THE WORLD’S GREATEST TREASURE HUNTER

CONTAINS ⨾ ( 2.5k+ ) words of . . . nsfw, adrian ‘alucard’ țepeș x vampire!fem!reader ( black coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century ( late 1400s ), established relationship, soft-dom!alucard, nasty rawww freaky ass vampire sex, missionary, blood-letting, blood drinking, size difference, use of pet names ( e.g. love, darling, iubire, etc. ), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo! 

𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ❥ requested by the lovely @rsv3n! thank you for the splendid idea <3 i think lulu would be veryyy open to a blood-sharing ritual — actually he’s a little too excited, lol >.< he’d love teasing you with that thick, red sweetness, swapping the liquid between your tongues as he fucks you nice 'n deep mmm . . that’s as intimate as can be, and he wants to be irrevocably close to you . plsss hubby is just so in love <3 please enjoy this little blood-stained drabble, and thank you for reading! ❤︎

𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ( ♫ )  drunk in love, beyoncé ⨾ candy, cameo ⨾  a little death, the neighborhood ⨾ whatever you want, tony! toni! toné! ⨾  join me in death, HIM ⨾  blur, the marias

dhampir blood is cloying, to put it best. sticky, syrupy, and far more potent than any mortal vein. your husband had been kind enough to let you drink in that confirmation just hours ago. 

castlevania’s ancient stone held the chill of a thousand transylvanian winters, but within alucard’s grand bedroom suite, the air was just about thick enough to tangibly cut through. on the floor lay a forgotten graveyard of finery — stiff silk corsets and a froth of ruffled lace embroidery cast aside in the height of your lustful fever.

LUST AT FIRST BITE

PART ONE

WARNINGS: SMUT, Oral Sex(F receiving), Slight Non-Consensual, Spit Play

PAIRINGS: Vampire!Stack x Black OC

Synopsis: Summer, 1995. The air is thick with heat and music as Tenille steps into Mississippi’s most legendary party, expecting nothing more than a night of dancing and distraction. But when she meets Stack—a man whose charm is hypnotic and whose presence feels centuries deep—everything changes. There’s something about him that defies explanation. And as the night stretches toward dawn, Tenille begins to realize that Stack isn’t just unforgettable—he’s not entirely human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mississippi in July didn’t sleep—it sweltered. The air was thick with humidity and the scent of honeysuckle, fried catfish, and cigarette smoke. Cicadas screamed from the trees like they were trying to out-sing the music pouring from every open door downtown. It was 1995, and the city’s biggest summer party had taken over the streets—an annual ritual of sweat, rhythm, and reckless joy.

Downtown was a blur of neon signs and chrome rims, of girls in gold hoops and guys in silk shirts, of laughter that echoed off brick walls and bass that shook the pavement. Corner stores stayed open late, selling grape sodas and Black & Milds to anyone with a dollar and a smile. The club—Club Onyx—was the epicenter. A converted warehouse with exposed beams, sticky floors, and red lights that made everyone look like they had secrets.

Tenille stepped out of the cab like she was stepping onto a stage. She wore a green, yellow, and purple hockey jersey—oversized, bold, and unmistakably hers. Her gold necklaces caught the light, her hoop earrings swung with every step, and her red nails tapped against her clutch like a metronome. She wasn’t here for love. She wasn’t even here for trouble. She was here to dance, to forget, to feel something real in a world that often felt too quiet.

Inside, the music was loud and low—Southern hip-hop mixed with slow-grind R&B. The DJ spun vinyl like it was gospel, and the crowd moved like a single body, pulsing with heat and desire. Tenille found her girls near the bar, already laughing, already tipsy.

“There she go!” Shara shouted, waving her hands. “Miss Jackson if ya nasty!”

Tenille strutted over, jersey swingin’, gold hoops catchin’ the strobe light. “Y’all betta’ be glad I came here.”

Keisha laughed, pulling her onto the floor. “Girl, hush and catch this beat. DJ playin’ our cut!”

Tasha was already mid-dip, her acrylics in the air, curls bouncin’ like springs. “Ain’t nobody sittin’ down tonight!”

The beat dropped, and the girls hit it hard—shoulders popping, hips rolling, knees bent low like they was born to do it. Tenille dropped it, came back up slow, and hit a little two-step that made a dude nearby spill his drink.

“Lawd,” he muttered, watching her. “Y’all from around here?”

Keisha hollered, “This that Delta bounce, baby! You ain’t ready!”

The DJ switched it up, slidin’ into “Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa. Tasha screamed, “Ooooh! That’s my shit!” and started rappin’ every word like she was on stage.

