside the man before loud crashing echoes through the house. You assume that this means that John is fighting with the other people in the house.
You use to the man being distracted to your advantage, and knock the gun out of his hand. He quickly recovers and makes a move to swing at you. You duck and sent a right hook at his jaw. The blow sends the man reeling back as blood splatters from his mouth.
He spits out a tooth that clatters across the floor. He rushes at you and you grab a nearby vase to smash across his head. He still manages to tackle you on the floor. You both wrestle across the floor as you wrap your legs around his neck. He splutters and taps against your legs, but you only tighten them.
He picks you up and slams you against the floor to dislodge your legs. He reels back and manages to punch you. You grit your teeth in pain before kicking your leg out, which catches him on the chin.
You use his disorientation to your advantage to grab his discarded gun. You cock it and aim it at his knees. One shot. The man screams out in pain. Two shots. He slinks to the floor as blood pours from the wounds. You take the opportunity to stand and cross the room to the whimpering man.
“You shouldn’t have came,” you said. With that, you slam your foot against his face, which knocks him out cold.
The sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs makes you aim the gun at the door. John appears in a similar fashion with the gun drawn. He lets out a breath of relief when he notices that you’re okay.
“How many downstairs?” You ask John.
“Four. Two dead and two alive,” He responds.
“Good, we’ll keep them alive to see who they belong to.” You grab your phone to call Luca. Within minutes, Luca and most of your men are inside the house.
Luca rushes forward to examine your face once he notices your bleeding lip. He looks in John’s direction with a hard stare. You place a hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay.”
Luca settles and nods at you. By now, your three unwanted guests have all awaken. Two men and a woman. John had tied them up and dragged them to living room. The man who you had shot whimpers in pain at his still bleeding knees.
Your men have their guns drawn.
You walk forward, “You know, it’s very rude to show up somewhere uninvited. Not only did you try to hurt me, but you tried to hurt my guest. Who are you working for?”
All three choose to stay silent. You chuckle darkly before shooting a glance at Luca. He steps forward and grabs one of the men by the collar and starts beating him. Each blow sends sickening cracks echoing through the room. You hold up your hand, to which Luca ceases the beating. The man sputters and spits out multiple teeth.
You move over to the woman, “What about you, princess? You wanna talk to me?”
The woman tries to steel her expression, but you can see the fear present. You wrap her blonde ponytail around your fist until you’re pulling at her roots. Small tears sting at her eyes, “It would be best if you did. I can have you choking on your own blood in here, and then I’ll go do the same to your family.”
The woman’s eyes widen, “No! No, please don’t. I’ll tell you. We are with Victor Antanov, but he doesn’t know we’re here. We found an old picture of you and Mr. Wick, so we tried our luck with seeing if he was here. We only spotted him earlier when you were outside.”
You hum and let go of her hair.
You step back to face all three people, “It was an idiotic move to come here. That takes real balls.”
The man who you shot looks up, “He’s excommunicated. You’re breaking the rules. When they find out, you’ll be dead.” He spits blood at your feet.
You can see the rage coloring John’s face and all of your men.
To the people in front of you, you surprise them by laughing, “I almost feel sorry for you. You keep going on and on about rules, but you forget my house and territory are marked under sacred ground. That surpasses any of the Continental Hotels. If you were to actually read the rules, you’d know that if under any circumstances, any harm comes to myself or this property, it is an official declaration of war.”
You pause to point at your lip, “That’s harm to me.” You look around the room at the broken vases, “That’s harm to my property. That means that because of you, your boss just declared war on me.”
“John Wick is here. We have proof,” the other man spits out.
“What proof? The fact that you claim that you saw him here? We already checked your phones, there are no pictures. It’s your word against mine.”
You look to your Luca and your men, “Did any of you see John Wick here today?”
“No ma’am,” All of your men answer in sync.
“No ma’am. No sight of John Wick on this property or territory,” Luca affirms. John watches how easy the men fall in line with your orders.
You look back at the three assassins, “I didn’t see John Wick, and my men haven’t either. I have an entire territory that hasn’t seen him either. So maybe you’re seeing ghosts.”
You glance at Luca, “Call Victor Antanov for me.”
The man answers within seconds, “Mi amore, how can I help you today?”
“Hi Victor, it seems that we have a rather distressing situation on our hands. Three of your people have broken into my house and assaulted me under the false pretenses of claiming that John Wick is here. Now Victor, I don’t need to remind you of what happens if any harm comes to me.”
The man is silent on the other end of the phone, “No, I don’t need to be reminded. I apologize greatly for their errors and insolence. I can assure you that I did not give any orders to send them there.”
You can hear the fear and trembling in the man’s voice. “So what do you propose that we do about this, Victor? How can you atone for your sins?”
Even if he hadn’t gave the order, his crew’s actions still fell on him. He would have to appease you in some way.
“Kill them. They are officially excommunicated from our family. For you, I also offer a territory of mine for your choosing.”
You smile, “I accept your conditions. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Victor.”
“Likewise, mi amore.”
You hang up the phone and turn to the surprised assassins. You can see the color draining from their faces at how easy their boss had given them over.
“It’s settled. Luca, get them out of my sight, and make sure that they suffer.”
Luca nods and snaps for your men to grab the three assassins. They all struggle, cry, and scream but their fate is already sealed.
Luca looks at you, “I’ll set up a few men to stand guard. Do you need me to stay?”
You shake your head, “That’ll be all. Thank you, Luca.” You press a kiss against his cheek and he nods. He eyes John one last time before leaving.
Once your men are gone and others are posted as guards, you turn to John, who crosses the room to stand in front of you.
He cups your face in his hands and runs a finger across your lip. He frowns at the dry blood there, “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yes, you should’ve. I wouldn’t have been able to rest knowing you were out there being hunted,” You replied.
You run the tips of your fingers across the tiny scratches that he had obtained during the fight. You grab his hand to direct him to the bedroom. It wasn’t too torn up from your fight. You and John sidestep the broken vase.
You grab the first aid kit and wipe antiseptic across John’s scratches. In return, he wipes your lip. He continues holding your face in his hand and looks into your eyes.
“You left earlier when I told you that I love you,” He mentions.
“I know.”
He chuckles, “Why?”
“You left me, John. You can’t expect me to be okay with all of this after you left.” He nods. One thing that you learned about John is that he doesn’t argue. It was something that was rather annoying the first time that you noticed it, but you learned to appreciate it.
“I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t take away the hurt that I’ve caused you over the years, but I am. I won’t try to make any excuses because I know why I needed to do it. But I do want you to understand that I love you,” He said, caressing your face.
You close your eyes and lean into his touch. You open your eyes and gaze back at John, “I love you too. Always.”
He takes the opportunity to press his lips against yours gently. You can tell that he’s trying to be careful about your busted lip.
You roll your eyes, “John, I’m not made of glass. You’ve put bruises on me that sting more.”
He chuckles before pressing his lips harder into yours. His tongue slithers inside your mouth, and you both mutually moan. He still tastes the same as you remembered. Pulling back, you both breathe against each other. “I want you to make love to me, John.”
He nods. He’d do anything for me. Throughout all of this mess, his body and soul have been craving you. You slide the shorts down your legs and let John slide the shirt over your head. He takes a second to stare at your body. His eyes go to all of the familiar beauty and stretch marks that litter your body.
He guides you to lie down on the bed. You sit up on your elbows, and he can’t help but think of the first time that he had you like this. How innocent and eager you looked. That same fire that you had in your eyes is present now. John kneels in front of you and starts pressing kisses to your legs. He gets to your thighs and places gentle kisses there. You moan when he nips at your thigh before running his tongue across to soothe it.
You and John had always liked pain.
When he gets to your pussy, he can see the wetness beginning to pool from you. He takes a second to nuzzle into the curls that cover your mound. He breathes in your scent that he had missed. You spread your legs more for John. He can finally see your juices as they coat your folds and drip from you.
He leans in and presses a kiss to your clit. You jump in response, and John watches how you clench around nothing. His eyes meet yours, “Seems like she missed me.”
His tongue slithers along the length of you as he moans as your taste hits his tongue. Enraptured, you watch as John buries his face in you. He makes out with your cunt like you aren’t even there. You also clock the way that he remembers just how you like to be eaten. He slides his tongue along the right side of your clit where you’re more sensitive. You thread your fingers through his silky black locks and pull roughly. He groans at the pain.
John’s lips encircle your clit as he continues alternating between licking and sucking. You throw your head back with a wanton moan and roll your hips into his face. It’s only when he gazes up that he notes the necklace hanging around your neck. It was the ring that he had given you.
Call it possessive, but seeing you with his ring around your neck makes his movement a lot more needier and messy. You moan his name as your peak hits. He keeps his eyes on you. His favorite part had always been seeing you cum.
He trails his lip up your body until he reaches your lips. The kiss is absolutely nasty with how he’s tonguing you down. You reach between the two of you to grasp his cock in your hand. You give a few strokes as John groans at the feeling of your hands on him.
You guide his tip to your entrance as he holds eye contact with you. John pushes forward and you both watch as his slides fully inside you. That gasp. That same gasp that use to drive him crazy leaves your mouth.
You feel complete and so does John. He clenches his teeth at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. “You feel like Heaven, dasha moya.”
He pulls back and delivers a rough thrust into your body. You squeal at the rough movements, but John knows that you love it. He sets a brisk, but demanding pace that jerks your body under his. He pulls one of your legs into the crook of his arms, which deepens the feel of him inside you.
Your nails carve themselves roughly into his back, and he can only imagine the red lines that will appear amongst the black ink of his tattoo.
“I missed you,” you whisper against John’s lips.
“I missed you too. So much,” he mutters in response, body humming with pleasure. You splay your hand out next to you on the bed and John chooses the opportunity to intertwine his with yours.
He leans down to catch the necklace between his teeth. The action seems to spur his thrusts on. He’s surprised when you flip both of your bodies over and pin him down onto the bed.
You roll yours hips across his before standing to move up and down onto his cock. John throws his head back at the sensation. You feel so good.
Your hand comes to wrap around his throat and you lean down as your thighs continue to slap against his. “You missed me, John? You missed this pussy? All wet for you. And only you.”
A devastating moan leaves his mouth, as he leans up to kiss you. He slides his fingers down to your clit to rub circles upon it. He senses it before you do. “Cum for me,” He demands gruffly.
A few more flicks and your eyes roll back as your release consumes you. John helps you to ride it out while whispering into your ear. He feels his own release building.
Your teary eyes meet his and he believes that it sends over the edge. John lets out the loudest moan that you think you’ve ever heard from him (well besides the time that you kept sucking him off that time even when he’d already came). His eyes roll back as he fills you up.
You collapse against his chest, your ear pressed to his heart. You shift and can feel some of John’s cum leaking from you.
“Too bad you can’t get me pregnant.”
It is too bad, John thinks to himself. He would love to have the opportunity to give you even more of himself. He would love to see a combined version of you and him together, but not all wishes can come true.
You both lie there together. No words said.
You fall asleep. John runs his hands down your back the entire time. A sense of sorrow already beginning to bloom in his chest.
The next day, you wake up before John. His arms are wrapped around you and cradling you to him, as if he’s afraid to let you go.
You trace your fingertips along his face, mapping out all of his beautiful features. He stirs when he feels your lips press to his.
He kisses you back just as intensely. He makes love to you again in bed and another time in the shower. At the end of your copulation, you both sit in the bed with him lying across your chest. He detaches the necklace from your neck and slides the ring from the chain.
He grabs the ring to place on your finger. It fits perfectly.
“I have to leave again,” He states.
You lick your lips, “I know.”
“They’re just going to keep coming here for me, and I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happens to you,” John said, looking up at you. You nod and press a kiss to his lips.
You move from under him and stand from the bed, “I suppose you’ll need all the best for your journey. Come with me.”
John follows behind you as you take him downstairs to your workshop. You smile and greet your men, who return the same greeting. It does bring him some comfort knowing that you’ll be guarded.
Inside the workshop, you move a picture frame of you and your parents to the side to reveal a keypad. You type in a code, which John recognizes as his birthday.
There’s a hiss before the wall moves and reveals a weapon inventory. You usher John forward.
You pull him in front of a mannequin that has a suit on it, “This is a reinforced suit with armor built in. Anyone shoots at you the bullets will deflect. You can choose any guns that you need from here. Your mustang was beat up when you got here, so I asked Luca to pick up a new one for you. Bulletproof of course.”
You place a set of keys in his hands. He pauses and look at you for a moment, “You knew I was leaving?”
You chuckle, “You aren’t an idle man, John. I know you won’t rest until this is done.”
He catches the subtle hint in your words.
He nods, “I won’t.”
“Good.”
He gives you a few more hours of you being together before he has to depart. Night falls and he heads outside to find the new mustangs there. You help him to pack all of his new acquired guns and grenades. When the car is packed, you both stand in front of each other.
You fix his suit, “Go give them hell, John.”
He leans down and presses his lips to yours again. He allows the kiss to go on until you both can’t breathe. When he pulls back, he’s holding you, “I love you. Always.”
“I love you too, John. Just be careful, okay?”
