#stack

Still, no matter how tough you acted, there was something that always drew in men. It was a competition almost. Any time you walked home from the schoolhouse at age 16, you heard them talkin'. The boys. Betting on who could secure a kiss first, maybe a date.

"First one to kiss the farmer’s daughter gets braggin’ rights for life," one of ‘em would say, real cocky. Like you were a trophy instead of a person.

But you weren’t some daisy to be picked. You were wild thistle — sharp, stubborn, and grown in hard soil.

None of those boys ever made it past your front gate. One tried and ended up limping back home with a busted lip and a bruised ego. After that, they mostly kept their distance. Called you a spitfire. A man’s girl. Trouble wrapped in curls and sunburn.

And maybe they were right.

You didn’t care much for dresses, or dancing, or sitting pretty at socials. You cared about the land, about your daddy, about making it through the droughts and the hard winters. You were proud of the calluses on your hands and the dirt under your nails. You knew how to clean a gun, break a horse, and break a man’s nose if need be. You didn’t need anyone — and that scared the hell out of every suitor that came sniffin’.

Until Stack Moore.

He was the opposite of his brother, though they were both law breakers. They'd come back into town like a storm, claiming it back again when they got sick of being men of war or taking over Chicago. They brought money, they brought booze, and they regained the enemies they'd always had before.

Your daddy knew exactly what type the Smokestack twins were. That's why he was so put out the day Stack spoke to you.

It was hotter than hell that afternoon, the kind of heat that made the air shimmer off the dirt road. You were hitchin’ the mule to the wagon outside the general store, sweat rollin’ down your spine, dust clingin’ to your boots. Stack leaned against a post with a matchstick between his teeth, lookin’ like the devil dressed in Sunday black — suspenders off his shoulders, shirt unbuttoned just enough to make your throat go dry.

"Need a hand, sweetheart?" he drawled.

You didn’t answer him. Just wiped your brow and kept workin’, jaw tight, heart louder than it oughta been. You felt his eyes on you like heat from a fire. That was the first time he spoke to you.

You grunted, finally getting it hitched, before glancing up at Stack with irritated (and curious, though you wouldn't admit it) eyes.

"I got it. Somethin' I can help you with, Stack?" You responded coldly. In a moment, your daddy would be coming out of the store. He wouldn't take kindly to Stack chatting you up.

Stack smirked, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world and not a care who saw him spending it on you. That matchstick rolled between his teeth as he looked you over, not lewd, not disrespectful — but bold. Real bold.

"Nah, darlin’. Just figured I’d say howdy," he said, voice molasses-smooth with that slick edge he and his brother hadn’t lost, even after years in the city. "Hard not to, when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like trouble in a skirt."

You narrowed your eyes. "Keep talkin’ like that, and you’ll find yourself wearin’ that matchstick in your eye."

He laughed — a warm, low sound that made something flutter deep in your belly, though you kept your scowl firm. He liked that. You could tell. The way his head tilted slightly, his eyes sharpened like he was memorizing the way your mouth twitched when you were pissed.

"I like a woman who bites," he said.

You opened your mouth to fire back, but the screen door of the store slapped shut behind you. Daddy stepped out with his purchase — a sack of flour and a bottle of tonic. His boots hit the porch with that heavy rhythm that always said someone was about to get corrected.

Stack’s smirk didn’t fade, but he straightened up. He tipped his hat slow and easy, like he wasn’t worried one bit about the man standing between him and a shallow grave.

"Afternoon, Mr. L/N," Stack said, polite as a preacher.

Your daddy didn’t respond. Just stared Stack down, eyes like steel under the brim of his weather-beaten hat. You could feel the tension crackling in the air, thick and dangerous.

"You got business here?" your daddy asked, voice flat.

"Just admirin’ the view," Stack replied, not looking away from him — but the weight of his words sat heavy between you and your daddy. Like a line drawn in the dust.

You cleared your throat, loud enough to break the moment. "We done here, Daddy?"

Your father gave Stack one more look — the kind that could kill a lesser man — before nodding to you. "Yeah. Let’s get home. Storm’s comin’."

You climbed into the wagon without another word, trying not to think about how your skin still tingled from Stack’s gaze. As the mule started off, you glanced back once, just once — and saw him watching you, arms crossed, eyes lit up like he’d just spotted a gold vein in a rock.

It was the first time Stack Moore spoke to you. And the last time you knew peace for a long while.

When you got home, Daddy cleared his throat awkwardly, cleaning his gun in the common room of the house.

"Y/N." He called to you from where you stood in the kitchen.

You paused, hands deep in the dish basin, the soapy water stinging a nick on your finger you hadn’t noticed ‘til now. His voice was gruff, but there was something under it — something tight. Wary. Protective in that way only a father could be when he knew his daughter had just caught the eye of a wildfire in a man’s body.