Tenille shouted, “Y’all better act like y’all got knees!”

Shara grabbed a stranger’s hand and spun him. “Don’t be scared, baby! I ain’t gon’ bite unless you ask nice!”

Keisha leaned into Tenille, breathless. “Girl, this the kinda night we gon’ talk about when we old and sittin’ on somebody’s porch.”

Tenille nodded, smiling. “Shoot, I’m tryna make memories and mistakes.”

Tasha hollered, “Y’all better dance like your ex just walked in with his new lil thang!”

Shara cackled. “If I see mine, I’ma dance harder just to remind him what he fumbled!”

Keisha added, “And if I see mine, I’ma ask him to hold my purse while I twerk.”

They all burst out laughing. The music kept pumping, the floor stayed hot, and the girls were the storm in the middle of it all—loud, proud, and Southern to the bone.

Stack sat back in the velvet booth, one arm stretched across the top, his drink untouched. The women around him were leaning in close—laughing, flirting, trying to get a reaction. One had her hand on his thigh, another was whispering in his ear, breath hot with gin and lip gloss.

He didn’t hear a word of it.

His eyes were locked on the dance floor.

Tenille was out there, jersey swinging off one shoulder, gold hoops catching’ the strobe light, red nails flashing as she moved. She wasn’t just dancing-she was commanding. Her hips rolled with the beat, her smile flashed like lightning, and the crowd gave her space like they knew better.

She moved like she was born in rhythm. Like her body remembered something her mind didn’t. Stack licked his lips slow, imagining the way she might taste—warm, sweet, alive.

Stack stood up adjusting his sweater. “Y’all sweet company, no doubt… but I seen somethin’ down there I can’t ignore. ‘Scuse me, ladies.”

Stack stepped down from the velvet-lined VIP section, his Timbs hitting the floor with quiet confidence. The crowd pulsed around him, but he moved like he had a map—eyes locked on Tenille.

She was dancing, but not for attention. Her moves were sharp, self-contained. She didn’t need anyone to validate her rhythm.

Stack didn’t interrupt. He waited until the beat dipped, then stepped into her space—not too close, just enough to be noticed.

His senses activated as soon as he got near her. He had to stop himself from drooling at how good she smelled. Her sweat mixed the smell of Spritz and the soft smell of Cocoa butter filled his nostrils.

If she smelled this good imagine how good she tas-

…Stack clenched his jaw and pulled the thought back before it got too far. He wasn’t here to feed just yet—he was here to feel. And Tenille? She had him feeling more than he’d planned.

“You been out here killin’ it,” he said, voice low and steady. “Thought I’d come say somethin’ before the night ended.”

Tenille didn’t smile, but her eyes stayed on him. “You from around here?”

“Clarksdale,” he said. “Born and raised. You?”

“Jackson.”

He nodded. “Alright then. You got that Jackson edge.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What edge?”

“The kind that don’t take no mess.”

Tenille gave a short laugh. “You ain’t wrong.”

They stood there for a moment, the music rolling around them.

“You got a name?” she asked.

“Stack,” he said. “And you?”

“Tenille.”

“Nice to meet you, Tenille.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept moving to the beat. Stack matched her rhythm, hands low, respectful.

“You mind if I dance with you?” he asked.

Tenille paused, then gave a small nod. “Just don’t get too close.”

“I hear you.”

They danced—slow, steady, no pressure. Stack kept his eyes on her face, not her body. She noticed that. Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“Ain’t much to say when the music’s good.”

She gave him a look, not quite a smile, but close.

The song faded, and Stack leaned in just enough to be heard.

“You thirsty?” he asked. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Crown. Straight.”

“Figured.”

They walked off the floor together, her girls watching from the side. Stack nodded at them.

“I got her,” he said. “She good with me.”

Keisha raised an eyebrow. “She better be.”

Stack smiled, gold tooth flashing. “She will.”

Tenille looked at him again, this time with less guard and more curiosity. Stack didn’t rush it. He just let the night do what it was gonna do.

Stack led Tenille through the crowd, not holding her hand, but walking close enough that she didn’t get bumped. The bar was busy, folks leaning in loud, trying to get the bartender’s attention. Stack didn’t push or wave—he just waited, calm and steady.

Tenille leaned on the counter, glancing sideways at him. “You always this patient?”

Stack smiled, dimples showing, gold tooth catching the light. “Ain’t no point in rushin’. Drink gon’ come when it come.”

She nodded, impressed but not showing it too much. “Most dudes be hollerin’.”

“I ain’t most dudes.”