He nods.
He goes to enter the car and turns to you. He points down at your ring, “When this is all over and if I’m still standing, I’m coming back to you, and I’m marrying you. That’s if you’ll have me.”
You smile, “Always, John.”
He smiles in return. He gets in the car and drives off. He watches you in the mirror the entire time.
Summary: You and Michael both love anime. You always talk about visiting Japan if you had the chance to be free from work. Little did you know, the man was gonna make his woman’s travel dreams come true.
Disclaimer: use of the n word. Majority fluff.
(A.N. Got the idea from looking on Pinterest and seeing him in Japan. Plus, I grew up loving anime and manga and really want to visit Japan!)
“Mike, I’m so jealous of Brittany..” You mumble out a whine. It’s a Sunday morning, the day he relaxes from work and unwinds. It usually consists of eating all his favorite foods and binge watching anime.
A ritual easily adjusted to considering you’re a huge foodie and anime lover like him.
“Why you jealous of her, baby?” Michael glances over at you, a chicken enchilada half way in his mouth.
“Man, she got a custom made kimono, yukata and a furisode as gifts from Kareem. Remember I told you he went to Japan last week?” You gesture with your hands dramatically. A slight pout forming on your face as you stared at him.
That familiar deep chuckle sounds from him. Michael shakes his head, hand grabbing a napkin from the coffee table.
“Baby, you jealous because her nigga got her stuff from Japan?” Michael questions, his eyebrows raising slightly in amusement.
“Yes!” You stated without hesitation. “I want that stuff too! Along with other things. I’ve been trying to go since I declared Inuyasha as one of my many husbands.”
Michael snorted at that. “Inuyasha? Really?”
“Yes. What’s wrong with Inuyasha- you know what that’s not the point.” You stand up from the couch crossing your arms.
The sunlight beaming through the windows illuminates your deeply moisturized skin. You pace back and forth between him, a bag of potato chips in your hand as you begin to ramble.
Two of your quirks that he always adored. Michael remembers the first day he saw your quirks come out. It was when you were giving a detailed breakdown on who was the true villain in the TV sitcom ‘Girlfriends’.
Switching from the bag of chips to a bowl of donut holes. You break down your whole reason for going to Japan like it was a college thesis paper. He listened to every word. Chiming in every so often to offer different opinions and ideas.
“Baby girl, slow down before you choke like last time.” His voice snaps you out of your rambling. You pause, fingers wrapped around a donut hole ready to bite into it.
“Sorry, I just really want to go.” You let out a sigh, body plopping onto the couch. “I haven’t even used vacation time yet. Every time I go to, my supervisor is always complaining. Saying how they need me to do this or that.”
Michael watches as you bite into the sweet delicacy. The soft clink of your nails against the glass bowl echoing through the air. He studies you for a few moments.
If it’s one thing the man knows you do, is work hard. Too hard. Especially for a job that doesn’t respect you or your efforts.
“You need to quit your job.” He suggested as he leans over, pressing a tender kiss against your neck. A soft smile creeping on your lips.
“Baby, I need money and need to pay my bills. Another reason why I can’t go to Japan just yet. Niggas taking all my money.” You place another chip into your mouth. A couple of crumbs clinging to your glossy, plump lips.
He reaches up, his knuckles caressing your jaw as he wipes away the crumbs. God, do you love how attentive he is.
“You really wanna go to Japan.” The words come out more as a statement than a question.
“Mhm. I should become a bottle girl or something. Make enough money to pay bills- ah! Hehe! Baby I was joking!”
You burst into laughter as he sunk his teeth into your neck. “Keep playin’ with me. You ain’t doin shit.” As he laughed, the heat of his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck.
“Okay! Okay! I was playin. Over here biting me. Vampire Stack coming out, huh?” You joke lightly, fingers playing with the hem of his grey shirt.
“Nah, this all me. You got jokes today.” He side eyes you before focusing on the TV. “When is your next day off?”
You pause for a moment as you think about it. Michael watches you stare off into space. Another quirk of yours he adores.
“Hm, I’m usually off the weekends. I have a lot of PTO saved up as well,” a brief pause happens before you cut your eyes to his. “You taking me to Japan?”
A breath comes out his mouth, a blend of an exasperation and humor. “I ain’t say all that and I ain’t making no promises, but-“
A sharp scream erupts from your mouth like a volcano. “AHHH! MY MAN TAKING ME TO JAPAN!”
He doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening. He’s just watching his girl dance, ramble and pace all at once.
“Baby,” he says once. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. You not even paying attention to him anymore. To preoccupied with scrolling on Pinterest for outfits and TikTok for hair inspiration.
“Baby girl, babe. Jesus…baby, I know you hear me.”
“Huh?” You look up at him wide eyed.
“Focus on me. Look, let me plan it out first before you go all crazy and get to doing your thing. Aight?” He tries to hide his smile, but fails.
“Yes, yeah. You right. Hehe! I’m so excited!” You exclaim while sitting back on the couch. “Michael Bakari Jordan, you just earned yourself a voucher for 3 free lap dances from me.”
That part got him. He laughs hard at the audacity. “Only 3? C’mon girl, I’m taking you to Japan and I only get 3?? Nah, make it unlimited.”
“Okay now you just being greedy.” You roll your eyes while smiling. “I’ll give you 7.”
“No. Unlimited lap dances.” He states stubbornly.
“You can have unlimited lap dances when and only when I get a ring.”
He stares at you quietly. The words flowing through his mind. “A ring? You mean like…”
“Yes.” You deadpan.
“You deadass right now?” He asks slowly to confirm.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t. You know that.”
And he does know that. You don’t say anything serious like that without meaning it.
“Okay.” He says simply. “Let me work some things out and then we can talk about a ring.”
“No rush on any of that. Do it when you feel comfortable and ready.” A reassuring smile appears on your face.
“God really did his big one when he sent you to me.” The words slip from his mouth without hesitation. He leans over and kisses your forehead.
“Yeah he did and don’t forget it.”
“Kinda hard to forget. Especially since your ass is expensive.” He teases while chuckling.
“Excuse me? Me?! I’m expensive??” You point to yourself in disbelief. “Coming from the man whose closet is worth more and bigger than my entire existence.”
“It ain’t bigger than your forehead.”
Silence fills the space between you and him. You blink once. Twice. Next thing he knows, you swing the decorative couch pillow at him.
“Yo chill-“
“Nah nah! You wanna talk about my forehead? You got a couple more years before your hairline start receding. Old man.” You hit him again.
He gasps dramatically while looking at you like you just disrespected his entire bloodline.
“Bro, don’t be saying that. I’m still in my prime.”
“Don’t be saying I got a big forehead.”
“But you do-ayo! Chill!” He grabs your arm, yanking you into his chest. Locking you in place as he tickles you.
“Michael! Stop!”
“Nope. Talking about my hairline and my age. Just cause you younger. Gon learn today.”
“Babe!” Your laughter comes out in broken gasps and whines.
He eventually stops and places a small kiss on your lips. “I love you.”
Tyriq—6'5 and unapologetically energetic as hell, life of the party, fun man—dating you, someone shy and queit who blends into the background whereever you go.
Tyriq Withers is impossible to ignore.
Six-five, broad-shouldered, laughter that cuts through a room like it belongs there, like he belongs there. He doesn’t walk into places—he arrives. Energy first, body second. People gravitate toward him without even realizing it, pulled in by something warm and easy and electric.
And you?
You slip into rooms.
Quiet. Observant. The kind of presence people don’t always notice right away—but when they do, it’s because you’ve been there the whole time, soft and steady and real.
You blend.
He shines.
On paper, it shouldn’t work.
But it does.
God, it does.
“Baby, you hiding from me again?”
You look up from your drink, already smiling a little because you know that voice.
Tyriq is weaving through the crowd toward you, grinning like he’s just found something he’s been looking for—even though you’ve been in the same corner booth for the last twenty minutes.
“I wasn’t hiding,” you mumble.
He slides into the seat beside you anyway, one arm draping across the back of the booth behind your shoulders like it belongs there.
“You were,” he insists. “I been scanning this whole place for you.”
You raise a brow. “It’s not that big.”
“Don’t matter,” he shrugs. “You’re easy to lose if you try to be.”
There’s no accusation in it.
Just… awareness.
He knows you.
“Wasn’t trying to be lost,” you say softly.
He studies you for a second, eyes softer now.
“Yeah, you were,” he murmurs. “But it’s okay.”
Your chest tightens slightly.
Because he doesn’t say it like it’s a flaw.
He says it like it’s something he understands.
Tyriq thrives in places like this.
Music loud, people louder, bodies packed close together, energy buzzing in every direction. He moves through it like it’s second nature—talking, laughing, pulling people into conversations, into dances, into moments.
You watch him sometimes.
Not in a sad way.
Just… in awe.
He’s so alive.
And you’ve never needed to be like that to feel okay—but standing next to him, it’s hard not to notice the difference.
“Hey.”
You blink, realizing he’s crouched slightly in front of you now, his hand resting lightly on your knee.
“Where’d you go?” he asks.
“Nowhere.”
He tilts his head. “Liar.”
You huff quietly. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
You hesitate.
Then shrug.
“You’re good at this.”
“At what?”
“This,” you gesture vaguely around the room. “People. Talking. Being… out there.”
He snorts softly. “That’s not a skill, that’s just me being loud.”
“It’s more than that.”
He watches you carefully now.
“What are you saying?”
You glance down at your drink.
“Nothing.”
He leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough that it feels like the two of you are in your own space despite the crowd.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Shrink your thoughts down like they don’t matter.”
Your throat tightens a little.
“I just—” you pause, searching for the words. “I don’t fit into places like this the way you do.”
Silence.
Not awkward.
Just… quiet.
Then Tyriq stands, taking your drink from your hand and setting it on the table.
Your brows knit. “What are you—”
“C’mon.”
He holds out his hand.
You stare at it. “Tyriq—”
“Trust me.”
“I don’t want to—”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says immediately. “We can leave right now if you’re uncomfortable.”
That stops you.
Because he means it.
You know he does.
“But,” he adds, softer now, “if you’re just scared? Let me show you something first.”
Your heart is beating a little faster now.
You look at his hand.
Then at him.
Then—slowly—you take it.
The dance floor is the worst possible place you could imagine being.
Too many people. Too close. Too loud.
You instinctively move closer to him, fingers tightening in his.
“I hate this,” you whisper.
He grins. “You don’t hate it yet. Give it a minute.”
“I already hate it.”
He laughs, pulling you gently in front of him.
“Okay, fair.”
His hands settle on your hips—steady, grounding, not pushing you into anything, just… there.
“Look at me,” he says.
You do.
“Don’t look at them,” he nods around the crowd. “Look at me.”
So you do.
And suddenly, the room feels a little less overwhelming.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now just move a little. Don’t think about it.”
“I don’t move,” you mutter.
“Everybody moves.”
“Not like this.”
He leans down slightly, voice softer near your ear.
“You don’t gotta be me.”
That hits something in your chest.
“You just gotta be you,” he continues. “I like you.”
Your breath catches slightly.
“You think I’m here because I want another loud-ass version of myself?” he adds, a hint of teasing in his tone. “I already got that covered.”
You huff a quiet laugh despite yourself.
“Then why are you here?” you ask.
His hands tighten just slightly on your hips—not controlling, just grounding again.
“Because you balance me out,” he says simply.
You blink.
“What?”
“You slow me down,” he explains. “You make me notice things I’d usually run right past. You make me… breathe.”
Your chest tightens.
“And you think that’s a bad thing?” he raises a brow.
You shake your head slowly.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
A beat.
Then, softer—
“You don’t blend into the background to me.”
That lands.
Hard.
“You stand out,” he says. “Just not in a way that screams. In a way that… sticks.”
You swallow.
Because no one’s ever said it like that before.
No one’s ever made your quiet feel like something worth noticing.
Tyriq smiles slightly, seeing the shift in your expression.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
You roll your eyes a little, but there’s warmth in it now.
“Don’t get used to this,” you say.
“Too late.”
And for the first time since you stepped onto the floor—
you don’t feel like disappearing.
Not with him there.
Not when he’s looking at you like that.
Like you’re already everything he wants in the room.
when people spoke of great romances and gut wrenching unconditional love you never believed them. that was until you met tyriq. everyday felt like a romcom. he was your fairytale.
you didn’t even notice it at first. it wasn’t some dramatic, slow motion moment with music swelling in the background. it was quieter than that. softer. it was the way he looked at you like you were something he had been searching for without even knowing it. like finding home in a place he’d never been before.
the first time he made you laugh until your stomach hurt, you remember thinking—this feels different. not butterflies. not nerves. something steadier. something that didn’t feel like it would disappear the moment you blinked.
tyriq was patient in a way the world rarely teaches people to be. he listened—really listened—when you spoke, even when your thoughts came out messy and tangled. especially then. he never rushed you, never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. with him, you just were. and somehow, that was everything.
late nights became your favorite. talking about dreams, fears, childhood memories. the kind of conversations that stretch for hours without either of you noticing the time. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you, a small smile playing on his lips.
