We’re All Sinners, Baby

Just a girl in love with fictional characters 💕

[sinners4ever]

Pretty as a Magnolia Masterlist

Part One

Part Two

Part Three (coming soon)

[multifandomfix]

Imagine the 11th Doctor finding out you’re a science geek.

You hadn’t meant to let it slip.

The conversation had started innocently enough. One minute, the Doctor was waving his sonic at a wall of crystalline rock on some distant moon, and the next he was rambling at approximately a thousand words a minute about temporal radiation.

Most people would have smiled and nodded. You corrected one of his calculations. The Doctor froze. Slowly, he lowered the device.

“…What?”

You blinked. “Your estimate was off by about three percent.”

His eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes.” You pointed at the display. “The decay rate changes because the particles are interacting with the moon’s magnetic field.”

The Doctor stared. Then his face lit up with the kind of delight you rarely ever saw when you divulged your interest in various sciences.

“Oh, you’re clever.” Before you could respond, he grabbed your sleeve and practically dragged you down the corridor. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“The library.”

“The TARDIS has a library?”

“The TARDIS has seven libraries, well, last I checked.”

You barely had time to process that before he launched into questions.

“Nuclear physics. How much do you know? Wait, no, don’t answer that. Psychology too? Philosophy? Any biology? Astrophysics? Ooh, tell me you’ve got opinions about consciousness.”

You laughed. The Doctor looked genuinely excited. The kind of excitement that came from finally finding someone who wanted to talk about the things he loved. You could relate.

Hours disappeared. Or maybe days. Time got fuzzy in the TARDIS. You found yourselves sprawled across the floor of a library, surrounded by books and holographic displays. One discussion became another. Nuclear energy led to ethics. Ethics led to free will. Free will led to consciousness. Consciousness somehow led to whether the universe itself could be considered alive.

“In my defense,” he said while pacing in front of you, “I’ve only had about nine hundred years to think about this.”

“And yet your argument still has holes in it,” you teased.

He gasped dramatically. “Holes?”

“You heard me.”

“Rude.”

The Doctor grinned. For a moment, the endless movement stopped. No running from monsters, or saving planets, or any other crises to manage. Just conversation between two like minded individuals on topics they shared an equal amount of passion in.

The Doctor settled beside you, still smiling. “You know,” he said quietly, “most people think all this stuff is boring.”

“I don’t.”

“No.” His grin softened. “You really don’t.”

And judging by the look on his face, that might have been one of his favorite discoveries in the universe.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-ivy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @womenyesplease

Eleventh Doctor: @randomfandomimagine, @keepfloatingaway, @thegalaxysyst3m, @casserole-from-dads-asserole, @little-bean99, @littlefoxgirl-13, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @storytelling-timelord, @chaos-and-food, @callsigncrash, @mxacegrey, @itsezekielbabe, @lokabrenna0801, @m-rae23, @geekyandgay98, @magpie6322, @k-slater, @scriptershifter

[sinners4ever]

I know this isn’t a story but please help me out!!!

Donate to Help Launch Heauxasis: Fairy Dust Collection, organized by Jerica Anderson

Hi, my name is Jerica, and I’m the founder of The Divine Daughter Co., a … Jerica Anderson needs your support for Help Launch Heauxasis: Fai

I’m stepping out on faith and asking for support 💕✨

My name is Jerica. I’m 29, a mother of two little girls, a student working toward becoming a medical assistant, and a new entrepreneur building my brand from the ground up.

I created The Divine Daughter Co. because as a mother, I know how easy it is to lose yourself while pouring into everyone else. I wanted to create a brand that reminds women — especially mothers — that we still deserve softness, confidence, beauty, rest, and self-care.

The Divine Daughter Co. will provide intentional self-care products like body oils, scrubs, body butters, candles, affirmation mugs, journals, and more. But the beginning of this journey starts with my first summer launch:

Heauxasis: Fairy Dust Collection ✨

A body shimmer oil collection created to help women feel glowing, feminine, radiant, and confident in their skin.

I started a GoFundMe to help bring this vision to life. Donations will help with ingredients, bottles, labels, packaging, product photos, vendor materials, and launch supplies.

Even if you can’t donate, sharing the link helps more than you know. Every donation, every share, every word of encouragement helps me get one step closer to building something beautiful for myself, my daughters, and women who need to remember their shine.

Thank you for supporting my dream 💕✨

#TheDivineDaughterCo #Heauxasis #FairyDustCollection #BodyShimmerOil #SmallBusinessOwner #BlackOwnedBusiness #Mompreneur #SelfCareBrand #WomenInBusiness #SupportSmallBusiness

[cursed-carmine]

✴︎ GLOWING STAR DIVIDERS

ﾉ Please reblog & credit if you use!

For different colors just send me an ask please!

WHEAT

SHADOW

PINK SKY

SPRING TIME

ICE COLD

[multific]

The Language of Love

Warning: Smut

Summary: A creature born to chains and cruelty learns the language of love through the patience of the one person who showed him kindness.

He never called it sex.

To him, it was making love. A phrase he spoke as if it were sacred, something fragile enough to break if handled without care.

Intimacy had once terrified him.

The thought of offering his body, of being seen without armour or defence, was a level of trust he never believed he would possess. His life had been full of chains, cruelty, and hands that struck rather than soothed. Trust had been a story told by others, something he watched from the outside but never touched.

But then there was you.

You changed his view of the world. When he was locked away, chained, it was you who showed him kindness. It was you who told him about all the different joys of the world. You taught him that hearts could be soft even in a world so unkind.

And he had loved you quietly, secretly, hiding it away like a flame Victor could never extinguish.

Only when he escaped and came home to you did he let himself feel the full weight of that love.

Naturally, your relationship deepened.

Naturally, closeness followed.

Yet he was afraid.

The first time he touched you, his fingertips barely brushed your arm, feather-light, as if a firmer touch might shatter you. And when he finally saw you naked, he stood frozen, reverent, breath caught in his throat.

You were a beauty he believed he had no right to touch.

But you guided him, gently, patiently. You taught him to listen to your breath, to your heartbeat, to the way your body leaned into his when you wanted more of him. 

He was inexperienced. But the deep moan he let out when you sank down on his cock told you everything you needed to know.

His cock was big, filling you perfectly, almost painfully. But you were determined to show him just how much you love him in the only language you have not used yet.

Your first time was more about tiptoeing around one another. 

As much as you can while having him balls deep inside you.

But you knew better than to rush him.

He learned slowly, earnestly, devouring every lesson as if it were a miracle.

And he adored you for teaching him.

As days passed, he grew less hesitant. His hands no longer trembled when he cupped your cheek. His touch lingered, confident yet always careful. He learned the lines of your body like a poem he longed to recite from memory.

One afternoon, his voice broke the silence between you.

“I read a book,” he announced seriously, as if confessing a secret.

“Oh? About what?” you asked, amused.

“About pleasing a woman. There were diagrams. And… terms I did not know.” His brow furrowed. “I wish to try what I learned. For you.”

Your heart warmed. His desire to make you happy only brought him closer to you. 

That night, he followed every instruction with earnest devotion, paying attention to every small sound you made, every breath that hitched, every shake of your body under his hands.

And when you praised him, he looked at you the way someone looks at salvation.

"Did I do well?" he asked, as if the amount of hair which you pulled out wasn't enough proof. 

You were still shaking, holding his hand in yours as you tried to calm your breathing. 