The bartender finally came over. Stack didn’t hesitate. “Crown, straight for the lady. I’ll take Henny.”

Tenille raised an eyebrow. “You remembered.”

“Hell yeah. How I forget something from someone as beautiful as you.”

They got their drinks, and Stack handed hers over without a word. She took it, sipped slow, eyes still on him.

“You from Clarksdale, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah. Grew up off Highway 61. Blues country.”

“You still live out there?”

“Nah. I move around. Got a spot outside town now. Quiet.”

Tenille nodded. “I like quiet.”

Stack leaned on the bar, facing her. “You still stay in Jackson?”

“Yep. Still there. For now.”

He took a sip of his drink, then looked at her. “You come out here often?”

“Not really. My girls wanted to get out the house. I just tagged along.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

She gave him a look—half skeptical, half curious. “You always this flirtatious.”

Stack chuckled. “I just talk regular. Folks either like it or they don’t.”

Tenille smiled, finally. “You alright.”

“Appreciate that.”

They stood there for a moment, letting the music thump behind them, letting the drinks settle in. Her girls were still watching from across the room, but Tenille didn’t seem in a rush to go back.

“You dance good,” she said.

“You do too.”

She laughed. “I know.”

Stack grinned, dimples deep. “Confidence look good on you.”

Tenille sipped her drink again, then set it down. “You tryna be out all night or you just passin’ through?”

“I ain’t got nowhere I need to be. You?”

She shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On how the night goes.”

Stack nodded. “Fair enough.”

They didn’t say much after that. Just stood close, letting the silence do its job. No pressure. No games. Just two folks from Mississippi, sharing a drink and a little bit of time.

The DJ slid into Kut Klose’s “I Like,” and the whole room shifted. Lights dimmed low, bass slowed down, and folks started moving like they had something sweet on their minds.

Stack leaned in close to Tenille. “Mmm... you know this one, don’tcha?”

Tenille smiled, already swaying. “Yeah. This one right here? Classic.”

Stack didn’t say nothing else. Just held out his hand, palm up. She took it, and they eased onto the floor.

They moved slow. Real slow. Stack’s hand found her waist, gentle but sure. Her fingers rested on his shoulder, light as cotton.

The music wrapped around them like a warm July night. Stack leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. “You smell damn good. I wonder if you taste just as sweet.”

Tenille whimpered and her legs slightly buckled at his words. Stack smirked seeing the affect he had on her.

They danced close, bodies speaking a language older than words. Her hips matched his rhythm, and his hand didn’t wander—it just held her like he knew how to treat something precious.

Then came that moment—quiet, electric. Stack tilted his head, eyes searching hers through his glasses. “Can I?”

Tenille didn’t answer with words. She leaned in, lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, warm, and full of promise.

When they pulled back, Stack kept his voice low. “I got me a lil spot not far from here. Ain’t nothin’ fancy, but it’s quiet. You wanna ride out with me?”

Tenille paused, then nodded. “Alright.”

They walked over to her girls, who were watching like hawks.

Shara stepped up first. “Girl, where you goin’?”

Tenille grabbed her purse, calm. “Stack invited me over.”

Keisha frowned. “You sure? You just met him.”

Tenille nodded. “I’m good.”

Stack raised both hands, respectful. “She safe with me. I ain’t no fool.”

Shara looked him up and down, then back at Tenille. “Keep your pager on you. You hear me?”

“I will.”

Keisha added, “If he act funny, you hit us up. We comin’.”

Stack chuckled, voice low. “Ain’t gon’ be no need for that. I treat folks right.”

Tenille hugged her girls quick, then turned to Stack. “Let’s go.”

They stepped out into the night, the music still humming behind them. The Mississippi air was thick, but it felt good—like something was about to happen.

————————————————-

Before the door could even close, the two were already on each other. Stack kicked the door shut with his foot, and picked up Tenille. She wrapped her legs around him, moaning feeling his tongue enter her mouth.

He carried her down the hallway, his lips trailing along her neck as she clung to him. Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of the hallway mirror—and froze. The glass reflected only her, suspended in midair. Stack’s image was missing entirely. A chill ran through her spine. It was as if she were being held by something not fully there, something impossible.

Her breath hitched, but before her thoughts could spiral, Stack’s voice brushed against her ear.

“I wanted your pussy on my mouth since I saw you, baby.”

His grip tightened just slightly, grounding her in the moment.

“You gon’ let me please you, tonight.”

Tenille didn’t answer. She couldn’t—not yet. Her mind was still stuck on that mirror, on the absence that shouldn’t have been possible. But her body leaned into him anyway, caught between fear and desire, heat and cold, reality and something else.

