Description: ( unedited af ) You and Stack have been in love for what feels like forever, but neither of you has had the courage to speak up. Stack is convinced that your heart belongs to Smoke, and as for Smoke? He’s exhausted from trying to show you both that the love you seek is right in front of you.
Word count.: 3,852
A/n: this was originally one part, but I thought it’s a break it up into two because when I tell you, it’s getting a longer and longer 😭 I don’t wanna rush the way I want it to end but the way I’m craving these Sinners fic and I know some of y’all are too. I thought it would be nice to drop it now. Couldn’t contain my own excitement 😂
Part 2 - What I Should’ve Said
Enjoy ! 🩷
As soon as you stepped off the train, a smile broke across your face. The familiar sights and sounds of home wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You were excited to finally be back, but a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach at the thought of seeing your sister for the first time in ages. Yes, you guys had written to each other, and she had tore your ass a new one in a few of them letters back home bout to running off with the twins without a word. Nevertheless, you knew regardless of how upset she may be with you, she’d always welcome you home with open arms. You missed your sister. You also missed the twins, who you were eager to reunite with. It had been almost a year since you’d all been together, and just thinkin' about Stack made your pulse quicken.
Steppin' aside so other boarding the train would have access to the front door, you made your way toward the center of the station, your eyes scanning the crowd. You were sure Stack knew you was comin' at this time, so you had a feelin' he’d be lurkin' around here somewhere. Just then, you heard it—a voice that sent a thrill of nostalgia through you. You turned around, curiosity piqued, and there he was, front and center.
But your heart sank a little when you noticed the woman standin’ in front of him. Fair-skinned and confident, she had that undeniable charm—Mary. Of course she would find him, you thought bitterly.
You watched as Stack’s gaze followed her, a solemn look crossing his face as she walked away. You should’ve known he’d seek her out the moment he arrived. You’d bet money he could find her in a crowed room, without fail.
You loathed Mary.
It wasn’t a secret. You couldn’t stand her presence and that gnawed at you deep down. It wasn’t just jealousy; it was that gut-wrenching belief that Stack cared for her more than he did for you. He looked out for her in a way that was different from how he looked out for you. The attention he gave her was the kind you had secretly longed for, and judging by the way he stood there, it seemed nothin' had changed.
Oh, how wrong you were.
“Old habits die hard, huh, Stack?” you snarked from behind him, the playful edge in your voice barely masking the hurt you felt.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes in resignation. He knew he was caught.
He didn’t even have to turn around to know it was you. Stack could tell by the sound of your voice that you was pissed, especially with the faux sugary sweet smile you wore when he finally faced you. That, and when you were at him, it was the only time you called him Stack and not Elias.
Turning around to face you he could barely contain the smile that wanted to break out.
It had been a year since the two of you had seen each other, but for him, it felt like a lifetime. For six years, y’all had traveled the world together. You had taken care of him and Smoke, watchin' their backs, makin' sure he stayed outta trouble. You had put up with his antics for so long, and he’d never understood why you stuck by his side. That was until you decided it was time to carve out your own path, to prove you could stand on your own.
So you left them. You left him. You promised to return within a year or come runnin' if he called.
But Stack didn’t call.
He figured you didn’t want him to. Not really. A part of him was upset with you for abandoning him. He knew Smoke had written to you a few times, and he tried not to let the green-eyed monster show. Smoke would tell him when he received a letter, sometimes even havin' one for him too. Stack never wrote back, but he always read the ones you sent for him. Several times in fact. He wanted to know how you were, what you had been up to, even if he fronted like he didn’t care. You were miles away and all he wanted was you near..
And now you were back, standing right in front of him, looking as breathtaking as ever. The sun-kissed brown skin of yours practically glowed in the light. The apples of your cheeks rounded as you smiled, dimples showing, and the curves of your hips called out to him as he admired your frame in the flowy yellow dress you wore. It reminded him of your favorite flower, magnolias, and coincidentally, yellow was his favorite color on you too.
You were home for him, and you didn’t even know it.
“It wasn’t even like that, Bam,” he said, tryin' to brush off the tension and butter you up with the nickname he gave you.
“It never is, is it, Stack?” you shot back, crossin' your arms, though a smile tugged at your lips.
“Come on now, after all this time, that’s the mood you wanna get off on?” He hand taken a few steps toward you and grabbed your hand.
“A brotha can’t get no love first?” He flashed you a smile he knew you couldn’t resist.
Despite yourself, your smile grew bigger as you felt the warmth of his presence pulling you in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sinking into the comfort of his embrace.
“I missed you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you melted against him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied, his words a gentle way of sayin', 'I missed you too.'
“Who’s this?” you asked, eyeing the guitar-totin' boy standin' next to them after you two finally pulled apart.
“The boy,” Stack replied, nodding in his direction.
“The boy—Little Sammie, is that you?!” you exclaimed, shocked.
“Miss Y/n?” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.
You laughed, pulling him into a warm hug. God, he was all grown up. You used to help his ma look after him and his siblings sometimes, and you even sang in his daddy’s church for a while. That was until you started hangin' out with Smoke and Stack more and stopped goin' to church. You didn’t want to hear no sermons about how the devil had his hands on you and how you needed to come back to the Lord.
It was a bittersweet feeling, thinking about how much you missed them and how much Sammie had grown. You could see he still had to get his head on straight, but it warmed your heart that he was still playing the guitar Stack had given him.
“Well then, there will be plenty of time to catch up later. You boys finish up here. I’ll be in the car,” you announced a beat after pullin' away. You knew they was up to no good.
“Little Sammie, help Stack with my bags, will ya?” You pinched one of his cheeks playfully before giving the other a quick kiss, treating him like the youngin' he still was in your eyes.
“Oh and drop the ‘Miss’.” He stared after you, bewildered, as you walked past Stack, givin' him a wink while you patted his chest slowly, draggin' your hand away.
“That’s really Y/n,” Sammie said, still in disbelief, causing Stack to chuckle.
He hadn’t seen you since he was a boy, and he couldn’t believe how different you were now. You were just a teen girl girl in his eyes back then, but now you were a grown woman—an extremely attractive one, at that.
“She’s—”
“Way too much woman for you to handle, lil nigga,” Stack stated matter-of-factly, a smirk playin' on his lips.
Not too much for me, though, he thought to himself, wordlessly pickin' up both suitcases and handing his little cousin one. You would probably fit real pretty in the front seat of his ride right about now, knowin' you and those pretty pick pocketing hands of yours had already snatched the keys from his coat pocket.
“Well, are you?” Sammie quizzed.
“Am I what?” Stack frowned slightly.
“Handling it?” The corner of Preacher Boy’s mouth twitched just a little, and Stack knew the younger man could tell you were vexed with him, and he wasn’t handling shit.
“Bring yo ass on, smart ass.”
As a result of those endless hours of travel, you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep on the train, not wantin' to doze off around strange white folks. Your father had raised you and your sister to always be aware of your surroundings. After hearin' Delta’s wild stories about the men he knew from the side of the road, you needed a moment to decompress. So, you let the sounds of Sammie’s guitar and the rhythm of the car rockin' gently lull you into a well-deserved rest.
You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but soon you felt somethin' soft brush against the side of your face.
“Bam,” you heard softly as you began to stir.
“Bam.” This time you felt a poke to your cheek.
With a soft groan, you opened your eyes to see Stack standin' outside of the car, looking at you with that soft smile that always made your heart race.
“There’s my girl.” He smiled down at you.
“What you want, Elias?” You tried not to blush at his words.
“We made it. Come on.” He extended his hand for you to take.
You took it, pullin' yourself up to stand. Prepared to jump over, he surprised you by lifting you up in the air out of the back of the car.
