Prison Au! Stack x reader
Word Count: 1,595
Summary: These letters just ain't cutting it for poor little Stack, who's stuck behind bars for the foreseeable future.
Warnings: smutty af, minors dni
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
Anticipation.
The gnawing feeling that filled many of your Wednesday afternoons since your beau, Elias “Stack” Moore, was locked behind bars in the Mississippi State Penitentiary just late last year. His crime? Having taken part in transporting various liquors and spirits across state lines, and got caught by a prohibition officer who just couldn’t be bought this time around.
The length of his sentence? Absolutely too goddamn long.
You didn’t know exactly what kind of business Stack and his twin brother, Smoke, got into in their free time. Stack kept you relatively innocent of many factors of his lifestyle, answering your questions with more questions or slick remarks. This doesn’t mean you were completely in the dark, though. You weren’t stupid, and he wasn’t exactly great at hiding the pistol he kept in his suit jacket or his bloodied collared shirts. As long as he still came to visit at the end of the day and filled you with pleasure throughout the night, you always kept room for him in your prayers.
But that was then. Now? Aint shit sweet.
Stack wrote to you every single week. Long, detailed letters on what he’s doing and how he’d rather be doing something much, much sweeter – you. How when he gets out of that damn prison, the first he’ll do is split your legs open and eat your pretty cunt like a damn peach cobbler. Hell, he was ravenous in there. Counting down the seconds it’d take to get back into your arms into that perfect little pussy of yours.
You crossed your legs at the thought of his release date, feeling an immediate ache thrum at your clit.
In last week's letter, Stack had so graciously let you know that these letters and the photos you were sending were simply not doing enough for him. He was going fucking insane in there. You raised a curious eyebrow, reading over his ever-so messy handwriting.
You ignored the fire starting in the pit of your stomach as he wrote in the postscript of the letter, “That photograph you sent me in last week's letter just about sent me over the edge. Your pretty ass face and that yellow dress you was wearing got me whirling, girl. I'm starting to hallucinate you in here with me. Take some more photos for me, pretty please?”
You knew what type of photos Stack was expecting you to send him, causing a deep warmth to creep over your cheeks.
Your mind trailed off to one particular night when Stack asked to bring out his new hand-held camera that he paid a pretty penny for, to “savor the moment.” You sat in front of him on the bed, the strap of your nightdress slipping off your bare shoulder, exposing the top of your soft breasts. The cold air of your bedroom hardened your nipples below the thin white material. On your face, a soft smile and the innocent eyes that made Stack go weak in the knees.
Stack sat in the armchair adjacent to your bed and positioned the camera over his eye, snapping a number of photos of you in different positions.
“Stack, baby, what are these for?” You asked him sweetly, shifting under the camera’s gaze. Stack placed the expensive camera on the bedside table before getting up and kneeling in front of your closed legs.
“What’s wrong with wanting to capture my woman?” Stack slipped his rough hands under your nightdress and rubbed devious circles on your soft thighs. “I have the prettiest damn woman right here in front of me, Ima take advantage of the oppurtunity I’ve been given.” Stack chuckled, the glint of his gold fang grill catching the candlelight. “I ain't buy that camera for nothin.”
“Oh, Stack-” you were cut off by your beau hooking his finger into your undergarments, pulling them off at a slow pace. As if on instinct, you parted your thighs to make it a bit easier for him, a blush cascading over your face.
It’s a known fact that Stack hated to waste time. Everything about him was so fast-paced: his cars, his slick tongue, and especially his temper.
But with you, he loved to take his time. He parted your thighs even wider, giving himself a full view of your beautiful slit, already so wet and ready to be worshipped. He looked up at you from his position between your legs, his signature mischievousness evident in his eyes. He planted wet kisses on the sensitive parts of your thighs, causing them to tremble and ache.
You let out a small whine, leaning back on your elbows, eyes begging him to start devouring your cunt that got soppier by the second.
“My pretty, pretty girl,” Stack cooed, taking in all of you. The strap of your nightdress slid lower, exposing your right breast, and you looked at him with such a pathetically needy look on your face. Stack stuck his thumb in his mouth before grabbing your breast with a rough hand, circling your nipple with the cold wetness of his saliva. “I just wanna take you all in.”
“Stack, please~” Another whine left your mouth as you threw your head back, belly filled to the brim with anticipation.
You didn’t have to ask again before Stack placed a sloppy, wet kiss onto your pussy. A curse left your lips as you felt Stack use his tongue to split you open and run over your folds. After a few seconds of teasing kitten licks, Stack found your hardened clit and latched on relentlessly. Sinful sounds of sucking and slurping fill your bedroom as you arched your back, clinging onto the sheets.