You kept true to your words and showed him yet another form of pleasure. 

He had a fistful of your hair in his hand, guiding you along his shaft as you tried your best not to choke.

As you locked eyes with him, you were certain of three things.

One, you just changed his life forever, growing his confidence each time the tip of his perfect cock hit the back of your throat.

Two, you could come just from watching him.

And three, this man was not afraid to make noise. 

From that day forward, something in him bloomed.

He became confident.

Still gentle, always gentle, but no longer afraid of wanting you.

He would pull you into his arms with an ease that once would have frightened him. 

He would kiss you with surety, lifting you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed when he sensed the smallest invitation in your eyes. He learned how to touch you in ways that left you breathless, and he cherished every sound you made for him.

He would eat you out day in and day out.

He would begin to experiment, bending you over the desk. 

Breaking said desk in the process when he pushed on you with incredible force.

He would ask you to get down on your knees and suck him dry.

And you would.

Yet confidence never hardened him.

If you ever hesitated, he stopped instantly. 

If your breath hitched with something other than pleasure, he stepped back. He still loved you after all.

Your affection shaped him. Softened him. Strengthened him.

You did not simply give him love, you gave him the ability to be loved.

And in the quiet glow of that intimacy, he became the man he is now.

Devoted. Gentle. Fiercely adoring.

A heart that had never belonged anywhere finally resting in the only place it ever wanted to be.

With you.

A/N: Please don't judge me too hard on this one. I know I suck at smut, but I tried my best.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

Frankenstein Collection

[sinners4ever]

For later 🥰

[saradika-graphics]

— art nouveau

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[sinners4ever]

Should I write more HOTD fanfiction? It’s been about two years since I’ve written any and I honestly miss I just lost inspiration after a while.

[doctorloup]

Audiodrama Sunday - Bit of a vampire theme today

Dracula: The Danse Macabre - This Dracula-AU has the sort of pristine sound design I expect from Jeffrey Nils Gardner and engaging storytelling I expect from Gabriel Urbina. Fans of the original will enjoy the little references and hopefully spot the nice little twist at the end, and those not familiar with the Dracula canon will get to enjoy a great horror story. Mina/Lucy shippers will find lots of fodder for your AO3 fics, and people who hate the way Mina's agency is removed by some interpretations should really enjoy this one. Score was great too.

My one small niggle is a side character (Father Sheridan) with a bit of an "Oirish" accent, which made my Salford-Irish catholic side twitch - I suspect this is because the show is a two-hander with the main VAs playing all the parts, so I can forgive this because of the constraint - not everyone can be an accent chameleon. For a full cast show though, with so many great Irish voice actors out there, it shouldn't be necessary to do this any more, especially if you can pay your VAs. If you want to know more about the diversity of Irish accents, me and my friend Niall have made this handy resource:

Not Quite Dead - More amazing work from Eira. I loved Spirit Box Radio and Not Quite Dead is equally intense and poignant. As in previous work, NQD has sensitive and gentle portrayals of queerness, anxiety and mental illness interspersed with emotive horror. I don't often see immunology references in audiodramas, nice… The Occurrence in River Oaks - A classic tale of "otherworldly presence invades small town America and the capitalist military industrial complex decides to try and profit from it with predictable results". The main characters are all cops, but at least they're the mostly decent local kind who have a close relationship with their community. Excellent monster sound design, very unsettling, nicely bingeable length to keep me going during my day.

Englewood After Dark - Love to see the podcast within a podcast encountering the local creeping horrors done well. The two leads playing Finn and Eve have a really good chemistry with each other too, which can make or break this sort of thing. Looking forward to the next series.

[velieditss]

𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔞: 𝔒𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔗𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔰

[Masterlist / Taglist]

Paring: Vlad, Count Dracula X Fem!reader

Warnings: Kinda enemies to lovers?, reader has a surname, angst; angst-heavy relationship conflict, mention of death, slow burn, pregnancy, religious guilt, war, mention of murder and violence, smut (specifics will be listed in each chapter) may add more as I write!

Wc: 11.2K

Status: [In progress]

Summary: Long before Vlad Tepes became the monster feared for centuries, he was a man of flesh, bone… and soul. A warrior devoted to God and to his homeland, whose heart burned more fiercely for vengeance and war. But his fate changed the day he saw her: a young noblewoman, indulgent and headstrong. He, a prince hardened by battle. She, a rose grown among thorns. And yet, love was born amidst the clash of steel and a court riddled with betrayal.

First things first let’s get one thing straight: this is a work of fiction. While some characters and settings may be loosely inspired by real figures and places, the events described here are not to be taken as historical fact. I’ve woven bits of history together with imagination, taking creative liberties wherever the story demanded and then some!!!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 … coming soon

The Duel

Leave a comment if you wanna be part of the taglist.

[othermotherchild-deactivated202]

YOU DON'T LIFT A FINGER

She reached, he corrected—Diana knew better.

The house was too quiet without him.

Stack had only stepped out back—just a minute, he’d said—but the silence sat heavy on Diana’s shoulders. She perched on the velvet couch, hands folded like a child waiting for scolding. The coven’s house felt too big, too sharp, all shadows and chandeliers, and she hated sittin’ there doin’ nothin’ while he carried every burden on his back.

Her mama had raised her better than that.

So when her eyes landed on the tray by the counter—empty glasses, crumbs from Stack’s last smoke session with his men—her chest swelled with determination. Ain’t no harm in cleanin’ up, right?

She slipped off the couch, skirts swishin’ quiet as she padded barefoot across the kitchen tile. Took the tray in her hands, careful as could be. She’d just rinse it off, set it to dry, and—

The air shifted.

Before she could blink, a heavy hand landed on her hip. And then—crack!

A sharp sting bloomed across her backside, heat flarin’ up through her body so quick her knees damn near buckled.

Diana gasped, tray clattering into the sink, water splashing up her arm. “Muffin!”

His voice came low behind her ear, thick with that Southern grit, rough as gravel and sweet as sin. “Didn’t I tell you, babygirl? Didn’t I tell you don’t lift a finger in this house?”

Her face burned, equal parts shame and somethin’ hotter, and she tried to twist in his grip. “I was just—just cleanin’ up, I—”

Crack! Another spank, firmer this time, makin’ her whimper.

“You don’t just nothin’.” His palm lingered, heavy and possessive against the curve of her ass, thumb pressing into her hip like he was markin’ her. “You think I want my baby washin’ dishes? Pickin’ up crumbs like some maid?”

Her breath shuddered out. “I was tryin’ to help, muffin…”

Stack’s chest pressed to her back, solid, unmovin’. His mouth brushed the shell of her ear, words a low growl. “You help me by stayin’ soft. By stayin’ safe. That’s your job, babygirl. You hear me? Nothin’ else.”

She nodded quick, trembling under his grip. His hand slid up her spine, slow, until he had her chin tipped back, eyes forced up to his. That burnin’ blue stare stripped her down to nothin’.

“Say it,” he demanded. “I—I hear you,” she whispered.

His mouth curled, half-smirk, half-warning. “Good girl. Now keep your pretty ass where I put you. Or next time, I won’t stop at two.”

(First time posting here, fingers crossed y’all like it!)

[drolta]

Black Women in Period Costumes

[sinners4ever]

So to everyone who is a fan of my Sinners fanfictions. I was wondering since I’m working on a series for Stack. Should I create one for Smoke. Smoke the silent but ready for war type that I love deeply? And if so engage with me tell me some concepts you’d like to see? I’m interested in you guy’s thoughts?