"Yes, sir?" you called back, wiping your hands on a dish rag as you stepped through the archway into the common room.

He didn’t look up right away. Just kept running the cloth over the barrel of his Winchester with a quiet, deliberate focus. You could tell he was turning something over in his head, chewing on it like a dog with a bone.

"Stack Moore," he finally said, like the name tasted bad. "You stay away from him."

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness.

"Didn’t plan on inviting him for supper," you muttered, crossing your arms.

Daddy looked up then — sharp and dead serious. "I ain’t jokin’, girl. That boy’s got blood on his hands and more comin’. His kind don’t leave nothin’ but ruin behind."

You didn’t say anything. Mostly ‘cause you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. It was the first time a man had looked at you like you were a woman and not just the farmer’s wild daughter in scuffed boots. And maybe that was dangerous. Maybe Daddy was right. But maybe you didn’t give a damn.

"I know you think you’re grown,” he went on, his voice softening a bit, “but there’s men out there who take one look at a girl like you and see a challenge. Not a future. Stack Moore’s one of ‘em."

You swallowed, throat dry. "I’m not stupid."

"I didn’t say you were. I said he’s trouble. And I’ll be damned if I let him put you in harm’s way."

Silence hung between you. Thick as molasses. You could hear the wind picking up outside, dust scratching against the shutters. Storm was comin’, alright. But it wasn’t just in the sky.

You finally nodded. "I hear you."

He held your eyes for a long moment.

"You're better off with that Boone. If you really hafta marry. He's a nice boy and ain't gonna put you out when he has his fill."

Boone was a ranch hand your daddy had hired. He wasn't unattractive, no. He was tall, strong, worked with a smile and never complained. His parents were respectful and they were fans of how your daddy did business. Boone was who you should've been with, if you gave any man a chance.

He'd been pining after you since the two of you were sixteen.

You rolled your eyes, smirking in amusement.

"You like Boone so much, why ain't you marryin' him?"

Daddy’s face went dark, like you'd just knocked over a beehive.

"I’m your father. I make the calls ‘round here."

I folded my arms and leaned against the table, matching his glare. "Ain’t no law says I gotta marry the man you pick."

He set the gun down with a heavy thud. "It ain’t about law, girl. It’s about keepin’ you safe. Boone’s steady. He don’t bring trouble like those Moore boys."

You groaned.

"I ain’t sayin’ I’m takin’ up with Stack. But don’t reckon I’m gonna be Boone’s bride just ‘cause you want it."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re stubborn as a mule, just like your mama."

You knew that was the final word.

But that night, long after the lights were out and the crickets had taken over the silence, you found yourself sittin’ on the edge of your bed, fingers twitchin’, heart restless. Because even though you’d said you understood, and even though you knew what kind of man Stack Moore was…

You also knew you weren’t the kind of girl who turned her head away from fire.

Your friend Lizzie had to beg you to go out.

"I swear, Y/N, one night won’t kill you," she said, tugging at your arm as you rolled your eyes. "You need to dance. Laugh. Hell, even just drink something that ain’t water or dust."

You weren’t exactly the type for blues clubs or lipstick-stained whiskey glasses, but Lizzie had that kind of persistence that wore you down like river water over stone. So by the time the sun dipped low and the sky bled pink, you were dressed — not dolled up like the city girls, but enough to turn a few heads in town: a dark skirt that hugged your hips, boots polished cleaner than usual, and your wild curls pinned just enough to look like you tried.

Club Juke was loud, smoky, and packed to the rafters. Lights glowed like sin on velvet, blues players' moaned from the corner stage, and the air buzzed with liquor and secrets. You followed Lizzie in, your fingers hooked into the belt loop of her dress, and tried not to flinch when a man brushed too close or looked too long.

You made it to the bar and ordered something you didn’t even hear over the noise — some whiskey drink served in a chipped glass. Lizzie had already pulled a fella onto the dance floor, leaving you with a half-sip of burn down your throat and the sudden awareness that someone was watching you.

You didn’t have to look far.

There he was. Stack.

Sitting in a corner booth like he owned the place (because he did), sleeves rolled, collar unbuttoned, smoke from a lit cigar curling around his jaw. His eyes were on you, unmoving. He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Just looked like he’d found exactly what he came here for.

Your pulse jumped. Damn it all.

You turned back to the bar, heart thudding. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d —

A warm voice slid in behind your ear like a sin on Sunday morning.

"Well now," Stack drawled, low and slow, "ain’t you a sight. Didn’t expect to see you in a place like this."

You didn’t turn around. Just took another sip of your drink, ignoring the heat rolling off him in waves.

"Didn’t come for you," you said coolly.

