Loser!Remmick def they type of guy to walk in on Stack pounding reader downnnn like a straight up porno and Remmick is so embarrassed but so turned on…he def went to the shower afterwards and jerk it replaying the memory on his head #yeah #needthat
The mattress creaks below and Stack is all muscles over you, thrusting with greedy rhythm that makes your whole body a live wire.
Your legs are hooked around his hips, nails biting into the meat of his shoulders as he buries himself deep and hard, his cock vanishing into you and coming back with a wet smack that echoes off the walls.
You’re gasping, the world narrowed to the hot slam of him and the delicious burn of your cunt stretching and taking him.
“Stack?” Remmick calls, voice rough and too-loud. “You in? I left my charger here—”
The door opens a hair too wide. Remmick’s silhouette freezes there, like someone caught in a doorway between wanting and shame.
He sees enough: your skirt shoved high, the slick at your cunt, Stack’s thrusting hips, the filthy flash of skin. He’s a heartbeat inside the room and then you squeal—a high, involuntary sound that scraps through the moment—and Stack halts, still buried inside you, hands braced on the mattress on either side of your head.
Before any of you can speak, he blinks and is gone—a slow, awkward retreat, the door closing with the softest click, and his shoes echoing down the hall.
You throw the door a look, equal parts wicked and chastising, and hiss, “Pervert.” Your voice is breathy, sharp—not a plea, not quite a reprimand. It’s the exact bait it needs to be.
Stack’s mouth quirks into a lazy smirk, and then he drives into you again, the wet smack and your moan filling the space Remmick vacated.
Later—much later—Remmick stands under hot water in nothing but his briefs and lets steam fog the mirror while the brief, filthy replay runs behind his eyes.
He only caught a glimpse, but that slice is enough.
He tells himself, for a sliver of a second, that he should feel guilty. The thought feels performative in his skull, a scrim of manners he can put on and take off. He lets the notion of embarrassment flutter and die because right now he doesn’t care.
He presses the heel of his hand through his boxer band until his cock springs free, slick and already hard from the memory. He jerks slow at first, mapping the rhythm in his hand to the staccato of Stack’s thrusts: slow pull, hard shove, the delicious slap of skin on skin.
As the water thunders, he pulls faster, teeth set, matching the tempo he saw—imagining the hot drag of your cunt. precum beads at his tip; he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.
The memory fills in on its own, more obscene in his mind than what he actually saw, and that’s what pushes him over: the imagined sound of you coming, clenching around someone else, the image of you full and slick.
He comes hard, hot ropes soaking his palm, his breath hitching with a sound that’s half groan and half laugh.
The steam swallows him as his back meets the tile behind him, hand sticky and trembling. Turned out of his mind and more than a little pleased with himself, he towels off and sneaks one last look back toward Stack’s door—half hoping the both of you might catch him—and then turns away, the image branded behind his eyes to be replayed again and again.
゛notes ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ bye i had to do this while im in the car doing jack. is he a human or vampire in this? idcc
a/n: okay so i finally got around to writing a sinners fic…took me almost a year but i finally wrote it chile. also i’m ngl, whenever i see mbj, i get a lil irritated bc he’s fine asf and i know i can’t have him lmao. anyways, i had this idea during my nightly scenario before bed, hope y’all like it!! i just had to add some more loverboy!Stack into the mix! Just a fluffy little fic, before i get into the weeds of a smut piece…enjoyyyy😗🫶🏾
wc: 1.8k
There could be a lot said about Elias “Stack” Moore. He was hardheaded, a slick talker, and dangerous. Keen on having all his suits tailored to perfection, he nevver stepped out without the matching tie and pocket square, tie clip, hat—every element meticulously chosen.
Some nights you’d finish your entire night routine, nestling yourself right into the covers ready to finally get some sleep after a long day, just for your husband—who’d probably had an even longer day—to keep you up with his antics.
“How you feel about this one baby?” He asks, stepping out of your shared closet with a silky red tie in his hands.
“Looks like the ten other ties you’ve shown me, Elias,” you huff, trying to keep your smirk down, knowing that’d get him a little frustrated. He took the little details very seriously. And right on schedule, he kisses his teeth and sends a pointed glare in your direction before retreating back into the closet.
“No vision,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
“I should lock you and that vision of yours in the damn closet so I can get some sleep,” you grumble, just wishing he’d just get in the bed already.
“You know you can’t just lock all this pimpin’ in the closet, pretty girl,” sending a sly grin with a wink in your direction, he turns out all of the lights, finally putting his outfit planning antics to bed for the night.
Stack even made sure his brother, Smoke—who couldn’t care less about what he was wearing unless the job got done—was put together. Because in Stack’s words, “I have a reputation to uphold,” and “If you got my face you gotta look the part.” He practically considered it his “duty” to stay fly. So naturally, when you two got together, he did the same with you. Despite your countless objections, he was insistent on having some of your dresses custom made, making sure he had the best seamstress in town—who just so happened to be your mother—have a nice pocket square and tie made out of the extra fabric. In fact, Stack was your mama’s best customer—always insisting on damn near doubling whatever she asked for, which was already too low in his opinion. He was never one to turn down an opportunity to remind everyone that you were his, and most importantly, that he was all yours.
You had one more fitting for the dress Elias commissioned your mother to make over Sunday dinner a few weeks back, and he was more than willing to take you. Already heading into town to handle some business with Smoke, your husband brings you along to drop you off at your mother’s shop. But that plan was on the verge of falling apart since he practically held you hostage in the car. Trapping you with “just one more kiss baby” after every kiss. And even then, if you so much as thought about touching a door in his presence, he’d throw a fit. It wasn’t until you reminded your oh so affectionate husband that all the ladies in the shop, including your mother, along with everyone walking down the street could see you two and that his brother would come looking for him if he was late, that he stopped coming in for more kisses. And not to anyone’s surprise, only the threat of his brother got him moving right along.
You blissfully spent the next two hours in your mother’s shop. You’d gotten all the best gossip, taking a mental note of all the details and questions you’d bring back to Stack, who to his credit, always patiently listened and indulged in whatever gossip fell into your lap. You went back and forth with your mama, insisting she could bring the neckline down just a little, huffing and puffing that you were grown and married, until she begrudgingly gave in. You got to recount bits and pieces of your married bliss, the two younger girls in the room hanging onto your every word as if you were reciting the best fairytale ever written. And you even managed to successfully dodge any questions related to why you’d been married for a little over a year now with no baby Moore on the way. You’d consider the day a success.
“And I don’t know why I need a new dress. Elias said it’s for when he takes me dancin’, but we just went out last weekend,” you reason, trying to figure out what he was up to.
“You know that boy love to spoil you Y/n,” one woman pipes up, stopping her work on the garment in front of her to give you a knowing look.
“Maybe he wanna—,“ but before the young girl could even finish her starry-eyed guess the small bell above the front door rings, forcing everyone’s attention in that direction. And speaking of the devil, in walks your husband with a toothpick between his teeth and a smile brighter than all the stars combined.
“Well ain’t you just prettiest thing the Delta done ever seen,” Stack muses, pulling the toothpick from between his teeth and taking in your red clothed form. Your cheeks immediately warm up at the grandeur of his compliments. It didn’t help that you were front and center in the room, standing right on the small platform with the threefold mirror staring right back at you.
Walking further inside, he takes the structured hat off of his head and greets all the women, stopping to properly greet your mother with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Ain’t she so pretty,” he adds, stepping right up to your side, taking in the dress that was in his signature crimson, it hugged your body perfectly, the delicate pattern catching the light just right. The unanimous hum of approval from all the ladies only makes your cheeks hotter.
He then lifts your left hand in his and plants a delicate kiss to your jeweled ring finger as he admires you through the mirror in front of you.
“Hell, all of Mississippi ain’t got shit on you,” he breathes out, taking all of you in one more time.
“You better watch that mouth Elias,” Mrs. Bea grumbles from your right side, causing your mother to snicker behind you—already being somewhat used to his potty mouth.
“Now how you doin’ Ms. Bea,” Stack beams sweetly, peeking out from your side to flash the golds in his mouth to the older woman across from him.
“Doin’ fine. Would be better if you stopped all that cussin’,” she shoots back, causing you and everyone in the shop to erupt into laughter.
“Now I can’t make no promises ‘bout that ma’am,” Stack truthfully confesses.
“Plus ya girl right here love it when I cuss real good,” his eyes are locked squarely on yours, a sinful glint blooming behind them. By now, your husband is grinning from ear to ear, the dimple on his left cheek on full display. You were just itching to poke it if that meant he’d stop.
“Boy you better stop, you know this girl gon’ burst into flames,” your mother snickers, placing the last pin in place for alterations. Was everyone out to get you right now?!
“Alright baby, you can go take this off, should be done by the end of the week,” she adds, helping you down from the platform alongside Elias.
“Thanks mama,” you softly breathe out, the corners of your mouth curling up into a gracious smile as you squeeze her hand. She reciprocates with a soft smile and sends you off on your way to go change.
“Need some help Mrs. Moore?” He offers, his voice laced with nothing but sin and a smirk plastered across his face to match. Your head immediately whips in his direction, eyes screaming, begging for him to stop. You step in closer to him, palms planted on his chest, eyes searching his for any hint of sense.
“Can you wait outside for me, I’ll be right out. I promise,” you whisper sweetly, gripping onto his suit lapels, smoothing out the crisp edges. While you were trying to be firm, you couldn’t stop yourself from your senses being pleasantly overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne mixing with the tobacco from his cigarettes.
“Nah, I’m good right here babygirl,” Elias pokes back, enjoying the way he was making you blush.
“If you go wait in the car, I’ll be real sweet to ya when we get home,” you lean up to whisper right in his ear, softly and ever so slightly pressing your body against his, knowing his ultimate weakness was you.
“That’s all you had to say, woman,” your husband beams, lightly wrapping a hand around your forearm and planting a small kiss to your lips before stepping away from you. You send a wink his way before turning towards the changing rooms, Ms. Bea following behind you, giving Stack a pointed look—almost daring him to watch you walk away. And he still did anyway.
“And before you even ask, I already set aside some extra fabric for that tie and pocket square of yours,” your mother informs, cleaning up her workspace.
“You know you my favorite mother-in-law right?” He proudly asks, earning a couple laughs from some of the women in the room and earning an eye roll from your mother.
“Gotta be able to match my favorite lady,” he proudly states, his smile softening at the thought.
“I’m gon’ get out y’all’s way now. The missus wants me gone I suppose,” Stack continues, feigning hurt as he carefully places the hat back on his head.
“I’ll see you on Sunday,” he finishes, giving your mom one final hug and kiss to the cheek and making his way to the door, sending a small wave to the other women in the room.
“That mean I’ll see you at church too, right?” Your mom quips, already knowing the answer.
“I don’t know about all that now,” your husband laughs, shaking his head as he pushes the door open, stepping out into the hot Mississippi air.
You can hear the ladies chatting back and forth as you carefully take off the dress in progress and put your original outfit back on.
“He sure is some trouble, that Elias Moore,” one woman grumbles, eyes looking towards your mother as she gets her own alterations done.
“But ain’t he just so sweet to her?” A much younger seamstress sighs, completely entranced with yours and Elias’ love story.
“That he is,” your mom replies to them both.
“But they a perfect match, that’s for sure,” she continues, looking out of the window to see Stack leaning against the car puffing at a cigarette and a bright image of your smile whenever you’re with him etched into her mind.
And you in the dressing room, hearing all the chatter, were fighting back the widest smile—the kind that hurt a little if you smiled for too long. Because it was true—you and Elias were a perfect match.
Elias “Stack” Moore x black reader; + surprise ending.
Summary: You love Elias. Your Elias. When you catch him in the act of betraying you, you decide to move on. Only…Stack isn’t so ready to let you go, but someone else already has their sights set on you.
Warning(s): cheating, violence (not towards reader), smut (18+ only, mdni)
(Author’s note: My first time writing a complete smut scene—go easy on me lol. I’ve had this idea on my mind for ages, so I was like let me go ahead and write while inspiration is here. Let me know what y’all think!🫶🏽)
You loved Stack.
You really did. You loved him more than you’ve loved any man walking on this Earth. He made you feel things—excitement, danger, adventure. Each day with him was like discovering some new hidden gem, and you were addicted to the feeling.
He was charming. Granted, that was one of the first things that set off alarm bells for you. Your grandmama had always told you to watch out for those charming, sly mouth men.
“They’ll talk you right on out ya’ panties if you ain’t too careful. Next thing you know, you sitting there with a baby while he’s warmin’ the next woman’s bed.”
Unfortunately, you hadn’t heeded your grandmama’s warnings and you ended right up in bed with the same man that she warned you about. But you loved Elias. That was another thing, you never called him Stack. He was so insistent on people calling him Stack, but you never would.
You remember the first time that he introduced himself, all dressed in swagger and sin. “Name’s Stack, sugar. And what might I call you?”
You remembering frowning at him in displeasure, “Your mama named you Stack?”
Stack had smiled at you that day. That gold grill glimmering in the sunlight and practically begging you to give in. “Naw, my mama named me Elias, but everyone else ‘round here calls me Stack.”
“Well I’m not everybody else, so I’ll call you Elias, just like God and ya mama intended.”
From that day forward, he was Elias. Your Elias. You had allowed yourself to be sucked in more when it came to Stack’s world. You were completely and utterly entranced by him. The crazy thing was, Stack seemed to have that effect on lots of people. You would watch as women swooned at his feet, hoping for a chance to get with it. Hell, even men wanted a piece of your man.
Which was another thing. You and Stack had never actually put a title on things. It was just kind of an unspoken agreement that he was yours and you were his. He’d always hold you close whenever you were in public, which automatically let people know that you were with him, but he had never gone as far as calling you “his lady.”
You loved Stack.
You really did.
But he liked to play games. It was an annoyance to yourself and his twin brother, Smoke. You had met Smoke a month into your little situationship with Stack. With Smoke….he scared you a little. His quiet disposition was enough to throw anybody off, but the more you were able to spend time around him, the more you grew to like him.
On the other hand, Smoke liked you too. He thought you were a smart woman with a good head on your shoulders, which is why he couldn’t understand why you were wasting your time on his brother.
He knew that Stack didn’t have any serious plans of settling down with you, and he also knew that Stack didn’t have any plans of telling you that. His twin could often be so careless when it came to women.
Apart of you suspected that Elias wasn’t as serious about your relationship like you were. You wanted to believe that he was being faithful, but without that title and reassurance, it was all just smoke and mirrors.
You should’ve known that something was going on. Your intuition practically screamed at you to wake up. The late nights. The phone being flipped over. Coming home late smellin’ of perfume that you knew that you didn’t wear.
Your man had been creepin’ but you didn’t have any solid evidence to back it up.
Well not at first….not until recently.
It was a hot, humid day in the Mississippi Delta. You had just got off from a long day at work and you decided to surprise Elias with a home cooked meal and maybe….dessert after. Arriving at the house that he and Smoke shared, you had gotten out of your own car and walked to the porch. You saw Elias’s car parked in the yard, so you knew he was home. Plus, you were often privy to the details of his schedule.
You used the spare key that was under the potted plant that Smoke was keeping alive. Letting yourself into the house, you were greeted with a wave of cold air from the air conditioner. You set the bags of groceries on the counter and walked through the house.