[uzmacchiato]

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Too many ideas, too little time🥲

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[sinners4ever]

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Pairing: Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Black Fem! Oc

Content|Warning(s): 18!Plus, p in v penetration, oral fem receiving x oral male receiving, voyeurism, cancelled date night, angst, surprise visit, rough, passion, hair pulling, conference call etc…

Summary: Smoke was always a busy man, but always made time for Nalani, but something came up and there was a change of plans. That didn’t sit well with her. Usually being spoiled and showered with his love she decided to pay him a surprise visit. She was going to get his attention one way or another.

Smoke wasn’t the type to leave Nalani hanging. Even when he was his busiest and today she spent her time getting ready for their usual Saturday date night. But, a few hours before their reservation Elijah shot her a quick text that read “Sorry, baby I have an emergency conference call, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” . She was obviously pissed off by this but she decided to come to him instead. Nalani didn’t respond and figured she’d surprise him. She put on the dress she was going to wear at their dinner date. A powder blue satin mini dress with delicate white lace along the top. Her hair and make up was already done and she slipped on her heels before trotting out of the door. He couldn’t ignore her like this.

The ride to his office didn’t take long she and as she pulled up she let the valet take her car keys to the parking hub. Walking to the door security let her in as usual knowing who she was even though they insisted she wait due to Mr. Moore’s “important” meeting. She sauntered past them, the clicking of her heels hitting marble fading away quickly while she ignored them. Taking the elevator up she was met by one more obstacle his secretary, Rebecca. Nalani didn’t really like her, she was always so close to Smoke. Wanting his attention in ways that a secretary should. And Rebecca didn’t hide the fact that she wasn’t fond of Nalani either. Nalani didn’t even bother to greet her when Rebecca tried stopping her from pushing past his office doors. “Miss…Nalani, Mr. Moore is…” She cut her off quickly and politely yet firmly pushed past her. “YEAH, yeah he’s in a very important meeting, girl I know.” She pushed open the doors and he was standing in his office wandering around while he spoke with some important shareholders. She was stopped in her tracks seeing him with his sleeve rolled up and his brows furrowed while he spoke. She bit her lip and quietly shut the door behind her. When he finally realized she was there he shook his head and smiled chuckling to himself. He put the call on mute and move toward her slowly with a certain look in his eye that she was familiar with but it looked more intense.

“ I knew your crazy ass wasn’t gonna let me get away with that.” His once stone cold face beamed with a smile and she was weak in the knees, but she perked up again with her attitude in tow. “Oh you did, huh? And if so why make me wait on you?” He slowly slid his hand around her waist and pulled her into to him. Her chest hitting his ever so softly. “Baby, this is an important call which is gonna make me lots of money. Don’t you want me to keep spoiling you the way I do? You know I’d never put our plans on hold unless it was really important, don’t ya?” When he talked to her like that she couldn’t help but want to give in. She sighed and letting her fingers run over the buttons of his shirt. “Well, to me it seems like they’re doing most of the talking.” He smiled feeling the satin fabric of her dress on his hands and the curves concealed underneath it. She looked up at him and his dick was already growing hard within his slacks pressing against her. She looked down and then up again knowingly. Then an idea went off in her mind and she began pushing him back to his seat. “You should be getting back on that call since it’s so important but in the meantime maybe I should fix this problem you’ve made for yourself.” He already knew where she was going with this and he did his best to keep her from doing just that. “Now, Lani I can’t. Not while they are listening.” She pushed him into the chair and slowly eased in between his legs onto her knees. He saw that look of lust in those sinfully seductive eyes and groaned knowing he couldn’t say no. He wanted it just as badly and she wanted to do it. He tried recomposing himself and unmuted the call, silently putting his finger to his lips begging her to be quiet. She smirked mischievously and slowly unzipped his pants and pulling his briefs down watching that hard long dick spring from its confinement. She went goggly eyed for a moment and nodded at him to keep his meeting going while she grabbed his thick length and slowly stroked it. He cleared his throat and readied himself for the mental torture he was about to experience. She smiled sweetly as they all continued their business banter and she laid soft kisses along his shaft and he shook his head staring daggers into her eyes before she slowly wrapped her lips around his head and pulling it out with a quiet pop. His head fell back and he sighed while the sensation made him harder. She slowly eased the rest of him into her mouth and then her throat almost gagging but she had to be quiet, right? He did his best to keep his focus on the task at hand, but damn was she making it hard for him.

His hand instinctively wrapped around the back of her neck so he could fill her throat more and her eyes rolled into her head. He bit his lip and smiled before he started bobbing her head back and forth for her. His hips bucking slowly back and forth in her office chair. Soft creaking filled the room. “Gentlemen, I have something to handle here I need to place myself on mute briefly.” He smiled with this devilishly look in his eyes and once that button was clicked. His attention was completely on her. “Now, babygirl I think I’ve got this deal in the bag so now I’m going to give you this dick just how you like it.” He stood to hisvfeet still holding the back of her neck, her steadied himself placing his hand on his desk and began to thrust roughly in and out of her throat. Spit overflowed from her mouth and began to drench her dress, him, and his floor. “This what you wanted, mama? Daddy’s attention.” She only gagged and moaned and he smiled down at her. “Good girl….I’m sorry baby…I promise Daddy won’t make you feel neglected again….I…promise.”

Her pussy was beginning to pulsate and get wetter by the second and eventually he pulled his dick from her mouth and lifted her onto his desk. Lifting the skirt of her dress to her waist and pulling those pretty lace panties down her legs with urgency and kissed her lips feverishly. His right hand sliding in between her legs he felt the pool between her pretty pussy lips and groaned against her lips before licking them clean. Easing in between her legs he kissed her ankle and laid soft gentle bites and kisses on her inner thighs. Her body jumped and her back arched the closer he got to her pussy. His hot breath fluttering against her skin. She looked down at him and he looked up at her letting his whole mouth envelop her soft juicy folds. His tongue was flat as his lapped at her clit hungrily groaning like a starved animal. She moaned softly her legs trembling trying to close them to stop his vicious assault. He swatted her thigh and pulled her legs apart. “Stop trying to keep me away from my pussy. You already here now…you better believe I’m gonna give you what you came for.” She made a soft whining sound and once he started to devour her again she cried out her head falling back and her mouth wide. He loved watching her fall apart because of him he sucked on her clit without mercy and her soft desperate breaths and moans only made him go further so he picked her up and carried her to the windows of his office. They took up most of his office and showed most of the city. He pressed her front against the glass and lifted her dress again getting on his knees again with her ass directly in his face he spread it apart and looked at the beautiful view before him. That pretty chocolate cunt and the pretty pink center he was dying to bury his dick inside.

He licked his lips like this was his last meal and buried his face deep in it. He licked from her clit to that pretty tight asshole of hers and sucked on it for good measure. Her legs shook and her body convulsed violently while the cool glass kept her from slipping into a coma. Just as she was about to cum he pulled away and stood behind her. His hands kneading her thick ass like dough while he slid his dick back and forth between her ass. She felt the weight of his dick on her and knew he needed to be drained and even though she was questioning her own actions that got her in this position, literally. She wanted that dick inside her…badly. She spread her legs wide and playfully wiggled her ass on his dick letting him know she was ready. “Oh…yeah mama you want em?” She nodded and he grabbed her hair pulling her head back to say use your words. “Yes, Daddy..I want him.” He didn’t say another word…he just lined his dick up at the entrance of her pussy and slammed inside of her nice and hard. She was seeing stars. He pulled her up to have her back on his chest while his hands greedily rummaged under her dress grabbing onto her breasts. She moaned softly while he slipped in and out of her soaking cunt filling her until his balls began slapping against her clit again and again. “I wonder if anyone can see you from down there…like this. Making those sexy ass faces while I make a mess of this pussy.”