Something ancient.

Something watching.

Tenille’s breath caught. Her body was already leaning into him, but her mind hadn’t let go of what she saw.

She pressed her hand to his chest, firm. “Put me down.”

Stack paused, brow raised. “You sure, baby?”

“I need to stand,” she said. “I need to see you.”

He didn’t argue. He set her down slow, like she was something delicate. Her feet hit the floor, and she backed up a step, eyes scanning him.

“You wore them shades all night,” she said. “Even inside.”

“Ain’t no such thing as too much shade down here.”

“And in the mirror…” Her voice faltered. “I ain’t see you. Just me. Floatin’.”

Stack’s smile didn’t fade, but it didn’t reach his eyes either. “Mirrors be tricky sometimes.”

“No,” she said, voice tightening. “They ain’t.”

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like he had all the time in the world. “You scared?”

Tenille swallowed. “Not scared. Just… confused.”

Stack stepped closer, slow and easy. “Then stop thinkin’. Feel me.”

She didn’t move. Not yet. But her body was still humming, still drawn to him.

And he knew it.

Stack stepped closer to Tenille, the colors of his Coogi sweater catching the low light like fire stitched into fabric. He moved like the night was his to command.

Without a word, he reached up and slid his sunglasses off, folding them with care and slipping them into his pocket.

Tenille’s breath caught.

His eyes—brown, but threaded with glowing hints of blue—lit up faintly in the dark. Not like a trick of the light. Not like anything she’d ever seen. They pulsed like something alive beneath the surface.

She took a half-step back, startled. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs.

Stack didn’t flinch. He just watched her, calm and unreadable.

“You wanna really know who I am, darlin’?” he asked, voice velvet-smooth.

Tenille swallowed, her body still humming with heat, her mind spinning with questions. But she didn’t look away.

Tenille didn’t speak. She just nodded, slow and cautious.

Stack’s expression softened, just a little. “It’s a long story,” he said. “You might wanna sit down for this.”

He extended his hand.

Tenille hesitated, her fingers hovering just above his. Then, slowly, she placed her hand in his.

He led her down the hallway, past the mirror she couldn’t stop thinking about, and into the bedroom.

It was dark. The walls swallowed the light, but the red curtains glowed faintly from the streetlamp outside. The bed was dressed in deep red silk, the sheets catching the light like liquid. Everything in the room felt heavy, intimate, like it had been waiting for this moment.

Stack turned to her, still holding her hand.

“You sure you ready?” he asked.

Tenille didn’t answer.

She just stepped closer.

Tenille sat on the edge of the bed, the red silk sheets cool beneath her fingers. The room was quiet, thick with the weight of what she’d just seen—his eyes still glowing faintly in the dark.

Stack stood across from her, framed by the red curtains.

He took a breath, slow and steady. “Name’s Elias. Folks used to call me Stack. Still do.”

Tenille looked up at him, silent.

“I was born here in Mississippi,” he said. “Back when the roads was dirt and the nights was louder than the days. Had a twin—Elijah. Folks called him Smoke. We left home young, went overseas. War changed us.”

He paused, eyes flickering.

“When we came back, we ain’t stay long. Ended up in Chicago. Got into some things. Ran with some people. Al Capone, if you can believe it. But that city… it ain’t never felt like home. So we came back. Opened a juke joint. Thought we could build somethin’ real.”

Tenille’s brows furrowed. “That was… what, the thirties?”

Stack gave a slow nod. “’Bout that.”

She stared at him. “That ain’t possible.”

He stepped closer. “Ain’t much about me that is.”

Tenille’s breath caught again. “What happened?”

Stack’s eyes darkened, the glow pulsing faintly. “They came. The night we opened. Not people. Not really. Somethin’ else. Took Smoke.Left me with teeth and hunger and time.”

He looked down at his hands, flexed them once.

“I been walkin’ ever since. Tryin’ to stay ahead of what I became. Tryin’ not to lose what’s left.”

Tenille’s voice was barely a whisper. “And me?”

Stack looked at her, something soft flickering behind the glow. “You feel like a reason to stop runnin’.”

Tenille stared at him, her brows drawn tight, unsure if she’d heard him right.

Stack’s voice was low. “I been alone a long time, sweetheart. Lookin’ for someone to walk with me. Not just for a season. For good.”

He stepped closer, the glow in his eyes pulsing faintly. “When I saw you on that dance floor… everything in me went quiet. I just knew. I had to have you.”

He paused, letting the words settle.

“For eternity. Forever.”