You squealed, caught off guard as he held you slightly above him. You looked down at him for a minute, and he slowly set you back down, your body sliding against his.
“Thank you,” you said bashfully, pretendin' to fix your hair in the mirror.
He stood directly behind you, just close enough for you to catch a glimpse of his smirk in the car mirror.
“Anytime.”
“I—” you began, but were cut off by another car pullin' ahead. Once you noticed it was the truck Stack had said Smoke was in, you started walking quickly toward it. Stack told you the two of them had to split the work and that Smoke had a few stops and you knew it wouldn’t be anywhere else, but to see Annie. It was one thing for Smoke to be gone; of course then, he and Annie couldn’t be together. But while he was home, he wouldnt go anywhere without her.
“Annie!” You called as soon as your older sister came into view.
“Y/n?” Annie couldn’t believe her eyes as you ran toward her the biggest smile on your face.
“Surprise.” You spoke tearfully, as you slowed down taking the last few steps before crashing' into your big sister. You embraced her tightly, the two of you holding onto one another as if the other would disappear if you let go.
“Look at you.” She ran her hand up and around your face, cuppin' it affectionately.
“Look at you.” You repeated, mesmerized by your sister’s loving eyes.
Eyes that always looked at you with understanding, compassion, love, and support. Annie didn’t always agree with the choices you made, but she always supported you in choosin' your own destiny.
“Don’t you ever leave me like that again,” she fussed, swattin' lightly at your butt.
“Stop, girl, I’m grown,” you laughed, spinning around in a circle to dodge her playful swats.
“Girl, I don’t give a damn.” Annie fixed you with a stern look. “You’re still my baby sister. You don’t just run off and leave me without notice like that. You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry, Annie. It’s not that I wanted to; I just—” you paused, searchin' for the right words.
After a moment, you realized you didn’t need to say much. Annie would understand.
“Mine doesn’t have a mojo bag; he just has me,” you said, your voice wavering, knowin' she would know you was referring to the more reckless twin.
She smiled and nodded in understanding. You stood there for a little while longer, embracing each other, tryin' to wipe the tears from each other’s eyes, gigglin' like school girls as you did so.
“We’ll take more later ya hear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Pullin' away, you angled your body a little more to the left to finally get a good look at Smoke.
“My girl!” he said with a small smile of his own, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hey Smoke.” The two of you wrapped your arms around one another.
You missed the way Stack’s jaw clenched as you embraced Smoke. The latter didn’t as he grinned at his twin. It was an asshole thing to do, but he couldn’t help it. He had been watching the two of you pine after one another for years. If Smoke had a dime for every time he tried to convince his brother that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you—or to get Stack to confess his feelings for you—boy, he’d be rich.
It was your last night in town, and the three of you went out. You were currently dancin' with some random nigga from round the way. Stack watched you like a hawk, grillin' the hell outta the man who had your attention. Smoke couldn’t do anything but laugh at his brother’s expense.
“Nigga you got it bad,” he said with a chuckle.
“Shut up, bitch. You got it just as bad for her sister,” Stack shot back.
“Sho’ll fuck do. Don’t give a fuck who knows either.” Smoke shrugged blowing a cloud in Stack’s direction.
“Yeah, whatever.” Stack muttered, takin' a sip of his beer.
“Mmhmm, whatever shit, nigga. Could be you out there dancin' with her, tryna cop a feel. Instead, you’re here,” Smoke teased.
“It ain’t like that with us, Smoke.” He denied.
For the life of him, Smoke couldn’t understand why Stack was in denial about you. It was like he was purposely standing in his own way, unwilling to accept a good thing.
“Have I ever been wrong about a woman tryna throw her pussy at you?”
“Nah,” Stack grumbled, his defenses slowly crumbling.
“Aight then, nigga. Listen for once.” Smoke said, playfully mushing the side of Stack’s head as he stood up to head to the bar.
“Aye, watch out.”
“Girl follows you around the world, and you still questionin' shit,” Smoke called over his shoulder.
He could only shake his head at the memory. Smoke swore dealin' with y’all shit was gonna put him in an early grave.
Once the two of you released one another from the hug, you walked back toward your sibling, and Smoke did the same.
“You good, man?” Smoke asked, knowing full well he wasn’t. He just wanted to see if he was ready to be honest with himself.
“Yeah, uh, I’m good.” Stack cleared his throat before repeatin', “I’m good.”
“Good.” He patted his brother on the back. “Now let’s get to work.”
Now, you knew you was comin' to work, but you ain't expectin' to be put through the wringer! As much as y’all got on each other’s last nerves during the setup, it was all part of the charm. Smoke being the bossy one, always puffin’ up his chest like everybody ain’t already know he ran the place; Cornbread, with his big ass, ain’t stop complainin' 'bout how heavy them boxes was; Delta always droppin' “back in my day” stories like they was gospel every five minutes. And Stack? He was slick, finessin' Preacher Boy into doin' part of his work in the name of “respectin' your elders.”
Not to mention you, Grace, and Annie, makin' one little complaint 'bout the heat, which led to Bo shakin’ up a bottle of beer and lettin' it spray all over y’all like a makeshift sprinkler system to “cool y’all off.” But this? This was the stuff you cherished. These were the moments you missed. After hours of busting your backs, the grand opening was here, and the party was in full swing.
You found yourself wrapped up in Stack’s arms, your back pressed against his solid front. The sweet sound of southern blues wrapped around you like a warm embrace. Ain’t nothing like live music from home, and tonight, the air was thick with rhythm. Effortlessly, your body flowed with the beat, swayin' in a circle until you found yourself once again meetin' Stack's chest. One of his arms hung loosely around your waist, his fingers barely grazing your skin, followin' the pace of your movements like it was second nature.
“So, this is new,” you teased, glancing back at him.
“What’s that?” Stack’s voice was low, his eyes glued to the way your hips moved, like he was tryin' to memorize every curve.
Stack thought you was downright gorgeous, and it drove him crazy. He wished he could tell you every single day how beautiful you were. Your body? It made his heart race. Big hips, thick thighs, and those legs that seemed to go on for days. That dress you wore? It gave him a perfect view of your curves, and he found himself lost in thoughts he shouldn’t be havin’.
“You dancin' with me,” you said louder, breakin' him outta his daydream.
“I’ve danced with you before,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone.
You leaned your head back further, givin' him a smirk. “Not like this.”
Stack’s grip around your waist tightened, the two of you still swayin’ to the music. “What’s this?” His breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine that you tried your best to ignore.
“Like you tryna work your way into my drawls,” you shot back, playful but with a hint of seriousness.
“And if I am?” he shot back, spinning you around so you faced him, his gaze intense.
You were momentarily stunned, your eyes searchin’ his for any signs of this bein' a joke, you arms now loosely around his shoulders.
“Smoke told you.” you said, his words heavy like a weight on your chest, but it felt more like a statement than a question.
You knew Smoke couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it came to his brother. Stack had ditched you and Smoke for the night to run off with some floozy and you were hurting bad. Especially after the way he had been flirting with you day after day. After an attempt at drowning your feeling in a bottle of whiskey, you had confessed your undying love for Elias Moore to his other half after the world became a bit too blurry. The truth came spillin' out like vomit, then afterwards, literal vomit. You could curse the ground Smoke walked on for lettin' it slip.
Stack watched as the gears turned in your head, his eyes dropping to your bottom lip, which you had pulled between your teeth. He chuckled softly, still swayin' with you, but the tension was thick.
“Smoke been tryna tell me for years,” he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.
He wasn’t sure if he was talkin' 'bout Smoke tryin' to get him to accept his own feelings or the ones you held for him.