He chuckled. "Maybe not. But I figure fate don’t give a damn."

He moved beside you, close enough that your elbows brushed. You could smell leather, smoke, and something sharper — danger, maybe. He rested his forearms on the bar and nodded to the bartender.

"Two of whatever she’s drinkin’."

You shot him a glare. "What’re you doin’, Stack?"

He looked at you then — really looked — and for a moment, the noise of the club faded under his steady gaze.

"Tryin’ to figure out why a girl raised to fear me keeps lookin’ like she’s itchin’ to find out what makes me so damn interesting."

You swallowed.

Then, you fixed the usual glare back onto your face.

"Well, what the hell makes me so interesting? Everyone with a dick in this town can't look away."

Stack barked a quiet laugh, low and raspy, like he wasn’t expecting you to come back that sharp — but damn if he didn’t like it. He leaned in just a hair closer, eyes flicking from your mouth to your eyes and back again, that grin of his growing just a little wider, a little darker.

"What makes you interesting?" he echoed, voice like smoke. "You walk into a room like you own the land under everyone’s feet. You don’t smile unless you mean it, and you don’t flinch at a man like me." He tilted his head, still watching you. "That kinda thing makes folks look. Makes ‘em wonder."

You crossed your arms, hip cocked, not letting him get the upper hand. "You mean it makes ‘em bet. Run their mouths. Act like they got a chance."

Stack shrugged. "Let ‘em. Boys bet. Men watch. I’m just here enjoyin’ the view."

You scoffed. "You’re all the same."

His expression shifted then — just a flicker of something deeper beneath the charm. He leaned in again, but this time his voice dropped lower, real low, just for you.

"No, darlin’. If I were like them, I’d already be braggin’ about what I could do to you. Not sittin’ here waitin’ to see what you’ll let me do."

That shut you up for a second. Long enough for the air between you to grow thick and heavy.

Before you could fire back, the music kicked into a new number — a slow, sultry blues rhythm that rolled across the club like honey.

Stack held out a hand. "Dance with me."

You looked at his hand like it might bite you.

"I don’t dance."

He smirked. "Then just stand close and sway. I promise I bite softer than I look."

You stared at him, heart thudding somewhere stupid.

And then, without knowing why, you placed your hand in his.

His palm was warm. His grip was gentle. And your daddy’s voice was nowhere in your head when Stack pulled you onto the floor like he’d been waitin’ his whole damn life for this.

The floor didn’t feel real under your boots.

Stack's hand rested firm against the small of your back, pulling you close — but not too close. Just enough to feel the heat rollin' off him in waves, enough to smell the faint scent of whiskey and smoke on his collar. Your fingers hovered just barely on his shoulder, stiff at first, like you were afraid of giving in.

"You’re stiff as a fence post," he murmured against your temple, voice rough and warm. "Ain’t nobody lookin’ to bite."

"You just told me you were," you shot back, eyes narrowing even as you swayed to the rhythm.

That earned a quiet chuckle from him — one that rumbled in his chest and traveled straight through you.

The music curled around the two of you like a fog, blues guitar crooning through the haze of cigar smoke and perfume. Other dancers swayed nearby, but none quite like you and Stack. You moved like magnets pulling in, fighting it, pulling in again. A war with no guns — just glances, breath, and the occasional accidental brush of leg against leg.

His thumb stroked a small, deliberate circle at the back of your waist. You stiffened — just slightly — and he caught it.

"You alright, spitfire?" he asked, voice a low purr. "Ain’t used to men touchin’ you, or just not used to likin’ it?"

You glared up at him, lips parting to throw fire — but the words got stuck somewhere between your pride and the warmth blooming beneath your ribs.

"…You think just ‘cause you talk smooth, I’m gonna fall at your feet?" you finally snapped.

Stack leaned in, close enough that his breath kissed the edge of your jaw.

"No," he said. "I think you’ll fight me every inch of the way. And I like a fight."

The tension snapped taut between you, so tight it hummed. His hand slid just a breath lower on your back. Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt. You weren’t smiling, but you weren’t pulling away, either.

"I ain’t your conquest," you muttered.

"No," Stack said, eyes locked to yours like a vow. "You’re the kind of woman a man earns. Or dies tryin’."

The music slowed to a crawl. The last long note of a saxophone kissed the silence.

Neither of you moved.

You didn’t know who leaned in first — but suddenly your face was inches from his. Lips barely apart. Breath tangled.

"Lord.. If you ain't the devil."

His mouth curved just slightly — not a smile, not quite — something darker. Hungrier.

"Then what’s that make you, sweetheart?" he murmured, breath brushing your lips. "The lamb wanderin’ into the fire… or the flame that keeps draggin’ me back to hell?"

You blinked up at him, your heart thudding so loud you swore the whole club could hear it.