Tenille’s breath caught. A chill ran down her spine, not from fear—but from the weight of it. The finality. The promise.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

Forever.

She wasn’t ready to be with anyone. Maybe for a night. Definitely not for eternity.

Tenille stayed seated on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the red silk sheets. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m not ready. I can’t give you forever.”

Stack didn’t move. His glowing eyes stayed locked on hers, but something shifted in his face. The calm was gone.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low but harder now.

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Stack turned slightly, jaw tight. The glow in his eyes flared—blue bleeding into gold, pulsing faster. His breath came heavier.

“I been patient,” he said. “I been walkin’ this world with hunger in my bones and silence in my chest. You think I came this far just to hear no?”

Tenille’s heart pounded. She didn’t answer.

Stack stepped closer. His face was tense, eyes burning.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said. “To feel it every night. That ache. That need.”

Tenille shifted back on the bed, her body tense. “Stack…”

He didn’t stop. “I ain’t askin’ anymore.”

His voice was different now—rough, edged with something sharp. The hunger was there, in his eyes, in the way he moved.

Tenille’s breath sped up. “Please…”

Stack stopped at the foot of the bed, staring down at her. “I don’t want to hurt you, darlin’. But I ain’t built to be alone no more.”

She tried to stand, but he was already there—close, too close.

Tenille’s voice cracked. “Don’t do this.”

Stack’s eyes flared again. “Then don’t leave.”

Tenille’s heart was jackhammering in her chest. She slid off the bed fast, her legs shaky but moving. Stack didn’t lunge, he just turned his head slow, eyes glowing like coals, watching her like a predator that didn’t need to chase.

She bolted down the hallway, socks slipping on the hardwood, and ducked into the guest room. Slammed the door. Locked it.

Her pager was already in her hand. She punched in Shara’s emergency code — 911 — followed by her address. Hit send.

Nothing.

She stared at the screen. No beep. No vibration. No confirmation.

“What the hell…” she muttered, hitting the buttons again. Still nothing.

Outside the door, Stack’s footsteps creaked. No rush. Just in a calm rhythm.

“You think that little toy gonna save you?” he said. “This house don’t play by your rules, baby.”

Tenille backed into the corner, clutching the pager like it might still work if she prayed hard enough.

Stack’s voice came again, closer now. “You pagin’ ghosts. Ain’t nobody comin’.”

She looked around the room. One window. No landline. No phone. Just her, the broken pager, and whatever Stack was becoming.

“I didn’t want it to go this way,” he said. “But you made your choice.”

Behind her, the doorknob rattled.

Tenille backed toward the window, fingers fumbling with the latch. She tried to lift it—nothing. It wouldn’t budge. She shoved harder. Locked tight.

Stack’s voice came again, smoother now. “Tenille… baby girl, open this door.”

She didn’t move.

“I ain’t mad,” he said. “I just want to talk. Just want to see you. You know I ain’t never met nobody like you.”

His voice dipped, slow and syrupy. “You had somethin’ in you, Tenille. The way you moved out there… like you wasn’t just dancin’. Like you was callin’ me.”

He paused. “I ain’t never seen a woman carry heat like that. Like your soul already knew mine.”

Tenille’s breath hitched. She turned back to the door, eyes wide.

“I ain’t tryin’ to scare you,” Stack said. “I’m tryin’ to love you. Real love. The kind that don’t fade. The kind that don’t die.”

The doorknob rattled again, harder this time.

“I can give you everything,” he whispered. “You’ll never be cold again. Never be lonely.”

Tenille stepped back, pager still clutched in her hand. The window was sealed. The door was shaking. And Stack was losing patience.

His voice dropped to a growl. “You mine, Tenille. You just don’t know it yet.”

He paused, then his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“You came here wantin’ it. Don’t lie. You wanted to feel me on you. Wanted me to take you down and make you forget your damn name.”

Tenille’s breath caught. She stepped back from the door, pager still clutched in her hand.

“You think I didn’t see it?” Stack continued. “The way you looked at me. The way you let me touch you. You wanted to get fucked, Tenille. You wanted it deep and slow, or hard and fast—I could see it all over you.”

The doorknob rattled again, harder this time.

“I didn’t drag you here,” he said. “You walked in. You wanted me. And I still want you. But I ain’t built to beg.”

Tenille’s eyes darted to the window again. Still sealed. No way out.

Stack’s voice was a growl now. “Open this door. Let me give you what you came for.”

Tenille stared at the door, her breath shallow. The room was quiet except for the low hum of Stack’s voice bleeding through the wood.