“what?” you’d ask, half shy, half curious.
“nothing,” he’d say, shaking his head.
he learned you in ways that mattered. the way you liked your food, the songs that made you happy, the things you pretended didn’t hurt but actually did. and he handled all of it like it was fragile, like your heart was something worth protecting.
you didn’t have to perform with him. no masks. no pretending. just soft mornings, shared glances, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else. it felt easy—but not in a careless way. easy like something meant to be.
of course, it wasn’t perfect. there were moments—misunderstandings, silence that stretched too long, the kind of arguments that left your chest tight. but even then, he never walked away. he stayed. he chose you. over and over again.
and that’s when it hit you.
this was the kind of love people talked about.
not loud, not always pretty—but real. grounding. the kind that holds you together when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.
one night, laying beside him, your head resting against his chest, you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his hand traced slow patterns along your arm, absentminded but comforting.
“you’re thinking again,” he murmured.
you smiled softly. “i just love you.”
“good, cus you’re stuck with me baby.” he smiled.
you laughed, rolling your eyes a little, but your heart… your heart believed him.
because with tyriq, love didn’t feel like something you had to chase. it felt like something that finally found you.
۶ৎ summary: When you drop your three-year-old son, Amari, off to your Baby Daddy Stack’s house , who is also your ex-fiancée, things get a little heated when it is revealed you have had a man in your house, and around his son.
۶ৎwarnings & word count: 10k words, cursing, jealous!vulnerableStack, sly talk, smut, fingering, overstimulation, ex-fiancee!Stack, 69 position, oral receiving, nastyyyy smut, use of n word, nipple sucking, breast play, male oral receiving, fem oral receiving, sex on the floor, family drama, condomless sex, miscommunication? and a bit of angst. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
an: this took me forever and a day. but i have to give the biggest shoutout to my beautiful mooties @liliacsdelight (for listening to my yap and beta reading!!) and @thebumblebeesworld (for helping me all those months ago before I dropped the fic). I love you so much, y'all have no idea, and I can't thank you enough!! this fic is also inspired by @pyraomen BD! Stack fic is one I've ever read and got inspired by the amazing writing. (hopefully only minors error, if any!)
ALSO THANK YOU LOVELIES SO MUCH FOR 800 followers!! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১-xoxox Mika
Today was the day you drop off your three year-old son, Amari, at Stack's Place for the weekend. It was 3 pm on a Friday afternoon, and as you packed his bags, the reality of the destination left a sour taste in your mouth. You now and then still caught yourself wishing it was your house too- just like how it use to be.
You and Stack were engaged, happily. Once.
You often found yourself thinking of the life you once shared with Stack, When you were engaged and living together with your newborn Amari. Stack's work began to take up more room than his presence which was needed. He was physically there, at home, coming home every night, busy finishing his projects and his availability, emotionally or rather emotional intimacy started drifting.
You and Stack's engagement didn't work out and that was ok, not really ok at first but you two managed, there was peace in the aftermath of your breakup. No heated arguments or lingering bitterness, you don't think you could ever truly hate him, instead there was a mutual understanding and respect that was a healthy way to raise your son. Your pride and joy, your three year old son Amari. You love him to bits and pieces. You love Amari with everything in your being, and as a mother to see him grow was such a beautiful thing.
Co- parenting was definitely an adjustment but it was going well. The drop-offs, the weekend pick-ups and the flow of communication it didn't feel like you were just going through the motions, but the communication, you guys were a team working together to raise your son. everything moved smoothly between you two .
You often found yourself thinking of the life you once shared with Stack, When you were engaged and living together with your newborn son, Amari. Stack's work began to take up more room than his presence which was needed. He was physically there, at home, coming home every night, busy finishing his projects and his availability, emotionally or rather emotional intimacy started drifting.
He was present, he was a true provider, but he started burying himself in the "grind", in his work and became less present as a partner and sometimes a father. You always told him money wasn't everything but he always gave you and Amari everything you two needed, which was great and you were beyond grateful but what you really wanted was him. That shift turned into a problem that made "forever" feel damn near impossible, leading you both to realize that you were better of apart for the time being, so you can take care of your son and work while Stack solely focused on work. But you never truly stopped loving him, you just focused on your son.
But today was the day you drop Amari off to Stack's house, the air was casual but charged. Jackson sat at the counter finishing a bowl of cereal as a little bit of milk was in the carton, he was becoming a more frequent guest in your home. You were clear with him and more importantly clear with yourself: this wasn't about building a future, this was about needs, sex to be exact. You were careful wrapping it up and on the pill. This was purely friends wit benefits no strings attached.
In the living room, sat on the carpet, was Amari in his own little world of imagination. You knelt beside him, packing his Lightning McQueen backpack, with some essentials, his favorite pajamas, a soft hoodie, and a couple of snacks and baggy of goldfish. Sometimes you act as if Amari won't get what he needs there, but oh, trust he will. Stack would spoil him the moment he walked through the door, but you always wanted to be prepared, and it never hurt.
You zip up his backpack and lay it on the couch. You straighten Amari's shirt, noticing a few stray crumbs on his cheeks and corner of his mouth from breakfast and you take your thumb gently wiping them away. He looked at you, holding his favorite Hess truck in his hand.
"Mama, we going to Daddy's house today?" he asked curiously.
You nod with a warm smile "Yes, baby, you're going to spend the weekend with Dad".
Lifting him into your arms, you carry him to the car, the Lighting McQueen backpack slung over your shoulder. You lift him into his car seat, and making sure you hear that click of the buckle making sure he's all safe and strapped in.
"All strapped in?" you ask checkin the tension of the harness in the car seat
Amari looked up with those big, soulful brown eyes. He nods as he holds his toy truck and flicks the light switch on the toy on "Yes, Mommy"
You gave him a light smile and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, closing the door. But as you turned to head toward the driver's side, you felt a pair of hands settle on your waist.
It was Jackson. His touch made you blink, pulling you back to him "Want me to come with?" he asked
"No, noo" you said quickly, your head shaking that idea away. You did not want that, that your life here and you co-parenting with Stack those lines, you never wanted those to intersect, you would try to hold it off for as long as you could at least.
"No it's fine I'll be back before you know it". you reassure him
He leaned in and gave you a light kiss on the cheek, Jackson got the hint and stepped back with a quiet sigh as you reached for the driver's door.
"Bye Mari" Jackson say tapping the window not to scare him.
Through the window, your son gave a weak wave and didn't look at him any longer as he looked at the truck in his hand, mind probably already on his father's house and all the fun things to do there.
You buckle up, the arrangement with Jackson was still fresh, a couple months old and you were always transparent. It was a "no strings attached" type of thing, something to fill in the quiet spaces that Stack had left behind. Truth be told even as bad as it sounds you knew Jackson wasn't Stack, he wasn't the man you had planned a life with, and he wasn't the father of your son.
You were very wary bringing him into your home. You hadn't been with anyone since the engagement ended and that was about a year and a half ago. You never wanted to confuse Amari, you were closed of with men for a while terrified of opening that door of men into his life Jackson was meant to be the separate of your life, only pleasure and needs, but you started to think maybe for Jackson the lines are blurring as he spent more time at the house.
You prayed that they didn't, you always told him what it was and what it wasn't.
He was a distraction and that was the truth.
Before you shift into gear, you turn back to Amari making sure he's strapped in, you reach over and check the tension of the straps, your eyes sweep to the right of him making sure his backpack his next to him and it is.
You pull out of the driveway, you tend to glance at Amari using the rear view mirror always making sure he's ok. Needless to say he is fine, matter fact he is happy as he is swinging his legs and his little velcro shoes in excitement. You began the familiar drive to the home you once shared with Stack, the place that still held ghosts of the family you three used to be. The early stage of that family life.
"Going to Daddy's house?!" Amari squealed, you can practically feel the excitement radiating off of him. You caught his eye int he rear view mirror and smiled at him, you couldn't help but smile at him, he is truly the cutest thing.
"Yes, baby. I'm dropping you off, and I'll be back to get you Sunday night"
Amari looked out the window, his legs slowly swinging now. "Mommy, why don't you stay with us dis time?? Pweeaseee? we play games together!"
You could hear the plead in his voice, his request pulls at your heart. "I don't know about that, my love. This your special time with your dad. I'll see you in a couple days, mommy doesn't wanna get in the way of you and daddy's time."
"But- want Mama and Daddy together" he insists, that pout forming on his lips. "uh mommy we can play! you be the princess, Daddy can be prince and I'll be the knight to save you!!"
"An a evil dragon!, ruined your castle, so I'll fight with my sword!" He puffs his chest out as far as the car straps would allow.
"I'll be like this mommy" he makes noises with his mouth as swings his arms together acting as if he has a sword.
"Is that so?" you chuckled.
"Mhmm, and Daddy is gonna carry you away from danger to protect you".
You smile lightly feeling a bit bittersweet. You turned on some soft music to fill in the silence, and make a turn at the familiar street, the silhouette of your old home came into view. Your heart sank as you pulled into the circular driveway. This house held so many memories, the smell of Sunday dinners, you both use to make, the laughter, the frantic night your water broke at the bottom of the staircase and screamed for Stack to hurry up, Stack practically flew down the stairs tripping over himself. It was the house you had been a fiancee and a new mom, a place where you tried to build a life with a man you love that was just to busy on the grind, not meeting where you needed.
You sigh shaking your head getting out of your thoughts, and to be honest you haven't been in that house since, only meeting at the door, it opens for you two briefly talk and go your separate ways.
Amari was already dancing in his seat and you took your keys out of the ignition. You stepped out, opening his door and unbuckling him, you grab this Lighting McQueen backpack over your shoulder. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he made a ill dance. "Papa's house!, Mhmm mhmm mhmm!!"
You couldn't help but smile and you remind him "Have fun, okay? And be a good boy".
Amari stopped mid dance, and looking up at you " I will Mama. I love you"
Your heart warmed instantly, You press a firm kiss on his forehead "I love you more, baby".
You hold your handout and he takes it as you walk to the front door and knocked. It didn't take long for the door to creak open, revealing Stack's mother. Amari's face it up even more. "Mimi!" he shouted, letting go of your hand and making a rush forward and wrapping himself around her legs.
She beamed, as she crouched down and hugging him, one of those warm loving hugs, ones that you feel you can ust sleep in your grandmother's arms. He soon scurried inside to find his dad. You let out a sigh and look a her with a light smile "Hi Ms. Moore. I'm just here for the drop-off is Stack around?"
She stepped forward, pulling you into a warm familiar embrace. "Girl, stop acting all so shy, as if we ain't family."
"But—" you tried to protest feeling the sting of "what if's" in your gut.
"But nothing" she interrupted, her eyes with love and yet warning "you gave me a beautiful grandson. If Stack doesn't realize what he has, which he does, trust me he'll regret it for the rest of his life".
You swallow at her words, and look down a wave of complicated emotions hit you "Well… tell him i said hi, and this bag had some of Mari's favorite pajamas and some snacks he likes.."
Truth be told you haven't seen her in a long time and when that door opened you didn't know how she was gonna react, but she acted as if she had just seen you yesterday and no time has passed.
"I packed a couple things for Amari, some snacks he likes and light clothes, i know he has things here it's- just in case he wants these specific things." you finished, you realize this might've come off as rambling so you try to stop yourself.
Mama T place a hand on your forearm, her touch warm and familiar. "Come on in, sweetheart"
You shook your head with a light smile, stepping back some. "It's okay, really. I just came to drop him off and—"
She didn't say a word, she simply gave you that look-it's like a universal look that all mother gives that means shut up and do what she says, she wasn't asking she was telling. You sighed and stepped in. The house hit scents hit you first, the faint smell of cologne, Stack's cologne, the warmth of home-cooked food.
"Something smells good" you murmured, following the sound of Amari's giggles. You see Amari pulling on the sliding door that he's having trouble with.
In the backyard you could hear the muffled soulful sounds of Frankie Beverly's "Before I Let Go" playing from the speakers, the air was filled with that thick scent of hickory smoke and the steady rhythm of the music. Amari was grunting as he tugged at the sliding glass door.
"What are you tryna do, munchkin?" you asked, leaning over him.
"Daddy is out there! Eghh, wanna say hi!" he pouted bracing his little feet trying to tug again at the door handle with all his might.
A smile couldn't help but appear on your face"Okay, baby, step aside" You offered what seem like much needed help, giving the door a firm shove, releasing the warm breeze across your face. Standing there manning the grills were Stack and Smoke, hovering over the flames and laughing . Your heart hammered against your ribs.
Amari didn't even hesitate. He bolted across the grass, shouting, "Daddy! Uncle Smoke!"
"Uh oh, look who it is!" Smoke shouted with a grin making it sound like it was a royal announcement.
Stack set his tongs aside wiping his hands with the rag that laid on his shoulder, his signature sly smile creeping across his face as he scooped up Amari into the air, swinging him in a circle, while Amari giggled like there was no tomorrow.
Stack pressed a kiss to Amari's cheek, his voice dropping into an immediate warm and fatherly tone "How's my boy doing?"