She couldn’t think or speak only moan in ecstasy while he destroyed her. And honestly the thought of people seeing her just like this made her wetter. “Ooo you so fuckin nasty. You want people to watch you take this dick, huh?” He started picking up the pace. The sound of his pelvis smacking into that soft ass filled the room with thunder like clapping. And her moans could no longer be contained. She was damn near screaming…even Rebecca could hear them. And even that made her giggle to herself a little. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers knowing he was close and so was she so he didn’t let up. He could feel her pussy pulsing and her body tensing and shaking and he was too. It wasn’t long before he was filling her pussy with his nut and she was creaming all over him. His thrusts slowed until they came to a halt. And all that could be heard was them catching their breath. He kissed her again and smacked her ass before slowly pulling out.

He turned her around and kissed her lips one more time before unmuting the call. “Sorry, y’all but some unforeseen circumstances have come up that I have to handle here we can continue this tomorrow.” By this time Nalani was worried about him losing the deal. “Baby, no it’s okay I’ll wait for you at home.” He shook his head. “Oh no, babygirl. I want some more…and we gonna need to go home for what I plan on doing with you.”

…THE END….

[tojisteddy]

Rosemary | Jealous Meanie!Price catches !reader at the bar with a guy her age.

cw: +18 mdni, smut with plot, no use of y/n, daddy kink (icky (use of daddy & dad)), softdom!Price, dad bf!Price, age gap (obvi, reader mid-late 20s, early 40s Price), jealous!Price, mating press, (lite) chocking, no protection, creampie, fingering.

In all actuality, Price didn’t like being jealous. (Most people don’t). In fact, he really hated it, the gross feeling, the irritation building up, his grip on the whiskey tightening. All the annoyance he felt towards the prick who was standing in front of you.

And to do it in his favorite pub— where everyone knew him. The idiot was asking for it.

He was angled right across from you, you’d went to talk to your friend who was bartender and then this boy, walked up in a free spot beside you. And your face practically lit up when you met eyes with him, gave him a side hug and sparked up conversation.

He had to be about your age if you knew him, John couldve just waved it off as friendship, sure. Maybe hr was being to overprotective, an old jealous fuck of his baby girl. But it’s the way the bloke looked you up and down while you leaned against the bar, took in every curve, the way your shorts hugged your hips and your ass, the shirt that showed a little bit of your stomach every time you so much as shifted, the way you gave him a small smile.

You were a beautiful creature, John doesn’t get surprised when men or women come to covet you. But anyone with sense knew you were Johns, everyone knew the way you looked at each other, couldn’t get enough of each other. And you’re so nonchalant, quickly dissing people or rejecting them. It eased Johns quickened heart. It was just- at times like this, times when you giggled and playfully punched the guys shoulder— Price couldn’t tell if you were receiving the signals the the guy was trying to give you, properly ignoring them, or simply flirting back to piss him off—

Jesus- no, calm down Price. He took a deep breath, eyes flickering to the tv playing a football game, but he couldn’t hear the noise of the bar anymore nor the announcer breaking down the last play. Just give her time. She can handle yourself. He’d wait.

Five minutes. Only five minutes.

You could handle yourself, Price raised you right. You squinted a few times, a confused look on your face, really trying to get a good look at your friend, Elijah. He was an old co-worker who’d you gotten close with. But maybe his close was different from yours.

“I was thinkin [+],” Elijah starts up again, you give him a smile, “Maybe you and I, could get out of here. Really catch up. One on one.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. This was what allll those corny jokes were about. The way he kept trying to get close and whisper in your ear.

You gave him a remorseful look, pointing towards the bearded, muscular man who’s blue eyes were already on you— made the heat rise under your cheeks, ends of your plump lips uncontrollably curving upward— “My man is over there so.” I’m taken. Very obviously taken.

Elijah’s eyes flicker toward John, scoffs, cocks a brow at you, “He’s a bit old for you, no? I’m not so sure he can handle a pretty thing like yourself.”

And it’s enough. Times up and it had only been four minutes. John doesn’t know what young guy said, but after a giving a nod to his mates he’s already smoothly stalking through the crowded bar towards you, watches you rolls your eyes at the idiot.

Your brown eyes soften once John gets in reach of you, his large hand goes to the small of your back, pulling you into his chest. “Let’s go honey, can’t have any more bastards talkin to you all night, right?”

John is practically cutting daggers into the guy, it makes him quake, John knows he’s being nice just by leaving. If he had pushed even more, Elijah would be in a grave right now.

And fain a pout, shrugging, “Sorry.” And with that, John guide you both out of the establishment.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

The drive home was nearly silent. Just 80s rock on the radio, the car engine and the sound of his cigar puff coming from his lips.

“Are you mad Price?” You asked softly. You eyes wander all over him, his breath is steady, shoulders not tense, but his eyes stuck on the road, he hasn’t looked at you once since closing your car door. He finally glanced over at you, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He kisses it, right at your ring finger— he always does.

“No pumpkin,” a beat. “Never. Just need a moment, wanna talk you properly.”

And you listen, staying quiet and sitting back into the passenger seat. It’s best to ride things out with Price. Not to interrogate him, he’ll get his thoughts out when they’re all properly sorted. The hair man would never be upset with you, not in this situation when you handled yourself. He knew you could handle yourself. Just sometimes, at times when you’re with people your age, he’s reminded that he’s an old man. Your old man. That things like this will happen sometimes. They won’t get your relationship like you and he do.

His ears ring at your quiet mumble, half way through the drive you’re already half sleep, tired from dancing and drinking and talking all night. “I love you Daddy, a whooole lot.” You manage to say, squeezing his hand before slowly drifting asleep. And Price’s heart swells, whatever doubt he had flies out the window with a breathy chuckle to follow. It’s not like you’re calculated but you always know what to say to put him ease. That your his.

He kisses your hand again, once more, a silent prayer, “Heh, That’s right sweetheart.”

He’ll do you one better, he’ll show you just how much he loves you right when you get home.

You hear the front door lock as you step out of the entryway, shoes left by the front door.

“Lovie…” and it’s a call out to you that makes your heart pound, just under needy— wanting. You don’t even get the chance to turn to him, John grabs your wrist and pulls you into him, smashing his lips into yours. He kisses you feverishly, like he’s been waiting for you all night. Your arms loosely wrap around his neck, you swipe your tongue on his lips and he groans. Gripping your hips and lifting you off the floor, your legs wrapping around his waist as swap tongues.

Smacks of your lips, and your moans hit the walls, you’re breathless by the time he gets you to the bed. Snagging off both clothes one by one till both naked, chest to chest before he lays you down.

“Let me treat you nice, hm?” He asks but he always does. John is almost never rough with you, but he likes controlling the situation. Wanting to be the one to guide you, and you’re good at following. Letting his get two thick digits into your pussy, working them in and out and getting you ready to take him.