Everything inside you screamed to pull away — to do what you’d always done when boys got too close, when their hands wandered and their eyes lingered too long. But Stack wasn’t like those boys. He didn’t leer. He didn’t plead.

He waited.

Like a man sure of the storm and patient enough to let it come to him.

Your voice came low. Dangerous.

"I ain’t no lamb. And I sure as hell ain’t chasin’ you."

He laughed — a quiet, genuine sound that rolled through his chest.

"No," he said again, like he was committing it to memory. "I'm chasin' you, baby."

Then his hand slid up — not low, not greedy — just firm and reverent, fingers skimming the side of your jaw like he was feeling the edges of something sacred.

"And I’m tellin’ you now," he added, voice dropping like molasses in your ear. "You keep lookin’ at me like that… I will find out what you taste like when you stop pretending you hate me."

Before you could bite back, before you could even think, the club doors burst open again —

And Boone’s voice came, loud and panicked: "Y/N! What the hell are you doin’?!"

The spell shattered.

You jerked back like burned, your spine stiffening, eyes snapping toward the entrance.

Boone’s chest heaved, face red and soaked in sweat. Eyes darted from you to Stack, and the rage built fast — like a match tossed in dry brush.

Stack turned lazily toward him, jaw twitching. The charming smirk faded into something else. Something sharp.

"You know," he said, stepping just slightly in front of you, “if he was any kinda gentleman, he wouldn't swear at a lady."

Boone didn’t flinch. Just pointed a finger, shaking with fury. "Your daddy’s gonna hear ‘bout this. And when he does, he’ll bury that bastard himself."

Your breath caught.

"Boone, it's—"

"Oh hell no. This ends now."

You stiffened, pulling away from Stack slightly. A glare rose to your face.

"You think you control anything I do? You're daddy's ranch hand, you ain't his informant, and you definitely ain't my husband, so I don't reckon you should be telling me what ends now."

Boone's jaw dropped.

"You know this is against his damn wishes. He wants you with me, not with Stack Moore."

Stack smiled, his gold grill glinting in the light of the juke.

"She don't want you, Boone Jones. Hell," he snorted, stepping forward. "She don't even really want me. I suggest you get to movin' before my brother and I toss you out this juke."

Boone’s eyes flashed, muscles tightening like coiled steel. "You got a real mouth on you, Stack. But don’t think for a second I’m scared of you or your brother."

He stepped forward, the heat between them crackling like a storm about to break.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. The tension was thick enough to slice through, and neither man was backing down.

Stack’s grin twisted, teeth flashing like daggers. "Well then, looks like we got ourselves a showdown. You ready to back that up, Boone?"

Boone faltered for a moment. He spotted the gun on Stack's hip, glinting under his jacket. He was torn. But eventually, he turned away from the two of you.

"Get home, Y/N. I'm warnin' you. Your daddy'll be out lookin' for you soon as I tell him this shit."

With that, Boone spat on the floor and walked out.

The jukebox sputtered a slow country tune as Boone’s heavy footsteps faded into the night. Stack turned to you, smirking like he’d just won a war without firing a shot.

"Well, looks like the ranch hand knows when to fold ‘em."

You stood frozen, the weight of Boone’s warning settling deep in your chest.

Stack’s voice softened, almost mockingly gentle. "Now, tell me… what’re you gonna do with all this heat you’re sittin’ on?"

Your eyes burned with quiet defiance, but inside, a storm was brewing — one that wouldn’t be settled so easily.

Without another word, the defiance and want burning in your chest boiled over. You pulled Elias Moore into a crushing kiss, ruffling his suit jacket.

Stack’s smirk faltered for just a heartbeat, a flicker of surprise flashing behind his gold teeth. His hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing the side of your jaw with a teasing, deliberate lightness that sent a shiver down your spine. His voice dropped, low and dangerous, like a velvet promise edged with steel.

"Careful, baby. You’re playin’ with fire."

But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your breath hitched, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears like a wild stallion breaking free. The air between you thickened, charged with a heat that wasn’t just from the summer night or the sticky tension in the jukebox’s flickering neon glow. It was raw, electric, and impossible to ignore.

Your fingers curled into the lapel of his jacket, tugging him closer, hungry for the heat that radiated off his body. The scent of leather, musk, and something uniquely Stack invaded your senses. Your lips pressed harder against his, demanding more, needing more. His hands found your waist, strong and possessive, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left — only the desperate dance of two bodies claiming their own wild territory.

His mouth moved over yours with fierce intention, teasing and tasting, trailing a path of fire down your neck. You arched against him, breath mingling, every nerve alight. The weight of Boone’s warning dissolved somewhere in the back of your mind, drowned out by the thunderous storm between you and Stack.