"Daddy, stop! It tickles!" Amari kicked his legs against him, his laughter ringing out loud and infectious.
You couldn't help it, a small giggle escapes you. At the sound, Stack froze. His gaze snapped to yours, setting Amari down, as he is drinking your appearance in from head to toe. You see his jaw clench as he whispered a faint "Damn" to himself. You swallowed, but he moves away from the grill and towards you.
The closer he got, the smaller you felt. the world seemed to shrink to you. He smelled of smoked wood chips, the ones he must've been hovering over and— that familiar cologne—, the scent that use to make your head spin with need. You looked up at him, as you heart frantically hammers against your ribs.
"Hey" he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register that threaten to make your knees buckle. "How you been, Mamas? Amari hasn't been giving you too much trouble has he?"
The nickname hung in the air, feeling intimate, nostalgic, and truth be told, entirely wwaayyy too effective. You cleared your throat, your feet moving, shifting your weight nervously.
You blinked, forcing your eyes away from his and onto Amari. "Uh, good I've been good. Mari's good. And you?"
"I'm good" he replied, his eyes sparkling, his smile flashing just enough to show his grills. The way he was looking at you, sent a chill up your spine it was a look that felt like far more than just "co-parenting". The chemistry was living between you, bringing up memories you'd tried to bury. He seems a bit too close, making you take a tiny step back.
Amari watches you two, seeing how close you two are, he looked up with wide innocent eyes. "Are you gonna kiss Daddy like you kiss Jackson?"
The silence that followed Amari's lips after the mention of a name was deafening. Your heart stopped. You gasped trying to cover it with a cough but it was way too late. It was as if a record player had been scratched and the world stopped spinning.
You felt frozen in time. Stack posture shifted, his playful expression wiped clean from his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he ran it over his teeth—a tell tale sign or pure and simmering irritation. Smoke standing nearby, looked like he'd choked on his drink, his eyes darting between you see his tongue poke at his cheek and run over his teeth, acting as if he has some food stuck in teeth, there was no food only pure irritation.
Smoke nearly choked on his drink, his eyes darting between the three of you.
Smoke's gaze never left as he analyzed the three of you. First his eyes hit you, the stiffness in your stance, the breath you were seamless holding. His eyes quickly went to Stack's he sees his eyes glaring at you, the silence and now shallow breathes Elias was taking and Amari innocent eyes and wide smile.
"C'mon, little trouble" Smoke quickly intervened, sensing the tension and pressure rising to a breaking point. He scooped Amari over his shoulder. "Let's see what Mimi is doin' in the kitchen. She probably making cookies! Let's head inside, food's almost ready!.
The mention of Jackson's name and the smell of food all around you suddenly make you nauseous.
Amari laughed as Smoke carried him off. Leaving you and Stack standing there. The yard was quiet. It was heavy. You turned to leave, the words flowing from you quickly, in a panicked rush. "Ishouldgo,ionlycametodrophimoff—"
"Who's Jackson?" Stacks voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You kissing some man in front of 'Mari?"
You fumbled with your bracelet, unable to meet his eyes under his heated gaze.
"It's nothing, Stack. It's none of your business"
You tried to down play it, you really did, but you knew how he was. You knew he wasn't gonna let it go, no, no, not wasn't— couldn't.
"None of my business?" he stepped closer, his posture stiff and his breathing shallow. You looked at him for a moment and he looked vulnerable for a split second before the anger masked it.
"Stack-" you tried to say.
Before Stack's lips could fire something quick, the sliding door creaked open. Mama T stood there, her expression soft but knowing. "Honey, would you like to stay for some dinner? I made some of that good cornbread you like?"
No,no, no ,no ,no ffuucckkkk no, you thought, but before you could politely decline. Amari's voice coming from the living room as you hear his little feet padded over closer to you. Until his body hits your legs and his little arms wrap around you . "Please, Mama! Stay!
You see him as he looks up at you with his puppy-dog eyes and his plump, pouting lips, pouting as he jumps, how could you say no to that? You watch Amari's hopeful expression, even after the exchange between you and Stack, the word "no" wasn't finding it's way on your lips.
You sighed "Okay…I'll stay for a little bit"
Inside, the air was tight but clam. You decided to busy yourself and help Mama T set the table, handing her glasses while Smoke brought in trays of food. The spread was a feast that included ribs, brisket, mac and cheese, greens, salad and honey cornbread. You sat across from Stack while Amari perched in his seat next to you.
Mama T then led grace and the clinking of silverware is what you hear. You lean over taking Amari's plate fixing his plate for him, making sure he has veggies on his plate. Across the table, the heat of Stack's eyes hasn't left. They were locked onto yours, his eyebrows looked furrowed as if he had heavy questions that he hadn't asked or hadn't finished asking.
Only for a while the house noise faded and in the air lingered a name that you never wanted in this house, or anywhere around Stack's ears. Jackson's name now sat in the air like an uninvited guest at the table.
"So.. Jackson hm? Amari you like him?" Stack asks as he watches his son eat with some barbecue sauce splayed on his mouth.
Amari shifted in his seat looking at you and then Stack, shrugging his shoulders.
"Stack enough" you say looking up at him, you do not want Amari involved even if he did unkowningly, open the can of worms.
Stack barely touched his food. He just sat there, his framed hunched over a bit and his eyes burning into you, while you cut a piece of meat for Amari.
"So.." his voice rumbled lowly, vibrating around the table. "Jackson, that's his name? Mari seems real comfortable with him."
Your grip tightens on the fork. You didn't even look up at him "Stack, please. just eat your food."
"I ain't that hungry no more", he replied now leaning forward. " I'm tryna figure out who this man is you kissing in front of Amari" the cocky smirk was no longer smeared on his face but something deeper, something raw underneath. His voice cracked just a bit. "I'm just trying figure out when I became second to my son to some man I ain't never heard of. You really got him in your house like that? Around Amari?"
You see it in his eyes the vulnerability it caught you off for a bit. It wasn't only anger, he looks like he's missed out on a chapter in his own life and now someone is in your house. You looked at him, you hurt for him. "Stack, I truly don't think this is the time, please just let it go"
"Let it go? I can't just let this—"
"Elias, enough" Mama T said, her voice was still soft but her voice carried like a gavel with finality to it. She didn't look at anything from her plate as she put butter on her cornbread. "The boy is right there, we are having dinner and he don't need to hearing any of this".
Stack's jaw ticked, his tongue poking at his cheek again and he remained silent.
Smoke just watched as he was chewing on the smoked rib.
As dinner continued Amari began to yawn and his head began bobbing a bit, he was fighting his sleep, his eye looking droopy.
As dinner continued it was all cordial, Smoke and Mama T sending looks to each other but not saying anything. Stack barely ate the food that was on his plate, his gaze drifted from his plate to you, and then to Amari, his jaw tight the entire time.
Finally dinner was over and you immediately got up grabbing your own plate and Amari's, Mama T joins and the familiar rhythm of scrapping food and rinsing dishes, took your mind off of things.
Meanwhile in the living room, there Stack and Amari sat on the couch as he rushed to give his dad the remote. Amari's feet padded to the arm chair grabbing a fuzzy blanket from the couch, insisting on watching a movie with him.
"Daddy, sit! Watch cars please!" Amari commanded.
Stack didn't argue. He sat down next to his son, arms relaxing on the back of the couch. He could tell Amari wasn't gonna be up for long, the way his little body relaxed into his arms and it seems like his eyes got heavy once the movie started playing, looks like all the excitement throughout the day caught up with Amari's body.
In the kitchen, you watched them both through the doorway as Amari's head laid against Stack's chest.
Stack adjusted him instinctively, his large hand splaying across the boy’s back, holding him with a protective gentleness that made your chest ache. It was a mirror image of three years ago—Stack rocking a colicky infant in the middle of the night in this very house.
You turned away, blinking back the nostalgia, and grabbed your purse and keys from the counter. It was Stack’s weekend, and you needed to leave before the memories pulled you under.
You watched as, Stack rose from the couch, moving with careful precision so he did not wake the sleeping boy in his arms, rocking him softly.
Amari whimpered in Stack's hold cuddling into his shoulder. Maybe you have always known but this place would always be a home to you, Jackson maybe at your house, but your heart resided in this home with your two boys.
Just the way Stack was rocking Amari brought you back to how it use to be, when Amari was only a couple months old even a year. Stack would always rock Mari as he would hum and give a lullaby, no matter in the dining room or anywhere, Amari had trouble sleeping when he was a baby but he always eased when he was in Stack's arms. As if Stack was all he needed to be at peace and rest.
Seeing Stack have Amari sleep in his arms again just brought that back.
You hug Mama T as she makes way with a to-go plate of her own. She then kisses Stack's forehead and Amari's, Smoke putting a hand on Stack's shoulder and just a nod for them was a whole conversation.
"Alright, I'm gonna head out. Good seein you, Sis" he said pulling you into a brief warm hug.
He made his way to the couch dapping Stack up "Talk to her, and be easy".
As Mama T and Smoke both take their leave, it's almost like your cue to head out as well.
As you too were going to head for the door, Stack rose from the couch, moving carefully so he did not wake Amari who was now fully asleep in his arms.
"Wait," he whispered, his voice thick. "Don't go yet. We need to talk."
"Stack, it’s late, truly. You have him for the weekend, I should get home," you murmured, jiggling your keys nervously.
"Please." The word was quiet, stripped of his usual tone. You heard the raw vulnerability in his tone—the sound of a man who was hurting. "Just five minutes. Please."
You hesitated, your purse strap dug into your shoulder, but you nodded slowly.
The front door clicked shut, leaving just the three of you in the home, how it used to be. The house fell into a heavy silence.
Stack looked down at Amari, then back to you. "I'm gonna put him to bed. I'm beggin' you don't leave. Please".
You wait in the hallway, you fiddle with the keys in your hand, watching him carry your son up the stairs. This house used to be yours. He used to be yours. This house is the one you decorated, the nursery that Stack insisted on painting and getting Smoke and Sammie to help. Everything was the same here, and that's what stung.
Seeing the house, the home you two built together, felt like the ghost of the life you used to have felt more real than the one you were living now.
You stare at the art that hung on the wall. You remember the day you picked it out, it reminded you of the flowers he got on your first date, the lilies he gifted you, you remember you wanted to walk down the aisle with those exact flowers in hand.
Stack heads upstairs, to Amari's bedroom placing him in bed laying a loving kiss on his head and tucking him, before turning off the lights and closing the door.
A few moments later, you heard the soft click of the bedroom door upstairs. Stack had left the bedroom. His heavy and measured footsteps descending from the staircase, each creak of the floor felt like a countdown.
Felt like a bomb just waiting to go off.
You see him as his eyebrows are furrowed his back straightened body almost stoic. He stood there for a beat his shoulders dropped, looking less guarded then he did when he was glaring at you from across the dinner table, that expression on his face looked more like the man you used to wake up to every morning.
You feel a lump in your throat, and then he looked at you, he really looked at you and you saw exhaustion on his face and it mirrored the pain in your chest.
Truthfully, you weren't sure how this was going to go. What were you going to say? or do? How could you make this right, and how would he take this?
He took his time, taking slow steps into the hallway. He didn't rush toward you, he kept a respectful distance— a painful distance.
"He's out cold," His voice barely above a whisper, you can hear the raspy emotion in it. "Was always a heavy sleeper, just like his mama."
He looked past you this time, towards the living room, then back at you, his gaze settling on your face with this time a searching intensity. He didn't start with an apology for the scene at the table and he didn't start with a demand, yet.
Instead his eyes were just on yours, his eyes looking at the woman he used to know— the woman who wanted those lilies for a wedding that should've happened, but never did.
"It's been a while since i saw you standin' in this hall, and not in a rush to leave" he said his words almost forced.
You don't know what to say.
He took another step, this time his presence filling the space, the heat of his body radiating towards you. He gestured towards the living room, toward the space where the two of you used to talk until the sun came up,
"I know you don't wanna be here, and i know i might be over steppin'," he continued, his voice dropping into that low, register that made you skin prickle. "But i gotta know, for my own sake… when did we get to the place when I'm the last person you'd tell what's going with you, when have i been the last person to know anything goin' on with you?"
"When did i become the person that you truly hidin' from?" he said.
You gripped your keys so hard that the metal began to bite into the palm of your hand.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Stack I-I didn't want you to find out like this. I just…I don't know"
Stack watched you and took a step closer, the shadow of the man who used to be your world was large in the dim living room. That anger that splayed his face at the dinner table has shifted..into something heavier, something that look like grief and maybe even sorrow.
"I know why you broke it off, the engagement," he said his voice cracking with vulnerability he usually kept locked behind his grills and his pride.
"I know I was gone too much, I was chasin' the bag, chasin' the life I thought you and 'Mari deserved, the one i thought you truly needed. I know and now i know I learned the hard way that the work isn't everything. Work doesn't hug me when I walk through that door. Work doesn't watch movies with me on the couch or fall asleep in my arms."
He vaguely gestured with the nod of his head toward the stairs where your son was sleeping.