“I’ll put you on your knees,” he said. “Make you forget how to stand. You’ll be beggin’ with your mouth full, cryin’ for more while I’m still inside you.”

Her legs moved before her mind caught up. One step. Then another.

“I’ll bend you over that dresser,” he continued, rough now. “Grip your hips so tight you’ll feel me for days. You want that. You came here wantin’ to be ruined.”

Tenille’s hand brushed the wall for balance. Her knees were weak, her heart racing.

“I’ll make you forget your own rules,” Stack growled. “Make you say my name like it’s the only word you know.”

She reached the door. Her fingers hovered near the knob. The wood was warm. Like it was breathing.

“You ain’t scared,” he said. “You’re ready. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

Tenille closed her eyes. Her hand touched the knob.

Stack’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Let me in, baby.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch up.

The pager slipped from her hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, and without thinking, she turned it.

The lock clicked.

The door creaked open.

The door hung open, just a crack.

Stack stood just outside, eyes glowing faintly, smile slow and crooked — his gold grills catching the light like a warning and a promise.

He didn’t step in.

“Door’s open, but I ain’t comin’ in ‘less you say it.”

Tenille’s breath hitched. Her fingers trembled against the edge of the door.

Stack leaned closer, one hand resting just outside the threshold. “Say the word, baby girl. Let me in.”

She didn’t speak.

“I’ll treat you right,” he said. “Make you feel like you ain’t never been touched before. You’ll forget every man before me.”

His smile widened, those gold fronts gleaming. “I ain’t gonna take nothin’ you don’t give. But if you want it — if you want me — you gotta say it.”

Tenille looked into his eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“You can come in.”

—————————————————————————

The moment the words left her lips, the air shifted.

Stack stepped inside slowly, his eyes locked on hers.

He didn’t speak. Just reached out and cupped her face with one hand.

Tenille froze, breath caught in her throat.

Then his lips met hers.

Soft. Plump. Unhurried.

She tensed at first, unsure, her body stiff with hesitation. But as his mouth moved against hers, something inside her began to melt. Her shoulders relaxed. Her eyes fluttered shut.

He kissed her like he knew her. Like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than she could imagine.

And for a few seconds, Tenille let herself forget everything else.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched hers. “You feel that?” he murmured. “That’s real.”

Tenille’s breath trembled. She nodded, barely.

Stack smiled again. “I ain’t gonna rush you,” he said. “But you let me in, and I’m yours now. You understand?”

She swallowed hard. “I think so.”

He leaned in, forehead resting gently against hers. “You don’t gotta think. Just feel.”

The room felt different now. Charged. Quiet. Like the house itself was watching.

Stack didn’t say another word.

He took her hand, fingers laced tight, and guided her gently down the hallway. Tenille followed, her steps slow, her breath uneven. The house was quiet, every creak of the floorboards echoing like a heartbeat.

They reached the bedroom.

Stack turned to face her, eyes locked on hers. That gold smile flickered again, but softer now. He raised her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, then let go.

Tenille stood still as he stepped closer, his hands finding her waist, his touch firm but careful.

Tenille’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her heart was thudding so loud she swore he could hear it.

He smiled, slow and knowing. “You ain’t gotta be scared,” he said. “I’ll take my time. Make sure you feel every second.”

He leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat rolling off him.

“I won’t bite,” he added, lips close to her ear, “unless you ask.”

Tenille’s breath caught, her body tense with anticipation. But she didn’t pull away.

Stack’s eyes searched hers, waiting.

She swallowed hard, her body tense, but her gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not scared,” she said quietly.

Stack leaned in, “Then say it.”

Tenille hesitated, breath catching in her throat. But the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world worth touching made her pulse race.

“I want you,” she whispered.

Stack’s smile widened. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and Tenille didn’t hold back. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, letting the moment swallow her whole.

Stack slid his arms around her waist and lifted her like she weighed nothing, carrying her to the bed with ease. He laid her down gently, eyes never leaving hers.

Then his hands found the hem of her hockey jersey.

“You been hidin’ all this from me?” he said, grinning as he pulled it up slow. “Mm. Look at you.”

The jersey slid over her head, revealing soft curves and warm skin. Stack’s gaze lingered, hungry but reverent.

“Damn, girl,” he murmured.

Stack leaned down, his breath warm against her skin. His lips brushed her chest, before he took her nipples in his mouth sucking them, savoring her like a secret.

Tenille gasped softly, her fingers resting at the back of his head. She held him there, her body arching into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as heat bloomed across her skin.

Stack didn’t rush.

After savoring her, he lifted his head just enough to meet Tenille’s eyes.