Stack’s voice, rough and low, was a whisper against your skin. "You gonna be my woman. One way or another."

His hands slid lower, fingers digging into the curve of your hips, grounding you even as your pulse raced with reckless abandon. You tugged at the buttons of his shirt, exposing the warm skin beneath, your nails grazing, marking. Every touch was a challenge, every breath a promise.

Your lips parted in a silent plea, and Stack answered, his tongue tracing the line of your jaw, down to the swell of your collarbone. The heat in your chest ignited into a blaze, scorching and sweet. It wasn’t just passion — it was war, desire, defiance, and something dangerously close to surrender.

The air thickened, charged and heavy with all the words neither of you dared say. His fingers tightened on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he wanted to press you into him and make sure you couldn’t slip away. Your hands trembled slightly, caught between the urge to push him away and the desperate craving to keep this fire alive.

Stack’s breath hitched as his mouth dipped lower, kissing the hollow at your throat, leaving a trail of heat that seared through your skin. Your fingers tangled in the coarse fabric of his shirt, dragging it open just enough to feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch. Every beat was a promise, wild and relentless.

That night, you thought you'd be in wicked trouble with your daddy.

You got home and he was sitting in his chair, rifle by his side. There was no glare. No anger. No fight. Just disappointment.

His eyes met yours — quiet, heavy, like the weight of every unspoken word between you.

"Boone stopped by. Said you was almost kissin' Stack in the back of his juke joint. That the truth?"

You froze in the doorway, the screen creaking shut behind you. Your boots felt heavy against the floorboards.

"Is that the truth? I won't ask again." he asked again, voice like gravel and smoke, worn down from years of silence that meant more than shouting ever could.

You swallowed, but your throat was dry. "Yes, sir."

Your daddy looked away then, toward the window. The moonlight spilled across the hardwood like spilled milk, cold and pale. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even shift in his chair.

“Didn’t raise you to chase heat just ‘cause it burns bright.”

You stepped further inside, your heart thudding in your chest. “It ain’t just heat.”

He turned back to you, slow and steady, the way storms roll in without hurry. "That boy’s trouble, Y/N. His people bring it like flies bring rot. You think Stack Moore gives a damn about you come winter? When the crops are dry and the nights are long?"

“I ain’t askin’ for your blessing,” you said, quietly. “But I ain’t askin’ for forgiveness, either.”

His jaw worked, clenched and tight. The rifle stayed at his side, but his hands curled on the armrests like he was gripping the weight of every fear a father could carry.

"You know I’d ride to hell for you, girl." "I know."

A beat. A breath. The porch creaked under the weight of the wind.

"Then don’t make me bury you for someone who wouldn’t ride back. If you think Stack Moore is worth it, I can't stop ya," he asserted wisely. "But he better be. Because if a single tear drops to this floor and he's responsible for it, I'm buryin' him. And his brother."

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t let it show.

He wasn’t threatening. He was promising.

That old chair creaked as he leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, eyes pinning you like a hawk pins its prey.

"You understand me, girl?" His voice was low, but there was thunder in it — a quiet kind of rage built on love and fear and the kind of heartbreak only a father can carry.

You nodded, chin up even though your chest was tight. "I understand."

He let out a long breath through his nose, like he’d been holding it for years.

"Then go on to bed. And think real hard ‘bout the kind of man you’re givin’ your name to. 'Cause once you do… you don't get to take it back."

You stood there for a moment longer — the screen door groaning open behind you again, the wind pushing against your back like even the night was trying to warn you.

But you didn’t look back.

The next day, Stack stopped by the ranch, as if he was askin' for a gun to go off towards his head. You were out back, tending to the horses, brushing your favorite tenderly.

The horse, Annie was her name, blew air out of her nose, as if she knew trouble was approaching. You cooed at her.

"Settle down, pretty girl. Ain't nothin' comin' to get you."

But even as you said it, your eyes flicked toward the dust trail creeping down the long dirt drive — slow and deliberate. A dark car. Stack’s.

Annie shifted under your hand, hooves stamping once against the earth. You didn’t blame her. You felt the same tight pull in your chest. That mix of anger and ache, nerves and want, all tangled together like barbed wire.

Stack stepped out like he owned the goddamn world. Boots still dirty from whatever hellhole he'd walked through last, and that cocky tilt to his mouth like he'd slept just fine while the storm he stirred brewed all night long.

He spotted you in the paddock, and his smirk deepened like he’d expected a bullet and got a welcome mat instead.

You didn’t wave. Didn’t call out.

Just kept brushing Annie’s side like you weren’t burning from the inside out.

Stack leaned on the fence, one arm slung over the top rail, eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing that ever moved slow in his world.

"You didn’t call," he said, voice low and teasing. "Thought maybe Boone talked you outta me."