It was the way you cared for him. In every way. You checked on his well being constantly. The effects of the war on smoke were clear. He had his issues and one of them Stack always took care of. Rolling his cigarettes, making certain shit easier for Smoke every chance he got. Stack was the suffer in silence type. No I didn’t know the trauma he had suffered. He preferred everybody think he was OK. But you saw right through him. You seem to be able to tell every time something took him back there the lifeline you’d reach out of your hand, holding his gentle caresses to the top of his hand, which is the tiniest of squeezes that will bring him back and remind him that he was here and safe and with you. Stack was the type to suffer in silence, keepin' his struggles close to his chest. But you? You saw right through him. You could tell when something haunted him, and each time, you’d reach out, holdin' his hand, givin' him that gentle squeeze to remind him he was safe with you.
You were everything to Stack.
The air between you two shifted, thickening with unspoken words and feelings.
“When did it click?” Your heart raced, the world around you fading away.
Y’all had stopped movin’, probably the only two still in the crowd of people dancing and signing having a time.
“The one you left.” Stack admitted, feeling a bit guilty for only realizing how deep his feelings and love for you really were.
Speechless you pulled away from him completely, mouth opening and closing as you stuttered trying to find the right words to say. Overwhelmed with emotion and not quite sure what to do with yourself you turned around to scurry away when he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on now. Why you runnin'?” He was holding you again, bobbing his head around trying to catch you eye as you avoided his.
“Elias, you drunk,” you said, your voice shaky.
“Baby, I ain’t had a sip of liquor,” he replied, his grip on your chin gentle, forcing you to look at him.
Big brown eyes searched yours, filled with a truth that made your heart swell with love.
“Y/n,” he started, but just then—
“Stack!” Smoke’s voice cut through the moment like a hot knife through butter.
You two pulled apart at the sound of his brother calling.
“Let me holla at you for a minute,” Smoke beckoned, clearly oblivious to the tension hangin' in the air.
You could see Stack was ready to protest, but you stopped him, gently cupping the side of his face in your hands. Stack might not have been running off liquid courage, but you had dug deep for some courage and found enough bravery to push through.
You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his cheek, and then another right next to the corner of his mouth, lettin' your lips linger just a moment longer.
“Go. We’ll talk later,” you assured him, pulling away with a grin as you turned to find a seat at the bar y’all had been swayin’ next to.
It wasn’t long before Stack's arms wrapped around you from behind.
“Count on it,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck, sending warmth flooding through you.
You flushed at the feeling of his lips on your skin, that deep baritone voice igniting a fire you didn’t know you had.
You couldn’t wait until later. But unfortunately, later never came.
A/n: I can’t even describe how surprised and happy I am, by the support and love you guys showed to part one. I am extremely obsessed and in love with these twins, and this is exactly what we all mean when we say we want to pair of Jordans, Amen?
Elias?” You mumbled, staring at the scene in front of you in horror.
Blood. All the blood. It was all you could focus on—the crimson liquid seeping from the side of Stacks’ neck, painting the ground in a gruesome tapestry of life and pain. Stacks, who was withering on the ground, struggled to move, his body twitching as if trying to fight against the inevitable.
The next thing you heard were gunshots, sharp and echoing in the air, as Smoke lit Mary up, each bullet finding its mark in her body. Just when you thought the chaos couldn’t escalate further, she dropped to the floor, only to rise again, defying the laws of life and death. Your ears were ringing from the close proximity of Smoke’s gunfire, but all you could see was Stacks.
As you inched toward him, desperate to reach him, Mary bolted toward you, pushing you out of the way with a force that sent you sprawling to the ground.
Hastily, you scrambled to your knees, crawling as fast as you could toward Stacks, your heart racing.
“Elias!” You screamed, horror twisting your voice.
There was an entire chunk of skin missing between the top of his neck and shoulder, a gaping wound that made you feel sick. Without a second thought, you tore off your shawl and pressed it against the injury, your hands trembling. Smoke, his face a mask of fury and fear, lifted his twin brother slightly, cradling his head in his lap.
“She fucking bit me, baby,” he coughed out, his mouth stained with blood, each word a struggle.
“Smoke, what do we do—?” you stammered, panic creeping into your voice.
“Fuck, just hold it!” he barked, his own desperation evident as he tried to help you stem the flow of blood from Stacks’ neck.
“I’m sorry,” Stacks wheezed, the sound barely escaping his lips. You felt one of his hands tap your elbow weakly.
“I don’t care! I don’t care about anything else; I just need you to stay with me, okay?” You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept pressure on the wound with one hand and reached down to hold one of his.
He squeezed your hand back, but only for a moment. You felt his grip loosen, and that arm fell limp, a chilling realization settling over you like a dark cloud.
“Elias, please!” you cried, your voice breaking as fear clawed at your insides.
“I love you,” he said, looking you dead in the eye, his gaze piercing through the pain, though his own eyes were mere slits now.
“I love you, big brother,” he murmured this time to Smoke, the words a whisper of tenderness amidst the chaos, before a gurgling sound escaped his lips, followed by an eerie silence.
“Elias?” You called, your heart racing, but there was no response.
“Elias!” You shouted again, desperation flooding your voice as you shook him gently, hoping against hope for a miracle.
But he was gone.
The world around you faded into a blur, the sounds of gunfire and chaos dimmin' as the weight of loss crashed down upon you like a heavy shroud. You felt a coldness seep into your bones, a chill that had nothin' to do with the night air—it was the icy grip of despair.
“Elias…” you whispered, his name hangin' in the air like a haunting melody, a promise left unfulfilled.
You couldn’t move. All you could do was stare at your hand clutchin' his. His hand was quickly turnin' cold, life leavin' him with every passing second.
Smoke's face twisted in agony as he cradled his brother, the bond of twinhood shattered in an instant. You could see the rage buildin' within him, a storm of emotions that threatened to erupt at any moment, ready to lash out at the world for takin' his brother away.
“Smoke, we have to move the body outside,” you urged, your voice shaky.
“Ain’t nobody touchin' my brother,” he seethed, fury and heartbreak intertwining in his words.
Coverin' your mouth to choke down another sob, the reality that Stack was no longer here played on a loop in your mind, a cruel reminder of what you’d lost.
“Y/n, you too, baby,” your sister said gently, rubbin' your shoulders, tryin' to coax you into movin'.
With trembling hands, you reached out, runnin' your fingers softly over his forehead before pressin' your own to his. You closed your eyes, wishin' for one last moment, one final chance to tell him how you felt.
“I should’ve told you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “I should’ve told you how much you mean to me.”
Your lip trembled as you leaned over, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, a goodbye you wished you didn’t have to say. Annie helped you up and out of the room, her grip firm yet comforting.
You paused at the doorway, lookin' back at Stack one last time, the sight of him still feelin' unreal.
“Come on, y/n,” Annie urged, her voice gentle yet insistent. You turned your gaze to your sister, who could see the hurt and pain in your eyes. Her heart ached for you and for her lover. Tears flowed freely down your face.
“I didn’t get to say it back, sista,” you whispered, the weight of your unspoken words hangin' heavy between you.
Haint.
That’s what your sister thought it was, but you all quickly found out she wasn’t too far off.
See, a Haint, in plain terms, was a malicious ghost. Restless spirits who, for some reason, hadn’t moved on.
But no.
No Haint would be handled between you and Annie, but vampires? That was a whole 'nother beast.
This was another type of evil you weren’t equipped to deal with. Not one that wore the face of the person you loved. When you saw him walkin' back up to that front door, lookin' alive as if nothin' had happened, givin' you that signature smirk, gold ones shinin’ like it was any other day, you were floored. You wanted nothin' more than to reach out, grab him, and make sure he was real.
Once Smoke closed the door, it stood still in front of it, unmoving. You prayed this was all a joke. You prayed Stack would just walk through that door and tell you that everything was gonna be okay.
But that didn’t happen.