Walking down the hallway, you passed by Smoke’s closed bedroom door. You had never seen the inside of his room, but you always imagined that it was very minimalist and sterile. Smoke was the strict twin, and you figured that he held that same rigid regimen in all other areas of his life, including his bedroom.
You walked further down the hallway until you were standing in front of Elias’s bedroom door. You were about to knock and call out his name until you heard the sounds of his bed creaking and subtly slamming against the wall.
That sound was ingrained in your head from the numerous times when you and Elias would make love here.
You heard the pleasured moans of a woman combined with Stack’s own groans of pleasure.
Slowly, your hand moved to the doorknob and twisted. You opened the door and felt a rise of bile in your throat. It burned like fresh acid. The sight you were greeted with was Elias thrusting away in between the legs of a pale woman.
You recognized her as Mary.
The same Mary that you knew was a married woman. The same woman that Stack had told you not to worry about.
Both of their bodies were drenched in sweat, which let you know that their copulation had been going on for a while. Mary, who’s head was thrown back in pleasure, suddenly looked towards your direction and gasped.
“Stack.” She said, worry filling her voice.
Stack stopped his movements and looked back and locked eyes with you. He even had the nerve to look guilty. You were the tears stinging at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Red hot anger consumed your being and for a second, you thought that you might snap.
However, your body moved and you turned on your heel to exit the room. Walking quickly up the hallway, you grabbed your keys and made your way out the door. You heard Stack’s rushed footsteps behind you, but you were hellbent on leaving.
You were greeted with the Mississippi sun beating down on your skin again.
“Baby wait.” You heard Stack saying, but your footsteps never faltered. Another car pulled up in the driveway, which you knew was Smoke’s. He quickly exited his car upon seeing Stack running behind you.
As you reached your car door, you felt Stack grasp your wrist in an attempt to stop you. You don’t remember exactly how it happened, but it all happened so quickly. One minute, you were facing your car and the next, your fist was meeting Stack’s nose.
The man let out a yelp of pain as your knuckles met the bridge of his nose. Blood quickly shot out of the orifice, and you felt pain radiate through your hand.
You didn’t even realize that tears had began streaming down your face. You weren’t sure if it was from the cheating or punching Stack—but you were leaning heavily to the former.
A pair of gentle hands grabbed your wounded hand and you looked into Smoke’s eyes. The other man’s eyes held a lot of sadness and empathy for you.
Your rage overcame you again and you snatched your hand away from him. Getting into your car, you quickly reversed and maneuvered out of the yard. Before you could speed off, you gripped tightly at the necklace, which had been a gift from Stack, and roughly ripped it from around your neck.
Letting down the passenger window, you chucked the necklace back into the yard before speeding off. You didn’t care about getting a ticket for speeding, you just needed to get far away from the Moore twins.
__________________
In the South, your business is never really private or sacred. Oh no, word gets around faster than a preacher giving a sermon on Easter Sunday.
Word travelled fast throughout your town about Stack’s infidelity with a married woman, nonetheless. My Lord, the older women in town clutched at their pearls upon hearing the news.
At work, many of your coworkers gave you looks of sympathy.
“Bless her heart. Po’girl. She know better than goin’ and gettin’ with that Moore boy. He always been trouble.”
“Girl, I heard she found him with that white girl. You know her, Carol Johnson’s daughter….that’s the one!!”
“Mmm..mmm…mm! That’s a crying shame! I heard they had to call the police cause Mary’s husband was acting up somethin’ awful. You know him and his daddy own that general sto’ down by Mill Creek. I heard them boys was clowin’ him, and they had to stop him from goin’ to beat the girl!”
“My boy, Bobby Lee, said he saw Stack walkin’ round with his nose all bandaged. You don’t reckon Mary’s husband paid him a visit?”
“No girl! That lil’ girl in there whacked him somethin’ awful. That’s why her hands all bruised up.”
“Mmm mmm mmm…..Bless her heart.”
Despite the fact that you heard everyone whispering and muttering around you, you never said a word. You kept things going, business as usual. In fact, on the outside, it appeared like nothing had ever happened. But on the inside, you were an absolute wreck.
When you had got home that day, you had broken down, harder than you ever have before. Sobs tore through your body and you swore that you experienced a moment of hysteria.
You had tore through everything in your house that had Stack’s signature on it. His clothes that he left were torn up and ripped to shreds. Those gifts and teddy bears won at carnivals had met your sudden female rage. Pictures of you together were ripped apart.
You didn’t know what had overcome you, but you found yourself throwing all of the things–his things–in a pile and setting fire to it. As you watched the fire consume the remnants of your relationship, you found one of his cigars that he liked to smoke. Cuban blend.
Lighting the cigar with a match, you placed it to your mouth and took a drag. Bitter smoke filled your lungs and you welcomed the pain. You sat back in your lawn chair and watched it all burn. If anybody were to find you, they would absolutely believe that you had lost your mind.
And maybe you did.
But for now, you’d smoke this cigar and pick up the ashes later.
_____________________
Two weeks later, you waltzed your pretty self into the office like nothing that happened. It was almost scary to your coworkers how good you looked.
You were pristine, like a carefully crafted china doll. Still everyone maneuvered around you like they were scared of you breaking.
During your lunch break, you had decided to take a walk and go pick up lunch from Annie’s Cafe. The woman greeted you and looked you up and down.
“My..my…you sho’ll look good sugar.” Annie said. She made you do a little turn for her, “You even still got some booty back there.”
The two of you laughed, as she packed your lunch. The doorbell jingled and the air shifted around you. You knew that it meant that Stack was here. You saw Smoke walking next to him and both men passed by you. You could tell the other patrons were waiting with held breaths to see if you would acknowledge Stack.
As Stack passed by you, a part of him longed to reach out and talk to you. Smoke grabbed him before he could approach you and subtly shook his head. Now was definitely not the time, especially with all these eyes watching.
You grabbed your plate from Annie and thanked her. You waltzed out the door without sparing a single glance at Stack.
That was the part that hurt him the most.
___________________
It started off small, and increased in grandiose. With Stack, he never knew how to do things small.
He was sending small gifts to your office. Bouquets of your favorite flowers. Your favorite candy. Teddy bears. Next, it was jewelry. Cartier bracelets. Tennis necklaces. Expensive heels and purses.
All which ended up right back on his and Smoke’s front porch. Even the small cards that he had wrote notes on went unopened.
He had started calling your office, only to be met with your receptionist, “I’m sorry Mr. Moore, she can’t come to the phone now, but I can take a message.”
Even with him popping up at your job, he was being denied entrance. He had tried his luck at calling you, only to find out that you had blocked his number and all of his social media.
He had tried the ole method of just popping up at your house, but you always left him knocking at the door.
You had gone complete ghost.
Your presence had become so scarce that Stack would’ve believed that you were gone had it not been for the numerous whispers of people seeing you around town.
He just wanted to talk to you. To make it all better. To tell you that he was sorry and that he loved you. That the sex with Mary meant nothing.
But you had cut the man out of your life. Even Smoke was refusing to help him.
“Now why would I help you after the mess you pulled? Her breaking your nose wasn’t answer enough that she don’t wanna talk to you?”
But still, Stack was insistent on winning you back.
_________________
A month later, people around town noticed a change in you. They couldn’t quite put a finger on it, bug they chalked it up to you being healed from the mess with Stack.
You were like a brand new woman. If it was possible, it looked like you had gotten even more beautiful. Maybe you had gotten some of that hoodoo from Annie.
Looking good was an understatement.
You walked with a new swagger in your step. You had gotten thicker and curvier in all the areas that mattered. Skin was glowing. Word spread through the town like a wildfire.
“She been looking good girl! I’m talkin’ booty and titties been sittin’ nice. You don’t think she got them done?”
“Naw girl! That’s all homegrown right there!”
“I heard that she may be seeing a new man. Cheryl said that some mystery man been sending her flowers and lunch.”
“You don’t think it’s Stack, do you?”
“Can’t be Stack. Word is, he been still trynna get back with her.”
“Well whoever it is, they got her glowing.”
Stack wasn’t a fool. He knew that women tended to glow up after a breakup. However, he couldn’t help but get a little bitter upon hearing rumors of you having a new nigga. How had you moved on so fast from him?
Sure, he messed up and he was fully owning up to it, but he wasn’t expecting another man to swoop in and steal you. He tried to get info from the neighborhood gossips, but nobody had seen sight of your new mystery beau.
Stack started to doubt that the mystery man was real, but his suspicions were confirmed. It happened on a random Wednesday when he saw you walking into a clothing store. He followed you into the store, figuring that this was finally his chance to talk to you.
He found you browsing in the lingerie section. He saw you admiring a midnight blue lace two piece with garters.
“That’d look real nice on your skin.” He said.
You looked over to him, blankly. You turned and continued to browse through the pieces. He opened his mouth to try to make another joke, “Stack, I don’t have time for your jokes. I’d rather you not talk to me at all.”
He stopped and stared at you. You never called him Stack. He was always Elias to you. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat.
He leaned forward and caught sight of a purple bruise on your collarbone. He quickly turned you to him and examined the mark closer. He felt fury enter his chest, “It ain’t been nothin’ but a month, and you already openin’ yo’ legs for another nigga?!”
A sharp sting crossed his cheek until his brain processed that you had slapped him. You stepped closer to him and lowered your voice, “You think you get to question who I’m spreading my legs for? You lost that right when I caught you with your dick in another woman’s snatch! You wanna play the jealous boyfriend? Miss me with that, Stack. You lost that right when you betrayed me. And I’ll make sure that I let my new man break my back in a little harder tonight, so you can get it through your head that you and I are no longer an item.”
With one last cold look, you turned and made your way to the counter—with that midnight blue set in your hand.
Stack was left standing there, heartbroken and humiliated.
__________________
Stack needed to get out of town for the weekend. He had packed an overnight bag and let his brother know that he’d be gone for the weekend.
Smoke regarded him simply and told him to stay safe. On the drive away, Stack reflected.
Really sat and reflected. On everything.
He thought about you. How you were always there to hold him down. He thought on the tender moments shared between the two of you. He loves you. He really does. He just had a habit of sabotaging good things in his life. He was always the more impulsive one between himself and Smoke.
Even growing up, he was always the one getting in trouble. Smoke would often take a lot of the punishment meant for Stack to keep him safe. He knew how their father’s temper could get.
He thought about the scars that littered his body from their father’s anger. He remembered the moments where you would be laying beside him, and you would take special care to kiss each and every scar.
You’d make sure that none of them were neglected. You would whisper affirmations of love to Stack, and remind him that he was worthy of love.
God, you were so patient with him. And how did he repay you? By cheating with the one woman that he always told you not to worry about.
He would use this time to reflect.
Maybe he could try again to win you back.
__________________
A day later, Stack was traveling back to his and Smoke’s house. He had done his reflecting and he decided to cut his little weekend getaway short.
Pulling up into the yard, he parked behind Smoke’s car. All of the lights were off in the house so he assumed that Smoke was sleeping.
The illumination from the moon was the only source of light.
Stack unlocked the door and dropped his bag on the floor. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and sipped on it. He made the journey back to his room, until he noticed that Smoke’s door was slightly open.
Stack would’ve kept walking, but the sounds of moans and feminine gasps caught his attention. Tentatively, he crept closer to the closer, making sure to keep his footsteps lights. He peered through the door. He wasn’t able to see clearly through the door, but the moonlight assisted in seeing the outline of Smoke’s body.
Truthfully, there was a slightly curious and perverted part of Stack that wanted to know what Smoke looked like when he was having sex. He and Smoke were mirrors of each other, so in a way, it was like he would be watching himself.
He and Smoke often didn’t talk about their sexual exploits. Even when Smoke lost his virginity, he wouldn’t give any details to Stack. Whereas, Stack, was like a leaking faucet with sharing his story with Smoke.
Even as they grew, Smoke wouldn’t share that information with him. Smoke rarely brought women to the house, so for him to have a woman in there now, meant that he really liked her.
Stack had to hear second-hand accounts from women in town about what an amazing lover that Smoke was. He remembered being in the club and passing by two women. The beautiful dark skinned woman was talking to her friend, “Girl yes. I’m telling you, I know Smoke is the quiet one, but that quiet act is all a front. That man had me seeing stars. I was crying through at one point from all that pleasure and he talked me through it. I’m sure my toes was in there doing gang signs.”
The other woman laughed loudly.
Stack peered closer and was able to see Smoke’s head between the mystery woman’s legs. The woman had her back arched off the bed and she rolling her hips against Smoke’s mouth. Stack could see her hands clasping tightly at Smoke’s head. In return, Smoke threw his arm across her waist to hold her still. His head moved deeper in her core and her moans pitched higher.
“Right there baby..” she moaned before she let out a high pitched squeal. Smoke continued to move his head and helped her ride her high out.
Moving his head from her core, he moved his head up until him and the women were kissing.
“You taste how you sweet you are.” Smoke’s voice rang out in the room.
Smoke rose and picked the woman up in his arms. Immediately, the woman wrapped her limbs around him. Stack could see her kissing and biting at Smoke’s neck. Smoke set the dresser across the room and moved her body closer to the edge.
Stack could see Smoke start to stroke his length and heard a sharp gasp in the room. He assumed that Smoke was now entering her. The woman looped her arms around Smoke’s neck as the man began to thrust between her thighs. Loud pleasured cries filled the room along with smacking of skin against skin.
“Harder baby,” the woman pleaded to Smoke.
Smoke, ever the soldier, obeyed the woman’s request and placed her legs in the crook of his arms. The items on the dresser clattered loudly as Smoke delivered harsh thrusts to the woman. The woman’s moans intensified and she appeared to be matching Smoke in his movements. The woman’s nails raked roughly down Smoke’s back, which seemed to spur him on.
Smoke’s groans echoed through the room.
Stack felt his throat drying and swallowed deeply at free show that he was witnessing.
There was something that unsettled him, the moans and cries sounded vaguely familiar to him.
He looked back at Smoke and the mystery women, who had her forehead placed on Smoke’s. The two lovers appeared to be holding eye contact while their bodies bounced against each other. Wet squelches added to the ambiance of the room.
Suddenly the woman spoke, “I want you to cum inside of me, Elijah.”
Stack froze.
He knew that voice. He peered at the mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman’s reflection. He pushed the door open slightly and the sliver of moonlight finally shone on the woman’s face.
Stack felt his whole world crash down as he saw your face. Your pleasured and ruined face.
Suddenly, you let out a long moan, which Stack was familiar with. It was that same moan that always told him that you were cumming. Smoke followed behind you and let out a long groan. He held your body closer to his, no doubt spilling his release inside of you as you had asked for.
You moved your head to Smoke’s ear, “It’s all yours, daddy.”
You lifted your head and locked eyes directly with Stack.
Summary: Stack’s slick talking still got his ass in trouble a whole century later…
Pairing: Elias “Stack” Moore x Black Fem!OC
Warnings: smutty smut, explicit language, use of the n-word, vampire!stack, vampire!oc, jealousy, oral sex (fem receiving), face sitting, overstimulation, edging, and aftercare.
Word count: 3.2k (sorry I got carried away LMAO)
For contest winner @aaliyah54 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
The club buzzed with red and violet lights, but Aaliyah was the only thing Stacks wanted to look at. Her curls bounced down her back, wild and soft, catching every neon flash. Her skin, a milk-chocolate glow under the strobes, drew eyes without her even trying. The little glint of her gold tongue ring when she spoke was always enough to make Stack’s mouth water.