You looked up then, slow and measured.

"No one talks me outta anything, Stack. Least of all a man who runs when daddy’s rifle’s on the porch."

That knocked the smirk clean off his face for a second. Then he chuckled — slow, deep.

"Figured I’d come back ‘round today. Let your old man know I ain’t runnin’. I’m standin’."

You shook your head, a bitter little smile tugging at your lips.

"He already knows. Question is… do you?"

Stack’s jaw twitched. His eyes dropped to your hands on the horse — the way they moved, firm but gentle. Like you could break things and fix them all the same.

He straightened off the fence.

"I ain’t scared of your daddy," he said. "And I ain't here for a quick trip to the sheets. You're the typa woman worth marryin'."

You froze.

Annie huffed beside you, but you barely heard her over the rush of blood in your ears. Stack’s words hit you like a hammer to the ribs — not because you didn’t believe him, but because deep down… maybe you did.

Still, you kept your hands busy, brushing through Annie’s mane like she was the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You don’t even know what marryin’ me means, Stack Moore," you said quietly. "It ain’t just Sunday dresses and kissin’ under porch lights. It’s long winters and hard land and family that don’t forget where you came from."

He stepped into the paddock without asking, boots crunching over the straw and dirt. That alone told you something — Stack had never waited for an invitation in his life.

"I know it won’t be easy," he said, stopping just a few feet from you. "I know your daddy don’t think I’m good enough. Hell, maybe I ain’t. But I know this — I’d rather fight every damn day for your heart than spend a single one without it."

Your hand paused on Annie’s shoulder. For the first time, you looked at him — really looked.

There was no grin now. No sharp teeth. Just a man, standing there with his scars and swagger stripped down to something real.

"You’re serious," you said, more to yourself than him.

"I’ve been in fights I ain’t walked away from. I’ve stared down the barrel more times than I can count. But you?" He stepped closer, voice low and steady. "You’re the first thing that’s ever made me scared to lose."

Your chest tightened.

Goddamn him.

Because you wanted to believe it. Wanted to throw your arms around him, take him in the barn, and kiss the past right off his mouth. But you’d learned too young that want didn’t make a man stay. Promises were easy when the sun was out — it was the nights that told the truth.

So you swallowed hard and said the only thing you could.

"Then don’t say you want me, Stack. Show me."

His eyes flickered, something fierce and warm lighting in them.

"I intend to, darlin’," he said. "Every damn day. Starting now."

And when he reached for your hand, you let him take it. Just for a moment.

Just long enough to remember how it felt.

He raised it to his mouth. Kissed it gently, if Stack Moore was even capable of being gentle.

"Now.. Take me inside to see your daddy. I'm sure we can find somethin' to agree on. Gotta get along before I ask for the blessin'."

You snorted, tying Annie up and kicking his boot with your own.

"It ain't that easy. You've got to court me before you marry me, and even then, you gotta impress daddy."

Stack chuckled low in his chest, the sound rich like molasses and twice as thick with trouble.

"Darlin’, I didn’t think anything about you would be easy," he said, falling in step beside you as you started toward the house. "Hell, if you were, I wouldn’t be out here riskin’ a shotgun sermon and a boot up my ass."

You cut him a sideways glance, amused despite yourself. "You’ll get more than a boot if you don’t stop runnin’ that mouth."

He grinned, flashing that infamous gold tooth like a warning sign. "That mouth’s gonna be the reason you marry me, just you wait."

You stopped at the bottom of the steps, boots crunching in the dirt. Stack did too, waiting for your lead. Waiting, you realized, for your say-so — and that was rare.

"You serious about this?" you asked, voice lower now. No teasing. No fire. Just the honest question of a woman who knew how easily hearts cracked under pressure.

He nodded once. No swagger this time. Just steel and heat.

"I want a wife. I want babies. I wanna hang my guns up until I need 'em. And I want you. So, little lady, let's go."

Daisy bit her lip before carefully opening her phone. He’d uploaded another video, the second one this week.

She hesitantly clicked on it. Loud moans filled her ears as she watched a pretty darkskin girl arch her back deeper while Stack thrusted into her. She looked dazed but satisfied, like if he was doing everything right.

Daisy let out another sigh, a sense of heavy wanting flowed through her bones. She’d liked the video before locking her phone and turning her attention back to the window.

She’d stumbled upon his page months ago when he liked one of her pictures. Her online presence was far different from his, her pictures often times going viral for how pretty she was. Big curly Afro, smooth melanated skin, plump and thick in all the right places, big hazel eyes and a smile sweeter than candy.

Stack liked what he’d seen, admired her picture for a little too long before hitting the little heart and scrolling down.

And that’s how they lived, the two sending little signs here and there that they see each other but nothing further than that.