Your breath hitches, grinding into his hand before he finds your spot, “Fu- hmm- Daddy!” You moan. John watches as you melt in his strong arms, getting wetter and wetter as he slips another finger into you, the slouching sound of your walls tightening around him.

“Wait, it’s too mu-“

“—Shhhhh, you can take it honey. Give it t’me.” He coos, lips finding your neck. His fingers thrust into your faster, and your hips buck. Your walls spasm around Johns fingers. He snatches his fingers out as you whither, sucking off every drop of you on his tongue— it’s sweet. Addictive.

He groans, “Fuck me darlin, just need Daddy to stuff you full, hm?” He brings his fingers down to your lips, brushing them against your mouth. You obediently open your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers, even bobbing your head.

He hums, “Needy little thing, gonna give it to you.”

John loves it, the state of you, sobbing and whimpering as he stretches you out. Your knees over his shoulders, folding in half pressing almost all his weight onto you as he rams into your sopping hole.

“Fuck, look at you baby, taking your Dad so well. Just like you’re meant to.”

You cry out his name over and over, until you’re completely gone. Your jaw slack, in such a pleasure filled haze as he fucks you nice and deep, his mushroom tip rubbing your spongy g-spot with everything thrust. You claw at his back, keening, “C-Can feel it- hmmph- ‘s so m-much Dad.”

He hisses when you clench around him, ever single one of your moans going straight to his pulsing dick. You’re so fucking warm around him, taking ever slow yet harsh pound of his length, “Was- hah- made just for me, tight cunny can only take me.”

“Shit- nooo one loves you more than me princess, love you so much.” His large hand presses his hand on your stomach, right where his pulsing tip is giving you every bit of pre it can. You yelp out in pleasure a string of- shit, love you- love it so much- shit- fuuuck- so goood- and his calloused hand grips your throat. Tight enough that you can just barely breathe. Every fwop of his balls against your pussy when he bottoms out goes straight to your head making your eyes roll back.

“Watch your mouth sweetheart, told you about that.” He grunts, giving you a warning mid fuck but it doesn’t even matter. You only breath out through the little gap your can while he chokes you ever so perfectly, hard nipples brushing against Price’s chest. He lets go to caress your face, giving your cunt one more slug with his cock and it’s sends you over. You don’t even realize your cumming, your back arching against the bed, till your let out a shriek, your walls clamping around him and sucking him for dear life.

John doesn’t stop, his pace only gets faster, gripping the back of your knee and forcing you to stay down, ramming into you while his other hand grips your chin, forcing your mouth open so a wad of spit hits your tongue. He kisses you nasty, sloppy while groaning into you. His teeth clenches as he ruts into you, “Take it, take it, fuck- take it like a champ baby.”

He fills you to the brim, his cum coating your walls till it’s spilling out of you. John pulls out, watches as your hole clenches and unclenches, spilling his remnants onto the bed. The older man rubs your sensitive clit with his cockhead, spurts of his cum creating even more of mess. “Cum like this doll, cum for Dad.”

You jolt, sobbing harder, overstimulated, you whine, “Daddy- please!“

He coos, circling his tip around you, “—I know baby, you can take it, know you can.”

You topple over quick, tears hitting the pillowcase.

John doesn’t waste a second to have you back in his arms, kissing you all over, patting your sore cunt in his hand.

“Atta girl honey. My beautiful, stunning girl.”

a/n: my need to write shit by Deftones songs needs to be studied. Also this was in no shape or form supposed to be long, I just have a terrible habit of setting up plot😔 I don’t think this is what op wanted but 🤷🏾‍♀️lmk if this was too much. Also PLEASE lmk if the smut it shit 🙏🏾 I’m trying my hardest to get better

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For later lol

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Mouthfuls & Moans 💰

Modern!au Elias “Stack” Moore X Maya Coleman

Word Count: 4.8k

Authors Note: While i love Uncle Stack, i had to give him some loving too. His fine ass deserves it. Smoke can't be the only one outchea gettin' some cooze. 🤭Let me know if you guys want more of Stack and Maya. (I can give her a face claim and make them a lil 2-3 part series). Gotta love Stack's slick talkin', charming ass personality. I'd allow him to talk me into some shit I won't lie to you. Anyways enjoy, my freaky frogs. Prompts and storyline suggestions are welcome btw.

The sunlight spills through the blinds in lazy stripes, wrapping the room in honey and heat. The sheets are a tangle of skin and cotton, kicked low and wrinkled from the night before. Maya stirs first, her eyes still heavy, body sore in the best kind of way. She blinks at the ceiling for a moment, the silence between her and the world thick with peace.

Stack is still asleep beside her, sprawled out on his stomach, the covers barely covering his waist. One arm hangs off the side of the bed, and the other lies heavy where she used to be. His face is turned toward her pillow, lips parted, breathing slow. Maya takes a second just to look at him. At the tattoos crawling up his back, at the way his shoulder rises and falls like he’s floating. Still, solid, and hers.

She slips out of bed as quietly as she can, the floor cool under her bare feet. Her legs ache a little when she stands — a sweet, stinging reminder of how good he was to her last night. Her lips twitch into a private little grin as she crosses the room and grabs his shirt off the floor. It’s soft and oversized, swallowing her curves and smelling like his skin. She doesn’t bother with underwear. Let him see.

In the kitchen, the light’s a little brighter. It’s the kind of morning where the clock doesn’t matter, where the only thing she needs is something sizzling on the stove and a man watching her like she’s the last bite of something sacred.

Maya moves like she’s done this a hundred times — because she has. Bacon in the skillet. Eggs cracked into a bowl with a flick of her wrist. A leftover peach sliced on the counter. She hums something soft under her breath, old R&B she can’t name right now, hips swaying in time. The hem of Stack’s shirt brushes against her thighs as she reaches for the pepper. The grease pops in the pan and she barely flinches.

Behind her, floorboards creak. She doesn’t have to turn around.

“You cookin’ in my shirt again?” Stack’s voice rumbles behind her and it's gravel low, thick with sleep.

Maya smirks to herself before glancing over her shoulder. “And? You complainin’?”

He’s standing there with no shirt, sweatpants riding low on his hips, his waist and v-line looking like he was sculpted by a God. His soft brown eyes locked on her like he just remembered why he breathes. His hair is slightly tousled, mouth still half kiss-swollen, and that look he gives her? It slides straight down her spine.

Stack steps behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, his chest warm against her back. She melts into him like muscle memory. His lips graze her neck, his breath lazy and hot.

“You tryna start somethin’,” he mutters, voice half a warning, half a promise.

“I’m cookin’,” she says innocently.

“You cookin’, but you ain’t got no drawers on,” he murmurs, dragging his palm down the front of her thigh, slipping it between. “So who you tryna feed first?”

She bites her lip, grinning, but says nothing. Instead, she rocks her hips back against him, just enough to feel the weight of him thickening behind her.

“Oh, aight,” Stack breathes, kissing her shoulder. “So we doin’ this now?”

“I mean,” she says softly, “you the one pressin’ up on me like this. I’m just mindin’ my skillet.”

Stack chuckles low in his throat, that sound he makes when he’s halfway between amused and turned on. Mixed with Lust and Thunder. His hands dip under the hem of the shirt, thumbs brushing over her hips.

Maya gasps, caught between a laugh and a moan. “Stack—”

“Shh,” he breathes against her neck, guiding her forward until her hands brace against the counter. “Lemme eat first.” Fumbling forward, Maya flicks off the stovetop. The burning between her legs was enough.