Decades had passed since that night at the juke joint, but they were bonded over dying human and rising cursed together. The two of them stitched a life together in the darkness. Two vampires woven together by hunger, loyalty, and a love too dangerous to say out loud.
Stack should have kept his eyes on her. He should have known better. But then, the bartender stepped up. A woman with a sharp jawline, deep glossed lips, and a smile that meant she knew exactly what she was doing.
"What can I get y'all?" she asked him, leaning a little too far forward, chest framed with neon. Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Aaliyah and Stack both heard it.
The bartender giggled. “You the type that likes somethin’… strong?”
“Mm,” he hummed, gaze slanting over her lips. “Sometimes.”
The air changed in that moment, and so did Aaliyah's scent. Sweet cinnamon and heat sharpened into something jagged and cold, lethal. Her fangs pricked down behind her closed lips. Even though Aaliyah didn't physically react, Stack noticed her fingers straining against the bar top.
As the bartender set down his drink, she lightly touched his wrist. "On the house, handsome."
Aaliyah didn't say anything. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But just silent in that dangerous, don't even breathe wrong way a vampire woman could.
Stack’s smirk faded.
"Aaliyah—baby—” he panicked, stretching his arm toward her waist.
She stepped aside as if he reeked of garlic.
He even caught her mumbling asshole over the bass of the pounding music. He could smell the spike of hurt and watched her curls sway as she walked toward the exit without looking back.
“Aaliyah,” he hissed under his breath, fangs out now. “Damn.”
He followed her immediately, pushing through the crowd like nothing could stop him. To be fair, nothing much could these days.
The night air hit Aaliyah first. It was frigid, sharp and so tranquil compared to the flurry left behind in the club. Her curls bounced with each step as she crossed the pavement, her heels clicking like a countdown that Stack wished he could end.
He followed right behind her, long strides eating up the distance. “Aaliyah—baby, can you just—”
She didn't look back. She didn't even slow down. Didn’t even give him the grace of a frustrated sigh.
Her scent stayed cold and furious, all edges and ice. Vampirism made emotions louder and stronger, and in this moment, her anger was so loud that it drowned out even the cars on the road.
"Aaliyah, please." His voice cracked, his fangs still out from earlier, visible breath gesturing to the cold. "You know damn well a nigga like me ain't interested in that lady."
She pulled open the passenger door of his blacked-out SUV with supernatural smoothness and slid in, curls spilling over her shoulder like a shield.
Stacks stood there for a beat, jaw tight, cursing himself in three different decades of slang.
Once he finally slid in the driver’s seat, it felt suffocatingly silent. Stack’s hearing was too good, so he caught every detail.
The faint click of her tongue ring against her teeth. The way her toes clenched and unclenched in her heels. Her refusal to look his way. He knew if her heart still functioned, it’d be thumping furiously.
He gripped the wheel, fingers tapping like an anxious tick, trying to keep his voice level.
“Aaliyah… baby, she was just being friendly.”
Still, she said nothing and refused to look his way.
He tried again, tone softening as he pulled out onto the road. “Angel, talk to me.”
She turned her gaze toward the window, city lights streaking across her skin like paint. The gold of her nose ring caught on a passing streetlamp, and damn, even her silence was beautiful enough to ruin him.
“Please don’t shut a nigga out like this.” Stack swallowed hard. “You know I hate that shit.”
And again, nothing.
He inhaled and winced. Her scent was a whole paragraph of jealousy and hurt, sharp enough that even his undead lungs felt tight.
When Stack pulled into the private garage beneath their sky-rise condo, Aaliyah was out and walking before he was even able to take the key out.
"Liyah—hold on!"
Of course, she didn't. She moved toward the elevator, a swirl of curls and fury.
Stack’s chest squeezed. He flashed forward, catching the elevator doors with one hand before they closed.
She still didn’t look at him.
“Aaliyah,” he breathed, voice low, finally honest, “I’m sorry, baby.”
She didn’t blink, but she uncrossed her arms, and her glowing eyes flicked over him behind her shades. Just once, and that was enough to tell him two things: She heard him, and he was going to have to work very, very hard to earn her forgiveness once that elevator stopped on their floor.
The elevator doors opened into their penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights like spilled diamonds, shadows making long stretches across polished floors. Aaliyah stepped out first, curls bouncing with each furious step as she stalked off toward the living room.
Stack followed sluggishly behind. Not because of his speed—he could cross the room in half a second—but because she was angry enough to catch fire. He had an unwavering respect for fire.
“Aaliyah…” he began softly.
She didn’t turn. She didn’t even flinch.
The only indication she was angry was the sharpness of her scent, a frosty metallic sharpness of a pissed-off vampire pride. He hated it. Hated that he was the cause of it.
She slipped off her heels, tossing them aside with supernatural accuracy. Then she marched to the window and stood there staring out at the skyline like she would rather talk to the damn moon than to him.
Stack ran a hand over his taper fade, his fangs still exposed from earlier, frustration building in his chest like an ache even though he did not have a heart to break.
“Aaliyah, please, look at me.”
Nothing.
He stepped closer, still not touching her, just stepping into her orbit. Close enough to feel the whisper of cold air around her skin. Close enough to smell the jealousy still clinging to her like perfume and punishment. "You know I ain’t interested in her." His voice softened. “You know I haven’t wanted anyone but you since the night we died together."
She stirred slightly; her curls swayed a bit, but she said nothing.
Stack blew out a breath, annoyed with himself, annoyed with the bartender, and annoyed with the time spent learning how to kill but not how to keep the woman he loved from walking away from him.
"Aaliyah," he said, stepping behind her. He didn't dare touch her, but he leaned down close enough for his breath to graze her shoulder. “She meant nothing. You hear me?"
In the glass you could see her reflection, her jaw tight, her eyes having that faint golden glow to the edge of her anger. And the gold tongue ring gleamed each time she clenched her teeth.
"You flirted back,” she said finally, her voice hushed and controlled.
It wasn't loud, but it was lethal.
He winced. "I—it wasn’t—I wasn't thinking."
"Oh, I know," she said, still staring out at the skyline. "Clearly you done drank way too much O neg this week."
Stack stepped a little closer, to the point he could feel the cold warmth of her body through the air between them.
"I apologize," he whispered, his tone heavy with conviction, as if the apology cost him his immortality to say.
Still, she didn't turn.
Again he tried, softer, almost desperate, as he reached up to pull the shades away from her face. "Liyah... don't walk away from me. Please, baby.”
Finally, she turned towards him, her eyes glowing fiercely, her curls wild, her jaw tense. The very picture of a vampire woman over her man’s bullshit.
"I’m not walkin’ away,” she said. “I’m waitin’ to see how you gone fix it."
Stack froze.
Her aroma and the challenge in her gold-ringed tongue. It hit him like a stake to the chest.
“Aaliyah…” he exhaled sharply, fangs extending fully now, hunger and guilt twisting together inside him.
She stepped backward toward the couch slowly, deliberately, expression unreadable.
“No more talking,” she sighed softly. “If you really want to apologize…”
She sank onto the couch, leaning back, legs parting to make her skirt ride up just enough to reveal she wasn’t wearing any panties. “…show me.”
Stack was on his knees before she even finished sitting down. That supernatural subtlety went flying out the window. He dropped so fast the air rippled, fangs flashing before he forced them back, trying to look less like a monster and more like a man begging forgiveness.
Aaliyah shifted back against the arm, steady, slow, creating space for him to lay back on the couch as the lights from the city turned her curls into a glittering crown of shadows and gold. Once he settled in, she hooked one finger under his chin and lifted his face.
"You wanna fix it?" She asked, calm but deadly.
"Yes," he breathed, his voice guttural and scraped. She yanked her skirt down and then off, the motion so efficient he hardly recognized it happening.
"Then earn it.”
She shifted forward, thighs framing his face, and he caught a glint of her gold tongue ring for half a second before she lowered herself onto him.
Stack’s breath vanished. His hands flew instinctively and grabbed her hips, fingers curling tight enough to crumple steel but gentle enough on her skin. He pressed his mouth to her heat like he'd been waiting decades for the chance, which, in a way, he had.
Aaliyah rolled her hips slowly, testing him, feeling his hunger rise through his cold skin.
He groaned into her. A low, ancient sound that vibrated through her whole body.
“Good,” she whispered, grinding deeper. “You stay right there.”
Stack didn’t move except to worship.
His tongue slid over her slit, slow at first, reverent, mapping every slick inch like a prayer. Then he found her clit, and the apology became real. He sucked it into his mouth, tongue flicking, pressure perfect, desperate, controlled only by his fear of losing her.
Aaliyah’s head fell back, a soft moan slipping out. Her thighs tightened around his face, and he growled. Not from anger, but from being home.
He held her steady while she used his face, guiding her with his palms, letting her take exactly what she wanted. Every roll of her hips made him hungrier, more frantic, and more devoted.
“Stack…” she choked on a moan.
He answered with his mouth, not words. Deep, slow strokes at first. Then faster and deeper, tongue sliding inside her while his nose brushed her clit just enough to make her moan louder.
Her hands slid over his head, gripping tight.
“You doin’ much better, baby,” she whispered breathlessly, “but you ain’t forgiven yet.”
He moaned against her, pulsing from the need to please, the need to fix, and the need to taste every sound she made.
Aaliyah ground down harder, thighs trembling. “Don’t you dare stop, Elias,” she warned.
He didn’t, of course. He licked her like she was salvation and he was starving. Tongue firm, angled, steady, drawing circles that had her breath hitching, curls falling wild around her pretty face.
When she got close, her scent sharpened with heat—not human warmth, but that electric, supernatural sweetness only vampires produced when pleasure crested.
Stack tasted it all. He wanted more, so he wrapped his arms around her thighs and held her down against his mouth, sucking harder, licking deeper, his voice muffled and frantic with devotion.
Aaliyah shattered. Her hips bucked, her thighs pressed tight around his head, and her fingers damn near crushed his temples as she cried out, long, breathless, and shaking. Her release coated his tongue, and he drank her in like she was the only thing strong enough to sustain him.
When she finally loosened her grip, he didn’t move an inch. His lips still moved against her, kissing her slowly, reverently, like he wasn’t done apologizing yet.
She exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling even without breath.
“Better,” she praised, stroking his jaw with her thumb. “But we not done.”
Stack looked up at her. Eyes darkened with lust but still glowing, lips wet, fangs sliding back down from pure hunger.
“Nah,” he whispered, voice cracking with pure need, “I know we ain’t.”
Aaliyah slid off his face slowly, her thighs still trembling, and her curly hair stuck to her cheeks. Stack sat up slightly, chest heaving even though he no longer needed to utilize his lungs, his lips soaking wet with her release. His eyes were even darker now, black-rimmed hunger glowing around the edges.
He looked wrecked.
Good.
Aaliyah cupped his jaw with one hand, and her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.
“Ready to finish apologizing?” she asked softly.
Stack swallowed like it hurt him to do so. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Please. Anything you want.”
She smirked and stood.
"Take off your clothes," she ordered.
He did, of course. No questions asked. No vampire pride or the usual smart remarks. Just obeying her and doing it quickly enough that the moment she turned away from him and toward the couch, his shirt hit the floor.
He was already painfully hard and leaking, desperate beyond measure for her touch.
Aaliyah sat back down and crooked her finger. "Come here."
Stack climbed onto the couch, but she stopped him with her firm hand at his chest.
“Uh-uh,” she shook her head. “Lay back down.”
He did as he was told, his muscles tense and body trembling. The cold skin looked captivating in the city night. Hard edges, cut abs, and a thick dick standing straight up and throbbing like he was alive again.
Aaliyah straddled his thighs, taking her precious time and dragging her nails lightly across his stomach. His breath hitched strong, broken, and unsteady.
“Sensitive tonight, huh?” she murmured in a sultry tone.
“You the reason,” he rasped.
She smiled. “Mmhmm.”
She wrapped her hand around him just at the base, and Stack bucked up hard enough to make the couch creak.
“Aaliyah!”
She didn’t stroke him yet, only squeezed him tightly, and held him there, right on the edge of sanity.
“Flirt with her again…” she said low, leaning down so her curls brushed against his chest, and added, “and I’ll tear yo ass apart just like this for hours.”
He craned his neck and groaned deep and guttural, his fangs flashing.
“I’m so—sorry,” he whispered.
She tilted her head, unimpressed. “That didn’t sound convincing.”
Then she stroked him once, devastatingly slow, with a vicelike grip.
Stack’s entire body jerked, and his hands flew to her thighs, fingers squeezing hard enough to leave marks on a human. “Liyah—baby—please—”
She stroked him again, quicker this time, the grip easy, her tongue ring flicking against her teeth as she grinned at his unraveling.
“You always got so much shit to say,” she teased. “Where’s all that smooth talkin’ now?”
He gasped—gasped. A vampire. Gasping. “Aaliyah—ohfuckohfuck—I’m gonna come—”
She stopped.
His hips jerked into empty air, a broken sound tearing out of him.
“Not yet,” she singsonged sweetly.
His voice came out strangled.
“Angel…please.”
She grabbed him again, this time stroking harder and faster, with the rhythm steady and merciless. His head fell back, eyes flickering a bluish grey from hunger, fangs fully extended.
He was a monster unwound.
“Apologize,” she demanded.
“I’m—ngh—a nigga said he was sorry, baby,” he choked out. “I shouldn’t have flirted, shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have—fuckfuckfuck—Aaliyah—"
"Not enough," she growled, squeezing tighter.
He whimpered her name unashamedly.
“Aaliyah, forgive me—please—I love you—I’ll never do that shit again—pleaseee—let me—let me come, baby.”
That’s what she wanted to hear.
She leaned down, kissed him slowly, and curled her fingers just right. “Come for me.”
Stack came with a groan like glass shaking in the windows. He spilled in her hand with hot, desperate pulses, body arching, fangs slick with saliva, voice raw, like centuries of control just snapped.
When he crumpled into the cushions, shaking, muttering curses, and completely spent, Aaliyah kissed his jaw and smirked. “That’s better.”
Stack was still shaking when she at last dropped his softening length. Not from fear, but from the aftershocks crashing through him in slow waves, each wave easing his muscles bit by bit.
Aaliyah slipped off his hips and curled beside him, her dark tresses tumbling onto his chest, her hand smoothing over the cold planes of his stomach. He lifted her fingers clumsily and gently brought them to his lips.
"You okay?" she whispered.
He nodded, but it was small, nearly shy, which seemed ridiculous for a man who could snap concrete with his bare hands.
“Don't lie to me, nigga. That was some intense act-right teachin' going on…”
Stack snorted softly, "I'm good." He reassured, "Better now that you ain't mad at a nigga no more.”
Aaliyah giggled under her breath—a contagious kind of laugh that made something in his undead chest ache. She reached for the towel they kept draped over the couch for moments just like this, gently wiping him clean. Her touch was sweet and careful.
Stack's eyes were on her like she was the only thing steady in his world.
When she finished, he pulled her onto his chest properly, one arm around her waist, the other stroking her curls. She relaxed against him instantly, resting her head against the place in his chest where his heartbeat should've been.
"I love you," he whispered, meekly, almost like a confessional.
She looked up at him with her gold nose ring reflecting from the crescent moon peeking through the windows. "Oh, I know," she replied playfully and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And I love you too, idiot."