-

The dark purple walls came to life as the sun shined through the open curtains that Daisy forgot to close the night before . Her bed adorned with silk, black sheets kissed her skin as she stretched and moved around on it.

Chicago had finally stopped storming. A full week of sunshine and perfect fall weather.

Daisy got up and slowly walked to her bathroom. She took a much needed cold shower before brushing her teeth and starting her skin care routine. Wrapping a robe around her body, Daisy grabbed her phone from her room before heading down the stairs. She heard the last few sizzle and pops from her coffee machine just as it finished brewing.

With a Spider-Man cup in one hand and her phone in the other, Daisy sat at on her kitchen stool before starting her daily scroll through her socials.

‘ChiTownStack started following you’

Daisy’s eyes widened in shock, almost choking on the hot coffee before she could compose herself. Her heart was beating faster than the one time she forced herself to try out for track in high school. She clicked on the notification, the little grey ‘follows you’ right next to his name might as well have been in big bold letters with the way it stared back at her.

She put the phone down, took a deep breath and picked it back up before hitting the ‘follow back’ button. Her stomach turned, the stupid little crush she’d formed over this man had her all anxious before she could even get her day started. Daisy bit her lip to keep from smiling as she scrolled through his pictures, he was fine in ways that just couldn’t be explained.

“Calm down, Jesus. It’s just a follow.” Daisy mumbled to herself while she started preparing breakfast.

An avocado toast with bacon later, Daisy sat at her desktop, clocked in and already focused on her coding tasks before she even took a bite of her food.

-

The days flew by before Daisy even had a chance to familiarize herself with them. Next thing you knew winter was in full effect. The weather had been bitter, the sun barely shined and the wind seemed to gain new strength everyday.

Daisy stuck to her routine. Work, gym, dinner and in bed by 9PM.

That night she’d gone grocery shopping, getting whatever essentials she needed before heading back home and getting ready for bed. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy lately, her mind often wondering, craving, desiring.

Her phone laid on her stomach and on speaker as she’s being forced to listen to her best friend talk about how her fiancée just knew exactly how and where to touch her.

“Listen girl, when you find that man that just knows what he’s doing, hold on him tight cause whew! I went through some trials and tribulations chile…”

Daisy giggled. “I remember. Omg. Remember Josh?? He’d spend more time sweating then actually having sex.”

“Bitch. How could I forget??? I unfortunately lived through it! Ugh! I’m glad I convinced him to record it. I HAD to show you cause you swore I was lyin!”

Daisy’s body shook from laughter. “I just couldn’t believe that shit was real. You looked traumatized!”

“I was!! Ugh. Terrible!”

-

Long after the clock strikes midnight, Daisy had found herself still wide awake and head still dizzy with unwarranted thoughts.

She picked her phone back up, biting her lip as she clicked the Twitter app and went straight to the search bar.

His profile came up before she even finished typing, no new video in weeks. Nothing but a picture of him at a ski resort. She hadn’t bothered to like it, too scared of being noticed but something about the way his smile took up the screen made her tap the little heart.

She did another quick scroll, old videos of himself he’d reposted, pictures she’d already seen, some funny memes, videos of anime she’d already watched before she even knew he liked them. A sigh escapes her lips and she rolls her eyes at her dramatics.

“Having a crush on a nigga that does onlyfans Daisy, really? God.” Daisy mumbled to herself before locking her phone.

She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would consume her, but then she heard it. A familiar ping that indicated she got a notification. The screen brightened her face as she tapped to unlock her phone.

ChiTownStack

You must be up thinking about me or something.

Daisy’s stomach turned, her heart pumped one, twice and a third time before it settled comfortably. Her fingers quickly typed, then slowed down as to not seem desperate.

PrincessDaisy

And what makes you think that?

His reply came quick, no waiting games, no shame.

ChiTownStack

It’s almost two in the morning and you liking a picture I posted days ago

It’s okay to admit it. I be up thinking bout you too.

Daisy sat up in her bed, eyes wide and full of shock. “I be up thinking bout you too?” She said out loud as if she couldn’t believe he actually typed that.

PrincessDaisy

How do you know the picture didn’t just come up on my page?

And thinking about me? I hardly doubt that.

She groaned into her pillow, stomach turning like a schoolgirl with a crush. Her eyes stayed shut, not bothering to check if he was typing. But then she heard the same ping again.

ChiTownStack

Don’t lie to me, pretty. I ain’t judgin

Why you doubt it? You’re pretty as fuck. I be up looking at your pictures too.

Only thing is, I ain’t scared to admit it

“Oh my god… he called me pretty twice.” Daisy blushed, giggling softly before kicking her feet. She felt giddy, and they’ve barely even spoken.