You weren’t sure how he knew you were still on the other side of the door while the others were further away, tryin' to come up with some sort of plan, but you began to hear him whisper your name.
Or did you?
You weren’t sure what was real or fake anymore, and it was startin' to drive you mad. The voice of one of your very best friends askin' you to open up, plead in' with you, tryin' to assure you that everything was okay and nothin' was as bad as it seemed.
“Bam.” You shut your eyes tight as the sweet, silky voice of the man you loved coaxed you from the other side of the door.
“Elias, please,” you whispered, your voice tremblin' with confusion and longing.
“Open the door for me, Bam.”
“Just… I don’t understand,” you stammered, your heart racin' as it fought against the logic of your mind.
Your brain knew the truth. It wasn’t him. But your heart didn’t care, and right now, the two were at war with each other.
Everything you and your sister had grown up knowin' about magic and creatures that go bump in the night—it was all real, and it was literally at your front door. Yet, your heart struggled to see anything but Stack.
The man you had fallen so deeply in love with when you were just sixteen—the man you were still hopelessly in love with now. Except now, there was no longer a livin', breathin' Elias, but rather somethin' undead.
Vampire.
“Just open up for me, and I promise you, everything is gonna be okay, baby.” His voice flowed like honey, each word drippin' with the kind of sweet reassurance that used to melt your heart.
“Elias…” you breathed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, a fragile whisper that barely escaped your lips.
“Open the door, Bam.” This time, his tone was still gentle, yet there was an undeniable firmness to it that sent your heart racing, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.
“I can’t do that,” you sniffled, not bothering to conceal the hurt that laced your voice. “It’s not really you, ‘Lias.”
You pressed your forehead and hand against the door, wishing for nothin' more than to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, to bring him back to you in any way that you could.
“But I am, Y/n. It’s still me, girl. There’s only one me, baby.” He joked in that familiar way that made your heart swell, even now, even in this twisted moment. “I’m just… better now. Everything is so much better.”
From the outside, Stack leaned against the door, his forehead pressed against the same spot where you stood, as if he could feel your presence through the wood, tethered to you by an invisible thread.
“No fear, no pain. Shit’s just beautiful.” You listened, entranced, as he went on, his voice smooth and enticing, painting a picture of a world where everything was normal. “And you’re beautiful.”
Mary, who had originally stood by giggling, enjoying the show of what she thought was her man trying to gain entry into the juke joint, recoiled at his words, her expression shifting from amusement to disbelief.
The hive mind they had formed once connected to Remmick allowed her to see into Stack’s thoughts as well. It wasn’t what she thought it would be.
Inside Stack’s mind…
Once he became part of the hive, she assumed his deepest, most inner thoughts would be of her—of their love, their connection.
But what was funny was that the bond they shared was nothin' more than the connection of two people who loved the same person back.
See, while Stack may have loved Annie, he breathed you.
It changed the landscape of her emotions as the vampire form tried to reason within, but deep down, she knew.
Stack was never really hers.
He was yours.
He always would be.
“You are beautiful, and you will be beautiful—on the outside and the inside,” Stack spoke convincingly, his tone a mix of charm and desperation that echoed in your chest. “And you and I? We will be together. No problems, no worries.”
Your fingers played with the latch on the door, the metal cool against your skin. You knew you couldn’t invite him in, but wouldn’t it be okay if you just looked at him? If you could see him, talk to him face-to-face, maybe you could reason with him. Fix him.
“We want you,” Stack said from the other side, his voice dripping with longing, like a lover’s whisper in the dark. “I want you.”
“But Stack—” Mary tried to interject, her tone tinged with concern, but one sharp look from him silenced her instantly.
“Shut up, bitch,” he seethed, the darkness that filtered into his voice made you recoil, snapping you out of the trance you didn’t even realize you were in, the warmth of his charm replaced by a chilling edge.
“I just want you,” he repeated, urgency creeping into his voice, raw and desperate. “It could be me and you.”
“Now open the fucking door!” Stack screamed, the sound of his fist slamming against the wood made you jump back, colliding into Smoke, who you hadn’t realized was standin' there, along with the others—watchin' you with sad, worried eyes as you broke down.
Smoke gently took one of your hands and squeezed it tight, his other hand resting on your back, guiding you away from the door toward Annie, a protective shield against the darkness.
“Come on, sister. You got to stop torturing yourself.” Annie’s voice was low and steady, filled with concern that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.
“Get the fuck on outta here, Stack!” Smoke threatened, takin' your place at the front door, ready to protect you from whatever darkness loomed on the other side, his stance firm and unwavering. “Fo’ I give you the pain you lookin’ for.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve already won,” Stack said, his voice dripping with a mix of confidence and something darker, leaving a chill in the air that seeped into your bones.
You struggled to catch your breath, disoriented and unsure how you ended up in the back of a car. The vehicle felt foreign, likely belonging to someone who had come to enjoy the evening’s festivities, not knowing what they’d fall victim to.
The world around you faded into a blur, drowned out by the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart.
You blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from your mind. Each time you shut your eyes, the horrific memories of the last half hour flashed before you like a relentless slideshow.
Grace. Taunted by Bo before she snapped, letting the horror in.
“Bam.”
Those of you who remained inside the juke joint were doing your best to arm yourselves before the undead descended upon you, ready to invade your sanctuary.
You blinked rapidly, feeling tears swell in your eyes, the last wave of grief crashing over you as you closed them tight.
You watched Delta sacrifice himself, as you felt Mary’s claws sinking into your abdomen, her whispers echoing in your mind at the memory of her claiming him as hers, before being suddenly thrown away from you.
“Bam.”
All you could do was watch as Smoke hovered above Annie, who had spared you a glance. She was muttering words you couldn’t understand; your ears filled with a deafening white noise.
A moment later, you watched your sister’s husband drive a stake through her heart. You could feel her essence leaving this plane, taking a piece of you with her as she slipped away.
“Bam.”
Everyone was gone. The people you grew up with, the ones you loved—they were all dead or turned to the undead. You looked down, the vision of your hand blurring in and out of focus as you felt something slick coating your fingers.
Blood.
This time, the blood on your hands was yours.
“Come on, Bam, look at me.” A voice said softly.
You blinked hard, your vision clearing as you finally focused on the face before you.
“Elias?”
A feeling you couldn’t quite describe washed over you. You were torn between wanting to scream and shout or attempting to run away, even though deep down, you knew you were in no condition to do so. You should be scared of him, but you didn't have the energy to feel fear. You were dying.
The air around you was thick with dread, the acrid smell of smoke and blood mingling in your nostrils, a stark reminder of the chaos that had consumed the night. With your last few moments in this lifetime approaching fast, you considered it might be a blessing to lay eyes on the face of your soulmate one last time.
With a shaky hand, you reached up, caressing the side of his face gently, yearning for the warmth that once radiated from him.
Stack let out a sigh of relief, the sound echoing in the stillness. You had been in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity as he picked you up and carried you away from the madness.
Stack looked down at the spot you’d been holding, your dress now darkened with blood, a stark contrast against the fabric.
The scent of you flooded his senses, and he couldn’t help the drool that pooled in his mouth, salivating at the thought of how you would taste. Yet, he fought against his new nature, focusing solely on you.
“Did you mean it?” you choked out, bringing his attention back to your face, your voice a fragile whisper.
“I did. I do.” He confessed, relishing the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I’ve been in love with you since I was a youngin’. I’ll always want you, even if you don’t want me.”
You looked into his glowing red eyes, filled with sincerity, and a pained laugh escaped your lips, tinged with irony.
“Even undead, your insecurities are screamin’,” you smiled, your teeth stained with blood. Your fingertips caressed his skin, grateful you could finally see him one last time. “I never wanted Smoke, Elias. I only ever wanted you.”