He doesn’t waste time. One smooth motion and he’s inside her, thick and slow and all the way. Maya’s mouth falls open, a soft cry caught in her throat. She braces herself with both hands, knuckles white against the edge of the stove as he fills her inch by inch.

“You always so ready for me,” he whispers, teeth grazing her earlobe. “Like you waitin’ for this.”

“I was cookin’,” she breathes, hips already grinding back against him.

“You still are,” he says, sliding deep again, letting the drag of him make her tremble. “Just… different kind of heat.”

His pace is lazy but deliberate, every thrust pushing her forward just a little. Not hard, but deep, rolling into her like he’s carving his name into the place that pulses for him. Maya’s eyes flutter shut, lips parting as she melts around him. The veins of his shaft memorizing the intricate pathways inside of her.

“Elias,” she moans, head tilting back against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he grunts, gripping her hips tighter. “Give me that.”

He keeps one hand wrapped around her waist while the other slides between her thighs. His fingers stroke her just right, slow and steady, in sync with the rhythm of his body inside hers. She’s already on the edge, the way he knows her, the way he moves inside her like he owns the floor she stands on. It’s too much and not enough.

Her orgasm crests with a soft sob, her body seizing around him. Stack curses under his breath, his own release not far behind. He presses deep, grinding into her with a final, drawn-out thrust before stilling.

They stand there for a long breath, the scent of sex and sizzling bacon wrapping around them. Maya finally breaks the silence with a breathless laugh.

“You really let this bacon burn,” she says, looking over her shoulder at him.

Stack kisses the side of her neck and says, “I’ll make pancakes. Just keep that shirt on.”

Maya finally makes it to the couch with her plate in hand, legs curled beneath her, skin still humming from earlier. She’s cleaned up, barely. Stack’s shirt now clings to her like it’s made for her curves, but her hair’s still wild, her neck still flushed. She don’t mind. Sundays were made for this kind of softness.

The TV is on but low. An old sitcom rerun they’ve both seen a dozen times playing in the background. She laughs to herself at the jokes before they even land, mouthing the punchlines with lazy affection.

Stack comes strolling in a few minutes later, sweatpants back to riding low, a bottle of water in one hand and that smug, dimpled grin in full bloom.

“You coulda waited on me,” he says, nodding toward her plate.

“You coulda not bent me over the stove,” she tosses back, licking syrup from her finger.

“Mmm,” Stack drawls, eyes dropping to her mouth, “but then I wouldn’t’ve started my morning right.”

He drops down beside her like he owns the whole couch. Arms stretched out, legs wide, his thigh brushing hers. One look at him and Maya already knows he’s feeling himself. Relaxed. Turned on by nothing and everything.

She keeps eating. Or tries to. But his eyes don’t leave her. They flick from her mouth to her thighs to the way his shirt barely covers the place he just left.

“You real quiet,” she says between bites, side-eyeing him.

“I’m watchin’ you,” he says, low and easy.

“For what?”

Stack leans in slow, voice thick with syrup and intent. “Tryna decide if I want dessert now or after you get done bein’ cute.”

Maya snorts. “I am done bein’ cute. That’s permanent.”

He grins, sliding closer. “That’s why you got my shirt stretched out like that? Wearin’ it like it ain’t doin things to me?”

She lifts a brow but doesn’t back down. “You said keep it on.”

“And I meant that,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across her knee. “I just ain’t say I’d keep my hands off you.”

Maya exhales slow, her fork pausing mid-air.

Stack keeps touching, slow circles on the soft inside of her thigh, fingers trailing closer but not quite close enough. Just under the hem. Just high enough to keep her body paying attention.

“You playin’,” she warns softly, eyes narrowing as she tries to keep cool.

“Nah,” he says, “you playin’. Walking ‘round in my shit, smellin’ like vanilla, brown sugar and sex, sittin’ over there actin’ like I ain’t got a whole hand on your thigh right now.”

“You tryna be funny.”

Stack laughs, low and rich. “I’m tryna be patient. But you’re real close to losin’ that privilege.”

He drags his fingers up just an inch, grazing her where she’s still tender and then pulls away entirely, like it’s nothin’.

Maya gasps and glares. “Oh, you—”

“What?” he interrupts, stretching back with his arms behind his head like he didn’t just light her nerves on fire. “I ain’t do nothin’. Just appreciatin’ my girl.”

She sets the plate down, eyes locked on him now, jaw clenched in mock offense.

“I should slap you,” she says.

Stack’s dimple deepens. “You should thank me for the restraint I’m showin’ right now.”

Maya doesn’t answer. She just throws a pillow at him. Stack catches it mid-air with one hand, then tosses it to the floor like he got better things to hold.

“You mad?” he teases.

“I’m heated.”

He leans in again, this time slow and low, his voice a whisper only meant for her. “Good. Stay like that for me.”

She breathes in, steady but shallow. Her skin is buzzing. Every inch of her feels stretched thin with want, and Stack knows it. He leans back again, casual like nothing just passed between them. Like he didn’t just dangle her over the edge without offering a damn thing to hold onto.

“You ever get tired of yourself?” she asks, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Nope,” he says, biting into a piece of her peach from her plate. “And I never get tired of you.”

Maya shifts beside him, thighs pressing together. Her lips curve upward, not quite a smile, but something softer — something that says she likes this game more than she’ll admit.

Stack notices. He always does.

“You need somethin’?” he asks, brushing peach juice off his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

She tilts her head. “You know I do.”

He nods like he’s got all the time in the world. “Mm. I’ma let you simmer a little longer. Make you feel it.”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling, turning back toward the TV like she’s over it but Stack knows better. Her breathing’s changed. Her skin’s warm.

His voice slips back into the space between them like a secret: “When I do touch you again, I want you beggin’. Real soft. Real needy. You remember how?”

Maya doesn’t answer, not out loud. But the way her hand curls into the couch cushion says enough.

Stack disappears into the bedroom for a few minutes after breakfast, claiming he needs to grab his rolling tray and decompress. Maya doesn’t argue. She just curls deeper into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a satisfied little smirk on her lips. Her plate’s empty, and her body’s still thrumming from his hands, his mouth, his damn voice.

But now it’s her turn.

She hears the familiar flick of the lighter before she sees him — the soft click of glass against wood as he sets the tray down on the coffee table and sinks into the couch beside her again. Stack leans back, spreading out with that lazy, lion-stretch swagger, a freshly lit joint between his fingers.

“See,” he exhales, smoke curling up from his mouth, “this what Sundays for.”

Maya watches the smoke drift lazily toward the ceiling. “That your way of sayin’ you tapped out?”

“Nah,” Stack says smoothly, “that’s my way of sayin’ I’m coastin’. Letting the day breathe.”

She hums. “Mmm. So you pacin’ yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Maya nods, pretending to accept that like it makes sense. But she’s already plotting.

Stack shifts, one arm over the back of the couch, the joint between his fingers glowing soft orange. He closes his eyes for a second, lets the smoke roll out slow through his nose, and when he opens them again she’s moved.

Not far. Just turned toward him, knees folded beneath her now, hands tucked under her thighs. The oversized shirt she’s wearing dips low on one side, slipping farther down her shoulder. Just enough for him to notice.

She cocks her head. “You high already?”

“Nah,” he murmurs, still cool. “Gettin’ there though.”