"That's my family up there. That's my heart. And i come home to this big house and it's different, it's just…quiet. Too quiet."
His chest was heaving as he looked at you, his eyes were searching yours for the woman who wanted to carry the lilies you liked so much down the aisle. His jaw couldn't help but clench at the thought of Jackson settling in his mind and the hurt at the mention of another man sharpened back into a shape of jealousy.
You couldn't help but feel guilt.
"So who is he?" His voice rose, the irritation slipping back in again, the same kind that was shown at the dinner table moments ago. "Who is the man, is this man spending time with you and my son? Do you love him, or is he some guy who is doing something I couldn't?"
"Stack" you begin.
He was now all up in your personal space, the scent of that familiar cologne and smoked wood chips now clouding your judgment. "Does he care for you? Does he hold you like you deserve?
"Cause I know how you need to be held. And what about my son? What is 'Mari calling him daddy?? Does he treat 'Mari right? Or is this nigga just playin' house with my life?".
You feet shifted the your weight, he looked down at your hands, seeing you fidget with your bracelet and his voice dropping into a pained whisper. "Tell me the truth. Do you love him more than what we had?"
Your eyes couldn't help but water up and you put your bag down on the table. the sudden sting of tears blurring the hallway lights. You let out a jagged breath.
"Just listen, You're not listening, Elias!" you broke out. your voice echoing, trying not to be loud enough to wake up Amari. "I told you! I told you a hundred time back then to take a break, to stop running yourself into the ground. I told you money wasn't everything, that we didn't need the i house or the fancy life if it meant you were never here. But you never truly listened! You were always working, always gone, when all I wanted was for you to be home, you were chasing something that didn't have me or Amari's name on it, while i was chasing you to stay home."
Stack took a sharp step toward you, his face becoming darkened with a mix of frustration and desperation. "That ain't what I asked you! I'm not talkin' bout the past right now, I'm talkin' about this! I'm asking you if he's replacing me! I'm asking you if he is who you truly love?"
His eyes were wild searching your face, seeing if a lie would come from your mouth or the truth that would destroy him.
Do you truly love that man? If you kiss him, you must, right? Stack thought.
"I need to know if I lost you to me working, to the lifestyle, or if i lost you to another man" he let out, his voice dropping into a painful sound
You choked on your tears as you heard him ask you these questions.
"Does he know how to hold you when you're scared? Does he look at you the way I do?"
The vulnerability that had been there moments ago had hardened into a desperate, jealous hunger.
"You look at me", he commanded, his voice slightly shaking. "You look me in the eye and you tell me, that he is the one you love? Or are you just tryin' to fill a bed that I ain't layin in no more?"
If someone came in to this house right now you think they would choke on how thick the air was, the tension. It was suffocating.
You could feel the heat radiating off of him. His gaze was burning, demanding honesty and truth for the both of you.
You bit your cheek and the words tore from you, raw and jagged, you took a step back as your wiped at your eyes, but the tears kept coming, relentless.
"He isn't you, Stack!" you choked out, the confession coming out like a physical blow. "He isn't you. I just.. I needed something to forget that i needed you and still want you. I was trying to fill a void, I was just trying to find a way to make the house feel less quiet, i just needed somebody. I don't know, I needed someone who would show up. But he couldn't truly replace you…. No one can, Elias".
Stack stood there as if the words that left your lips had struck him in his chest as he stared at you. The fire he had in his eyes only calming with a bit of clarity.
"Jackson can't replace Amari's father," you continued, your voice shaking, trembling. "Because I see it every night. When I put 'Mari to bed, and he has a nightmare… and he wakes up crying in the middle of the night," you continue with a shaky breath. "It isn't Jackson he's screaming for. He calls for you. He wants his Daddy".
Stack's jaw dropped slightly, his gaze no longer on you but falling to the floor as he hears the words leaving your lips, they are now settled into his bones. The slick-mouthed man who always had something to say or a defensive response, was now quiet, he was found without the words, speechless.
He took a step toward you, this time not defensive or jealous, just understanding with a bit of defeat. His hand trembled as he caressed your cheek, just that touch was electric, it was so familiar, it reminded you of how he always wanted to look at you, his eyes were filled with regret that felt deep like it just might swallow you both.
"I ain't know" he whispered, his voice breaking "I thought, i was been erased, I thought i was just going to be the man who dropped off checks and takes him for this weekends…i don't wanna be that".
His hand lingered on your cheek as he wipes away a tear falling from your eye.
"I'm sorry" the weight of the conversation, the months of contemplations all the trouble seemed to collapse the moment you stepped into him. You let it g, the hurt, anger, frustration. You let out a hitching sob and melted int his arms.
You felt the broadness of his chest, it firmly against yours. The intoxicating scent surrounding you, filling your sense. Instantly transporting you back to the nights you use to fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart.
But he didn't hesitate, he completely locked his arms around you as if he were trying to pull you back into the void that needed to be filled. His face buried into the crook of your neck, you feel his breath on it prickling your asking, his breathing was wet against your skin.
You could feel the slight shake in his hands.
It was just silence for a while, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, tears running down your face, but as you stood there in his arms. It felt like for the first time you were breathing fresh air for the first time in a long time.
Your tears dampened the fabric of his shirt, causing him to hold you even tighter, his warm palm splayed on your lower back, rocking you slight, a motion he used to sooth Amari, he is now using it on you.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your as his hand moves to cradle your face with tenderness. "I'm here" he whispered, his voice thick. "I'm right here, we gonna fix this, I'm gonna fix this,"
These walls the ones you two built together are now wrapping you in it's arms, all the memories comes flooding back, it was less of a burden and more of relief.
He didn't pull away, he leaned close to you having your foreheads resting against each other, all you hear is the shallow breathes you are now both taking.
You felt the heat of his gaze, his focus now entirely on you, his eyes almost hid the terrifying feeling of losing his soul. Losing you
"He doesn't love you like I do" Stack whispered again, his confession having the hair of your back standing up. "He can't, cause your heart is wrapped in mine, you have me completely baby, he doesn't know the half of our love, the love i have for you."
He pressed a lingering yet tender kiss to your tear-stained cheek. You couldn't help but let out a broken sound, causing your eyes to flutter shut. He moved lower this time his lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, his hot shaky breath against your pulse, causing you to shiver and tighten your hands on him.
His touch was like a claim, a silent plea to have you back, for you to remember what you two shared, for you to remember everything you tried to hurt and forget with another man.
"I'm sorry, baby" he said against your neck. "I'm sorry I let work get in the way of you and 'Mari, I'm sorry it got in the way of you, but I've changed."
His lips trailed back up, hovering just a bit from yours. He took a second, he waited giving you the chance to pull back, but you didn't you moved closer.
"Please Elias" is all you said and that was all he needed to hear.
His lips finally crashed into yours, this kiss was heated it was the collision of your love and longing coming together, you were starving for his lips ever since the last time you had then on yours.
This kiss burned with hope, with a new beginning it was a kiss that said more than you two felt words ever could, it was a sealed promise that the void Stack created could only be closed by the one who created it, Stack himself.
"Please, speak to me?" Stack pleaded as his chest was heaving, as his hand slid down the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.
You were grounded here, this was your home, this was where you heart resided between Stack and Amari, in this house.
"I want you, it's always been you, Jackson couldn't even—" you began to say.
"Imma prove to you that no man can replace me, but i think you know that baby, don't you?" he asked, you feel as if his question was rhetorical.
"I love you "ꨄ︎", I love our son, I wanna prove to you I've changed, I wanna show you that I am the man you've wanted me to become, the business is doing so well I won't have to work for a long time, this time I can provide and be here for the both of you". He states looking you in your eye.
Your eyes threaten to swell with tears again as these are the words you've been wanting to hear all along; this is all you wanted.
It was your turn to lean in and kiss him, leading you to be breathless, Stack's arms cling tighter to you, sliding to the meat of your ass to hold onto, causing you let out a moan.
He sits on the couch, pulling you down with him, forcing you to straddle his lap, knees braced on either side of him. He holds your hips, looking up at you as one of his hands makes it's way towards your stomach, leading to cup your breast.
He massages you breast through your clothes. "So you want me, hm?" He asks, but by the way you are grinding on him, he definitely knows the answer.
"You know I do," you whimper as you begin to take your shirt off, and his hands quickly go to unhook your bra, stripping it off of you so he can see your tits. His eyes are solely on you as his lips inch closer to your nipples, and his tongue latches onto you.
He strips his shirt off placing it on the couch.
You whimper, biting your lip "Elias-" you lean closer to him as his lips encircle your breast. Stack shakes his head "Nah, baby, say my name".
"Daddy" you whimper as your nails dig into his neck.
You heard a low moan leave him, as his mouth was working on your right breast while your other nipple was busy being squeezed by his fingers. You shifted slightly, beginning to grind on him.
"God, I've missed you, baby," he moaned, as a string of saliva connected to his lip and to your nipple. He licks his lips. Your back arches, only wanting to lean into him as much as you could, as far as you could.
You take his chin in your hand, truly looking at him, and you smile, kissing him. He leans back as you melt into his touch, your bodies were melting together on the couch. You both have been aching for this.
Your hands are shaking as you pull at the strings of his sweatpants, as he grabbed your wrists shaking his head. "As bad as I can't wait for that, I need my mouth on you first" He stated, his mouth trailed up to your neck finding beautiful places to make marks on.
Before you can try to grind your hips again, Stacks kisses you, completely silencing any of your pleas, as he lifts you up and gently sits you on the couch, breaking your kiss. You quickly pull your shorts down, but Stack grabs your wrist as he sees your fingers looped onto your panties.
His eyes never left yours as he knelt before you, as if he were ready to give you everything. He peppered kisses on your knees, up to your thighs. His eyes weren't just loving or lustful, but they were determined…they—no, he was hungry.
He saw your soaked panties and kisses them, smelling the sweet musky scent of you, smiling to himself.
"Missed this smell, missed how you taste" he said.
You squirmed as your wet panties cling to your sticky mound "Please, do something, daddy!!" you whimpered.
He didn't take your panties off yet, no, he kissed you through your panties, and all you could do was watch as your hand found his head, caressing the back of it.
"Patience, baby" is all he whispered, but you swore he wasn't even talking to you; he was talking to your pussy.
He licked your panties that clung to your heat, your hand instinctively tighten on his shoulder as you shuddered a breath. His tongue was laid wide as he licked stripes all over your pussy.
Hearing your whimpering and seeing you squirm was good enough taunting for him as he then took your panties off for you, having the wet fabric slide down your ankles, holding them in his hand.
Your bare soaking pussy now in front of him, just glistening, so pretty.
"Please, been wanting you to get a taste all day" you pleaded. You knew you just had to rile him up at the exact moment so he would stop going go slow.
Why was he taking so long anyway? Didn't he want you?
He groans as the blood and heat rushes to his cock.
His mouth finds your clit, immediately causing you to hiss and your back to arch. He tasted your heat, your slick oozing into his mouth.
"Shhh.. baby, we ain't tryin wake him up, keep your voice down, okay ?" he spoke lowly, as he kissed your mound. "Can you do that for me, or try?"
You inhale deeply nodding, "I can try, nnghh". He barely gave you time to respond as his tongue lapped at you again.
His tongue absolutely agonizing, as he lifts his head only a bit "That nigga got a taste of this?" he asked as his finger begins to apply pressure to your clit.
You whimper, trying to cover your mouth. He did say for you to keep your voice down, didn't he ? So why would you answer his question now?
His eyes bore into yours, his warm, comforting mouth now releasing you, causing you to shiver, feeling the cool breeze on your wet, sopping pussy. His energy completely shifted, and his eyes grew dark as he looked at you.
"I know you heard me." he reiterated.
His tongue began to glide against your folds, as he pulled your legs closer towards him, his nose started to hit your clit, panting wasn't what you were doing at this point, you were gasping for air as your hand pushed his head in deeper, your voice cried out as your hand snapped to cover it.
"mmmm-nghhh baby s-slow down" your hips began to jerk.
"Answer my question"
"H-He did" you admit as your eyes closed, causing Stack to pull back from your soaking pussy, and you to look down at him.
"Come here" Stack said pulling your hips down, so you two are now both on the floor and you pull his dick out of his sweatpants, he aligns your sopping pussy with his mouth, your wet mouth with his tip.
"You gonna forget his name tonight, I'll make sure of it" is all he said, as he spread your ass and his nose hitting your pussy. You can't help but moan and grind, staring at his now standing dick, he was hard, hard for you.
You drool on him before leaning down and wrapping your wet warm lips around his dick.
"All this for me?" He asked, and you can't help but nod your head, causing you to bob your head on him eagerly.
"Breathe, baby, breathe," he reminds you as his own mouth finds it was back to your pussy.
He was huge, but you've missed this, you missed having his body with yours, this is the void you've been trying to fill, all you wanted was him. Your hips never stop rolling on his face as you whimper on his dick, his hips snapping, causing you to choke a couple of times and hit the back of your throat.
His hands find their way on your waist, holding you steady and completely devouring you, causing you to gasp and moan at the feeling.
Your mouth releases his dick "fff-ucck, mmhm keep going baby please."