“I ain’t ever been nobody’s but yours, Y/n.” His rough voice whispered, filled with longing. “I will always be yours. I just need you to stay with me.”
You thought about it. Everyone else you loved was already gone, and you felt a hollow emptiness where your heart was supposed to be. You were on the brink of death yourself.
“C’mon now. I need to hear you say it. Tell me you wanna stay.” Stack pleaded, feeling your heartbeat slow beneath his fingers. He cradled your head in his hands, desperate for you to focus on him.
He wanted you to stay with him forever, but he didn’t want to take away your choice. He had taken enough from you tonight already.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Your thumb ghosted over his lip, and even half-dead, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him one last time.
Did it have to be the last time?
“I wanna stay,” you whispered through half-lidded eyes.
It was then Stack kissed you, kissed you the way he had pictured so many times before. You reciprocated, both of you ignoring the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. When you pulled apart, he kissed your forehead a few times before resting his on yours. He then took your hand in his, kissing your palm, then your wrist.
“It’s gon’ be alright, don’t you worry. I got you.”
A/n:… I don’t know what this is for real y’all. I was just typing lmao it’s unedited as fuck per usual until I find somebody to help me out with that part but yeah so… enjoy…. or don’t idk IDK
Micheal B Jordan
Run Lines For Me
“Ouch.”
You rolled your eyes hard at the movie star.
“Well, if you stop movin’, I can get this last bit of hair,” you fussed, firmly holding his chin in your hands. “You’re not meant to be on your phone while getting a shave anyway, foo’.”
Like a child, he stuck his tongue out at you, and you did the same in return.
“Now hold still,” you commanded as you concentrated on your task.
It was one of those surreal moments; you were on the set of *Sinner’s*, in Michael B. Jordan’s trailer, making sure his face was free of all makeup products and that his goatee was perfectly lined for tomorrow.
It was a dream come true, really.
You were Ryan’s cousin. The two of you had always been super close; you were his favorite aunt’s only child, and he looked out for you while you followed him everywhere. As a result, he always hired you to be part of the makeup team for all of his films. You had gone to beauty and barbering school to become a licensed barber, cosmetologist, and aesthetician specializing in FX makeup. You loved enhancing people’s appearances in whatever way they saw fit. Skin care was just as important, so once you got into the film industry and started working on set, you made sure to pair the two; the removal process was just as essential as the application. You always went the extra mile, giving clients facials and whatever serum they needed at the end of the day. Growing up, there was no doubt in your mind that Ryan would become a big-time movie producer, director, and filmmaker. From the moment he showed interest, you supported him. Being a few years younger and looking up to him, you wanted to figure out how to be of service in achieving that. That’s where all those licenses came in. You wanted to be behind the scenes. Though you dabbled in theater a bit in middle and high school, you lived for the feeling of being behind the curtain and camera, putting it all together and seeing the vision come to life.
After five years of your cousin pitching this movie and waiting for it to get picked up, as soon as it was, you were called immediately. Needless to say, this wasn’t your first rodeo with Michael B. Jordan since as you worked on Fruitvale Station , Creed 1 & 2, and Black Panther. While you wouldn’t say you were friends, you’d definitely say it was more than just coworkers. More than associates as well. There had to be more than that, especially with the endless flirting you two had exchanged over the years.
In fact, it was no secret to Ryan that you wanted to jump the actor’s bones. You had a crush on him since you saw Hardball when you were kids. You were obsessed with him on The Wire, crying about it for a week when Wallace died. Being that Ryan was like an older brother to you, what did brothers do? Tease and bully you with love. Fast forward to Ryan shooting Fruitvale Station, and the role of Oscar Grant going to none other than your childhood movie crush, Michael B. Jordan.
Not only was it your first time working on a movie set, but you were actually going to work with Michael B. Jordan. Anyone would be nervous, and you were no exception. Ryan teased you about it endlessly. You had gotten your introduction to the movie star and were assigned as his makeup artist for *Fruitvale*. Given the gravity of the situation and the kind of movie it was, you didn’t talk to him too much, trying not to be a bother. You figured it was hard being a young black man playing a character who was unjustly killed in real life. You wanted to ensure everything remained professional and that he was comfortable.
It wasn’t until *Creed* that you really got to know him better, and good Lord, had the man filled out. That little kid crush on the boy on the screen had transformed into a full-grown woman’s yearning, and every day on set, you were fighting for your life, trying to remain professional. Not stare too long, not make things awkward. You wanted him to feel comfortable with you, a level of normalcy like you wanted all your clients to feel. You didn’t want to make things weird.
Michael noticed your efforts too. He appreciated it. It was why he always made sure to speak to you every day, learn your name, and ask how you were doing. He included you in conversations when you were around, making sure you didn’t feel like just ‘hired help.’ Not to mention, you were fine as hell—thick thighs, soft-looking skin that always seemed to have this glow and warmth to it. He liked the way your clothes hugged your shape in all the right places, how luscious your lips looked covered in a simple gloss, paired with a light beat on your face. Michael was also a sucker for nice lashes, and the way you peered through them to look at him, looking all innocent, did something to him.
The crush was definitely mutual.
Even Zinzi was in on it. You remembered a month before the table read, you were on FaceTime, and she swore she saw something between the two of you.
“You grown grown now; I need you to act like it, baby,” Zinzi stated matter-of-factly.
Sis had been encouraging you to shoot your shot for the third or fourth time in the past month.
“I am grown, bitch! I just don’t wanna embarrass myself and lose my job,” came your lame excuse.
“PUHLEASE. As if your cousin would ever cut you loose. We both know what's up. The man personally asked Ryan if you were gonna be there.”
“Says your plotting ass husband,” you mumbled, knowing setting you up for failure would be a prank he’d pull.
“He didn’t have to tell me, baby; I was there,” she smirked at you, crossing her arms in a ‘now what’ manner.
Another time you and she had a similar conversation was about a month ago before the table reads started.
“Heard you was making googly eyes at ya man yesterday.”
“Who said tha- you’re gonna be widow soon.” You huffed rolling your eyes extra hard. “Yall are hella annoyin’”
“Uh huh whatever.” Zinzi leaned back a little bit rubbing her belly as she spoke. “I’m tryna help you get your shit together before you see that man. Hearin’ a nigga say ‘I wanna taste you’ will have you foldin’ quicker. Speaking from personal experience—”
“Ewwwww! I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about what you and my cousin are doing,” you fake-gagged.
“Whateva.”
“Ay, ay, ay, worry less about what me and my lady are doing and get your man, cousin.” Ryan chimed in appearing in front of the camera.
“HE’S BEEN THERE LISTENING THE WHOLE TIME, ZINZI?!”
Fast forward to now, just a few weeks later. Here you were in Michaels trailer. You had removed his make up and did your own person after care face routine that you did on all your clients and were just about finished lining up his goatees.
“All done. How you feel?” You asked taking a step back handing him a mirror.
“Lighter that’s fasho.” He nodded checking his hair and everything okay.
“I bet. Sucks we’re gonna have to put it back on in like 8 hours.”
“Man don’t remind me.” He sighed handed you the mirror back.
“You getting a treatment and stuff tonight too or?”
“Nah, we can do it tomorrow if you don’t mind. Tryna get in the right frame of mind for these next few days of filming.” He answered do which you nodded.
“I feel you.”
There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you cleaned up and pack all the make up and others products up for the night, Michael tapping away at his phone screen. There’s a place for everything and everything has its place.
“Aye Run some lines with me real quick.” Michael called out to you.
You turned raising your eyebrow at him. It was a statement not a question.
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.” You groaned throwing your head back a bit.
“C’mon girl, help a brotha out.” He plead going over to a backpack on the table to the side of yall and pulling out a few stacks of paper.