“Mm,” she says, voice dropping low. “I like when you high. You get even more laid-back. But real sensitive, too.”

Stack lifts a brow at her. “Oh yeah?”

She nods slowly, licking her bottom lip just a little. “Like… touch-starved. Always tryna feel somethin’. Soft palms and deeper strokes. You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

His eyes narrow slightly, amused. He drags the joint again, real slow this time, not breaking eye contact.

Maya leans in closer, voice syrupy now. “I bet you could barely hold it together if I sat on your lap right now. All warm and slick with no panties on. Just settle right over you and grind a little. Soft, slow… Like I ain’t even tryna do nothin’ crazy.”

Stack’s jaw tightens, just for a flash. That’s how she knows she’s in his head now.

“I’d sit just right,” she purrs. “Chest to chest. Arms around your neck. Just rockin’ my hips real sweet. Sayin’ nothin’. Lookin’ you dead in the eyes. Until you can’t hit that joint no more.”

Stack chuckles, but it comes out rougher than usual. He exhales hard through his nose, then glances at her out the side of his eye. “You feelin’ bold today.”

“I’m just observant,” Maya says innocently, twirling a piece of her hair. “You get real quiet when you tryna focus. Your hand grip the couch like this—” she imitates him, curling her fingers into the cushion between them, “—and your breathing? Whew. Starts gettin’ all shallow. Little grunts. Real low. Like you strugglin’.”

Stack shakes his head slowly, a crooked grin starting to bloom. “I swear, you gon’ get dealt with.”

“I’m countin’ on it,” she teases, giggling now.

He brings the joint to his lips again, but his hand hovers just a second too long. Like he’s remembering how she sounded in the kitchen. How she tightened around him. How she begged in that sweet little voice she only pulls out when she wants something real bad.

Maya watches him struggle with the hit, eyes glossy from the smoke and something else.

She leans in close, whispering in his ear, “Bet if I dropped this shirt right now, you’d be fully hard in ten seconds flat.”

“You assumin’ I’m not already,” Stack mutters, voice rough, lips curling at the edges.

She laughs loud at that, falling back into the cushion beside him, satisfied.

“Awww, poor baby,” she coos mockingly, brushing her hand down his thigh. Not close enough to touch anything vital, but enough to remind him she’s right there.

He doesn’t flinch. Just turns to her, joint forgotten now, gaze heavy and slow.

“You like talkin’ all that mess,” he says, reaching for her ankle and pulling her legs across his lap. “You gon’ regret runnin’ that mouth.”

“Promise?” she whispers.

Stack runs his hand up her shin, past her knee, grazing the soft skin on the inside of her thigh again, not teasing this time; just claiming. His fingers press into the plush curve just before it gets good.

Maya bites her bottom lip and watches him, all that confidence flickering behind her lashes.

But Stack doesn’t move further. Doesn’t press harder. He leans in instead, kissing the spot below her ear, speaking low into her skin.

“I’m not touchin’ you again ‘til you beg for real. And when I do… I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til your legs give out.”

Maya shivers. Real, deep, and this time, she’s the one trying to hold still.

He grins against her skin, satisfied.

The afternoon drifts by slow. After all the teasing and playful heat, they find themselves back in the bed, tangled under the fan with the curtains drawn against the high sun. The TV is still humming in the other room, but neither of them cares. Their limbs are wrapped tight, legs overlapping, Maya’s head resting just beneath Stack’s chin.

He dozes with one arm beneath her, the other draped heavy across her waist. His breathing is calm, warm against her forehead, like his body’s still claiming her even in sleep.

Maya stirs sometime after five. The light in the room is golden now, softer, slower. Her body is warm, her face pressed into Stack’s bare chest. She doesn’t move right away. She just listens to the sound of his heart, steady and sure, and the faint clatter of pans in the distance?

Her eyes flick open.

He’s not in bed.

She smiles softly before she even lifts her head. The smell hits her next; garlic, onion, something buttery and rich floating in from the kitchen. She stretches slow, sore in the hips, then slides out of bed, one of his shirts still clinging to her frame.

Maya pads barefoot into the kitchen and stops just short of the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame.

Stack stands at the stove, barefoot and shirtless again, grey sweats hanging low on his hips. His back is to her, muscles shifting every time he stirs the sauce. A large pot of pasta is boiling beside him, steam rising like mist. The whole room smells like love. Herbs and olive oil, parmesan and cream.

He hums to himself, low and off-key, flipping something in a skillet like he does this every Sunday. And truth be told, he kind of does.

Maya watches in silence, chin propped against her fist as she rests it on the doorway. It’s the casual confidence that gets her. The way he moves like he owns the space. The way he tastes as he cooks, licks his thumb, taps the spoon against the pot. He’s fine, but it’s the quiet care that does her in. The way he never lets her lift a finger when he’s in this mode.

He senses her before she speaks. Turns slightly and grins without looking.

“You always standin’ there like a creep,” he says, voice soft with amusement.

“I’m admirin’,” she replies, eyes soft. “It’s different.”

“You admirin’, huh?”

“Yup. Lookin’ at my man makin’ dinner like he ain’t just been actin’ up all day.”

Stack turns fully now, the wooden spoon still in his hand. “I was mindin’ my business. You the one crawlin’ up on that couch talkin’ about grindin’ and beggin’ and droppin’ shirts.”

Maya smirks. “I ain’t do none of that. I just said it.”

Stack steps forward slowly, setting the spoon down on the counter. “That mouth is dangerous. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

He pauses in front of her, looking her over from crown to toes like he hasn’t been laid up in bed with her all day. His hand comes up to her chin, thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

“I ever tell you I love how you look when you just wake up?” he says, voice low and close.

She leans into his palm. “You told me last week.”

“I mean it every time. You look all soft. Eyes sleepy. Mouth poutin’. Makes me wanna kiss on you slow… or fuck you against the fridge.”

Maya laughs, cheeks warm. “You really can’t behave for more than ten minutes.”

“I am behavin’,” he says, pulling her close by the waist. “Ain’t I in here cookin’? Feedin’ my woman? Bein’ domestic and shit?”

“You cookin’, but your eyes over here undressin’ me.”

“They undress you every time I blink,” he murmurs.

She giggles again, looping her arms around his neck. “You smell good.”

“I smell like butter and sweat.”

“You smell like you,” she says. “And you know what that does to me.”

Stack hums against her neck, planting a kiss just below her ear. “Say less. After dinner, I’m puttin’ you to sleep properly.”

“Oh?” she teases. “And what we been doin’ all day then?”

He grins against her throat. “That was just foreplay.”

They eat at the table like they’ve got nowhere to be. Maya swirls her fork through creamy linguine while Stack grates fresh parmesan over both their bowls like it’s second nature. The conversation is light; laughter, soft jabs, long pauses where their eyes linger too long and the air starts to shift again.

She moans a little when she tastes the sauce, just to mess with him.

Stack watches her tongue swipe the corner of her mouth, jaw tight like he’s doing his best not to respond.

“You makin’ sounds like that over pasta,” he says, “and wonder why I be on you every five minutes.”

“Can’t help it,” she says, licking her fork slow. “Shit’s good.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping low. “You ain’t seen nothin’ good yet.”

That heat? It’s back. Curling between them like the steam rising off the plates. He’s quiet for the rest of the meal, but the way he watches her eat says everything. His stare doesn’t waver. Doesn’t blink. Like he’s been pacing himself all damn day just for this.