You stroke his dick, and unexpectedly you snap, feeling a release oozing from your pussy. You cum on his face, forcing your hips to jerk as you lift form is face a bit, seeing hims lick his lips you turn around and kiss him, tasting yourself on your own tongue.
Stack groans, "You taste as sweet as I remember. Come on, baby, I need to be inside you."
You whimper and nod, pulling away from him, and licking your lips as his back stays lying on the ground, and you straddle him, but he quickly swaps places with you, rolling you two so he is now on top of you.
As much as he loved seeing you on top, he wanted to give you everything.
His hand reaches for those soaked panties he had, wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself, and you watch him, only the pre cum getting on your panties.
"I need you, baby, gosh I've missed you," he said, hissing, lining his dick up into your tight hole.
Your hand wraps around the back of his neck, causing him to grab your throat, and you two sloppily kiss, making out, tongues fighting for dominance. Feeling and tasting yourself on his lips, he moves a bit closer to you.
You feel him, his tip sinking in slowly, as if he was taking his time to indulge in you, savoring how you feel wrapped around him, your soaked, gushy walls, sopping and crying just for him and only for him.
Your arms instantly wrapping around his neck, his hand moved your thighs, spreading you out, trying to dig deeper, you couldn't help but clench.
And all this time you were going on without him? Without your best friend, the man you love? You wonder how you made it this long anyway.
"Baby, you too tight, open up for me" He commanded, as his middle finger began to place itself on your clit and rub in a slow circular motion, making you jolt. He took his opportunity to thrust deeper, knocking the wind out of you.
As one hand was beside your head the other between your legs, messing with your clit.
"You so tight, baby, it's ok Daddy's back, i'm here, i'm right here" He whispered.
You couldn't help but whine, as your hand wraps around his wrist trying to slow down his painful yet pleasurable toying with your clit.
"Nah, baby, this is who you need, I'm right here," He said as he felt your hand wrapping around his wrist, causing him to intertwine his fingers with yours, placing your hand above your head. Now both of your hands are interlocked together.
"Missed you, missed you so much," He groaned as his hips didn't even want to stop. "No, no, it's ok, baby." "It's a lot taking a real man's dick, but you remember how to don't you?. His voice was somewhat taunting
You don't know if he was talking to you or her. But his hips moved if he had everything to prove, as if you were on the line.
"You're so big nggghh" your breath coming out as panting.
"You can take it, I know you can, just like you used to."
"Mmhmmm, you feel so good," you can't help but look at him.
His thrusts only picked up, becoming harder and more determined, with pure precision. You only grow tighter around him, his hand that was intertwined with yours soon released, slithering down your face to palm your throat in his grasp.
"Who you miss? Hmm? Say you missed Daddy's dick," he said as he leaned down his warm breath on your ear, tickling your neck.
His hand firm on your throat, it wasn't brutal, it was only light pressure, squeezing ever so lightly, just the way you liked it. He remembered.
You snap your hips up to meet his "I-hmph,"
He squeezed your throat just a little tighter as he felt your hips meet his.
"I missed your dick, baby."
The only sounds in the living room to be heard, was the slapping of skin, your moaning, ass rubbing against the soft carpet, but more importantly the wet sound coming from you pussy.
"Cmon pretty, i need you to- hah! try to stay quiet i need to hear something" he kissed your lips, his hips slowing down slightly.
"What?" you asked in a bit of confusion.
"You trust me?" He asks rather softly, catching his breath
Your eyebrows furrow as you choke on a moan. "Of course I do"
A smile appeared on his face, more like a mischevious grin as he gave a peck to your forehead.
His hand, which was wrapped around your throat, then covered your mouth, and all you could do was look at him and take it.
The palm of his hand covering your mouth, not harmfully—just silencing you.
"I love you, I need you to know that, and you tap me if I'm too rough, alright?"
All you did was nod, and that's when the thrusts began, oh, he fucked you, he fucked you like he hated you or something, as if he was trying to win a competition.
"Shhh, baby i can't hear her" he breathed.
Your muffled moans were dying by his hand, silencing you.
Schlick.
Your eyes widen, causing your breathing to become heavier.
He moaned at the sound "Thereeee, she is,"
Schlick
Your hands traveled making there way to your clit as you play with yourself only a little bit.
"Oh thaattt's it baby say it one more time for me, who is daddy?" He asked, but again he wasn't ask you to say it, he wanted to hear it. Hear it from her.
You took deep breathes as you felt the cum already pooling down your ass.
"Hmphh- Mmmm" was all could be heard from you.
"That's it C'mon baby talk to me" he commanded and so she did.
He was in a different state, he was commanding your attention and your pleasure, when and where to give it was all up to him.
He felt you, and seeing your eyes roll back and your body begin to shake, your sound muffled, as you gripped onto him like your life depended on it, circling your hips back to his.
"F--Fuckkk I think —I'm gonna cum, can I ?" before he can finish his sentence, you nod, both of your hips meeting one another's in pleasure.
His hips stilled, his abs clenching, as he panted catching his breath and removing his hand from your mouth.
"You okay? He asks carefully, as he pulls out slowly. Catching his breath.
You nod, feeling the plush cushion on your skin felt nice, the house was silent more of catching each other breath than anything. The soft hum of the air condition.
He grabs his sweatpants, putting them back on and heading over to the fridge grabbing water.
He hands you a bottle "Drink"
You feel the nice cool water bottle in your palms as you begin to drink it, just what you needed.
It truly felt surreal to be back in this house, with the man you’d tried so hard to erase from your heart.
Stack was sitting next to you, with his hand resting on your waist, his thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles against your skin.
"Stay," he whispered, the word carrying more weight than a command. It was a plea. "Don't go back to that house tonight. Just... stay here. With me. With 'Mari."
You look towards the window. "Stack… I didn't even bring any clothes, shit I wasn't even supposed to be here. I only have the clothes I came in with."
Stack has a small smile appear on his face after he takes a sip of water. "You know I still have some of your clothes in the room in a box", he said, a bit sheepishly, as if he didn't just rearrange your organs. "I don't know what it's got in there, but there is definitely some leggings, some sweatpants, and a hoodie."
Stack watched your face, and he could clearly see all the wheels turning in your brain.
"Listen to me, I ain't rushing you, but i'm not gonna act like i don't miss you or love you. That is clear, it's gonna work, cause imma make it work," he said reassuringly "It ain't gonna be the same as it use to be, cause I ain't the same man and imma prove it to you and 'Mari no matter how long it takes."
He looked at you "We ain't gotta tell him everything, we just gon' tell that Mommy stayed over cause we missed each other, we can take it slow, I don't have any problems with that. But I ain't letting work or anybody come between what we got. I want my family back. I want you back.
You looked at his hand interwined with yours "Are you sure this time?"
Stack nodded.
"And you promise?" you ask.
"Promise, we'll be slow, I ain't losing my family again". Stack said reassuring.
mika's notes .ᐟ.ᐟ: ummmm yeah i actually loved the way this turned out, i might revised the smut, but i hope you all enjoy, i think this might be the longest fic to date
Loud music, smoked dusted walls and people to fill out rooms. And there he was, your best friend, Cameron Cade. The golden boy himself. Everybody thought yall was dating and you both, always denied it. What's the problem with being just friends?
Thats what you would always say.
Friends. Just friends. You didn't see him like that (or so you thought)
You were chilling at some party, a mixture of his friends and yours were there. They were smoking, you weren't, neither was he. You just watched out of boredom. You talked with your friends quietly, some of them talked about him. You lightly pull your hoodie sleeve down, adjusting to the seat. You ate some of your candy that you got from one of the snack corners.
"Well if you like him so much, you go talk to him," You tell your friend.
She laughs quietly while shaking her head, "Nah that's all yours girl" she says nudging you.
"When yall gonna...you know?" She asks smiling. I lightly scoff, the rest of the group laughed.
"Girl please, been his friend for how long? Ion want none of that." You replied, "Not like he can handle me anyways"
"Well girl go test it out then." The teasing continued and you just rolled your eyes. Sure, Cam was sweet on you, but it's because you were his best friend. Years of connection between yall. A few simple hugs, some forehead kisses, it's not what you think.
Cameron was on the other side of house. He would look over, eyeing you from time to time.
"You sure you dont wanna?" One of his friends asked. He removed the blunt from his mouth and passed it over to him. Cameron glanced at the blunt making its way around the circle, watching it pass from hand to hand before it finally reached him. He barely hesitated before shaking his head, leaning back into the couch instead.
“Nah,” he muttered, waving it off.
“C’mon, Cade,” someone groaned, holding it out toward him again. “Just one.”
He huffed a quiet laugh under his breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Coach would kill me, bad enough im around all this"
A few of the guys chuckled. “Man, you’re no fun,” another voice said from somewhere across the room. Cameron only smirked, stretching his legs out in front of him as he let the blunt pass to the next person.
“I like winning more,” he said simply. For a moment the conversation drifts, music thumping low through the speakers, someone arguing about last week’s game. Then one of the guys nudges Cameron’s shoe with his own.
“Aight, Mr. Discipline,” he says, squinting at him. “So if you ain’t smoking, why you even here?”
Cameron shrugs, gaze drifting toward the window. “Just came through.”
“Man, stop lying,” another voice cuts in with a laugh. “You only showed up ’cause y/n was supposed to be here.”
Cam stops and a couple of the guys snicker. Cam's head tilts slightly. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you ain’t deny it either,” someone adds. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head a little, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “Y’all talk too much.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the first guy grins. “So what is it with you and her anyway?”
Cameron leans back deeper into the couch, eyes dropping to the floor for a second like he’s thinking about the answer longer than he should. “Nothing,” he says finally. "Same shit I tell yall, just came through"
They let the convo die down, for a bit. On your side, you still heard a little bit of this and that with your friends, but mostly tuned it out. Another topic got brought up, the conversations kept shifting every few minutes. Someone starts talking about classes, another person jumps in complaining about a professor. You hear pieces of it, laughs, someone arguing about a game, a couple people debating where to go after this, but most of it fades into background noise.
You nod when someone looks your way, half-smiling at the right moments, but your mind isn’t really there anymore.
It keeps drifting.
Back toward the couch across the room.
Back toward Cameron.
You don’t mean to look, but your eyes slide over anyway, catching the sight of him leaning back like he always does, calm, relaxed. One arm draped over the couch, while the guys around him talk over each other. He looked like he was trying to get into it, but seemed unbothered by it all.
For a second, you watch him longer than you should, studying the way he laughs at something someone says, or the small shake of his head after.
Then you quickly look away, pretending to focus on the conversation in front of you again.
You could admit he was handsome, too damn handsome. Funny, and smart.
There was this time at his house, he had just gotten off practice. So, being bored you decided to come over. You were sprawled out on his couch in your college hoodie, half listening to him talk about some girl he used to date. Some pretty girl from the dance team, you knew that wasn't gonna last long. He went on about, why it didn't work out, something about her being too busy, or him caring too much about football. It seemed like background noise at first, you've heard it time again and again. But, the more you heard, the more your chest felt tight.
Was it jealously? Couldn't be.
You didn't like him like that you kept repeating to yourself. So why is him talking about another girl bothering you to the bone? Why does it matter who he dates? Why can't you even focus on what he's saying right now? You were staring at him, but weren't even listening.
Unfortuatly, that feeling grew. But all you could do, was suppress it.
You finally remember you're at a party, but your thoughts are already somewhere else. Why am I even here? You already know the answer. It’s stupid, honestly. You told yourself you were just stopping by for a bit, that you weren’t coming to see anyone in particular. But your eyes had found him the second he walked in.
You drag your stare away quickly, pretending to pay attention to the conversation again. Occasionally looking at your short french tips, but the words barely register. All you can think about is the way he’s sitting over there, like nothing’s changed, like he hasn’t noticed you at all.
Maybe that’s what bothers you the most.
You shift in your seat, tugging lightly at the sleeve of your hoodie before finally exhaling under your breath. Hours went. Games and drinking followed. Your head pounded with thoughts.
“I think I’m gonna head home,” you say suddenly.
Your friend glances over. “Already, you ain't been here long"
You shrug, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m kinda tired, all the smoke n stuff."
But the truth is, you just don’t feel like sitting across the room pretending you’re not thinking about him anymore. And before you can second-guess it, you’re already standing up. A couple people glance up when you move, conversations dipping for a second before picking back up again. You tug lightly at the sleeve and step away from the group, weaving through the living room.
You can feel a few eyes following you.
But you don’t slow down. Your gaze is already fixed on the couch across the room, on him.
Cam’s still there, leaning back with the guys. One arm rests along the back of the couch, his head tilted slightly while someone beside him talks. His hair low cut and jaw lightly flexed, clearly not interested in the conversation.
Then he notices you.
His eyes lift, locking onto you as you get closer.
He straightens just a little.
You stop in front of him.
“Hey,” you say, keeping your voice casual.
“Hey,” Cameron replies, brows pulling together slightly like he’s trying to read your expression. "You good?"
You shift your weight. “You mind taking me home?” you ask. “I’m ready to go.” He doesn’t hesitate, as if he was ready to leave himself.