“You just tryna hold me hostage. Keep me to ya self and shit” you said playfully peering at him through the mirror, finding his eyes already on you.
“I might be.” He smirked the gold ones still in his mouth from filming earlier gleaming.
You could fold right then and there.
“You got me for 30 minutes.” You mumbled snatching the script from him.
“My girl!” He claimed victory smiling at you fully now, you playfully rolling your eyes smiling a bit back.
“Ahem, so what scene?” You asked putting some distance between you a bit.
“The one we shooting tomorrow.”
The past 3-4 days had been spent shooting all of the day time scenes with him playing as Stack, Smoke being played by his double. Tomorrow they’d start shooting all the scenes with Michael as Smoke. Specifically the ones with him and Wunmi.
“You nerves bout it or somethin?” Came your simple ask out of genuine curiosity flipping through the scripts pages.
“Nah, I just spent the past few days playing Stack. Smoke vibe a little different. Wanna make sure I’m locked in and shit” he answered honestly.
“I feel you”
“Mmhmm, here.” he flipped to the right page.
Of course he wanted to start right before their sex scene. You took a deep breath reminding yourself that you were doing this just to help him out before you two got started. You were doing fine, too, reading the lines to him.
All was good until you go to to the the line where Annie threatened to cut Smoke with an idle threat.
You laughed a bit and Michael couldn’t help but grin as you did so.
“I’m sorry, I just know I sound stupid.”
“Nah, you good.” He assured you. Laughing or breaking character happened all the time. That’s what takes are for. Besides yall were just practicing.” You gotta stop reading like it’s a book. Get in character and shit. Ryan told me all about them plays and shit you used to be in growing up.”
“You lie.” You were mortified.
“Dorthy in the Wiz ain’t neva looked that good. Just be fine ya whole life huh?” Michael flirted licking his lips at you.
“Nigga!” You you swatted at him with the script in hand before covering your face with it in embarrassment as he laughed at your expense.
You were gonna kill your cousin.
“I’m just sayin,” Michael continued when his laughed died down, amusement in his voice. “might not be yo passion like that no more but you still know wassup.”
You nodded in agreement while he pushed the papers hiding your face out of it so he could see you clearly.
“Sooooooo. You gon be my Annie or what?”
“Ok.” You breathed out.
“That’s what I’m talking bout it.” He clapped loudly 3 times tryna pump you up.
“We picking up where we left off?”
“Yeah,” you confirmed putting the papers down.
“Oh shit you don’t need the script?” His tone was teasing but you could hear the surprise in his voice.
“Nah i think I got it.”
You had read the script a few times, Ryan sending it to you when he had first completed it a while back and again when he tweaked a few things right before production began. Not to mention you had been a round for a few table reads and a run through or two. If you were being completely honest, that was one of your favorite scenes especially once Michael was officially cast. Rereading it over and over again like the rest of the books you had that were full of filth it was all the more fun imagining him as ‘Smoke’. Now here the two of you were, and he was asking you to play with him.
“Aight then bet, count me in.”
Soon as you got to three he took a deep breath and then read the last line out loud.
“I can’t believe you takin this make believe bullshit” Michael spoke, country accent for ‘Smoke’ turned on,
“Smoke you give me my money fo I cut yo black ass.” You held up one of your make up brushes to his neck as a prop.
With a ghost of a smirk on his face he continued “You gon put the blade up woman,” he demanded staying in character, before holding up a 100. “I’ll trade you”
“I don’t want your money.” You sneered.
“Don’t be stupid”
“I ain’t stupid it, Your money come with blood
“All money come with blood.”
“Not like yours.” You snapped.
You were feeling it, he could tell by the look in your eye and that recollection made his heart do things.
This wasn’t the first time he asked you to run lines with. He was having a hard time admitting it but he had been feeling you for a while. He just didn’t wanna step on any toes you being related to the man who hired him for the job. At least in the beginning. After that it was all just bad time you. Either you were taken or he was but it didn’t change the fact that he liked you for a while. You know what they say right person wrong time.
Now though, now was the perfect time though. Especially since you were both single and had a bit more alone time than before.
“Why it ain’t work on our baby then?”
“I don’t know…but they work for you.” You paused. “You still got that mojo bag.”
Funnily enough he did have it on. He had put it on early when him and Percy were foolin’ around joking bout trading places. They traded hats and upon seeing the mojo bag on one of the prop tables near by, he put it on before they posed for some behind the pics before they continued to shoot the shit.
Slowly you reached out to touch it, and his hand shortly followed. Neither of you looked away as you removed it his hand lingering on yours as you pulled away. . Turning around you remained in character and proceeded to ‘pray over it for a few moments out loud while mentally praying for yourself. You didn’t dare make eye contact through the mirror as you placed the necklace on the counter in front of you trying to steady your heart. It increased as you felt Michaels presence heavy behind you, body damn near pressed against your.
Be a big girl bitch, you stated mentally.
“Why you here Smoke?” You breathed out as you turned back around, bracing your hands on the counter behind him. “ what you want from me?”
There were a several ways Michael wanted to answer that question.
He wanted you wrapped around him.
He wanted you bouncing on his dick screaming his name.
He wanted to fuck yo fine ass until you were dumb, numb, and your pussy was dripping with his cum.
Wanted to devour you
Suck ya soul right out ya body
He wanted you for himself
He wanted you to be his.
Michael didn’t bother to hide the lust that flickered in his eyes as he looked at you, unconsciously licking his lips. Your gaze zeroed in on his actions, and you instinctively squeezed your thighs tight together, feeling a rush of heat course through you.
His nostrils flared slightly when he noticed your reaction, but he remained silent, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Grand opening for the juke tonight. Want you to cook for us.”
“Elijah,” you tilted your head, feigning innocence, knowing exactly what he was implying.
“You gonna make me say it?” he challenged, his voice low and teasing.
You stayed quiet, just as you were meant to, as he took a step back and settled into a chair, his eyes never leaving you.
“Still hurts coming back here, but I love ya. And I miss ya,” he confessed, his voice tinged with something deeper, something you wished was meant for you.
You knew he wasn’t speaking directly to you, but the longing in your chest was undeniable. Your body was on fire, and the crazy part was that he hadn’t even touched you yet. But you could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface; he wanted to, and you could sense it.
As the air shifted, you instinctively knew what was supposed to happen next in the script. Taking his face in your hands, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his for just a moment before planting a chaste kiss near his mouth. Another kiss landed softly on his cheek, and you continued to leave a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. With one hand, you pulled his head back for more access, massaging his scalp as you did so. Nipping at a spot on his neck, you swirled your tongue around it, sucking gently, earning an almost inaudible “fuck” from him.
“Your body ain’t forgotten me,” you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as your right hand slid down to palm him through his sweats.
That was the tipping point. Methodically, his hand traced up your body, wrapping around your throat as he stood, bringing your face closer to his. When his lips finally met yours, he groaned like a man starved, savoring the taste he had been yearning for. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, a dance of passion igniting between you.
Standing up he pulled your body flush against his, his hands exploring your curves, leaving an indescribable heat in their wake. With a swift motion, his hands hooked behind your knees, grinding into you as he effortlessly set you on the table you had been working on just an hour ago.
Both of you were tired of pretending that you didn’t want each other. It showed in the way you tore each other’s shirts off, the way he shoved his tongue into your mouth, and the way you pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. You ground into him, desperate to create friction to satisfy the relentless ache in your core, the bulge in his pants straining against the fabric of just jeans, ready to burst through with how hard you had him. Michael wasted no time pulling the chair closer, sliding your pants down and throwing your legs over his shoulder and as you watched pupils blown wide with lust.
The heat between you was palpable, a fire igniting in the space around you. You could feel the urgency in his touch, the way his fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady as he continued his ministrations. Each flick of his tongue sent shockwaves through your body, and every breath you took was laced with desperation.