Stack smiled, pig-headedly embarrassed still. He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses brushing light and easy.
“I won't do that shit again," he promised. "I swear it."
Aaliyah stroked the line of his jaw with one finger. "I believe you, baby. That's why I forgave you."
He kissed her slowly and deeply. She hummed softly as she curled into him, one leg thrown over his waist, fingering the tips of his ears.
"C'mon," she murmured. "We should probably go shower."
He tightened his hold, refusing to let her go. "In a minute, baby," he whispered into her hair. "Just...stay with me like this."
She didn’t move. She just let the night settle around them. They were two immortals, entwined on a couch, finding comfort in a world that was anything but.
Summary: Elias ‘Stack’ Moore was anything but soft and sweet. What he was, was possessive, controlling, and a straight up asshole. Too bad Y/N loved that shit. After catching him in bed with yet another fling and his subsequent arrest because she was an undercover cop. Y/N moves on, or at least attempts to. Three years later and Stack is out, looking to reclaim what is rightfully his.
A/N: Day 23 - Spit or Swallow (control, filth, indulgence) from @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Sinners Kinktober Challenge
A/N: There’s this filthy story about Erik doing something like this that I’ve been thinking about but haven’t found since that first time I read it. If someone could tag the story and writer I would greatly appreciate it!
A/N: I only write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.
A/N: My work is NOT to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.
Y/N had grown bored of her life lately and she realized that maybe peace just wasn’t for her. She went back to working in the corporate sector after Stack’s arrest, moved to a cheaper and smaller townhouse settled in a quiet community filled with elders, and somehow ended up with the complete opposite of Stack for a boyfriend. Life was good, secure, slow and steady, but it just wasn’t enough for her anymore. Y/N wanted to feel alive again, she wanted excitement and spontaneity, and if she was being entirely honest, she wanted it all attached to Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. She’d already decided to breakup with Stanley after her once-in-a-while routine turned into a full week of reaching for the last hoodie of Stack's she had just to be able to get to sleep. She was thinking about how best to go about it while he was in the bathroom when the devil himself slid into the seat across from her.
“Hey baby, daddy missed you,” Stack said, that familiar smile glinting his gold at her and tugging at her pussy.
Y/N's mind faltered, the planned speech she'd been working on for the last two minutes flying out of her brain the minute his face and smell took up residence in the very spot she never thought she'd see him in again. Stack smirked, recognizing Y/N's stalled overthinking face at his surprise visit. His babygirl was probably just thinking of him and now that he was here, didn't know what to do.
He leaned his face on his hands and said, "you miss me?"
"I- You- When-," Y/N stopped and started, unable to complete let alone speak any of the thoughts that crossed her mind.
"You hurt my feelings when you sent that letter and ain't show up to see daddy these last three years babygirl, but that's okay. You can make it up to me now," Stack continued, watching her warring emotions flit across her face, pleased that he ain't lose her the way she tried to make him believe he did.
Y/N was stuck between wanting to cuss him out, celebrate at his return to civilian life, and worship him the way he taught her. She wiggled in her seat, body reacting to him despite the internal emotional rollercoaster she was on. 'How dare he act like she ain't catch him letting somebody else touch her dick,' 'How can he act like she ain't have to sit with that image in her head for the last three years,' 'How dare she be ready and willing to forget it all just for the chance to have her big daddy back?' Round and round, these questions plagued her mind, haunting her with the reality of what his return meant for her, what his presence did to her.
"I'm not your babygirl anymore Stack," Y/N finally got out, her voice sounding meek and lacking all of the conviction she needed to make it out of this encounter with her dignity in tact.
Stack just tilted his head and gave her that threatening smirk that signaled not only was he not pleased with her answer, but he was about to make her pay for it. She instantly dropped her eyes to her hands and started fidgeting. He knew her too well, knew exactly how weak she was when it came to him, how malleable she could be for him. Y/N chanced a look at him, to find that he hadn't moved or stopped looking at her the entire time, raising an eyebrow at her.
"You sure about that? Cause I can practically smell you dripping fo' me from here babygirl."
She had no idea how he could tell, but he was right. She flooded her panties the moment he sat down and it was only getting worse the longer they had this stare off. There was no way he could smell her right now, but if she opened her legs, even a fraction, she was sure that he'd be able to.
"But you let someone else suck my dick and you didn't even care that I walked in on you!"
"I don't care, that's the past and you mine," Stack said, his voice hard and unyielding, before he softened both his face and voice as he continued. "Don't ya wanna be big daddy's good little slut again? Don't ya wan' me to make that ache I know has been growin' go away?"
"I-," Y/N started and stopped, gulping down the truth that was threatening to spill from her lips. Despite silencing herself, Stack still caught it.
"Yeah, you wanna be daddy's good girl, you wanna be my good little slut again. Come 'ere," he said, leaning back in the seat and indicating with his head.
"But-" she tried.
"On your knees and crawl," he said, his voice sharpening again, indicating the impatient no-nonsense attitude that came with big daddy.
Y/N looked around her at the restaurant full of people and spotted Stanley coming back to the table with a confused look on his face upon seeing Stack in his seat. She bit her lip and looked back at Stack, knowing that his command wouldn't change and especially because her current boyfriend was approaching. He had a point to prove to her and anybody close enough to see the drama brewing. A few neighboring tables that recognized Stack were already not-so-subtely watching the situation unfold.
"Excuse me sir, you're in my seat," Stanley said.
Stack slid his eyes to Stanley and looked him up and down, automatically clocking the punk that stood in front him before looking back at Y/N and shaking his head.
"Really Y/N? This square ass nigga is who you tried to replace me with?" He tsked at her and continued, "I'm real disappointed in you babygirl."
Y/N just looked at her fidgeting hands again, suddenly awash with shame and guilt that this was the nigga she tried to forget Stack with. It was actually laughable, if anything about this encounter wasn't so serious, looking at the two of them side by side. Stack oozed aura and authority, and Stanley looked exactly like the type of man he was, a pushover, in every manner of the word. One bent to her every request, and the other made her bend to his will with just a look.
"Y/N, please tell this gentleman that your my girlfriend and date," Stanley whined.
Stack's eyes narrowed at Y/N as she looked up at him, daring her to fix her lips to acknowledge the man or his request.
“I suggest you tuck ya tail and go on home fo’ I start thinking about the fact you been touchin’ what’s mine,” Stack said, voice smooth as butter as he maintained eye contact with Y/N and calmly placed his knife on the table.
Y/N briefly looked up at Stanley, hoping he'd just leave, before returning her gaze to her hands.
"Y/N, I don't know why you lookin' at this nigga when you have your instructions."
"But daddy-" she tried, looking back at Stack with tears in her eyes, struggling to keep them at bay, knowing letting them slip would only make Stack be that much meaner. She was torn between the shame of wanting to do as she was told and the shame of holding on to being the boring upstanding citizen she'd become in Stack's absence. It'd taken her a long time to get people to not think about all the crazy ass things she'd done in public with Stack to be able to build a life without him. She was finally seen as respectable, but the moment she obeyed, all of that hard work went out the window.
"Uh uh, whatever you bout to say don't matter. Knees, now," Stack said before he looked at Stanley, who was still stuck watching how Y/N reacted to Stack, "Matta fact, you can stay. You can watch my little slut make an appearance. I doubt you even knew she existed under this facade she's been playing." He cut his eyes back at Y/N, "I won't repeat myself again babygirl."
Y/N looked at Stanley and around the room again, trying to be grateful that at least they were tucked away from the majority of the restaurant, before she locked eyes with Stack again and slid out of her seat, sinking to her knees. She maintained eye contact as she crawled past Stanley and straight to Stack's feet. Her mouth instantly filled with saliva when he gave her a 'good girl' and pulled himself out of his slacks. She watched patiently as he began to stroke himself, doing her best to stay still and wait for him to give her permission.
"Open up that mouf."
Y/N instantly complied, her mind already blank from the need to please her big daddy. Stack hacked up big ass loogie, turning any nearby heads that weren't already looking to what was going on, and leaned in close to her as he grabbed her cheeks with the hand that wasn't wrapped around himself as he spit in Y/N's mouth. Stanley's face had been increasingly getting red, his cooler skintone giving away his embarrassment, as his mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water.
"Swallow," Stack said, both his and Y/N's focus completely on one another.
Again, Y/N did as she was told, her mind completely turned off at this point. She was in it with Stack now, there was no escaping him, no escaping her need to be his good girl, his good little slut. She opened her mouth to show him that she swallowed it all and smiled at the pleased look that crossed his face.
"Go on baby, show daddy how much his little slut missed him," Stack said as he leaned back in his seat, throwing his arms around the back of his booth.
"I know you're not about to suck that man's dick in the middle of the restaurant I got us a reservation for! Y/N, have some fucking dignity," Stanley whined out, finally speaking up at the realization that he really didn't even know her the way he thought.
"Yes she absolutely is, aren't you baby?" Stack said, his eyes never leaving Y/N as he watched her nod and lean in to take him into her hot and wet mouth. Him and Y/N moaned simultaneously at the feeling, both of them remembering the last time she sucked him off as their eyes remained locked. At this point, Y/N's entire focus was honed in on Stack. She didn't even register Stanley speaking, calling her out her name, huffing and puffing like a child that just had a bully steal his favorite toy as he left, nor did she register when the restaurant manager approached the table and told them, 'you can't do that here.' She noticed Stack take a stack of hundreds out of his suit jacket and hand it to the man, but didn't hear him explain who he was or the fact that he was not moving until 'me and my little slut are good and ready.' She didn't notice the manager scurrying away, the offended patrons who left their tables, nor the ones who stayed to watch the show. The only thing she was focused on was making her daddy feel good.
Stack threw his head back enjoyed the feeling of having his little slut give him head. He wasn't ever going to admit it out loud and especially not to her, but his last act before getting locked up had been eating him from the inside out the last three years. The head hadn't even been that good and to find out the bitch was an undercover cop as he got arrested just made the shitty experience that much shittier. No matter how he tried to justify it to himself, seeing Y/N's face walk out of his house as he sat there played over and over in his mind for his entire stay. Then getting that letter from Smoke from her saying they were over and not to call her anymore twisted the knife in his chest that much deeper. If it hadn't been for the shit ton of money he and Smoke shelled out for their lawyer, he would've still been locked up, dreaming about how good he had it. The second he got out, he asked Smoke where she was, and thankfully his brother ain't let him down, letting him know he made sure to keep watch on her and warning him about the new nigga that stood in his way.
As he looked down at Y/N, her eyes closed in ecstasy, saliva dripping down her face and chin, he thanked whoever was out there on his side that she was all talk. He didn't know what he would've done if she had actually moved on and sent him on his way. She opened her eyes and locked them back on his low ones at the exact moment he felt his nut creep on him. Recognizing that he was close, she pulled away and sucked on his balls, her eyes never leaving his. The second she felt his dick jump in warning that he was bout to explode, she latched her mouth back around him just in time to catch every last drop. Stack watched her swallow it all down and open her mouth to show him. He grasped her throat and tongued her down before he moved all the dishware to the side of the table and told her to get on and spread her legs.
Y/N didn't even hesitate this time, instantly doing as she was told and folding herself so that she could hold her feet in happy baby pose to make it easier for Stack to rip her underwear off of her and shoulder his way between her legs. Stack spit on her pussy and slurped it back up as he ate her out like he'd been locked up for thirty years and not just three, putting his apology into pleasing her. He licked, sucked, and slurped, like she was a seven-course meal, making her already wet pussy gush all over his face, chest, and the edge of the table. He made her cum three times and just when she was getting ready to for a fourth time, he pulled away.
Y/N was getting ready to whine at not getting another orgasm when he said, "Come sit on daddy's dick."
He helped her sit on him, chest to back, and it took everything in him not to fuck her the way he wanted, but he had plans. They'd given the restaurant enough of a show and he was sated enough to make it through the rest of the night until they got home. When he came in her tight snatch, it was going to be in the privacy of the new place he got for them earlier that day and had her stuff packed up and sent to, unbeknownst to her. Instead, he savored the feeling of her taking all of him down to the hilt and grasped her throat to pull her back into a nasty, sloppy ass kiss.
"Such a good slut. My good little slut," Stack said in a way only he could accomplish as he admired the woman in his arms. "Let's eat."
Stack signaled a waiter as Y/N reset the table and both enjoyed how flustered everyone was around them as he made sure they had every course available, locked together just like that. When they were done, he made sure to leave another stack of hundreds on the table before tucked himself away, smacked Y/N's ass, and led her out of the restaurant with a genuine smile on her face she hadn't worn in years.
Stack was not a patient man, not unless the patience would benefit him… and there were plenty of benefits to teasing you until you were begging for him to just fuck you.
His ego grew each time he got you worked up with only a couple kisses to your neck and his hands pulling you closer to him by your hips. Hearing the way you were so desperate while he was just getting started? No amount of outsmarting gangsters in Chicago would ever compare to that rush.
He would kiss you so passionately you were left breathless before pulling you into his lap to straddle him. That was when he would finally slide his hand under your shirt and begin massaging your breasts over the fabric of your bra.
He would wait until you were desperately pulling his shirt off of him and running your hands over his chest and torso before finally, slowly, peeling your shirt and bra off. His hands would go to your waist as he pulled you close to him, attaching his mouth to one nipple at a time. He took his time on your breasts, licking at your nipples and kissing and marking the flesh around them until your hips were shamelessly grinding against his, searching for some kind of relief.
Stack would pick you up and take you back to the bedroom and finally finish taking off your clothes, only to see that you were already soaking wet.
“Already?” He would tease, “I haven’t even touched you yet, only been kissing you and playing with your tits, but you’re already dripping.”
And then he would continue teasing you.
His lips would attach themselves to your neck, make their way back down your chest and stomach, sucking random marks into your skin the entire time, then kiss everywhere on your hips except for where you needed him most. He would make his way down your legs and then back up before finally, finally, giving you some kind of reprieve by slowly licking at your cunt.
He would take his time, making sure to lick up all of your arousal, before attaching his lips to your clit and sucking. He would work you up slowly, watching as your breaths began to grow more desperate, your moans became more breathy, and your back began to arch off the bed.
Then he would pull away, just before you finally came.
“Nah, baby girl,” he would tell you, his beard wet with your arousal. “I didn’t just spend all that time making you squirm just for you to not finish wrapped around me where you belong.”
If you were some one night stand? He wouldn’t have near the same amount of patience. But because it was you, he would spend hours just to make sure you were completely unraveled.
، summary𓈒 lying and sneaking around behind your brothers' backs is one thing. that's just standard sibling rebellion. but fucking the enemy? you're not just crossing a line anymore– you're actively asking to be killed.
، pairing𓈒 elias “stack” moore x black!fem!reader
، warnings𓈒 forbidden crush, MEAN!stack, Dom!stack, aftercare, reader going dumb on the dick, modern!gang!au, gang themes, enemies to lovers (kinda), language, the use of the n word, smut, blood, heavy sexual content, oral play, explicit shit, choking (heavy), overstimulation, manhandling, praise (i think, idk), anddd a lil bit of a rim job (just a smidge- don't panic ladies)
، notes𓈒 uhh yeah...Enjoy.
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
It’s been a week.
Seven long ass days since that storage room at Sable, since Stack had you in that fuckass loveseat, moaning his name like a song you couldn’t stop singing.