“Yeah,” he says, already leaning forward, grabbing his hoodie from the arm of the couch.
Someone nearby lets out a quiet laugh. “Damn, Cade.”
Cam ignores it, pulling the hoodie over his head before standing up. He glances down at you. “You good?” he asks again.
You nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He studies your face for a second like he’s deciding whether to ask more, but then he jerks his head toward the door.
“C’mon.”
And just like that, he’s walking out with you, with no problem. Cam walks out first holding the door open for you. You give a small nod and start walking to his car. “Thanks,” you say, giving a small nod, your hands tucked into your hoodie pockets.
“Anything for you,” he says casually, tilting his head just enough to meet your eyes. That wasn't helping your thoughts. Each one of them getting louder and clearer. He stood taller than you. His tone lightly tired, but there’s that quiet weight behind it that makes your heart skip.
You fall into step beside him, the cool night air brushing past. “Long night,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.
He glances at you, one eyebrow just slightly raised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say again, shrugging. “Thought I’d get out before it got later than I already feel.” Cam didn't answer right away. He just keeps walking, silent but aware, like he’s cataloging every little thing about how you move, how you breathe, how you’re holding yourself.
After a moment, he says softly, “Smart.” You glance at him sideways, almost catching the corner of a smirk.
“You’re always so… you know,” you lightly tease.
"Like what?" He asks looking at you.
“Like nothing can shake you.”
He shrugs, opening the door. “Not always” he says. The answer of it makes it feel heavier than just words. You slide into the passenger seat, and he closes the door behind you with a quiet click. The engine hums to life, and suddenly it’s just the two of you. You both sat in silence, the radio played quietly.
But there it was. The feelings swirling over you. The thoughts of him, and you. Together in ways that definitely weren't for just friends. The tension—, the tension that’s been simmering under the surface for years. And you wonder if he ever felt it too. It seemed ridiculous to ask, because you knew how he was, but maybe, just maybe it was different with you. The drive is quiet, the streetlights passing overhead in slow streaks. You’re tucked into the passenger seat, hoodie pulled a little tighter around yourself, while Cameron keeps his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel.
˖ ᡣ𐭩
He pulls into your driveway. The engine hums low as he kills it, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The quiet is comfortable, but it makes your heart beat faster than usual.
“So…” you start, glancing at him sideways, “what are you gonna do now?”
More of like, "I don't really wanna leave yet"
He shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Probably head home. Do practice … or, I dunno, watch something.” You can feel the unspoken tension in the way he looks at you.
You felt like the words spoken were enough, so you reach for the door, pulling the seatbelt free. As you're about to go, he gently lays a hand on your wrist. “Hold up for a second, we gotta talk,” he says, and suddenly there’s a shift in the energy of the car.
"Wassup?" You ask him a lil confused. He leans over just slightly, tilting his head with that quiet, teasing expression he always wears, and taps his cheek gently. Not demanding, but just enough to make it obvious what he wanted.
You blink, then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head a little. “You’re ridiculous, like actually ” you murmur.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning just slightly closer, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s enjoying himself, “You love me.”
Your chest tightens. “I do not,” you snap softly, though you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
“Uh-huh, cmon now” he murmurs, voice dropping low, quiet enough that it feels like it’s meant just for you. His hand shifts a fraction on the console between you, brushing close to yours without actually touching, just enough to make your fingers itch to reach for him. You wanted to, but didn't.
You lean in, pressing your lips to his cheek. Soft and cute. Like normal. The sound of your laugh mixes with the quiet night outside. Neither of you moves to leave just yet. You pull back slightly, still smiling, and your eyes meet his. His gaze locks onto yours and for the first time tonight, it feels like all the tension that’s been building between you, has a chance to breathe.
"Happy?" You asks chuckling.
He nods, giving that smile that you like. You bite on your tongue, trying to stop anything wrong from leaving your lips.
Friends. Thats it.
"Why"d you wanna leave?" He asks suddenly.
"Told you, just tired" you replied, hoping he would leave it at that. But he knew you, he knew it was something else.
"Nah, cmon tell me y/n" he asks you again staring. He had a feeling of what it was, but he wanted you to say it. You rolled your eyes lightly, "You know what it is, about us, being friends"
“Friends, huh?” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smirk. “Just friends?”
“Yeah… friends.” He watches you for a second, quiet like he’s turning the words over in his head. Then he leans a little closer in his seat, not crowding you, just enough that you notice. “Yeah?” he says softly. “That what you call it?”
You stare at him, little caught off. “What else would it be?”
Cam lets out a small breath through his nose, almost amused. “I mean… yeah,” he says. “We are friends.”
You nod, a little surprised he didn’t argue. “But,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “you and I both know we close.”
Your fingers fidget in your lap. “Friends can be close.”
“Sure,” he says easily. “Ain’t saying they can’t.” His eyes flick over your face again, like he’s catching every little reaction.
“Just feels like lately it’s been… different.”
You look away. “Different how?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Just different.”
The corner of his mouth lifts again. “And you know what I mean.”
"Well that's not helping is it?" you say rolling your eyes.
But you did know. You’ve felt it too—the small pauses, the looks that last a little longer than they used to, the way sitting next to him suddenly makes you more aware of everything, even the subtle touches with him. But you keep telling yourself it’s nothing. Just friends. But here he was, singing a whole new tune.
“Look,” he says after a moment, voice calm. “I ain’t trying to make it weird or nothing.” Your eyes flick back to him.
“We friends,” he repeats simply. “That’s not changing.” Then he adds, a little quieter, “Just saying… sometimes stuff shifts.”
There’s a short silence.
Then he glances at you again, that easy smirk coming back. “And if I’m wrong, I’m wrong.”
He leans back slightly in his seat after that, like the conversation doesn’t bother him either way, but the way he looks at you says he definitely noticed something. You take in everything, so, clearly he's noticed it too. Way to go y/n for trynna be subtle.
"I dont like you, like that. I could kiss you and id be fine."
You didn't think the words would come out that fast, but they did. You wish you could take them back but they were already out.
Cameron’s eyebrows lift a little, the first real break in his calm expression. “You could what?”
You curse calmly, trying to act normal. “I’m just saying. It wouldn’t mean anything. We’re friends.”
He looks at you for a second, quiet, then the corner of his mouth pulls into a slow smile. “Wouldn’t mean anything, huh?”
You shake your head, staring out the windshield. “Nope.”
“That’s a crazy thing to say,” he mutters.
"Why?”
He shifts back in his seat, one arm resting along the console, still relaxed. “’Cause now I’m tryna figure out if you serious… or just talking.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head slightly.
You nod once. “Yeah.”
He lets out a quiet breath through his nose. “Aight.”
You blink at him. “That’s it?”
Cam glances back at you, calm as ever. “What you want me to do?” he says. “You the one said it wouldn’t mean nothing.”
“I didn’t say you had to do anything.”
He shrugs. “Exactly, and I told you already… I ain’t doing nothing unless you do something.”
The silence after that feels heavier than before.
You look at him for a second too long. He doesn’t move, just watches you like he’s got all the patience in the world.
“You serious?” you mutter.
“Yeah,” he says simply. “Dead serious.”
You hesitate, then lean over before you can think too hard about it.
You glance down to his lips, his mouth in a small smirk.
"Stop smiling" you tell him, he smirks wider. You press your glossy lips to his, kissing him quick.
You pull back fast, sitting straight again like nothing happened.
“See?” you say, trying to sound casual. “Told you.”
For a moment Cameron doesn’t say anything.
“Nothing?” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
He studies your face for a second, quiet again. The car feels smaller somehow. “You sure about that?” he says.
You shrug. “Pretty sure.”
Cameron lets out a small breath through his nose, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “Aight,” he says again, nodding slowly.
You start to slowly open the door, again. You figured you had embarrassed yourself enough. Perhaps you could distract yourself from this whole day or maybe sleep the feelings off. But, before you can, his hand lightly taps the side of your knee, stopping you. “C’mere a second.”
You glance at him. “Why?”
He tilts his head slightly, that calm look still on his face. “Just come here.”
Your heart starts beating fast, but you lean a little closer. For a moment he just looks at you, like he’s deciding something.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
“Yeah what?” you ask.
Then he leans in and kisses you. Warm and slow, in a way perfect, giving the smallest bit of attention to your bottom lip. Like he’s actually trying it, instead of proving a point.
When he pulls back, he watches your reaction for a second. You sat there, staring him. He actually kissed you. Not a cheek kiss, not a forehead kiss, but a kiss that you've thought about multiple times. A small part of you felt a small relief and a sudden finally. But the other part shot up fast and went straight to the warmest parts of your body. Your eyes tried focusing on him while your hands fixed to stay in your lap and not pull him close. And he noticed.
“Yeah,” he says casually low. “That definitely wasn't nothing.”
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and questioning. You didn't stop him. You couldn't. You needed this, craved this.
"You want another one?" He asked quiet.
Maybe the smell of his cologne was getting to you, or maybe the taste of his fainted peppermint gum from the kiss. Or maybe how he always cared about you, busting his ass for you like it was no problem.
You liked it. You liked him. You then slowly nod your head at him.
He listened and leaned in again to kiss you. It was gentle. A soft brush, barely there, then gone. Then some more.
Kiss—stop—kiss—stop
Each brush of his lips sent another confirmation to yourself, your mind started to stutter, trying to process the sensation. That familiar sweetness from his gum, felt so intimate. Your own lips tingled, wanting more from him. He watched you the whole time with that calm look in his eyes, as if he knew exactly the chaos he was pouring inside you.
Summary: After tonight’s major win, he just needs a second. Alone. With you. That’s the real prize.
Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x Black!Reader
WARNINGS: none
yes i went overboard who cares
The night of the Academy Awards didn’t feel real, but rather, like something suspended in time, the room sheathed in gold and velvet and light, the kind of night people spent their entire lives chasing.
The theater glowed, both in glitz and glam. Rows of stars draped in couture, the orchestra humming softly beneath the tension, cameras sweeping across faces that had mastered composure.
But at Michael’s seat, his composure had already started slipping. His hand hadn’t left yours since they announced the category. Your fingers were threaded together tightly in his lap, his thumb dragging slow, absentminded circles over your skin… not to comfort you, but to ground himself.
On his other side, his mom sat upright, eyes locked on the stage, lips pressed together in a thin line like she was holding everything in. Khalid leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Jamila had her hands clasped together beneath her chin.
Nobody dared to breathe, to blink.
“And the Oscar for Best Actor goes to…”
Then came unbearable, stretched-thin silence.
“…Michael B. Jordan.”
The room erupted into applause, a thunderous standing ovation that seemed to shake the entire theater. People were already on their feet, clapping, shouting, but at your row, time stuttered.
You gasped in shock. Michael didn’t move, and for a split second, he just stared at the stage like he hadn’t processed the words. “Baby,” you whispered, your voice shaking, gripping his hand tighter. “Baby, get up.”
His mom grabbed his arm. “Go,” she said, already crying. “Go!”
Michael turned to you, eyes already glassy.
“Go,” you repeated, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “Go.”
He leaned in without thinking, pressing a quick, trembling kiss to your lips, and then stood. The applause only grew louder as he made his way down the aisle. He looked… stunned. Like every step was happening before he could catch up to it.
People reached out to shake his hand, to clap him on the back, to pull him into quick hugs, and he accepted it all in a daze — smiling, nodding, blinking rapidly like he was trying not to lose it before he even made it to the stage.
But the moment he stepped up and that gold statue was placed in his hands, you could tell, then, that it finally hit him.
The shift from it being just an idea to finally being a reality manifested physically. His shoulders dropped slightly, his jaw tightened, and he looked down at the Oscar like it might disappear if he blinked too long.
The room quieted as he stepped up to the microphone.
He exhaled deeply, his breath coming out as a broken laugh, soft and breathless, that meant he was already overwhelmed. “Man…” he murmured, shaking his head, the audience laughed gently with him.
“I-” He paused, swallowing hard. “I had a whole speech. I really did. But I’m not even gonna pretend like I remember it right now.”
His voice cracked just slightly on the last word.
You pressed your hand to your mouth, feeling the lump forming in your throat.
He looked out over the audience, blinking quickly. “First off… thank you to the Academy.”
He nodded, trying to gather himself. “To my cast, the crew, Ryan, my director …y’all trusted me to be a part of something special. And I don’t take that lightly.”
His voice steadied a little as he continued, thanking his collaborators, mentors, the people who helped shape him into the actor standing on that stage.
He looked down at the Oscar again, and his composure slipped. “I grew up loving movies,” he said quietly. “Like… really loving them. Sitting in front of the TV, watching performances that made me feel like… maybe I could do this one day.” His voice wavered. “And to be standing here now…”
He stopped to gather himself, letting out a shaky breath. You could see the labored rise and fall of his chest, as if he were losing a battle between his composure and his emotions.
Then he nodded once, like he was pulling himself back together. “My family,” he said, voice softer now. “My parents, my siblings.”
The camera cut to them, his mother crying alongside you. “Thank you for everything. For believing in me before there was anything to believe in. For every sacrifice you made that I didn’t understand until I got older.”