By the time the dishes are rinsed and the table’s cleared, Stack moves different. Slower. Focused. No more jokes. No more teasing.

He walks up behind Maya while she’s wiping the counter and rests both hands on her hips. But his grip wasn’t playful this time. It was Firm. Possessive.

“You done bein’ cute?” he asks, voice husky in her ear.

She straightens slowly. “Maybe.”

Stack turns her gently to face him. His mouth brushes hers once softly, almost chaste; but his hands are already sliding up the backs of her thighs, under the hem of the shirt.

“Good,” he whispers. “I’m done playin’ with you.”

He lifts her without another word.

Maya’s legs wrap around his waist instinctively, arms looping around his neck. Her back hits the hallway wall with a soft thud, and Stack is already kissing her like he needs it. Deep, slow, lips parting hers until she’s gasping into his mouth.

He grinds into her through his sweats, the heat between them unbearable.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, dragging his lips across her cheek. “That’s what you do to me. Walkin’ ‘round talkin’ nasty, actin’ like I won’t flip this fuckin’ whole apartment for you.”

“I wasn’t actin’,” she breathes.

“Exactly.”

He carries her into the bedroom, drops her on the bed with care but purpose, and yanks the shirt over her head. She lies back, fully bare now, chest rising, legs spread just enough.

Stack doesn’t pounce. Not yet.

He undresses slow. Peeling off the sweats, his body hard and ready. His eyes never leave hers.

Then he kneels on the bed and grabs her ankles, dragging her to the edge like she’s already his. Because she is.

“You want slow or rough?” he asks, settling between her thighs.

Maya’s voice is soft but steady. “I want you. Please I need it.”

That’s all it takes.

Stack pushes in with one long, punishing stroke, and Maya arches off the bed with a cry. He doesn’t give her time to adjust. He sets the pace immediately, deep, measured, with just enough pressure to make her toes curl.

His palm finds her throat, gripping with just enough force to ground her. His other hand presses her thigh open.

“Look at me,” he growls.

She does. Barely. That wasn’t good enough for him.

“I said look at me.” His voice rumbles as he grips her throat a bit tighter.

“Mmm…” She whimpers as her gaze meets his.

“You take it so good. Always open for me. Always ready.”

Her hands claw at his back as he rolls his hips harder now, dragging himself almost all the way out before slamming back in. The bed creaks. Her breath stutters. Her voice breaks.

“Elias, fuck baby please—”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Say my name like that. Let me hear you when I’m in deep. Have my name drippin’ out your mouth while I work every spot I know drives you crazy.”

His thrusts pick up, smooth and devastating, rocking her against the mattress. Sweat beads on his forehead. Her nails leave trails down his back, her legs wrapping tight around his waist.

“Slow it down,” she whispers.

Stack obeys immediately. Not because she commands him, but because he listens. His strokes slow, but stay deep. He moves like he’s memorizing her shape. His lips fall to her shoulder, her collarbone, the space beneath her jaw.

“I love how you sound,” he whispers. “Love how you look when I’m inside you. Eyes all glassy. Mouth open like you ain’t even got words.”

She holds him tighter. Her hips rise to meet each stroke now, desperate for every inch.

“You mine, Maya,” he breathes against her lips. “Every inch of this body… this mouth… this pussy… mine.”

“Yours,” she chokes, her voice breaking into moans. “All yours.”

He groans deep in his chest and grabs her thigh, bending her leg higher, angling even deeper. Her body jerks with every thrust now, pleasure thick and pulsing between them.

“Daddy Gon’ make you cum hard,” he says. “Real deep. Real slow. Like I’m pourin’ it outta you.”

Maya’s close. Too close. The kind of build that aches, thick and blooming behind her ribs.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpers.

“I’m not,” Stack whispers. “Not ‘til you fall apart for me.”

She does. Mere seconds later.

It rolls through her like a wave. Slow and devastating, her whole body trembling as she cries out his name. Her nails dig deep. Her mouth parts on a sob. Stack keeps moving through it, strokes faltering only when he loses himself, burying deep with a groan that sounds like adoration.

They collapse into each other, breathless, damp, chests rising in sync.

Stack kisses her forehead, still inside her, still holding her like he won’t let her drift an inch away.

“I meant every word,” he whispers. “You mine.”

Maya nods, voice barely there. “I know.”

The bedroom moves into a quiet lull, save for the sound of their breathing slowing down, syncing back to normal. The sheets are a mess. The air smells like sex, skin, and a whisper of his cologne that never fully fades.

Maya lies on her stomach, face buried in the pillow, body still twitching with aftershocks. Her legs are open, lazily draped across the bed, completely spent. Stack is sprawled beside her, arm tossed across her lower back, fingers idly tracing the curve of her spine like he’s still memorizing her, like he never wants to forget what just happened between them.

“Damn,” she murmurs into the pillow.

He chuckles low. “That all you got to say?”

“That’s all I can say,” she mumbles, lifting her head just enough to look at him. Her hair’s a wild halo around her face, lips swollen, eyes still a little unfocused. “You be tryna rearrange my soul, ‘Lias.”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss the top of her shoulder. “You was beggin’ for it.”

“And you delivered like Amazon Prime.”

Stack laughs out loud at that, deep and full, chest vibrating against her bare back.

“You stupid,” he says, still grinning.

She rolls onto her side to face him, cheeks glowing, body flushed and beautiful. “You keep fillin’ me up like that,” she says casually, brushing her fingers across his chest, “and we gon’ have a lil’ somebody runnin’ ‘round here talkin’ about ‘Dada’ before the summer’s out.”

Stack blinks once, then raises a brow, clearly caught off guard, but only for a second.

“Oh word?” he says, smirking again. “That what you tryna do now? Trap me with a baby?”

Maya grins, biting her lip. “You the one who don’t pull out.”

“You the one who tell me not to,” he shoots back.

“Well,” she shrugs, turning over to straddle him, hips resting low on his waist, “I like feelin’ you stay in it. Like all the way.”

His hands slide up her thighs, gripping her softly. “You just like temptin’ fate.”

“Maybe,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “Maybe I want something to show for all this lovin’.”

Stack’s eyes flicker, something serious swimming behind all that charm. His grip on her hips tightens just slightly, just enough to say I heard you.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” she asks quietly, softer now.

He meets her eyes dead-on. “Maya. If you carryin’ it? I’d raise ten.”

She laughs, hiding her face in his neck. “Okay, now you tryna trap me.”

“Too late,” he says, flipping her gently onto her back again, crawling on top of her with that slow, smug smile. “You been mine.”

They lie like that for a while, chest to chest, legs tangled, breath brushing breath.

“I like days like this,” Maya murmurs, fingers trailing down his back.

“Me too,” he says against her collarbone. “All you, all day.”

She hums, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t ever let this be temporary.”

Stack kisses her slow. Long. Like a vow sealed with his mouth.

“It won’t,” he promises. “I’m locked in.”

——

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divider: @saradika-graphics

[theyscreamsannii]

"i-i'm so scared Smoke... i love you"

"this ain't no dead body.. this Stack... he stayin in here with me.."

"the best thing about me was him.."

"and i ain't doin this shit without you... there is no me without you.."

"last time i seen my brudda.. last time i seen the sun"

these lines still hit me so hard even after watching the movie 1000 times over. like why couldn't they just stay together forever???