You been thinking about him every damn day.
Every time your phone buzzed, you hoped it was him.
And when it wasn’t? You scrolled through his Instagram like a damn detective- looking through old pics, watching his highlights, replaying that one close up video of him licking his lips in slow motion like he knew what the fuck he was doing.
You don’t even like hood niggas like that.
But Stack Moore?
He’s your favorite hood nigga or whatever.
His username looked so clean on your screen: @OnlyStackUp. Real dumb n Cocky. Just like him.
Your fingers hovered over his story icon more times than you could count, and when you finally replied? That was it.
The floodgates opened.
Now y’all been texting in secret for days.
Little messages that got bolder by the hour.
“U up?”
“What you got on?”
“You think about me?”
“Stop playin’, pretty. You know damn well I do.”
And tonight it moved past texting. Now you’re both just on FaceTime.
You’re sprawled out across your bed in a big t shirt and nothing underneath, scarf wrapped snug on your head. You told yourself you was only gonna scroll on your phone and go to sleep.
That was a lie.
Because the second his name lit up your screen, you answered.
And now he’s got you grinning like you sixteen again, kicking your feet like you don’t know no better. Like your brothers wouldn't have you by your neck for still talking to him.
The camera’s angled low, catching that sharp jaw and those fucking lips. He’s in some dim ass room that looks like a trap house in the background- music low, smoke curling through the air, the sound of boys laughing somewhere off screen.
Stack is leaned back on a couch, one arm draped over the top, the other holding his phone low so you see all of him. Black tee, some jeans, a fat rope chain glinting under that soft light.
“Damn,” he says, voice low, thick with that lazy drawl that always gets under your skin. “Look at you. In the bed and shit. Lookin’ like a whole problem.”
You roll your eyes, even as heat curls low in your belly. “Boy, shut up.”
“I ain’t lyin’.” He grins, flashing that grill before putting a blunt between his lips. “What you got on?” His voice sounded a bit muffled.
“A shirt.”
“Uh huh. Just a shirt?” He leans forward, screen tilting as he grabs something, probably a lighter, then flicks it. The flame glows across his face, soft and dangerous, before dying with a click. He pulls on the blunt, exhales slow, smoke curling from his lips.
“Stand up. Let me see.” The smoke makin him look oh so fine.
“Stack…” you drag his name out in a warning tone, smiling anyway.
“What? You act like I ain’t already know what’s under there.” HE DOES NOT. His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s picturing it. “I still feel it, pretty. You was tryna’ run last week, remember?”
Your thighs clench. “You play too much.”
He smirks. “You ain’t say that when you was ridin’ me like the world was endin’.”
“STACK- !”
His laugh is deep, smug, sexy as hell. “What? Why you actin’ shy now?”
“I’m not actin’ shy.”
“Right, right.” He leans back again, grin sharp as a blade. “So show me.”
You bite your lip. “Show you what?”
“You know what the fuck I’m talkin’ about. Stop playin’ with me.” His voice drops lower, darker. “Take that shirt off.”
You glance at the clock glowing on your nightstand.
12:47 AM.
It’s late. Too damn late for the kind of thoughts running through your head.
But you do it anyway.
Because it’s stack.
You sat the phone up, letting the camera catch you sliding the hem of your shirt up, slow. He stays quiet, dead quiet, as brown skin and soft curves of your breast come into view. When the shirt hits the floor, you’re almost bare from head to toe, just in your underwear, a lil embarrassed only because he hasn’t even seen you fully naked.
“Damn…” he mutters, voice rough now, eyes locked on you through the screen. His tongue drags over his bottom lip slow, like he can taste what he’s seeing. “Look at you...pretty ass body.”
You smile, soft and a little smug. “You mad you ain’t nut in the closet?”
“Mad? Nah.” His laugh is low, dangerous. “Just means I gotta make sure next time I do nut.”
Your head tilts. “Next time?”
“Yeah. Matter fact…” He shifts on the couch, setting his blunt aside. “Where you at?”
“At my place.”
“Yeah, I mean…who there?”
“Just me.” duh.
His eyes flicker, a lil sharp now. “Bet. Drop the pin.”
Your stomach flips. “Stack…”
“What?” He smirks. “Don’t start actin’ scared now. You want me just as bad as I want you. Lets just fuck again.” He says it so casually. Like he's not risking his life and yours for a lil fuck.
You chew your lip. But he is right. And the truth be told youre tired of pretending otherwise.
“Drop it,” he says again, voice like a command. “I’m on the way.”
Your heart kicks against your ribs like it’s tryna escape. “You serious?”
“Do I sound like I’m playin’?” He’s already standing, camera moving as he moves through that dark room, snatching his keys off a table. Somebody in the background says something and he just waves them off, mumbling, “I’ll be back.”
“You can’t- Stack, it’s after midnight, i gotta client- ”
“Perfect time,” he cuts you off, sliding into the driver’s seat of that black car you’ve seen on his story too many times. “Less eyes. Less problems.” He glances at the screen, grill flashing. “So what’s up, pretty? You gon’ send it or you want me to keep talkin’ nasty to you all night long?”
You glare. “You don’t even know how to whisper nasty.”
“Shit,” he laughs, deep and smug. “You want whispering or you want what I gave you last time?”
Your pussy throbs just remembering. That storage room. His voice in your ear. Those big hands holding you down like you was made for him.
So you caved like a lil bitch and sent the pin.
His phone chimes. He glances at the camera again, smirk curling slow. “Bet. Keep that same energy when I get there.”
“What fuckin’ energy stack?” He probably means his energy that you aren’t reciprocatin’.
“Nah, don’t even worry about it.” He grins wider. “Don’t go puttin’ no pants on either. I want you just like that.”
You roll your eyes, heat pooling low in your stomach. “Boy, bye.”
“I'm pullin’ up,” he shoots back, starting the engine. The bass in his speakers rattles through the call for a second before he turns it down. “FaceTime stay on. I wanna see your pretty ass while I’m drivin’.”
You blink. “You gon’ crash.”
“Nah. I’m good. Keep that camera right there.” He insisted.
You laugh and hang up anyway, putting your shirt your back on.
Not too long after you damn near ran to that door when you heard the knock.
Not a loud one, Stack knew better. Just two lil taps.
You snatched it open, pulling him in so quick his hoodie brushed your cheek. Didn’t even give him time to blink, let alone be seen by nosy ass neighbors, knowing them they’d probably tell your brothers. The lock clicked behind him like sealing a secret.
“Why you actin’ like the feds outside?” His voice was low, teasing, carrying that husky laugh you hated but loved so much.
“Because they might as well be,” you shot back, glancing at the door before looking at him. “Whatchu you tryin’ to get me killed?”
Stack grinned like death wasn’t shit but a punchline. “Girl, please. If they knew half the shit we already did- ”
“Don’t start.” You cut him off with a look, heat crawling up your neck just remembering the way he had you.
He wore black like always- hoodie pulled over his head, lookin’ like a fine ass hood nigga as always. And his smile? Ughhh. Everything about him screamed I’m only here to fuck you so beware.
“Where you want me?” he asked, voice dropping, eyes already dragging over you slow as honey.
“Living room.” It came out shaky, which pissed you off because you swore you wasn’t gonna act brand new. But your heart was thumping like bass, and your pussy…well, it had it’s own heartbeat.
You led the way, feeling his eyes on your ass the whole lil walk, heat prickling your skin like his stare was touching you. You sank onto the couch, crossing your legs all casual, pretending like you didn’t wanna climb him the second he sat down.
Stack dropped into the chair right next to you first, sprawled like he paid rent, arms stretched wide, hoodie riding up to show ink and abs. He watched you with that lazy ass smirk, licking his bottom lip slow like he knew what he was doing.
“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” you asked, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth because you already knew the answer.
“Like what?” His brow raised, eyes dark and hungry. “Like I ain’t been thinkin’ about that pussy all week?”
You covered your face with both hands. “Oh my God-”
“What?” he teased, leaning back a lil bit, elbows on his knees. “You told me to come over. I ain’t pull up to watch TV.”
“Who said I wanted-” you started, but the words got stuck because he leaned closed, slowly towering over you with that look in his eyes like he was about to ruin every excuse you had just because he could.
“You gon’ act shy now?” His voice dropped lower, like a growl. “After you was sittin’ on my shit in the back of the club like a nasty lil’ freak?”
Your thighs clenched so hard you almost whined. He noticed. Of course he did. His grin widened, wicked as fuck.
Stack’s knee brushed yours. He smelled like cologne mixed with weed. You were quiet for half a second, then…you climbed in his lap like gravity made you do it.
“Damn.” His hands gripped your thighs the second you straddled him, fingers pressing into your skin like he owned every inch. “You just proved my point.”
“You talk too much.” You leaned in and kissed him like you’d been starving for it.
He met you halfway, lips crashing into yours, deep and messy like he’d been waiting all week for this, too. His tongue slid against yours slow, teasing at first, then hungrier when you moaned into his mouth.
Your hands went to his hoodie, yanking it off because you needed skin. He let you, smirking against your lips before pulling back just to look at you.
“You miss me, huh?” he murmured, thumb dragging across your bottom lip before slipping it in your mouth.
You sucked it slow, eyes locked on his as you nodded, and that cocky grin turned downright sexy. “God damn,” he muttered, voice rough. “You tryna make me nut before we start?”
You let his thumb leave your mouth before leaning down to kiss his neck. You bit lightly, then sucked, leaving a mark on his throat while his breath hitched. His hands gripped your ass, sliding you forward on his lap until you felt exactly how hard his dick was.
“Oh, so that’s how we playin’?” he rasped, his voice breaking a little when you rolled your hips slow.
“I’m not playin’,” you whispered against his skin, then sucked harder, dragging your tongue over the spot until he groaned.
His hand shot to the back of your neck, pulling your face up to his. He kissed you harder this time, deep and filthy, while his other hand slid up under your shirt, finding the curve of your breast and squeezing until you moaned.
“Stack…” you whispered against his lips, nails digging into his shoulders because you were already wet and this was just kissing.
He didn’t even break the kiss when his hands moved again and slid under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your arms flew around his neck. His mouth was hot, wet, and messy against yours, teeth grazing, tongue forcing its way in like he owned every part of you.
“Stack—” you tried to breathe his name, but it was swallowed by his lips.
He walked, slow and heavy, toward your bedroom. Each step shook something loose inside you, nerves, anticipation, that hungry little ache that had been eating at you since last week.
You felt his dick pressing hard against your pussy through his pants again, and it made you whimper against his mouth. He chuckled dark and deep, that sound vibrating against your chest.
“Shit, you just stay wet for me, huh?” His voice was gravel and smoke against your lips.
You nodded fast, too gone to be embarrassed.
“Mhm.” His breath was hot in your ear now, tongue flicking your lobe before he growled, “Ain’t nothing sweet about you after midnight, is it?”
Before you could answer, he kicked the bedroom door open with his boot and dropped you on the bed like you were his property, bouncing once against the mattress before his weight pressed down over you.
The kiss turned nasty, it was actually quite disgusting but that's stack for you—tongues sliding, spit stringing when he pulled back just to suck your bottom lip until it popped. He spit in your mouth like it was nothing, like you were meant to take it—and you did, moaning low, letting it roll down your tongue before swallowing it slow just to make him groan.
“Goddamn,” he hissed, thumb dragging across your wet bottom lip before shoving two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.”
You didn’t even hesitate, wrapping your lips around them, sucking like you were born to do this, tongue swirling until he pulled them out slick and dripping, grabbing your chin.
“Turn over,” he said. No raise in his voice, but it was a command that ripped.
You hesitated, just for a second, and he laughed low, leaning in until his breath skimmed your throat.
“Don’t make me say it twice.” His teeth literally biting into your throat making you cry out because that shit actually hurt.
You pushed him away and flipped over quick, heart racing, cheek pressing into the sheets.
His hands slid down the curve of your spine, over your ass, grabbing a handful and spreading you wide. “Shit…pussy talkin’ to me,” he muttered, and then you felt it—his tongue licking one slow stripe up and down your slit, stopping just to suck your clit like he had all night.
You cried out, fingers clawing the sheets. “Stack—oh, god…”
But then, god help you, your eyes widened and your jaw was practically in hell when you felt his to tongue move up your pussy then higher to your ass making you gasp.
“Stack—wha—stack–!” You practically squeaked when you felt his tongue push past the rim of your ass.
“Wait- mnh!” You reached back and pushed your hand against his head to attempt to move his head away but the man only spread your ass cheeks wider as he squeezed them while groaning as his tongue pushed further past the rim of your asshole before going back down to your pussy.
“Yeah, you like that shit don’t you,” he ask, giving your ass a lil love tap before diving back in, eating you like a man starved, like that was his last meal. You instinctively pushed back against his face, hugging your pillow because this was just something you weren't used to and just letting him do it at this point because he was not gonna stop.
By the time he pulled back, your whole body was trembling and you were in fact embarrassed. He stood up just long enough to unbuckle his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers in one smooth move. His dick slapped heavy between your ass cheeks, thick and perfect.
“You ready for me?” he asked, voice low n sexy.
You nodded.
He climbed back over you, lining himself up, and slid in slow just to make you feel every inch and every vein. You gasped, choking on air, because he was big and the stretch burned in the sweetest way like it was the first time taking him all over again.
“Oh fuck…hey pretty,” he murmured against your ear, one hand sliding under your throat, fingers curling tight until he gripped your windpipe.
Your eyes rolled back when he started moving, deep, hard strokes that made the bed creak loud. His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, cutting your air until you were gasping for air.
“That’s it,” he growled, hips snapping harder now. “Yeahhhh, take this dick. You wanted me here, right? You begged me to come?”
You nodded weak, unable to speak, vision going hazy as he fucked you into the mattress while one of your hands grabbed his wrist.
When he let go of your throat, you sucked in a ragged breath, but he didn’t give you time to recover. His hand grabbed your hair, yanking your head back, mouth pressing against your ear.
“Arch that back,” he demanded.
You did, spine curving, ass bouncing back on him while he pounded your pretty pussy so good your legs started to shake.
Then he flipped you again, fast, throwing your back to the bed so he could look you in the eyes while he ruined you.
He pressed a hand flat against your stomach, pushing down while his other went right back to your throat. “You feel that? That’s me all the way in,” he hissed, rolling his hips deep. “You gon’ remember this shit tomorrow.”
Your breath hitched when he squeezed again, and the mix of no air, his weight, and that dick hitting deep had you seeing stars.
Your pussy spasmed and clamped down hard on his dick as you came, your whole body locking up while you screamed his name, choking on his fingers when he shoved them back in your mouth to keep you quiet.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Just kept fucking you through it, talking low and dirty until you were crying real tears, body limp under him.
He groaned grabbing at your hips before filling you up with his cum.
Your chest was still heaving, your skin slick with sweat and his nut dripping warm inside your pussy, and Stack? That man didn’t even look tired. Not even close.
He dragged those heavy palms down your thighs, spreading you out like you were just a meal he hadn’t finished eating yet. And the way he stared at your pussy like it owed him rent, had your breath catching before he even touched you again, smirking when he saw it glistening.
“You thought I was done?” His voice came out low, raspy, dangerous—like a man about to ruin every nerve you had left.