“You ain’t even ready,” he murmured, voice thick like honey.

Then he shifted, trailing kisses down her chest, across her ribs, and lower still. His tongue followed, leaving a long, warm stripe down the center of her stomach. Tenille shivered beneath him, her breath catching as her fingers curled tighter.

Stack paused just above her hips, eyes flicking up with that same teasing glint.

His hand slid down, fingers brushing the waistband of her underwear. He didn’t rush — just let them rest there, teasing the edge, waiting for her breath to catch.

Tenille’s body arched slightly, her skin alive beneath his touch.

Stack grinned. “Say the word,” he whispered. “I’ll keep goin’.”

Tenille nodded, breathless. “Keep goin’, please.”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband and eased her panties down. As they slid past her hips, his eyes locked on the small, neatly trimmed patch on her pussy—already glistening with anticipation.

Stack’s gaze darkened, lips parting with a low hum.

“Mm,” he murmured. “Look at you… already drippin’ for me.”

Tenille’s breath hitched, her body arching again as his fingers brushed her thigh, teasing the edge of where she wanted him most.

Stack leaned in, mouth close, voice even closer.

“You been waitin’ on this, huh?” he whispered. “I got you.”

Stack’s glowing eyes never left hers as he slid his hands beneath her thighs, lifting and wrapping them around his shoulders. His mouth hovered just above her pussy, breath warm against her skin.

Tenille’s fingers gripped the sheets, her breath shallow.

Then he leaned in, tongue flicking over her clit in one stroke.

“Oh—” she gasped, hips rising.

Stack hummed low against her, the vibration rolling through her like a pulse. His lips wrapped around her, sucking gently, then deeper.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice barely there.

Stack didn’t answer — just hummed again, mouth working with steady rhythm.

Tenille moaned softly, her body trembling beneath him.

He was locked in, focused, and she was unraveling.

Tenille’s moans filled the room, soft and breathless.

Below, the pressure in his jeans had grown unbearable — his dick straining hard against the denim. With one hand still gripping her thigh, he reached down and undid his pants, swift and practiced, never breaking rhythm. He pushed past the waistband of his boxers, freeing himself with a low groan as his hand wrapped around his fat, veiny dick.

He stroked himself slowly, the tension in his body rising with every sound she made.

Stack hummed low against her, the vibration rolling through her, making her hips buck.

“You got me so damn hard, baby,” he muttered against her. “I’m ’bout to bust just from tastin’ you.”

Stack’s grip tightened, stroking himself in rhythm with her moans.

This wasn’t just hunger.

It was need.

His mouth moved with more intent now — lips sealing around her, tongue continuously licking her clit. Tenille’s hips lifted, her breath catching with every pass.

She whimpered, “Stack…”

He groaned again as his hand worked, matching the rhythm of her unraveling.

Tenille’s thighs tightened around his shoulders, her voice breaking. “I’m close…”

Stack lifted his eyes. “Come on,” he murmured. “Cum on my tongue.”

She gasped, her body arching.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, lips brushing her pussy. “Don’t hold back. I wanna feel you fall apart on me.”

“You’re right there,” he breathed. “Let it go. I got you.”

Her release hit hard, a full-body tremble that left her breathless. Stack held her through it, mouth never leaving her, hand still stroking himself.

He groaned deep, the sound guttural and raw, and with one final stroke, he spilled his nut into his hand, breath ragged, body shuddering as he buried his face against her thigh.

When he sat up, there was drool glistening on his chin, a mix of her release and his own hunger.

Tenille blinked, breath still shaky. “Stack… you’re drooling.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at her with that sinful grin.

“You want a taste, sugar?” he drawled, eyes locked on hers.

She nodded, lips parting.

Stack reached out, his hand curling gently around her neck — firm, grounding, possessive.

“Open that pretty mouth,” he said.

She obeyed.

He tilted his head, let the spit fall.

Tenille moaned, swallowing without hesitation, her eyes fluttering shut.

Stack growled low, then kissed her hard — messy and deep, tongue sweeping in to claim what was his.

Then he pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

“You so damn sexy, baby. You know that?” he said, eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing that mattered.

Tenille’s breath was still shaky, her lips parted from the kiss, her body humming from everything he’d just done to her.

Then her eyes drifted down.

He was still hard.

Thick, flushed, and twitching against his stomach — a mess of need that hadn’t faded, even after release.

Stack caught her staring and smirked. “You like what you see?”

She nodded.

His hand slid up her thigh, grip firm. “You want it inside you?”

Her answer was a whisper, but it carried weight. “Yes.”