Stack used his hands to part your thighs even wider, plump lips sucking on your bundle of nerves, nipping every so often. You felt like you were going insane, feeling his tongue work wonders over your sensitive clit.
“Ohmygo-” you jolted, feeling Stack slip in a single large finger into your entrance, curling and massaging. Stack detached his mouth from your cunt to watch himself pump in and out, seeing your wetness run down his long finger and onto his palm. He flashed a devilish smile at you, his beard soaked with your pleasure.
You moaned in ecstasy, avoiding his eyes and slipping a hand in his curls, bringing his mouth back to your pleading pussy. He obliged, flicking his tongue over your clit with such a quick pace it made your brain fuzzy.
“Jesus, Stack~” your moan trailed off, followed by a string of incoherent words and whines. As Stack worked his wonders to get you off, he could feel the head of his cock become sticky with pre-cum in his suit pants.
“Stack, harder pl-” He planted a firm smack on your ass, working his mouth even harder than before, causing that knot in your stomach to coil so, so tightly. You bucked your hips on his chin, chasing that release you so desperately begged for.
Stack had one hand repeatedly kissing at your g-spot, his other gripping at your plump ass, all whilst his god-sent tongue lapped mercilessly as your clit, Faster, harder, and sloppier by the second.
You raised your head to look at how Stack gredily ate your cunt as if it was the last meal he’d ever have on earth. His chocolate eyes made contact with yours before snap-
You bucked your hips before releasing onto your lover’s mouth, ecstasy dripping from your pulsating hole and his glistening chin. Stack gave you a few more soft licks and kisses, allowing you to ride out your high before parting his plump lips from yours with a pop. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to calm yourself down from experiencing heaven on Stack’s tongue.
“Look at you,” Stack stood up from between your thighs and began to unbuckle the brown leather belt fastened around his hips. “What a fuckin sight you are.”
You attempted to string a sentence together in response, but gave up very quickly on the matter. You noticed Stack begin to palm himself through his trousers, eyes scanning your ruined body before landing onto your plump, lush lips. His towering, strong figure leaned over you before he planted a soft kiss on your lips.
“It’s daddy’s turn now, pretty girl. Can you open up for me again?”
You used your remaining strength to nod eagerly, allowing Stack to part your legs with his rough, calloused palms and position himself at your entrance.
–
Your lewd memories were interrupted by an abrupt knock at your front door, which was followed by a “Good Afternoon, miss. Your mail for the day has arrived!” You straightened your posture, now acutely aware that you were gripping last week’s letter from Stack within your manicured clutch.
You quickly hurried to the door and opened it to see a boyish mailman, sheepishly holding a stack of envelopes addressed to you in his hand. “Here ya go, miss.”
You blinked at him before offering him a charming smile and receiving your mail, resisting the urge to shoo him from your porch. After bidding each other a good day, you ran inside and disregarded every bill and pointless letter sent to you in pursuit of your man.
Finally, you came upon a letter addressed from the Mississippi State Penitentiary and plopped on a couch in your sunroom, a sudden heat taking over your body once more. You just had to know how Stack reacted to the impromptu photoshoot you made especially for him after receiving his letter last week.
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
Author's Note: This idea came to me in a dream last night. This is the first fanfiction that I've published on Tumblr, so please be kind and tell me how you like it. I really had to put this onto paper, and I need Stack in a biblical sense -- its scary.
Childhood friend! Sammie, whose first love was the blues and second love was you.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who, since diapers, had been inseparable from you. Your mama was a member of the congregation at his father’s church, and the two of you would steal away from the sermon to play behind the small, white building, kicking up dirt and rolling around in the grass. You remember earning several pops from your mama for ruining the pristine white church clothes with mud and grass stains.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who, as yall grew up, was the shyer one of your dynamic duo. He stood just two paces behind you (and three inches shorter), eyes downcast and knuckling the neck of a guitar 3/4ths the size of his body, whilst you flew away at the mouth, telling the older boys that fucked wih him to go straight to hell!