You tried to speak, to say something smart, but then he spit. Slow and nasty, a string of it dropping right on your clit before his thumb smeared it in with slow circles making you bite your lip.
“Mmm—Stack-”
“Shut up.” He didn’t even raise his tone. Just slid those two thick fingers back inside your pussy like they belonged there, curling so deep against your g spot your hips jerked. “You talk too much.”
Your mouth dropped open, but all that came out was a choked moan when his tongue replaced his thumb, licking up your slit like he was starving again.
And then he went slower.
“Mmm…” The hum vibrated against your clit as he sucked it into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue. His fingers never stopped working you, pumping in and out until his fingers was tired but he still didn’t stop. You tried to close your legs, but he just hummed against you and shoved them wider.
“You gon’ give me another nut,” he said, his voice muffled against your pussy. “I don’t care how many times it take.”
Your whole body was trembling. You couldn’t even think straight, couldn’t breathe when his pace picked up, tongue flicking, fingers stretching you wide, curling like they had a mission.
And then he pushed a third finger in.
“Stackkk!”
“Breathe,” he teased, smirking against your skin. “Matter fact—don’t.”
Next thing you knew, his big hand was on your throat again, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, his pace ruthless. Spit and your cum was sliding down his fingers, your cries turning to broken sobs as your body seized up, clamping so hard around his fingers you almost pushed him out.
But Stack didn’t let up. Nah, he fucked you right through that orgasm, sucking your clit like he was addicted while your body damn near levitated off the bed.
When you tried to scoot away, whimpering, “I-I can’t,” he just laughed, dark and low, pulling his mouth off you with strings of slick connecting.
“Can’t what?” He slapped your pussy—light but enough to make you jolt. “You can’t cum again?”
Before you could even answer, he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, ass in the air, again, face sinking into the sheets with a whimper.
You felt that thick head press against your entrance and swear to God, you almost cried.
“Stack…”
“Yeah,” he rasped, rubbing the tip up and down your soaked slit, slow and teasing. “Say it again.”
“Stack—please-”
That was all he needed. One hard thrust and you were moaninh, gripping the sheets for dear life as he bottomed out in one stroke, his hips snapping forward with zero patience.
He bent over you, chest to your back, arm snaking around to choke you from behind in a headlock while the other gripped your ass so hard you yelped.
“This my pussy, remember?” He growled in your ear, dragging his teeth down your shoulder as he fucked you so deep you felt it in your chest. “Ain’t no runnin’ from me, pretty.” He pulled you against him, arm tightening around your neck.
Every stroke knocked the air out of you, his balls slapping your clit, the wet sound of it echoing off the walls. You were gone; crying, drooling, shaking, while he fucked you like he had something to prove.
And then he pulled out and let you fall against the bed. You barely had time to breathe before he flipped you again, jesus christ, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your ankles.
He spit in your mouth. Just like that. No warning. Spit dripping down your tongue before he kissed you sloppy, lips biting yours like he wanted blood.
When he pulled back, he wiped your chin with his thumb, pupils dilated.
“Open,” he ordered.
You did. Because at this point, you’d do anything this man said.
And when you did, he slid his fingers, those same ones that had been knuckle deep inside you, right past your lips. Made you taste yourself while staring you dead in the eyes, biting his lip.
“Oh shit so pretty f’me,” he murmured, grinning dark.
His fingers slid out slow from between your lips, slick with spit. You grabbed his face before he could pull back, dragging him down into a kiss so deep your teeth clicked. He groaned low in his throat, hips jerking forward.
“Shit-”
He slid back inside like he never left, your pussy swallowing him with that wet, obscene sound that made his knees buckle for a second. You gasped against his mouth, nails dragging down his back hard enough to leave red trails. He didn’t even flinch, he loved that shit.
His dick drove in deep, tip kissing your cervix, and you damn near cried out, biting his lip to hold it in. He tasted like weed and liquor, like the night y’all first crossed the line.
“Mmm, look at you,” he rasped against your lips, voice all gravel and heat. “Still fucking greedy after I already painted that pussy.”
Your thighs trembled around his waist as he adjusted his stance, spreading your legs wide, folding you damn near in half so he could hit it from that perfect angle.
He slammed in slow the first time, just once, to make you feel all of him.
Then his hips snapped forward hard, fucking you into the mattress with sharp, brutal strokes that stole every breath from your chest. You tried to gasp his name, but the sound got stuck in your throat because he leaned down, tongue sliding into your mouth like he owned it, swallowing your cries whole.
The bed creaked like it was about to give out. Your headboard tapped the wall in a steady, dirty rhythm. He broke the kiss only to drag his mouth down your jaw, biting at your neck like he wanted to leave his name there in bruises.
“Stack—oh my God-”
“God?” He chuckled dark, hips grinding deep before pulling all the way out and slamming back in so hard the breath whooshed out your lungs. “Nah, pretty. That’s me.”
He wrapped a big hand around your throat, fingers splayed wide, squeezing just enough to make the edges of your vision shimmer. The other hand slid under your thigh, pushing it higher, higher until your knee brushed your own shoulder. You could barely breathe, barely think, all you could do was take it.
Every thrust punched the air from your lungs, your pussy clenching tight like it didn’t wanna let him go but then again it did. He felt it too, you knew he did, because he groaned loud, forehead pressed to yours as his pace went from nasty to downright reckless.
“This lil’ pussy,” he gritted, thumb stroking slow over your pulse while he choked you before he kissed you cheek like he wasn’t absolutely drilling your shit right now, “ain’t never letting me leave. You hear this shit?” This nigga laughed.
You nodded weakly because what else could you do? His lips crashed against yours again, messy and desperate, spit slicking both your mouths while he kept drilling that spot deep inside you that had your back arching clean off the bed.
Your orgasm hit so hard it made you shake, legs locking tight around his hips, dragging him deeper when he tried to pull back. He cursed loud, hand tightening on your throat just as he bent your other leg and started pounding, chasing his own high with a rhythm that bordered on cruel.
You felt him swelling inside, every stroke rougher than the last, until he buried himself to the hilt with a guttural growl and filled you up, all hot, thick, and messy.
He finally pulled out, slow like he wanted you to feel every inch drag out of you. Both of y’all gasped at the mess left behind. His cum was already slipping out in thick streams, sliding down your folds, glistening on your inner thighs. And this man? This man just stepped back a bit, big hands gripping your thighs to spread you wider so he could watch it drip.
You tried to close your legs out of sheer embarrassment- hell no. His hand shot out and smacked your thigh, not hard, just enough to make you jump.
Your face burned hot while he stared like you were the nastiest, prettiest thing he’d ever seen. His fingers slid through the mess, gathering up the cum that was leaking out of you, smearing it back up over your slit. You whimpered, hips twitching because you were already too sensitive.
“Ssshhh,” he cooed, not even pretending to listen as he rubbed his nut all over your pussy like it belonged there. “Ain’t it pretty? Look at that-” You literally couldn’t.
“You on birth control?” he asked suddenly, casual as hell, like he wasn’t two knuckles deep in his own mess.
You rolled your eyes. “Nigga…you asking me now?” Your voice came out all shaky, breathless, because, God, his fingers brushed your clit mid sentence and your back arched clean off the bed.
He grinned like a devil, not stopping for a second. “Just making sure. You are though, right?”
You could barely talk, barely breathe. “Yes—y-yeah-”
“Good.” His tone dropped even lower, filth laced in every syllable. “’Cause then we’d be having a different conversation.”
Your whole body trembled, a weak little whimper escaping before you slapped a hand over your mouth. You pushed at his wrist, tried to, at least, but he didn’t budge. His fingers kept circling your clit slow, torturous, slick sounds filling the room.
“Stack—please-”
“Please what, pretty?” He leaned down, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck, trailing his mouth across your skin like he hadn’t just wrecked your soul five seconds ago. His lips were warm, soft, distracting, while his fingers stayed mean and steady.
You pushed harder at his hand this time, voice cracking when you begged, “Stop—just—please, stop—I can’t- no.”
That broke through. He froze, fingers slipping away instantly. No attitude, no games—just stopped cold like your word was law. His big hand rubbed your thigh instead, soothing gentle, while his mouth pressed soft kisses down your shoulder.
“Aight,” he murmured, nuzzling your skin. “I’m done. I hear you.”
You lay there limp, chest heaving, body humming like a live wire. He kissed all over your face, cheeks, eyelids, the tip of your nose, soft and messy, like he couldn’t get enough of you.
“You wanna shower?” he asked against your temple, voice all sweet now, like he hadn’t just had you gasping and clawing at sheets.
You gave the weakest laugh known to man. “I don’t even wanna move…”
He chuckled, deep and warm, hands sliding under your body to scoop you up like you weighed nothing. “Then don’t. I got you.”
Next thing you knew, you were in his arms, naked, sticky, still shaking a little, while he carried you toward the bathroom like some man possessed.
“Gon’ get you cleaned up,” he murmured against your skin, voice honey thick with that edge of hunger that said this man was far from finished. “Then maybe…another round.”
You groaned loudly. He just laughed.
You couldn’t even look in the mirror without biting down on a grin. The steam in the bathroom clung to your skin, the water beading down your thighs still warm. You were exhausted, your body sore in all the right places, and yet your legs felt like they’d been dipped in jelly and left out in the sun too long.
Stack leaned against the doorframe, one towel slung low on his hips, another draped around his neck like a prizefighter fresh from a knockout. His tattoos glistened under the faint bathroom light, and his grin was evil. The type of grin that made your stomach flip and your heart race in two completely different directions. He had the audacity to look relaxed, cooling down after rounds one, two, and three- like he didn’t just drag your soul out through your spine.
“Shit…” you breathed, holding onto the counter like it was a lifeline. “You-”
He cut you off with a kiss to the side of your jaw, all slow and teasing, before his lips trailed down your neck like he was marking territory. You swore you felt his smile against your skin.
“You gon’ make it to bed or I gotta carry you again?” he murmured, low and smug, breath hot against your ear.
You rolled your eyes, but your knees wobbled the second you tried to walk past him. Damn him. Damn his stamina. Damn that voice that slid down your spine like whiskey.
Stack chuckled, catching you by the waist before you could trip over the threshold. “Uh huh. I thought so.”
You smacked his chest lightly, well, as hard as your tired body would let you, and grabbed the first set of clothes you could find. Oversized sweats and a tee. He didn’t miss a beat when you dug through your drawer and tossed him one of the old shirts your brothers left behind. Kash or Tyree- either way, if they knew? You’d be dead, and he knew it too.
He pulled the shirt over his head, and Lord have mercy, it was a crime how good he looked in it. Loose enough to hang just right on his shoulders but still stretch over the muscle stacked underneath. The irony wasn’t lost on you- this man sitting in your living room wearing a shirt that belonged to somebody who literally wanted his head on a stick.
Stack flopped onto your couch like he owned the place, legs spread wide, phone in hand like the night didn’t just rewrite the definition of messy. You shook your head, muttering something under your breath about him acting too comfortable as you stripped the bed, tossing the sheets in a pile.
Every movement felt heavier, your muscles protesting, your thighs still trembling when you bent down. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the dresser- a little dazed, lips still swollen, neck painted in Stack’s favorite shade of purple. You bit your lip and turned away fast, heat rushing to your face.
By the time you loaded the washer and set it running, your body was screaming at you to collapse. And the worst part? You had a client in the morning. Bright and early. What kind of self sabotage shit was this?
You dragged your feet back to the couch where Stack sat scrolling, looking way too damn fine in someone else’s clothes, his chains still catching light from the tv glow. You flopped next to him, head falling against his shoulder without permission.
“You know I got work tomorrow, right?” you mumbled, eyes closing before you even processed the sentence.
“Mhm,” he replied, thumb still moving across his screen, tone smug. “You’ll live.”
“Barely,” you shot back, weak but sharp enough for him to chuckle.
His arm slipped around your waist like it was second nature, pulling you in close. That damn cologne of his still clung to your skin, mixing with the scent of soap and something purely him. You didn’t even fight it when sleep dragged at your lashes.
Unfortunately, your time with Elias was cut short once you hear a commotion outside the room. What could it be? Well..You’re in for a rude awakening. Part. 1
wc: 6,578
warnings: Cunnilingus (again yes hes a munch), thigh riding/dry humping, dom!Elias (yesssss), squirting, Elias is a lil mean at first but he’s so in love :(, jealous!Elias, overstimulation (r!receiving), blood, triple k mention unfortunately, death/violence, guns/weapons, Mary is HIGHKEY a villain (sorry for the mary slander i fw her), previous: remmick x reader
an: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG GUYS!! I wrote it but then had to rewrite it kinda bc i messed the scene order up, it’s also not directly following the plot bc it works better this way, trust me. again i’m so so sorry for the wait! LONGEST FIC WOOHOO!!
feedback is always appreciated and welcomed! <3
Both you and Elias turn your heads towards the door, you feel yourself holding your breath in hopes of being able to hear the other side.
You can’t make out any words being said, but the sound of a scream is undeniable.
Elias and you quickly make yourselves presentable. You hold onto his clothed arm tightly as you both approach the door, but before you can open it, you hear countless rounds being shot continuously.
You yelp, and Elias pushes you behind him, your hold on his arm only gets stronger at the flurry of voices just a few feet away from you.
“‘Lias,” you whisper. He doesn’t look at you, instead reaching back, and squeezing your hip in response.
“Please…Be careful,” you’re nearly trembling behind him. Elias puts the arm that you’re holding on the doorknob, while the other wields his knife.
Elias then rips the door open, and the sight before you makes you feel sick.
A dead man, right in front of the door’s threshold, with blood pooling from his neck’s bitten arteries.
Then you see her—
Mary.
But now, she has crimson coating her lips down to the low collar of her dress. She has countless bullet holes in her body, yet she still stands as strong as a statue. Elijah stands a few feet in front of her alongside Sammie; the twin heaves and a mixture of frustration and anger is radiating from him.
Mary snaps her head in your direction and smirks as if nothing had even happened. You notice the glowing of her eyes, making you shrink even more behind Elias—if that’s even possible.
She does a double take between you and the Moore’s before speaking. “We gon’ kill every last one of ya,” she then sprints out of Club Juke faster than a jackrabbit.
The joint is empty, save for Annie, the Chows, Pearline, and Delta Slim, who run over to the scene.
“What the hell happened?” Annie exclaims. Sammie stutters out the events that occurred, but you find yourself tuning it out.
Mary had killed a man. But not with a weapon—no knife, no gun—but with her own teeth. That glow—that agility even after being shot up more than a hunted deer in the woods.
“We?”…She said "we?” Annie mutters. The thought makes you shiver.
More of those evil souls, with glowering gazes and monster-like movements.
How many were there? Were they just as strong as Mary? Stronger, even?
Your mind was going a mile a minute, as you pondered the endless possibilities of what these people things may have in store.
As if he could read your thoughts, Elias fully turns to you and grabs your upper arms. “Nobody gon hurt’chu, I’ll make sure o’ it,” he murmurs tenderly; he’s still firm and sure.
Elias has kept you towards the back of the joint, sitting pretty on the stage while everyone clambers about. You tried to explain to him that you weren’t some little girl who needed to be guarded, but Elias wasn’t hearing a word. His overprotectiveness both made your eyes roll and your heart flutter in your chest.
After sitting there long enough to make your butt hurt, you faintly hear a voice coming from outside the joint. You see Elias and Elijah share a look, before heading to the doors. Sammie almost immediately follows, holding onto Pearline’s hand; Slim, Grace, Bo and Annie reluctantly follow along.