Stack leaned in, eyes locked on hers. “Then come take it, baby. I’m yours.”

He let the moment stretch, voice dropping to a low drawl.

“You ever been fucked by a vampire?”

Tenille’s breath caught.

Her body answered before her mouth did — a slow shift forward, hips tilting, eyes burning with need.

Stack didn’t move.

He just watched her.

Waiting.

Daring.

And then, with her lips barely parted, she whispered, “Not yet.”

“I'm sweeping these bitches, they wanna spit on the broom” 💅🏾🧹

Little kid Damian who's absolutely smug about stealing your (Jason's girlfriend) attention every time you come over.

He's a smug little shit and he knows exactly what he is doing. You and Kori were both the people he looked forward to seeing often. Preferring his brother's girlfriends rather than his brothers since you both treated him like the child he was instead of the assassin he was raised to be.

Jason doesn't mind you giving Damian your attention but then Damian started showing you off as his new big sister.

And instead of being upset Jason teases the shit out of you.

Damian will call you random hours of the day for absolutely nothing and Jason will pass you your phone saying that your "son" is calling.

How could you deny the boy your love and affection when all he wanted was to cling to you. He spent so many nights in you and Jason shared pent that he actually had his own room.

And as much Jason teased you about Damian you teased him right back because he dropped everything for the youngest boy. Many nights you woke up on the couch to him bringing in a sleeping Dami after getting a call from Bruce that he just couldn't get him to calm down.

Or even having to attend parent teacher conferences alongside Dick and Jason in place of Bruce when he had to act as CEO.

All of this made Jason want nothing more than a family with you. You both were already getting the practice. Now he just needed to put that into motion and warn Dami about his soon to be "younger siblings".

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

✗ warnings: mostly none ( sfw minus kissing ), childhood friend trope, a lil tension wc: 540

synopsis: once hearing about a new fighter in philly, you go check it out realizing its an old friend.

(a/n: i re-wrote this a thousand times. listen to this with “Persian rugs “ by party next door!)

you had just got in touch with your childhood friend adonis. he was currently being trained by the rocky balboa. one of the best fighters for years.

the previous training session was intense to say the least. hell, you were sore just watching.

luckily, you guys had made its back to rocky’s house and were about to sleep.

“you can have my room, if you want” donnie told with an nonchalant expression , “no no, you have your room, ill sleep on the couch” you shrugged before the elder man spoke up. “why you two don’t just share the bed?” you could see adonis get flustered a bit.

“i mean, if yall are comfortable—if not don’t listen to me” he clarified shrugging before your friends eyes met yours.

woah, this couldn’tve been the adonis you became friends with all those years ago.

“it’s fine with me” he shrugged and just for a second you could see his admiring gaze. “yeah” you nodded heading towards the boys room.

you seen the bed and how tight it might’ve been had both of you laid comfortably in it. without anymore second guessing, you removed your shoes and laid in the bed. not too long after, adonis walked in and stared you down; mostly in shock.

“what?” you asked looking at him through your lashes, “i didn’t say nothing” he shrugged before pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside and laying beside you.

any other night you would’ve been dead tired. tonight though, you both were wide awake..in more ways than one.

you huffed throwing the covers off of you.

“can’t sleep either, huh?”

“if i could i wouldn’t be up” you snapped causing adonis to turn and face you “what’s your problem?” the man asked before you looked up at him seeing his raised eyebrows.

“..just tired i guess” “that ain’t no reason to be mad at me, fix that.” he told jokingly before closing his eyes, not knowing the affect it had on you. “shut up” you rolled your eyes pulling the cover away from him. he opened his eyes and scoffed seeing your fake sleep expression with the stifled smile.

everything settled for a second before donnie squeezed your side, just enough to sting.

“ow! jackass” you exclaimed slapping his arm. he laughed then gently pushed you, “quit hittin’ me” the man spoke shadow boxing you. “quit fake hitting me, then!” you said in an irritated tone.

“or what?” donnie kissed his teeth as if calling your bluff.

time passed like licks and somehow you two ended up all over each other.

donnie kissed you as he did his teeth earlier. his grips now more affectionate than playful. his lips found their way to your neck as you huffed impatiently.

the man brought his hand up to your shoulder, about to slide your shirt off. of course that was before the older man from earlier appeared in the doorway.

“my bad, kid—i, i didn’t see nothing” his gruff voice assured, which of course was a lie. you and adonis separated after being caught. both still wide eyed and breathless.

“i was gonna say, no training tomorrow—bad weather.” he finished before walking out and shutting the door.

now you really couldn’t sleep.