“Michael,” you breathed, lost in the moment, “I need you.”
His darkened lust filled eyes found yours as he pulled away for just a moment, letting the anticipation build. “You want me?” he asked, voice low and sultry, making your heart race.
“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but full of longing. “Please.”
He wasted no time, standing up and positioning himself between your legs once more, the heat of his body radiating against yours. You watched as he dropped his gray sweats to the ground freeing his member that was nice, thick, and hard precum oozing a bit from the tip. You could see the desire etched on his face, a mirror to the yearning that consumed you both. You were done pretending; this was your moment, and you were ready to seize it.
Turning around you bent over slightly, gazing at him through the mirror, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in anticipation. He lined himself up with your entrance, eyes locked onto yours as he slid in, his thick tip greedily welcomed into your core. You pushed your ass out to meet his thrust, eager for him to fill you completely.
“Damn, you’re wet as fuck,” he marveled, pulling out just enough to watch how you coated him, glistening with your desire.
You could only hum in response as he pushed back in, stretching you wider than before. “You good?” he asked, massaging your lower back while thrusting slowly, giving you time to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you.
“Mmhmm,” you managed to reply, lost in the pleasure.
“Good.”
With that, Michael picked up his pace, his relentless hips pounding into you from behind. One of your hands braced against the counter, while the other reached back to grip his wrist for support as he delivered delicious back shots, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.
“Smoke—” The name caught in your throat as he pulled your head back by your hair, a possessive gesture that sent shivers down your spine.
“Uh uh, my name, baby,” he purred against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and filthy as he continued his assault on your pussy.
This was no longer just an act; he wanted you to know this was all him.
“Michael, oh my fuck,” you whimpered, your walls tightening around him as he found that sweet spot deep inside you.
“Right there?!” he grinned through the mirror, and you nodded, panting wordlessly, feeling your eyes roll back in ecstasy.
“Words, mama.”
“Yes, Michael!” Your hands gripped the counter tighter as you began to throw it back, desperate to ensure he felt you just as intensely as you felt him.
“Fuck.” He growled, keeping up the pace, your pussy feeling warmer and wetter with each thrust. He loved the way you felt wrapped around him, watched the way your breasts bounced, your mouth slightly ajar, eyebrows furrowed, eyes fluttering as you tried to keep them from rolling back.
He was utterly captivated, relishing the faces you made while he pleased you, as if you were made for this very moment.
“Michael,” you moaned, the sound music to his ears. “I’m about to cum, baby.” Your abs began to clench, your body preparing to release.
With a swift motion, he pulled out, turning you around and placing you on the counter, your ass hanging off slightly. You were furious, to say the least. So close to climaxing, only for him to cut you off just before your peak. You huffed, frustrated, as you tried to catch your breath.
“Michael, what the—” you gasped, throwing your head back as you felt his tongue delve between your folds. “FUCK!”
He did it again, groaning as he did so, taking your throbbing bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before pulling back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, both looking like he was starved for your sweetness.
With a sudden slap to your pussy, he pulled another moan from you that satisfied his sadistic desires.
“You can cum on my dick later,” he mumbled, giving your dripping cunt a teasing peck as you whimpered, legs shaking slightly. He looked up at you, a grin on his face, his mouth glistening with your slick, hands rubbing and gripping your inner thigh.
“First time I make you cum, I want it to be in my mouth”
“Elias please.” You begged completely fucked out as he continued his assault on your pussy.
“Come again? I ain’t heard you baby.” he chuckled at his own double entendre.
“I’m sorry, daddy, I’m sorry daddy, ah, I’m sorr-“ you cried face pushing into the pillows.
All that sick nigga did was smile as he marveled at his handy work, watching his slick slide in and out of you, juices covering his shaft from the tip to the base. The sheets were destroyed covered in sweet and cum from you and him, Your hair was everywhere, face wet with its tears, drool, and snot; throat raw from the way he abuses your throat earlier.
Y’all have been at it for hours and Stack was relentless and merciless with the way he had treating your pussy.
This was your fault though.
You have been acting like a brat all fucking week, mad he was away on business. Greeting him when he got home this morning with a fucked up attitude at all.
You slammed one too many draws, cabinets, and doors today. The last straw was you slamming yall bedroom door as he was talking to you from the living room. Just as soon as that ma’fucka closed it damn near flew open. Stack didn’t even say anything at first just stood in the doorway andstared at you, to which you raise an eye as you crossed your arms as if you were daring him to do something. All he did was her huff out a laugh at that.
“Bet.
“Elías!” His name left your lips with a cry as you came all over his dick for the umteenth time.
Because God had lost count.
You had barely come down before he flipped out over, you hands still bound.
Ass naked. Hands cuffed behind your back. On your knees. Face smashed into the pillow, one of Stacks strong hands on the back of your throat giving you those long, deep strokes, that made you see stars. You were in this position by no one’s fault but your own.
But fuck did you love it here.
“Too much baby?” His tone was slightly teasing.
“Uh uh”, you nodded feverishly as your body rocked in rhythm with his slow strokes.
Stack pulled out of you painfully slow before leaning over, tongue out, licking up a strip up your spine before thrusting back into your cunt harder than before eliciting a loud moan from you.
“Cry about it.”
“I’m sorryyyyyy” you moaned.
“Nah baby you been runnin’ yo mouth all fuckin week.” He grunted. “Whinnin’ and shit bout this that and the third.”
You were more than overstimulated.
“What that you said giggling on the phone wit yo bald head ass friend this mornin’? ‘I’m not myself when I ain’t have no dick.’” He mocked
“Elíassssss,” you dragged out, coming all over him again.
“Shut the fuck up and take this dick you been
Fuck,” he cursed pumping faster chasing his own release sparked by the way your wall pulses around him.
He came hard, coating your insides pulling out a bit letting it drip out of you while the rest of it painted the top of your pussy, his tip dragging over the top of your clit causing you to twitch.
“You did so well for me mama..”
With care he held you up one hand at your waist, the other around your throat, not tight, gentle with just the right amount of pressure. Your back against his chest, head lolling backward as your caught your breath feeling more than spent.
Stack kisses the side of of your neck and face as you relaxed into him a bit.
“I did?” You shivered from his lips on you.
“Mmhmm, just 3 more for me and we done, ok pretty?” Your eyes shot open at his words and the sound of a low hum that followed.
That damned vibrator.
This was the most pleasurable torture and manageable. He would fuck you and moment he came there was a vibrator pressed to your clit damn near immediately eliciting one orgasm after another. Stack got off on watching you come and as soon he was hard as a fucking drilling into your pussy some more.
It was a delightfully vicious cycle.
“3 more- Elias. I can’t!” Your hips wiggled though there wasn’t much you could do with your hands still cuffed together. “Elías.”
Even if you denied that you could feel your walls clenching around nothing, as if you’re a pussy knew what was in store.
“Uh uh, you’re gonna take your punishment like the good girl you are right.”
“I can’t cum anymore baby-oh!” You eyes rolled the feeling of his mouth on your neck, toy already going to work.
“You can baby,” he encouraged.
“Shit” you stuttered out the feeling out the rabbit vibrating against your puff clit already had the familiar coil in your stomach building.
Your body jerked and you would’ve fallen had the hand wrapped around your throat not been what kept you in place. That and your ass was back up against his front his semi hard dick pressed against you from behind. you had no choice but to cum again at this rate.
Description: (modern AU ) Stack’s love language? Acts of service
An: with all the stuff I’ve been preparing for October fest I just thought I write something cute. This was purely for selfish reason since my dating life is basura lmao but you know, y’all can imagine too obvi
“Well damn, bitch — you tryna break up?!”