The doors open and you hear Elijah talking to whoever resides on the other end of the threshold. You decide that sitting down isn’t in your best interest.
You’re getting up to stretch your legs—not because you can’t fight the urge to be nosy.
That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.
The closer you get to the door, the more you start to pick up on the voice of the unknown individual.
You can tell it’s a man by the riveting baritone waves of sound. For some reason, his voice resonates within you. The familiarity of his tone nestles deeply between your bones and echoes inside of your skull, all you can feel now is pure, and utter confusion.
After finally getting close enough to peer out the door through the small herd of bodies, your breath catches in your throat. Your heart begins to pound wildly, and you press a hand to your frame in hopes of taming it.
The way that his eyes dart to you makes you feel as if he had a sixth sense dedicated to you. You knew that face all too well.
You almost missed the way that the pupils of his bright blue eyes flickered from a radiant red, back to their normal black shade.
Keyword: almost.
What you didn’t miss, however, was how his shirt, suspenders, and his chain were all caked in blood.
Fuck—was he one of them?
Your thoughts are interrupted once he speaks, “Mo ghrá..” He murmurs. The group parts like the red sea, making it so that you could see him clearly. You’d be lying if you said that hearing his sweet, breathy tone didn’t make your knees weak.
“My love..”
“Remmick..” You murmur, your voice not louder than a whisper in the wind. Your gaze is set on the Irish man, and you miss the confused, yet almost pained look written on Elias’ face.
Remmick’s grin grows tenfold, “I-I knew we’d cross paths again, darlin’.” Your face feels as if it were on fire as everyone looks between both you and Remmick, as if the two of you had grown two heads.
“Chaill mé thú, mo chuisle,” he murmurs, yet it sounds so much louder amongst the silence.
“I missed you, my pulse,”
You shake your head frantically, “No—no, you—you were gone, Remmick.”
Remmick tilts his head at you slightly and furrows his brows, “An-and I missed ya every damn day, darlin’. Believe me when I say that.” He puts his hands out as if he were trying to calm a startled animal.
You lip quivers and your eyes start to burn, your vision grows blurry, but you quickly blink your tears away.
“You’re the one I came for,” he chuckles breathily. “Yeah—yeah, you, a-and...” Remmick pauses once Sammie steps beside you, “Sammie,” he drags out sinisterly, his eyes shining red yet again.
You can’t help but shift and bring yourself in front of Sammie, almost as a way to protect the younger boy.
“I sensed you—I sensed you both. I want to see my people again.” It’s like Remmick was boring into your soul as he spoke. “I’m trapped here…But your gifts can bring them to me.”
Your gaze shifts to Elias, who stands next to his brother as they both keep a hand on their respective weapons. Remmick claps his hands together, diverting your attention back to him.
He did it on purpose.
“Y’all give ‘em to me, now,” Remmick’s tone feigns innocence, “Just give me a lil’ Sammie, and my lass—we’ll let y’all live.” His pleading sounds more threatening if anything. Elias tightens his grip on his dagger and looks at you both wearily and fiercely. It’s sure as hell not because his life was just threatened, and Remmick seems to take note of this.
Remmick cocks a brow at Elias and smirks, “Oh…You ‘n her?” He trails off, pointing his finger between you and Elias. He averts his attention back to you and chortles, “You done replaced me, baby?”
You furrow your brows with a sudden wave of anger, “No–don’t give me that. You were gone for years! Y-you left me!” Your voice grows, your agitation wraps around your words and seeps into the night sky.
“Yet my undead heart still beats for you, and you only.” He speaks slowly and squints his eyes at you, almost in disbelief at your defiance. His smile quickly returns to his face, but instead of making you feel warm, and fuzzy as it once did, it makes you feel nervous, and even scared.
“Y’know what? That’s alright, darlin’. Yeah…I hope he been lovin’ you the way you needed,” he pauses and damn near giggles. “‘Cause ole’ Rem is back now, baby. ‘N once I getcha, I ain’t fixin’ to leave ya, ever again.”
“That’s enough,” Elijah grumbles, before stepping in front of you. Your chest feels tight, and you hide yourself within the back of the group as they all stand next to Elijah, before you eventually walk back to the end of the juke joint.
“They belong to us—they belong with us,” you hear Slim state firmly.
“‘N I ain’t gonna let that happen.” Elijah spit.
There’s a tremble in your step as you inch closer to the wooden platform. You can practically feel Elias’ anger radiating all the way from the barn’s opening to where you sat—a jittering mess.
Would Elias think of you differently now?
In all honesty, you know you did no wrong. I mean, did he expect you to only keep yourself company while he was off doing God knows what with dozens of women every day in Chicago for seven whole years?
It’s not like you shared a bed with Remmick; the thought had crossed your mind once or twice, but no matter what, your heart still belonged to Elias.
A part of you truly wishes that you could’ve pushed your feelings aside to allow Remmick to love you in ways nobody had. He was one of the kindest spirits you’ve ever encountered, and you had always fancied his promises of eternal love and life.
You couldn’t stray too far from Elias, despite how hard you tried, your soul wouldn’t allow it.
The commotion dies down, but the sound of heavy, quick footsteps does not—unfortunately for you. You don’t even know why you’re worried, but your heart’s restless beating doesn’t falter for a minute.
You look up at him and his face shows more than just mild irritation. You can’t tell if Elias is mad at you—for whatever reason—or at the fact that his first night back in the Delta was ruined…Maybe it’s both?
“Y’told me I was the only man you been with? What–so you was lyin’ t’me?” Elias wastes no time in interrogating you. You can see the group looking your way behind Elias, but once they meet your gaze, they disperse. Elias clears his throat once he notices your attention diverted.
You scoff, “No, ‘Lias! When I said I only been with you, I meant it!”
“So what was that? He over here callin’ you baby ‘n shit for no reason, then?” He throws his hands up in disbelief, letting them then slap the sides of his thigh.
“Okay–yes I dated him! But me ‘n him didn’t do nun, believe me when I tell ya, Elias.” You say with a sigh of irritation.
Elias’ face darkens, you can both see and sense the new-found tension pulsing. “So..He ain’t ever touch this body of yours? That’s whatcha sayin?” He inches closer to you, making you stand up on the stage to somewhat match his height.
You look down at him slightly as your faces remain close together, “I ain’t a liar,” you whisper.
And with that, Elias grabs you by your waist, hoisting you off of the stage and over his shoulder. You paw at his back as you let out a squeal, which sounds more like a screech.
Nobody seems to acknowledge the pair of you heading back to the very same room you were in earlier in the night, or at least they choose not to speak on it.
Nobody but Elijah.
He saw the grip that Elias had on you as he walked, his stride oozing both confidence and exasperation.
‘One track mind, that boy’, he thinks to himself.
As much as Elijah wanted to scold his brother for fooling around at a time like this, he thinks that maybe it’d be best if Elias got some weight lifted off of his shoulders. Maybe then he’d be more willing to come up with a plan with the group rather than going outside and trying to fight some haint and his army.
So, Elijah glares at his twin brother’s back before shifting his focus onto his gun in need of loading.
You watch as Elias kicks the door shut, before suddenly, you’re laying on your back once again. You gasp at his abruptness, but Elias doesn’t utter a word.
“Elias,” you sound as if you’re begging, but you don’t exactly know what it is that you’re begging for.
He lowers himself down, resting on one knee as he pushes your dress up, similarly to how he did a few hours prior.
“Baby,” you whisper, trying to push his head away from in-between your legs.
“This ain’t f’you, it’s f’me,” Elias finally utters. “I wanna taste what he couldn’t have.”
And with that, Elias plunges his warm, hot tongue inside of you; he doesn’t tease, which is unlike how he behaved with you earlier.
Elias’ filthy actions are unabated, and your efforts in pushing him away by his shoulders never cease.
‘This ain’t f’you, it’s f’me’
Elias’ words echo throughout your damn-near empty mind.
And he wasn’t lying, because no matter how much you cry out to him for mercy and even forgiveness, he doesn’t let up.
You’re breathless as he continues to fuck your cunt with his tongue. You beg him for a second to regain your bearings, but you know that even if he’d attempt to stop, you wouldn’t let him.
“Mmf—‘Lias, please!” You mewl. “Please—please, please! Have m-mercy!”
The way his finger swirls around your sensitive bud sends your body into what feels like shock. You don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel the hot tears trail down your puffy cheeks.
You sniffle and babble weakly, and Elias chuckles. His rhythm feels ingrained into your brain; the way his tongue flutters in and out quickly as his finger pad rolls even quicker.
The heat between your legs is ever-growing, as well as the pulsing ache that ripples throughout your core. Your back muscles arch instinctively off of the table; you think your bellybutton might just touch one of the twinkling stars in the dark night sky.
It doesn’t take long for you to start reaching your climax, you couldn’t even hold it if you tried due to Elias’ earlier endeavors.
“‘Lias please—I can’t! I—” You hiccup through your sobs, “I can’t take no more!”
You squeeze your eyes shut so tight you start to see colors circulating through the darkness. You sniffle and cry feebly as you lie helplessly on the table.
“That right?” Elias questions you, and it’s the first words that he’s spoken to you in minutes.
You nod your head up and down vigorously as you continue to cry, and then
Elias stops.
You let out a broken gasp once the warmness of Elias’ face is replaced with an icy chill that you didn’t even think you’d feel in Mississippi.
“No! Nonono—‘Lias please, m’beggin’ ya!” Another sob rips violently through your chest, which feels like it’s been caved in.
Elias peers at you, his expression unreadable, “Thought’cha couldn’t take it?” You try to speak but all Elias can make out are jumbled words and sharp inhales. Elias sits you up, and for a second, you think he’s going to walk out.
But then he sits on the edge of the table and slides you onto his lap.
More specifically: one of his thighs.
You look at him teary-eyed as another droplet trickled down your face. He notices this, and slightly sticks his glistening tongue out, licking the teardrop clean from your face. He does it with little force—such little bite compared to how he obnoxiously slurped against you minutes before. You barely felt his tongue, but his breath fanning over the side of your face made you heat right up.
Elias kisses your neck, lightly, but still present. “I ain’t givin’ you nun else,” he murmurs as he trails up to your chin.
“Why?” You whisper meekly. “What’d I do, ‘Lias? Talk t’me.” Despite your given situation, you still spoke to him with such tenderness.
If he wasn’t trying to prove a point, Elias maybe would’ve even swooned, which is so unlike him.
You make him feel like a different man entirely. You don’t throw yourself at him like the other women he’s encountered—the ones that give themself away for cheap. Despite how shy you were around him, you still held yourself with so much confidence, never arrogance.
It made Elias want to chase you.
He would’ve if he hadn’t been away.
He would’ve if there wasn’t underlying fear in his heart. Fear that you moved on with someone else, someone different than him.
Or maybe you wouldn’t even want him.
God, that’s why he can’t even begin to describe the pure rage that surged through his heart once Remmick started speaking to you.
Such familiarity in his tone and even his eyes, he spoke about you like you were his.
Elias missed so much—missed so many birthdays and life-changing moments.
But that man—Remmick, he experienced who knows how many.
Elias Moore isn’t scared of much, but he’s scared of losing you. And that’s enough to kill him.
“If y’want it, take it.” Elias ordered.
You stare at him for a beat, beady eyes flickering left and right, mouth agape, and hands finding their place on Elias’ shoulders.
You roll your hips on his thigh, and he tightens the hold he has around your back. Your head feels so fuzzy, like it was filled to the brim with the purest pearly feathers. But Elias’ very presence kept you grounded in ways you didn’t know he could.
You roll yourself against his thigh again, finding your own rhythm. Elias didn’t press; didn’t make you go faster, didn’t force you to release.
He wanted you to take what you wanted from him.
Because he’d give you everything you’d ever want and more.
He knows this, and you’re starting to learn it.
You heave through your nose as you ride him, your hands wrap around his neck, if they’re clammy, he doesn’t mention it.
With a surge of confidence flowing through your veins, you clamber into Elias’ lap, grinding down on his growing erection.
“Mmn—hah, you feel so good, ‘Lias,” you whimper, your voice picking up in pitch.
You swear you hear something from outside, but you can’t find a reason as to why you should worry about that when you’re on top of the man you love—grinding on him so filthily.
Elias groans softly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to see the effect that you have on him. “Fuck baby..Yeah that’s it.”
Your clit bumps against Elias’ zipper, and you let out a throaty moan. His hands come down to slap your ass as you continue to press down on him. You feel his toned muscles underneath his shirt as your hands glide up and down his torso.
Elias’ belt buckle feels cold against your lower stomach; it’s such a stark difference from the warm pressure that resonates within you.
Your legs are sore and twitchy and your hip muscles start to tighten, you whimper at the slowed pace you have to push through.
“I gotcha, don’t you worry,” Elias pants, before quickly rocking you back and forth on his slacks. His tip prods at your inner thigh, you notice that he’s leaked through his pants. Neither of you seem to care.
His grip on you tightens, as he starts to bounce you onto his clothed cock, then rolling your hips into a circle.
“‘M so close—please don’t stop,” you rasp as a new wave of tears streams down your cheeks.
“I know—I know, honey, let go f’me.”
Your plans to stifle your moans are out of the window now as your bottom half starts to tingle in ways you’ve never felt before.
“W-wait! ‘Lias! I-I gotta pee!” you gasp in horror. “M’sorry! ‘M’so sorry!”
Elias’ eyes light up, and he bites his bottom lip as he bucks his hips up into you. “C’mon, sugar. ‘S’all right, gimme whatcha never gave him.” He smiles at you genuinely. Only Elias could grin at you so sweetly while thrusting through your’s and his clothing.
You pat at his chest desperately, “No! ‘Lias please! Y’aint listenin’!” You weep.
“Nah—‘M listenin’ baby, ‘n it sounds like this pussy’s ready to cum.”
Your jaw drops as you slam yourself against Elias’ cock, riding your high as your voice gives out. Your ears ring, and you can barely even hear your own cries.
“F—uck!” The yell rips from your throat.
Elias just watches you in awe, no doubt cumming in his pants at the sight of you.
His lap is soaked and his laughter makes you pinch your eyes open. Speaking of: your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you look at the mess you’ve made.
“Oh God—‘Lias ‘m sorry. I tried to hold it, I swear!” You frown at him, but Elias is beaming, his rosy cheeks are nearly touching his bottom lashes.
“Wh-what? Why’re ya smilin’? Elias I just-“
“Y’just squirted on me, sugar,” Elias marvels.
You pause, cocking your head to the side and furrowing your brows, like you’re trying to decipher his words.
“I-I ain’t ever done that before…Is it good?” You ask softly.
“Best thing I’ve ever seen in m’life,” Elias says through cheerful laughter.
You readjust your dress and roll your foot in your heels, making sure they’re snug. Just in case you need to run from something
“What’d we miss?” Elias boasts, receiving a sharp glare from Annie.
“Well, if you two weren’t foolin’ ‘round, you’d already know that we’re up against vampires.” Annie scolds the both of you; you can see Elias’ poorly-hidden smirk in the corner of your eye, making you bite down a grin. It quickly leaves your face once you notice Bo’s absence.
“They gotta be killed one by one.”
Delta Slim pipes up, “‘N how the hell we do that?”