Childhood friend! Sammie, who couldn’t shake the habit of lacing his fingers with yours even as he grew up, just now only opting for private spaces and quiet moments between the two of you.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who when you got your first “boyfriend” at the age of eleven, cried and cried for days, terrified he would no longer be the number one “man” in your life. You crassly reminded him that your daddy was the number one man in your life, which made him wail even harder.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who stuck his chubby little finger out and made you promise you’d be his wife when y'all became grown, snot running down his nose and face puffy from how much he got worked up from this whole ordeal.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who chuckled softly when you hooked a finger under his signature brown fedora, which was always leaned three more inches to the right after he came back from hanging with his older cousins, Smoke and Stack.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who was your first kiss. You both didn’t wanna enter your late teen years not having experienced something as small as a lil kiss. Oh, how his heart nearly pumping out his chest when you leaned in, eyes closed and clearly more sure of this than him.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who always gloated about how cool his older cousins were, eyes sparkling whenever he brought em up. He ain’t give a rats ass about the rumors of all the unpleasant things they were doing up north, and continued to let you know how he was gonna convince them to take the both of you up to Chicago on their next adventure.
Childhood friend! Sammie, who always included you in his plans for the future. When he became a big blues musician in the big cities, he was gon’ put you to work as his manager and split the profits with you. The features on his boyish face fell when you vehemently disagreed, saying you've been his bodyguard since he was eight, and he needa find someone else to do the job.
Stack preferring the acoustic blues (associated with the Delta) to the electric blues (associated with Chicago) even after having spent years in Chicago as a gangster before the events of the movie, and presumably wandering all over in his unlife, shows he’ll always be a Delta boy at heart
Smoke x Reader
Word count: 2,345
Summary: Baby Daddy! Smoke returns to the Mississippi Delta with two things hot on his mind -- his woman and his baby. Let's just say, all he was met with was a purse to the face.
Genre: two parts angst, one part fluff!! enjoy
Part One: here
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
Against your better judgment, you allowed Smoke to attempt to redeem himself. You fully expected him to disappear from your grasp within the first two days of his return to Clarkedale, but here he was, in the flesh, bouncing your one-year-old baby on his lap while your sister, Mabel, attempted to spoon-feed her mushed peas and fruit.
Elisabeth fussed, grabbing at her father, mushed peas dribbling from her chin and onto the lapel of his expensive tweed suit jacket.
“Oh my..” you breathed out, stifling a giggle from the unfortunate circumstances. You looked down at the pant hem you were repairing on your lap before moving carefully, manueverin to not to have sewing needles strewn about the living room. You quickly entered the kitchen and emerged with a wet cloth, kneeling in front of Smoke to clean the baby’s food from his jacket.
Having the mushed green slop stain his suit didn't bother Smoke none. He had several of the caliber in his closet waiting for him. It bothered you plenty.
You couldn’t imagine ruining such a fine suit with baby food.
You shifted on your knees in front of Smoke and brought the wet rag to the soft material, working cautiously to not make the blemish worse.
Smoke’s eyes softened when they met you, your brows scrunching in concentration. He dared not to protest, seeing how you bit your soft, supple lip between your teeth, cloth running over the stain with meticulousness. Once you were satisfied, your face transformed into a soft smile and the crescent moon eyes that made Smoke’s heart boom.
Satisfied with your work, you looked up at Smoke through heavy eyelashes, bunching the rag in your hands. “All done,” you glowed brightly. Smoke opened his mouth to respond, but his voice failed him, his mind preoccupied by the beauty in front of him.
You wore a baby pink, floral house dress that complemented your skin tone gorgeously. Pinning back your pressed curls was a matching baby pink bandana, which managed to catch all but one rogue curl that swept over your forehead. Smoke wondered if you’d made the dress yourself, so skilled in your work that it looked like it came from one of the famous tailors in Chicago, that the ladies would wear whilst shopping, and accompanying their husbands on walks about Millennium Park.
He imagined how you’d look as a future housewife, stepping into the role of an indestructible matriarch in charge of two or three beautiful black children, two girls and and a boy if Smoke had any say. He’d dress you in the fancy dresses of the Chicago ladies, and gift you the nicest mink furs and evening gowns that stores had to offer.
Maybe you’d continue to be bull-headed, and dress yourself and your beautiful children in matching handmade outfits, becoming the talk of the city with murmurs about how marvelous your sewing was. How the women would line up at your door, offering money and gifts to get their hands on one of your designs.
“Um, Smoke…” Your uncertain voice drew Smoke from the safe house of his thoughts. “Why you starin’ at me like that?”
Smoke straightened his spine, eyes jetting towards the breast of his tweed jacket, noticing how the spot had reduced greatly in size and hue. “It uh.. looks great, darlin’.” Smoke nodded, tightening his jaw.