Applause rippled through the room again.
He paused again, longer this time, his eyes scanning the audience until they found you. And everything about him softened: the tension left his shoulders, his nerves melted into something warmer and steady. “…I gotta take a second to appreciate my lady.”
The room exploded with cheers and whistles and roaring applause that doubled in volume.
Your face flushed instantly, your hands flying to your cheeks as the camera cut to you. You shook your head..
Michael just smiled in that quiet, knowing way. “Y’all,” he said, chuckling softly as the noise settled. “That woman right there…”
He looked at you again and suddenly, it didn’t feel like there were thousands of people watching. It felt like he was just talking to you.
“She’s been my anchor through all of this. She’s seen every version of me. The confident one, the frustrated one, the one that don’t know what the hell he’s doing half the time…But she never lets me sit in that doubt too long.”
He shook his head, smiling to himself. “She reminds me who I am when I forget. She reminds me what matters when everything starts moving too fast. And she loves me in a way that makes me want to be better every single day. And I don’t think I’d be standing here tonight without that.”
A collective awww moved through the audience. Michael laughed softly, rubbing his jaw. He lifted the Oscar slightly, eyes boring into yours. “This right here, baby?” he said. “This is ours.”
The room erupted again, in cheers, clapping, people standing.
The second Michael stepped off the stage, the noise swallowed him whole. Congratulations flying from every direction, hands clapping his shoulders, voices overlapping. Camera flashes popped, assistants moved quickly, and publicists hovered just close enough to redirect but not interrupt.
Through all of it, Michael smiled… nodded… thanked people. But there was a delay to him now, his brain processing half a second behind everything. Like his body was there, but his mind hadn’t caught up yet.
Ryan stayed glued to his side, a steady hand on his back, a quiet presence in the chaos. “I got him,” Ryan murmured more than once to people trying to pull Michael in different directions. “Just give him a second.”
Michael nodded absentmindedly at something someone said (truthfully, he didn’t even hear it), his grip tightening around the award in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.
“Where is she?” he asked suddenly, ignoring the surrounding bombardment.
Ryan leaned in. “She’s coming around from the front. They’re bringing her back.”
Michael exhaled, but it didn’t really settle anything. He ran a hand over his face.
“You good?” Ryan asked, studying him carefully.
“Yeah.” Michael said automatically, his voice was thin.
Ryan didn’t argue; he just stayed close. “Just breathe, bro,” he said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. “We did it.”
Michael let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I don’t-” He shook his head. “I don’t even feel like I’m here right now.”
“I know,” Ryan said. “I feel like that’s normal.”
It certainly didn’t feel normal. It felt like everything at once. It felt like pride, relief, and gratitude … combined with something heavier. Something that had been building for years finally letting go all at once.
“Hey—”
Michael turned at the sound of your voice. And there you were: moving toward him, eyes still glossy, dress catching against the backstage lighting as you closed the distance between you.
Everything else faded instantly.
“Hey,” you breathed again.
He didn’t even think. He just stepped into you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other still holding his award, pulling you in like he needed to confirm you were real.
You wrapped your arms around him just as quickly. “You did it,” you whispered into his chest.
He exhaled shakily against your hair. “I did it.”
Ryan watched for a second, then gave a small nod to himself. “Aight,” he muttered. “He’s good.”
Though he stepped back, giving you both space, he still stayed close enough to keep things moving. “You wanna do press now or—”
Michael pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were red, pupils dilated and dancing across your face. He wasn’t just emotional.
He was completely overwhelmed.
He glanced back at Ryan, then back at you. “Can we—” He swallowed. “Can we go somewhere private for a second?”
Ryan didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I got you.”
He turned immediately, flagging down Michael’s publicist, Paula, speaking low and quick. Within seconds, you and Michael were being guided down a quieter hallway away from the noise, away from the cameras, away from everything.
You were led to a small room. The door clicked shut behind you, and the second it did, Michael broke. Not loudly at first, but just a sharp inhale. A tremor in his shoulders.
Then he turned into you fully, like something in him finally gave out.
His arms wrapped around you tighter this time, the award pressed awkwardly between you for a second before he shifted it, dropping it gently onto a nearby table without even looking before he buried his face in your neck.
All six-foot-something of him folding into you like he’d been holding himself upright on sheer will alone. The first sob hit your shoulder.
Your heart dropped. “Hey—” you whispered immediately, one hand sliding up the back of his neck, the other pressing between his shoulder blades. “Hey, baby—”
He shook his head against you, trying to catch his breath, but it only made it worse. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your skin, voice thick. “I don’t— I don’t know why—”
“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, holding him tighter. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
He exhaled, but it came out shaky. “I just—” His grip on you tightened. “I’ve been holding that in for so long.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t think—” He cut himself off, another breath hitching. “I didn’t know if it was ever gonna happen.”
Your chest ached, cradling the back of his head, fingernails scratching the nape of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But you did it,” you murmured. “You really did it.”
He nodded faintly against you. “I kept telling myself I was good,” he admitted quietly. “Like… if it didn’t happen, I was still good. I had everything I needed.”
“You do.”
“But I wanted it,” he said, voice cracking again. “I wanted this so bad.”
“I know you did,” you whispered.
He let out another shaky breath, his face still tucked into your neck, his body heavy against yours in a way that told you he wasn’t trying to hold himself up anymore.
You felt it all in him: the joy, the relief, the exhaustion. Years of pressure finally releasing all at once.
“You scared me,” you admitted softly after a moment, your hand still moving slowly, rubbing soothing circles along his back. “You don’t… you don’t cry like this.”
He let out a quiet, almost embarrassed huff against your skin. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
His eyes were glassy, lashes damp, cheeks flushed.
“Talk to me,” you said gently.
He searched your face for a second, like he needed to ground himself again.Then he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just—” He choked out. “I’m so happy.”
“And I’m so tired,” he added, voice softer now. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
Your expression softened instantly. “I bet you are.”
He let out a small, breathy laugh. “And I just needed you,” he admitted.
“Well, I’m right here.” You smiled softly, brushing your thumb under his eye. “I’m always gonna be right here.”
“I know.” He leaned back into you again, quieter this time. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his face tucked back into your neck like that was the only place he wanted to be right now.
Your fingers moving gently, scratching his scalp, your cheek pressed against his temple. “You’re okay,” you whispered.
He nodded against you.
“I got you,” you added softly. “Y’know that, right?”
Another nod.
The room had gone quiet after that, the air feeling like a pause button had been pressed on the rest of the world, muffling the distant chaos backstage, dulling the noise of voices and footsteps beyond the door until it was nothing more than a faint hum.
Michael hadn’t let go of you right away. Even after his breathing started to even out, even after the tears slowed. He stayed close, arms wrapped around you, forehead tucked into your shoulder like he wasn’t ready to separate just yet.
You leaned back just enough to look at him.
The intensity in his eyes had softened, the sharp edge of it was replaced with something quieter.
“You ready to go back out there?” you asked softly.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, then shook his head. “…Not yet.”
Your expression softened immediately. “Okay.”
Soon enough, you found yourselves seated on the floor, having guided him down with you until your back rested against the wall, the cool surface grounding against your shoulders. The fabric of your dress settled around you as you adjusted your legs.
He followed without resistance until he was stretched out beside you, turning just enough to rest his head in your lap like it was instinct, like that was exactly where he needed to be.
You let out a soft breath, your hand immediately finding his hair again, fingers continuing their slow, absentminded scratches.
He stared up at the ceiling, not moving, letting out a sniffle every now and then.
You watched the gears in his head turning. You chose not to interrupt it.
His phone had another agenda, buzzing suddenly in his pocket. Then again. And again. A constant vibration against his thigh.
Michael didn’t move, but let it keep going.
You glanced down, then reached gently into his pocket to pull the phone out. The screen lit up instantly with missed calls, texts stacking on top of each other, and notifications flooding in faster than they could be read. You pressed and held the side button, shutting it off.
Michael’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at you. “…What are you doing?” he asked, voice still a little rough.
You shrugged lightly, like it was obvious. “If they need you badly enough,” you said calmly, setting the phone beside you, “they’ll call me.”
Your hand returned to his hair without hesitation. “For now,” you added softly, “let’s just be here.”
He stared at you for a second, his expression melted. “…Okay,” he murmured. His gaze drifted back up.
You could see it on his face: the way his mind was still moving, still trying to catch up to everything that had just happened. You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “So… what now?” you nudged gently.
He huffed softly, a quiet, almost disbelieving breath. “…I have no idea.”
You smiled. “Well…” you said, lightly tracing your fingers along his hairline, grounding him again. “I think this calls for a celebration.”
He sniffed, turning his head slightly into your hand. His throat worked as he cleared the lingering tightness from earlier. “…Yeah,” he said, voice still a little thick. “Yeah, I like that idea.”
“Not just any celebration,” a small smile tugging at your lips. “Somewhere worth visiting.”
He glanced up at you — and there it was. The flicker of him coming back. “Where?” he asked.
“How about Tokyo?”
That did it. A real smile formed, soft at first, but unmistakable.
You watched it spread across his face as recognition settled in.
“…I like that idea,” he said quietly.
Of course he did. You knew he would.
“There’s a new restaurant out there I’ve been wanting to try,” he added, voice steadier now. “I think you’ll like it.”
You smiled down at him. “Yeah?”
He nodded slightly, eyes still on you. “You’d love it.” He shifted just a little closer, one hand coming to rest against your thigh, thumb brushing absentmindedly back and forth like he needed the contact.
You kept your hand in his hair, smoothing it back gently.
Michael’s breathing had finally evened out, his weight resting fully into your lap, one hand lazily draped over your leg while your fingers traced slow patterns.
Then your phone buzzed.
You glanced down.
Ryan.
You didn’t even have to say anything before Michael’s eyes flicked to the screen, then immediately back to you. “Don’t answer it,” he said, quick but not panicked.
You raised a brow. “Oh?”
“Tell him I went home,” he added, already settling back into your lap like he was doubling down on the decision. “Or… I don’t know. Tell him I’m taking a shit or something.”
You blinked at him, laughing. “Michael.”
“I’m serious,” he mumbled, eyes closing. “I just need—” he gestured vaguely with his hand, like the word moment was too much effort. “This.”
Your expression softened. But you answered anyway, quietly stepping just slightly into that middle ground between respecting him and not completely ignoring reality. “Hey,” you said softly.
Ryan didn’t waste time. “Yeah, hey,” he replied, voice low but urgent in that controlled way. “Michael good?”
You glanced down at him.
He was listening, one eye open.
“He’s good,” you said gently. “Just… decompressing.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Ryan said. “Listen — his family’s looking for him. And Paula lined up a couple interviews. I told everybody he needed a minute, so they not rushing him, but it’s strongly encouraged for him to … move swift.”
You hummed softly. “I’ll bring him out in a bit.”
“Aight,” Ryan said. “No pressure, just don’t disappear completely.”
“I got you.”
You hung up.
Michael was already looking at you. “…What he say?”
You tilted your head. “Your family’s looking for you. And Paula has interviews lined up.”
He groaned, then let out a long exhale, dragging a hand over his face.
You smiled, brushing your fingers lightly across his temple. “Just a few more minutes,” you murmured. “And then we’ll go, okay?”
He nodded. “…Yeah.”
Silence loomed again, but much lighter now.
“So… does this mean we’re moving?” you ask playfully after a moment.
His brows furrowed immediately. “…Huh?”
“You’re an Oscar winner now,” you said matter-of-factly. “Today’s price ain’t yesterday’s price. We'll need a bigger house.”
He blinked at you. “You serious right now?”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” you nodded. “We need space for all the other awards you’re gonna get.”
He snorted. “You’re dumb.”
“I’m not!” you insisted, trying not to smile, shoving at his shoulder. “You’re a hot commodity now. Even though I knew that already.”
He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “The house got seven bedrooms already,” he said. “You need more space?”
You shrugged lightly. “I don’t.”
You leaned down slightly, lowering your voice like you were letting him in on an important secret.
“But your other Oscars will.”
He laughed for real this time, full and warm, deep from his chest. The kind of laugh that told you he was finally coming back to himself.
You smiled down at him, soft and proud and completely in love, then bent forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Then another. And another.
“…Also,” you added casually against his skin, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Will the Oscar have a seat at the wedding?”
He paused, actually thinking about it. “…Yes.”
You smiled with a hum in agreement. “Agreed. I also think...” you shifted slightly, “...it’s time to go get hammered.”
He laughed again, shaking his head. He pushed himself up slowly, then reached for your hands, helping you to your feet.
The second you were upright, you didn’t let go. You pulled him back into you, peppering kisses across his cheeks.
“…I didn’t tell you how beautiful you looked tonight, did I?” he murmured as you kissed him.
You raised a brow. “You did,” you said. “Frequently. And loudly.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Well, I’m sayin’ it again.”
His hands slid to your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “You do,” he said softly. “You look absolutely radiant.”
Your breath caught.
“Like…” he paused, eyes flicking between yours, something deeper settling there now. “Like my future wife.”
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