“Sunlight—a wooden stake to the heart.”
“Why tonight?” Elijah asks angrily.
Sammie takes a step forward, “‘Cause of me.” You frown at him, but before you’re able to speak, he continues. “My daddy told me—he said the devil was comin’ on account of my music.”
“Now, Sammie, that is not true—“ you say with conviction.
“I had a gal once—vampire. She was light skinneded, too.” Slim smiles as you look at the twins in confusion. “Gal bit me everywhere but my neck,” he chuckles.
Then, his smile fades and is replaced with something far more serious. “Sammie…You don’t worry about a thing, hear?”
Sammie’s posture shows his guilt and his fear taking a hold of him. Slim holds his gaze as he speaks, “Devil done came for me plenty of times. If he come knockin’ tonight…He gonna have to go through his old friend Delta Slim ‘fore he get to you. That go for everybody in here—you too.” He says as he turns to you. You smile sweetly at him despite the shake in your knees.
Unfortunately, it’s not from your intimacy with Elias.
Everyone looks at one another, solidifying Slim’s words of protection.
You keep your place next to Elias as everyone disperses. “‘Lias..” You whisper. He turns to you as you speak. “W-what if they get me—what if he gets me? I-I don’t wanna turn—“ Your voice rises as panic takes over your features.
His warm hand goes up to cup your face, stretching from your ear to the side of your neck. “Lemme tell y’sum, sugar,” he murmurs. “Nobody is takin’ ya away from me. Not him, not anybody—ever. Understand?”
You inhale deeply as you nod your head up and down timidly. His thumb presses to the side of your eye, wiping the tear that you didn’t even know had fallen.
Looking into his eyes feels as if you’re in a trance, and you think back to the electrifying moment you had when you were dancing on stage for him.
A scream rips through the building and interrupts your thoughts. “Sammie! Smoke! Stack!” The voice—who you figure out is Pearline—yells.
Everyone gathers to where Pearline stands, and there lies a man pooled in his own blood.
“Well, this had to have been Mary, right?” Grace asks apprehensively.
“Nah. She ran straight out. You saw them.” Sammie says breathlessly.
“Well who bit him then?” You and Grace ask simultaneously.
Elias turns to his brother, “We gotta get him out before he wakes up.”
The twins quickly drag the man to the door, heaving him through the dirt and gravel. You peer out from inside the joint with Sammie, almost as if you both were on look-out.
“C’mon.” Elijah beckons Elias as he starts to head inside, but he stays still.
Elias holds his hand out, motioning for Elijah to stop. “You don’t hear that?” You can’t see his front, but you know for certain that he’s scrunching his face up. You look at Sammie as you both listen to the sounds intertwined with the wind.
That’s when you hear it
Hear him.
“Leave where I was born,” you faintly hear Remmick singing.
“They playin’ music,” Sammie mutters.
“I cut a stout blackthorn.” Thunder rumbles and shines in the sky as he sings.
It leaves a bad feeling in your chest.
For to banish
Ghosts and goblins
You see a circle being formed, full of those vampires, but Remmick’s eyes are clearest as he stands in the middle of the forming ring.
A brand-new pair of brogues
To rattle over the bogs
His song seeps deep within your bones—words flowing through your rib-cage.
And frighten all the dogs
“Hey—hey.” Elijah taps Elias on his chest as he alerts him with a lowered tone. “Let’s get back inside.”
On the rocky road
To Dublin
‘C’mon.” Elijah ushers his brother inside.
One, two, three, four, five
Sammie side-steps Elijah as you reach out for Elias.
And with that: the door is slammed shut, the man is left outside, and Remmick begins to plague your mind.
Everyone looks around at one another without speaking.
“We all gonna eat this clove of garlic,” Annie says with persistence.
“No can do,” Elias shakes his head as he speaks.
“‘N why the hell not?” Annie nearly snarls at the brown-eyed man and his careless attitude.
Elias smirks, “Y’see now..Garlic don’t mix well w’pussy, aint that right Smo—“
You smack his chest with force, “Elias Samuel Moore!” You exclaim. Slim chokes out a laugh, and Grace turns her head, no doubt hiding a smile.
Annie sighs frustratedly, and Elijah doesn’t speak a word. His eyes just flicker between the group; you think he’s in his soldier-mode.
“..I don’t much like the taste of it,” Pearline peeps, glancing around wearily.
Annie snaps her head in Pearline’s direction, “Ain’t nobody saying y’all gotta like it.” She scoffs as she chews on the garlic clove, handing the jar over to Elijah. “We just gotta figure out if any of us left is one of them.”
Elijah passes the jar to Grace, who quickly grabs the garlic. “You ain’t get nun of the pickled ones?” She quirks a brow, voice somewhat muffled from the mouthful of garlic. Elias snorts beside you, and you nudge his arm in return.
Grace carefully hands the half-filled jar to you. You stick your thumb and index finger into the jar, plucking a clove out and handing the rest to Elias.
You grimace at the taste that floods your mouth, and now you do wish that Annie got the pickled ones. You turn your head to Elias, who almost looks apprehensive about eating one, but as soon as he meets your eyes, he flicks it into his mouth.
You blink at him before sticking your tongue out, showing him that you’re finished. It takes him a second to do the same; handing the jar to Pearline while still facing you.
“This is ridiculous,” Pearline blurts with annoyance. And without missing a beat, Elijah pulls his gun out and aims it directly at the girl’s head. You gasp, and Elias holds your arm, keeping you from doing anything you’ll regret. “Pearline.” You plead.
“Smoke—put the gun down,” Sammie nearly squeaks.
“Shut up.” Elias demands without even looking at his cousin. “Eat, or I’ll shoot.”
“Put the gun down Smoke, she ain’t no damn vampire,” Sammie contends.
“How the hell you know that?” Elijah deadpans.
“Just eat the damn garlic girl,” Grace warned.
You know Elias isn’t going to try and stop his brother, after all, Elijah’s just trying to protect his family in the best way he knows how. You admire it, but it also scares you knowing he’s damn-near just as reckless as Elias.
Elijah turns the safety off on his gun with a click, making Sammie panic, and everyone else observes in disbelief. Sammie butts in again, and his interruption unfortunately gets him hit in the nose with the butt of Elijah’s gun. He holds his nose in pain, and you cast a sympathetic glance in his direction, though he isn’t able to see it.
Elijah looks at Sammie for the first time, “Tryin’ to keep ya alive boy, you ain’t t’question me.” His southern drawl makes it all the more menacing as Sammie groans beside him.
You wait with baited breath, hoping that Pearline will just listen and pick from the jar in Elias’ hand.
“You a evil man,” She shakes her head and huffs. Pearline grabs the glass and pulls a piece out, almost sizing up Elijah. “No wonder the devil come f’us.” She chews reluctantly before giving the garlic to Slim.
He eats the clove and a tense wave of silence washes over the room. Suddenly, Slim covers his mouth and backs up coughing. Elijah points the gun in Slim’s direction as Annie inches behind him, and you’re no different with Elias as you grip Grace’s wrist.
“Slim—what’s goin’ on man,” Elijah says with simple directness.
Slim’s throat rumbles as he starts to thrash around, groaning and mumbling unintelligiblely.
“What’s goin’ on, Slim?” Elijah asks again, his voice raising into a yell as he now wields a thick wooden dagger. Slim pounds on his chest wildly and you continue to cower alongside Grace.
Slim’s head is down as he puts his arms out in a pleading manner, “I drank too much,” he grumbles. “That goddamn beer from Chicago—my nerves all fucked up, Smoke,” Slim rasps, gesturing to his face.
“Oh—fuck,” you sigh with relief, letting go of Grace; she still has concern written all over her face.
Everyone calms their racing hearts once Slim straightens up. “I’m fine,” he reassures. “See?” He holds his arms out almost triumphantly.
“You sure that was blood?” Annie asks Elijah, and you look at him, waiting for some sort of answer as to what Annie’s implying.
The group watches Elijah go over to the near-forgotten puddle of blood and gather it on his fingertips. He sniffs it, and you can’t help but recoil—and Elias can’t help but snicker it seems. Everyone waits for Elijah to speak, but he doesn’t. No surprise there, though But he does grab a seemingly empty beer bottle from under a table.
You hear the door rattle, and you quickly turn your body towards the noise. Elias walks in front of you just as quickly.
There’s banging on the door as someone shouts, “Hey—hey, Smoke, let me in, man.” Elijah looks up from his crouched position. “Smoke? Stack? Let me in!”
His muffled voice grows more desperate, as well as his knocking. “Smoke, I swear I paid my tab, man.” He pants. “That’s what this about?”
The knocking grows more frantic by the second, and you’re almost worried that the door’s hinges may falter.
“Stack! Hey, Stack! Whatever y’all need, man!” The man pleads. “Smoke! Some weird shit goin’ on our here, Smoke!” He begs helplessly.
The twins share a quick glance before inching towards the door. “Smoke, let me in! Smoke, let me in!” He hollers as he bangs on the door ferociously.
Elijah rips the door open, gun in hand, with Elias standing beside him with his dagger. Soon as the door opens though, the man is tackled to the ground.
He was tackled by Cornbread.
“What the—oh shit,” Smoke exclaims from his spot in the doorway as he now aims at the rustling heap on the ground.
“Get off me!” The man screams as Cornbread rips the skin from the side of his face clean off.
“Close the door, c’mon!” Annie yells over the loud squelching noise. But before everyone can clamber behind the door, Grace rushes to the frame.
“Wait!” She pants. “Bo.”
That’s when you see none other than Bo Chow, strolling up to the joint as if a man wasn’t being murdered a few feet away from him.
“Hey, baby,” he greets Grace, not even sparing a glance to anyone else. “Come on outside, I got the car started. Let’s go—c’mon.” He nods his head towards the parked car.
You place your hand on Grace’s upper arm as she examines Cornbread on top of the flailing man, your touch serving as an anchor for her.
“What is it, Grace?” Bo tilts his head at her, gathering her attention once more.
Her voice breaks as she speaks, “He’s killin’ him.” And that’s when Bo finally acknowledges the horrific scene in front of him.
“Oh, ya talkin’ ‘bout that?” He’s almost smirking at her. “Don’t worry ‘bout Cornbread—he’s just a lil hungry, ‘s all. Let’s go.” Cornbread growls before standing up.
Grace gasps as Bo presses her, “C’mon!” Cornbread snarls next to him. “C’mon ‘n go! I got the car all warmed up.” He grins and puts his hands on his hips before sighing once he notices Grace’s hesitation.
“Don’t do it, Grace,” you whisper to her, hoping to refrain her from going with him.
Bo strolls up to the door, “Or…” He puts his hand on the other side of the frame. “You let me back in there, and I’ll come in—we can grab our things..” He pauses.
You then notice his irises changing to a sinister silver color.
It wasn’t human.
“Don’t listen to him,” both you and Annie say firmly.
“Grace, we’re gonna find a way out of this, I promise.” Elijah declares, not lowering his gun from Bo’s chest for even a second.
“It’ll be okay,” Elias reassures her.
“I am your way out.” You flinch once you hear Remmick’s voice.
He walks up next to Bo as Elijah tightens the grip he has on his gun. “This world already left you for dead. Won’t let ya build. Won’t let ya fellowship.” He gestures with his hands.
“We will do just that,” he softens his voice—like he’s bargaining. “Together. Forever.” He tilts his head, feigning innocence.
Bo speaks up, “It’s better this way, baby. So why don’t ya go ahead—invite us in.” His smile is long-gone.
Remmick steps forward, “Y’should listen to ‘em, Grace. Or listen t’me. ‘Cause I know everything he knows now. And I want ya to let us in there.” His eyes shine red yet again, and a shiver crawls up your spine like a spider’s legs.
“Or we gon’ go to the grocery store—we gon’ pay little Lisa a visit.”
Grace yells as both you and Annie hold her back; she sobs as everyone holds her frantically. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Oh, yeah, Grace. I know everything now.” He smirks at her, beginning to speak Taishanese.
You have no idea what he’s saying, but you know for certain it’s nothing good with the way Grace crumbles in your arms and Remmick’s voice is now sweetly saccharine.
Then, you hear footsteps coming from the right, and you see Mary’s heels before you see her.
“You ain’t safe here. No matter how many guns, or how much money…They gon’ take it from ya when they want.” Remmick’s teeth are on display as he speaks.
“Ya built sum here tonight ‘n it was beautiful. But it was built…On a lie.” This catches both Elijah and Elias’ attention.
“Hogwood, well he’s the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan. That’s his motherfuckin’ nephew.” He points to a man who has his arms around a woman, both covered in dried up blood. Speaking of blood: you feel yours run cold once you hear Remmick’s declaration.
You should’ve known it was too good to be true. Of course the twins were well known in the Delta, but being able to get a place like this so soon? You’re not surprised it came with a price.
If only Elias had told you sooner.
“‘N they was always gon’ kill you. I just happened to show up at the right place at the right time.”
Mary comes up from behind Remmick, standing next to him and gazing at Elias. “He’s tellin’ the truth, Stack. I can see his memories.”
Elias’ shoulders tense up as soon as she speaks to him, and you’re no different.
“Stack, that ain’t Mary.” Slim says wearily.
“This wasn’t no juke joint,” Mary smiles cockily, “No club. This here’s a…Slaughterhouse.”
“It’s a goddamn killin’ floor.” The white man from before says.
The woman in his arm finally speaks, “But what Uncle Hogwood don’t know is we’re gonna start ourselves a new clan—based on love.” She laughs, putting her hands in the air.
“Now that we got numbers, we’ll probably go over to that bigot ‘n rectify him, too.” Remmick sighs blissfully.
“Why can’t y’all just leave,” Annie begs.
“‘Cause we’re not leavin’ without y’all. We’re family—even you, sugar.” Mary chirps, turning her head towards you. Elias’ jaw tightens. “I know it sound crazy, but after we kill y’all..We gon’ have heaven right here on Earth.” The gaggle of vampires behind her let out hums of agreement.
The man that Cornbread killed groans from his position on the ground. Remmick chuckles and waves to him.
Mary steps forward, her sights set on Elias. “Hey—hey, look at me,” she smiles.
“The Mary I know ain’t fellowshipping with no goddamn devil,” you squint at her; as much as you didn’t like Mary, you weren’t dumb.
“Fuck you, it is me!” Mary barks. “‘N I’m talkin’ to Stack right now, sugar…So I’mma kindly ask you to shut the fuck up.”
As soon as the words leave her stained lips, you reach for the dagger in the holster under your dress.
“No—no.” Elias grabs you, tucking you into his chest and holding your arms close to you.
“We was never gonna be free. We been runnin’ around everywhere, lookin’ for freedom. You know damn well you was never gonna find it.” Mary chides.
“Until this—this is the way. Together. Forever.” Mary leers at Elias. “I ain’t doin’ this without ya. There is no me without ya.”
You freeze, hearing Mary’s declaration of love for Elias. She spoke to him like you weren’t even there.
And what makes matters worse?
Elias’ response determines everyone’s fate.
If he goes, there’s a chance they may leave you all alone, and you know for a fact: Elias is the type to sacrifice himself for his family.
That alone terrifies you.
Elijah and Annie close the door, you turn around in hopes of consoling Elias, but before you can get a word out, he brings you into his arms.
“Nobody’s takin’ ya away f’me, ‘n nobody’s takin’ me from ya.”