You smiled softly once more before bringing yourself to your feet and dusting off the white apron that tied around your waist. You collected all of Elisabeth’s food bowls before bouncing over to the kitchen, seemingly going to discard the uneaten mashed foods into their rightful containers.
Stack cleared his throat, attempting to move forward from this interaction before turning his attention back to his baby girl.
The rate at which Elisabeth warmed up to Smoke and accepted him in her life left your head whirling. It was as if Elisabeth knew of Smoke's relation to her without even having to be introduced. It was natural.
Smoke visited her (and you) every day for two weeks straight. You bit back the urge to scream and knock his head clean off his shoulders every time he popped up at your door, always holding a new toy or sweets for the girl( and sometimes a bouquet of wild flowers for you). However, when you saw the gummy smile and choked laughs Elisabeth would beam Smoke’s way, you couldnt help but accept this arrangement, for now.
“Who’s ready for nappy?” You moved back into the living room, this time discarding the white apron and bandana, curls now neatly gracing your shoulders in uniformity.
Elisabeth squealed, moving her body closer to her father’s, swinging her tiny, chubby ars around his neck. Smoke chuckled as Elisabeth attempted to hide in his neck, prompting you to place your hands sternly on your hips, failing to hide the smile creeping on your face.
Moments like this made you feel like you three were a real family.
“Good girls don’t hide from their mamas.” You sauntered over to Smoke and Elisabeth, who continued to cling to her father. “Don’t they, Elijah?”
Smoke licked his lips, suppressing a genuine laugh, and attempting to hide Elisabeth with his hulking body.
“I don’t see any good girls around here, miss.” Smoke joked.
You rolled your eyes, deciding to take matters into your own hands. “Fine, anyone who doesn’t come take a nap right now won’t get sweets after dinner.”
With haste, Elisabeth ditched Elijah’s side and wobbled over to you, motioning to you to pick her up.
“Works every time,” you mouthed towards Smoke, before grabbing your little girl and traveling up to your bedroom to take a nap.
–
A moment passed while you attempted to put the girl to sleep. In the living room, Smoke and your sister sat in silence, her nose buried in the ungodly romance novel Smoke managed to sneak into the house at her request. There was no possible way he could get your other siblings to accept his presence without her approval first.
A rapid knock at the door broke the comfortable silence of the living room, earning a confused look from your younger sister.
“I’ll get it,” your sister shot a look towards Smoke before quickly hiding the novel in a random drawer of a side table. “Comin'!” she yelled.
Behind the door stood a tall, lanky man donning a smooth, tanned suit and matching fedora. He was more on the skinny side, with hollow cheekbones and a clean goatee gracing a mahogany-skinned face and strong jawline. “G’day, Mabel,” the man said, taking off his hat to greet your sister, eyes traveling behind her and meeting the stone-cold ones of Smoke. “Is your sister here?”
Mabel opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, shooting a nervous glance towards Smoke, who watched the man with the intense eyes of a predator.
“He’s sizin’ him up already…” Your sister taught, looking between the two men.
“She’s just puttin' the baby down.” Mabel gave the man a tight-lipped smile.
“Ah…” The man nodded, looking down at the sister with a soft smile, not noticing the awkward air about this interaction. “May I come in?”
‘Yes! Let me go get’er.” Not wasting another moment on the discomfort of this exchange, Mabel disappeared upstairs and into your presence, stressing that you would have lots of explaining to do later.
Smoke grit his teeth when the man stepped into your home, fixing his tan suit jacket and sending a soft smile his way. ‘G’day, sir.”
Smoke raised his eyebrow at the man’s accent, not having local origins nor having the strong bass of an older man, placing him at a few years younger than Smoke, himself.
“You not from here, is you, boy?” Smoke’s southern drawl became thicker and more gruff addressing the man.
The man opened his mouth to answer before you rushed downstairs, seemingly to his rescue.
“Clyde!” You greeted the man, stepping in front of his body to stop Smoke's view from setting the younger man on fire with his gaze.
Clyde turned his full attention to you, taking your smaller hand in his and planting a soft kiss onto your knuckles. “G’day, doll.” Your face burned bright red as Clyde held eye contact with you as he rose, not letting go of your hand. “Been alright?”
You nodded quickly, breathing out as you heard a heavy ahem from behind you. “Clyde, this is…”
“The father of her child.” Smook stood up from his seat, confidently strolling over before standing closely behind you, solid chest ghosting your back. Smoke held a rough hand out for the man to take, trapping you in between towering bodies, hate and annoyance being exchanged between the two.
Smoke flashed a wild smile towards the new man, gold-covered fangs flashing in the light.