Pop 💥
“Fuck!” Stack yelled after you punched him.
“What the hell you call me?” You glared, ready to pop him again, still perched over the back of the couch.
“I wasn’t calling you a bitch,” he said, frowning and rubbing his jaw. “But nigga, what the fuck you tryna leave me for?!”
“I am…confusion,” you blinked.
You’d only just got home — ran a few errands, stopped at the grocery store. He had your location; you were with his sister-in-law doing girl shit . Besides, you weren’t the cheating type. Why would you? Stack treated you like a queen — everything a woman could ask for: gentleman, lil’ bit of thug, smooth, charismatic as hell, fine as hell…
“Lowkey feel like you tryna gaslight me,” he muttered.
“Stack, what are you even talking about?”
…. communicative, smart, loyal….
“Nah, I see what you doin’ here.” He pointed at you, pacing back and forth.
“Elias, the level of dramatic—”
“Oh oh oh, I’m being dramatic?!” Stack looked at you incredulously.
“Per usual,” you rolled your eyes.
“Didnt you stop get gas 3 days ago, pumping you own gas, after I told you I would fill it up?” He crossed his arms, mugging you.
Oh. You bit your lip avoiding eye contact.
OHHHHHHH.
So that’s what this is about.
…and lastly?…
“You were sleepin’ and—” you started, and he cut you off.
“When I pull up to pick you up from work yesterday, didn’t you open your own door? I told your hard-headed ass not to even think about touchin’ a ma’fuckin’ handle or knob around a nigga!” He was looking at you real hard, back and forth.
“I mean…” you trailed, fiddling with your thumbs.
“And. Nigga, AND! Didn’t you just waltz yo fine ass in here holding bags of groceries like you ain’t got a nigga not in the house?!” Stack bounced, swinging his arms like he was warming up for the ring.”
…dramatic.
The nigga was dramatic as hell.
“Let me explain.” You held your hands up.
Big mistake,
“You—” Stack stepped closer, squinting, inspecting your hands. “I’m sorry — are your nails done?!”
Shit. You forgot. You glanced at your hand and quickly tried to hide them behind your back, but it was too late.
“Nigga on my soul-“
“Baby—” you couldn’t hide the amusement in your voice as reached for his hand and he snatched away like you’d hit him.
“Unhand me!” He held his chest like he’d been wounded.
You covered your mouth with both hands, trying not to lose it. You wanted to laugh so bad.
“You think ima gettin’ money ass nigga for nothin?!” He banged his fist to his chest three times.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head because you knew he was serious. By now you were fighting a smile.
“You cheatin’ on me?” He cut his eyes at you, hands on his waist.
“Elias!” Your eyes went wide, mouth open, before you started laughing.
“Oh, you think shit sweet.” Stack smacked his lips. “I’m finna call my brother. That nigga’s done for.”
That lit a fire under your ass lit you up. You ran over and damn near tackled him onto the couch, trying to wrestle the phone away. Nobody had time for him calling Smoke over this bullshit. You’d be damned if he got his twin started for something that wasn’t real — you’d never hear the end of it from Annie.
Somehow y’all ended up on the floor, rolling on the rug, but you managed to snatch the phone and shove it in your backpack. He groaned throwing his weight on top of you and just laying there.
“Get off me.” You squirmed.
“No.”
“You play too much, nigga.” You laughed, bucking your hips to get him off. “Ugh.”
“You don’t love me no more, mama?” He kissed the side of your neck twice before sitting up and looking down at you.
“I do, baby.” Your held his face in your hands, caressing lovingly.
“Then act like it, nigga.” He flicked your nose and you swatted his hand away playfully.
He laughed, got off you, and pulled you up into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, throwing one arm around his neck; the other hand toyed with his chain. “Keep forgettin’ I got a real nigga on my hands.”
Your tone was teasing but you meant it.
“Mmmhmm, that’s right.” He pecked your lips and covered your hand on his chest. “Touch another door handle in my presence and you losin’ a finger.”
“Nigga!” You squealed as he tightened his grip on your finger tips.
“I’m serious — I’ll bite one of these bitches off.” Stack, goofy as ever, pretended to gnaw at your finger.
“I’m a man, bae. Let me do some man shit — over here fuckin’ up the program.” He held you tighter and pulled you in for another kiss. “I love you, girl.”
“I love your silly ass too.” You smiled against his lips.
“Mmhmm — pay for something and see what happens.”
🩷
————-
A/n: hope y’all enjoyed this last cute and sweet fic. I won’t have nothing like it for the rest of the month. Lmao.
Description: Patience: Nanami’s greatest virtue— your undoing.
Warning: smut. No plot. Short and sweet
Octoberfest Masterlist
One of the best things about Kento Nanami? He was a man of practiced patience—measured, composed, never rushed.
The worst thing about Kento Nanami? He was a man of practiced patience.
Because that same calm that made him reliable in the daylight turned merciless in the dark. He could hold back until you were trembling for it, could draw pleasure out with the same precision he used to balance his ledgers—never losing focus until you were begging him to.
You clung to his tie, wrapped around your hand like a leash, rolling your hips to meet each deliberate thrust.
As spent as you were, you couldn’t help yourself. The way he touched you, loved you, worked you—every motion was deliberate, patient, devastating. You’d lost count of how many times he’d pulled release from you; it had to be seven by now, maybe more. Nanami didn’t relent. He never did.
“Ken—”
“Hmm?” His voice was deep, teasing, his thumb tracing slow circles against the sensitive flesh he’d already worked raw. He moved with the same precise rhythm as always, hips snapping forward with surgical control.
When he drew his hand away, you whimpered at the loss—only for him to bring his fingers to his mouth and taste you, humming low in approval.
He loved how you tasted. Especially when you were already full of him.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he murmured.
“I don’t think I can come anymore, baby,” you panted.
He clicked his tongue, amused, and pressed your knees higher, angling himself deeper until you felt him everywhere. “I think you can, darling. You stayed hydrated like I told you?” His tone was maddeningly casual, even as his hips ground slow and deep, every thrust brushing that spot that made you gasp.
“Yes!” you cried, head tipping back.
He leaned forward, lips capturing a nipple, tongue circling, sucking until you were arching into him.
“Oh—oh, fuck!”
“Mmm,” he hummed, releasing you with a soft pop. “Good girl.”
At the sound of praise, you clenched tight around him. He groaned, pace faltering for half a second before recovering, driving in harder. The only sounds in the room were the sharp slap of skin, your breathless moans, and the wet rhythm of his body claiming yours.
You wanted to let go—God, you needed to—but you knew better. Not until he said.
“Kento,” you gasped, voice trembling.
“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the way your body moved beneath him.
“Kento!” you cried louder, desperation edging your tone.
“Hmm?” he grunted, pace quickening, giving you what you needed but not what you wanted.
“Please!”
That was what he’d been waiting for. He smiled, small and satisfied.
“Cum.”
Bonus:
When it was over, he didn’t move right away. He simply stayed there, breathing against your skin, his body still covering yours like a weighted blanket. The tension that had driven every thrust bled out of him until only quiet remained. Then, gently—always gently—Nanami eased out of you and caught your chin between two fingers, tilting your face toward his.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured. His voice, the same one that commanded you moments ago, was soft now, threaded with concern. He brushed stray hair from your face. You’d be mad later that your hair was sweat out, but he never cared. He paid to fix it anyway. Nanami pressed a kiss to your temple, his thumb drawing slow circles at the hollow of your throat.
You could still feel the ghost of his control in the way he moved, deliberate even in tenderness. He cleaned you up, murmuring quiet praise, wrapping you in his shirt before pulling you against his chest.
That was Kento Nanami all over—disciplined to the last, patient to a fault. The same man who could break you apart with restraint was the one who always pieced you back together again.