“I heard about you,” Clyde said slowly, daring to take Smoke’s hand and shake it. A bead of sweat formed on the apex of your forehead as you looked around for ways to kill this interaction, before it killed you. Clyde sent a twisted smile towards Smoke before uttering, “Nice of ya to finally show.”
Before Smoke could reel his hand back and into his waistcoat, you placed a small hand on his arm and beamed a large smile towards Clyde, who turned his full attention to you.
“What brings you here this evenin’?” You shifted from one foot to the other, eyes darting from Clyde to your former lover.
“I was in the neighborhood, though I’d check in on the Reverend and his family.”
Smoke took half a step back, face hard and ready to pounce at any moment.
“Oh, how kind of you.” You laughed awkwardly.
“Will I be seeing you this Sunday?” Clyde addressed you, placing his tanned fedora onto his head, finally reading the room.
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding before nodding softly. “Of course, Clyde.”
“I look forward to seeing you,” Clyde’s eyes turned softly into crescent moons before he turned around and onto the porch of your family home. “Tell the Rev I said hello,”
You nodded in obedience, sending a small wave his way. He lingered a bit on your front porch before turning around and strutting off your property and onto the dirt road that led into town.
You stood there for a bit, watching Clyde's long legs walk away, before jumping at the sound of a door being slammed drew you out of your thoughts. You whipped around, eyes searching for the man who had just been breathing down your neck.
Face palming, you closed your front door and went to deal with a new, pressing issue; an obviously jealous Smoke.
–
“Elijah?” you question softly, entering the cramped kitchen of your family home.
Smoke stood over the wooden table, leaning on two balled fists, his back heaving rapidly in anger.
You approached him as if he were a downcast stray cat, steps barely making a sound as to not frighten him.
“Smoke, I…”
“I shoulda smoked him on that damn porch” Smoke seethed, jaw tight with vexation.
You rolled your eyes, moving closer to him. “You and I both know that won’t do you no good.”
Smoke shook his head, eyes concentrated on the wood paneling of the kitchen table.
“He’s awfully nice once to get to know ‘im” You stated, placing a small hand on Smoke’s back muscles that tensed under your touch.
“I don’t give a shit,” Smoke chuckled dryly. “I don’t like him. Don’t want him around my child.”
You scoffed, disbelief rising at the audacity of your former lover to tel you who you could and could not be around.
“He’s a part of daddy’s church, a member of this here community,” You protested. “You can’t tell me who I can put around my child.”
“Our child,” Smoke corrected, two chocolate eyes boring into yours.
“And while I’m here. I don’t want to see him around Elisabeth or around my woman.”
“While you here?” you questioned, face scrunching in annoyance. “So you plan on leaving again huh ?”
“This ain’t about me.”
“It is.”
The two of you looked at each other in anguish. Several emotions make the air thick and hard to breathe. You shook your head in disbelief, all of your darkest fear coming true.
Smoke wasn’t here because he wanted his family. He damn sure wasn’t here because he loved you.
Smoke said your name slowly, grabbing both of your arms in his large calloused hands but you dared not react.
“I’m not leaving anytime here soon, baby...” He tried to reassure you, eyes pleading. “Look at me.”
You did not move.
Memories of raising Elisabeth with only the help of your sisters and mother flooded your head causing you to closed your eyes from the torment. If only he knew what his absence put you through.
You refused the move when he bowed his head down to your level, cupping your chin in his hand, big, chocolate eyes scanning your face in earnest.
“Please believe me,” he almost begged.
And you almost believed him.
“You know what,” You started, ripping your face from his grasp. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Smoke shook his head, face tracking yours. “No, I-”
“Just leave.”
You raised your voice for the first time, letting the smallest tremble shake your resolve.
“Please, just make it easy for me.”
Sad, brown eyes watched your figure as you turned away from him and out of the kitchen, leaving him alone with only the shadows of the setting sun to keep him company. Balling a fist by his side, he hauled through the door and out of your family home without a word or protest.
Unknown to him, you watched him leave through your bedroom window and dissapear into the blue sunset. Your hand touched your cheeks, wipping away warm tears that dripped from your cheeks and onto your dress.
This would be the last time you’d cry for Elijah Moore, you promised yourself.
The very last time.
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
In celebration of Mother's Day, here's part two! Ain't no way Smoke thought you'd just sit here twiddling your thumbs while he was gone,,, right? Hope you all enjoyed!
Tag list; @ayeeeitsmiracle @childishgambinaax @chessteena @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn
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