“Okay okay, calm down.” She took a deep breath and opened the message. Her thumbs froze, mind going completely blank as she couldn’t find anything to say. She panicked, typing and deleting, re-typing and deleting again.

PrincessDaisy

You got a big ego, but I’ll feed into it and say I was looking at your pictures

Thank you💗 Didn’t peg you as the stalker type but I appreciate the honesty.

ChiTownStack

It ain’t even ego baby, I just know. But since you wanna be stubborn. I’ll take it. 😂

If me admiring your pictures is me being a stalker, then so be it. I guess that’s what I am.

Question is, what does that make you?

Daisy smiled, a small laugh bubbling in her throat. Her fingers worked before her mind had the chance to catch up.

PrincessDaisy

You always this bold? Don’t even know me and calling me stubborn.

How long have you been “admiring my pictures”?

I’m nowhere near as obsessed with you as you are with me, so it doesn’t make me anything.

Somewhere hidden in the deep dark night of Chicago, Stack set down his game controller at the sound of a new DM from Twitter. He read her messages, deep chuckle slipping has his lips before responding.

ChiTownStack

Don’t gotta know you to see you stubborn as hell

He thought about her and the way he stumbled onto her Twitter page about a year ago. She looked like everything he wasn’t. All sunshine and rainbows.

He ignored her pictures the first time he’d seen them but then the second time she ended up on his timeline, he stared a little too long. The third time, he stopped fully, read comments from thirsty men and then kept scrolling. By the fourth time, he was looking at who shared it. Then clicked on her profile and went through the rest of her pictures.

Something about her made him want to just wrap himself around her. She looked soft, like touch of sweetness that he craved, but he kept his distance, bookmarked his favorite picture and then forgot about it.

But often times he’d find himself back her page. Smiling at some meme she shared, taking recommendations from the anime she’d talk about, and staring so deeply at her pictures, that he’d probably be able to draw her from memory if he tried.

ChiTownStack

It’s been a while. I won’t expose myself and say how long though

Are you sure? I’ve seen you like my stuff before we even followed each other. Sometimes you be the first one.

Bet you got my notifications turned on

PrincessDaisy

Please expose yourself. Im interested

Hmm, it seems like you be waiting for me to like your stuff.

Bet you only post so I could see it

Stack smirked, hand rubbing his beard slightly.

ChiTownStack

Let’s say it’s been about a year or so

You’re making some crazy assumptions there, Daisy.

PrincessDaisy

Now you’re just lying to me

You say they’re crazy assumptions but I don’t see you denying them.

Daisy could feel her eyes getting heavy, the smile on her face hurt but she couldn’t seem to get rid of it. She locked her phone, heart stammering in ways she hadn’t felt before.

Her eyes closed momentarily before sleep ultimately consumed her.

ChiTownStack

Why would I lie to you? I’m always honest, baby

You think I post to get your attention? And if I did, does it work?

-

Daisy and Stack spent days flirting, teasing, constantly going back and forth about nothing and everything. She started posting more often just to see his name in her likes, sometimes he’d comment things like

ChiTownStack

‘This why you haven’t texted me back?’

PrincessDaisy

‘Just say I’m pretty and move it along 🙄’

ChiTownStack

‘You’re gorgeous.’

Stack was huge in the onlyfans community. He had millions of followers and fans. People loved his worked and rightfully so. They worshipped him like a God, followed his every move and would even miss him when he’d take breaks. So it wasn’t long before they started to notice the attention he gave Daisy. His social media was pretty much quiet besides posting his own work. He didn’t follow much people and didn’t bother interacting with anyone besides his loyal supporters. Therefore, it was easy to spot him on her page.

His fans started leaving comments, asking if she was going to eventually work with him. Stack would get dm’s from people wanting to pay more money to see the two of them work together.

Daisy ignored them, too scared, too anxious to even be within five feet from him, let alone have sex.

Stack ignored them too but not because he didn’t want to but because he did. Badly. He wanted to ruin her. Make her break right under him but he was scared she wouldn’t be able to handle it and so he kept his thoughts to himself.

The two chose not to speak about the elephant in the room. Just kept texting each other as if there was nothing else to talk about.

FaceTime calls lasted hours long and nights didn’t end without the two saying goodnight to each other.

They didn’t know what it meant but they knew they liked it.

-

December was colder than usual. Daisy sat in her living room when she received a text message from Stack.

‘New Demon Slayer movie now out on streaming services’

Wanna watch and react?

Her chest ached from the anxiety her body felt. Stack, out of her own recommendation, started a YouTube channel, somewhere where he could show more of his regular life. She found him entertaining and told him he’d make a lot more money for himself if he showed people who he was behind his OnlyFans persona.

His fans went crazy. He’d post vlogs of him cooking, running errands, going to the gym and reacting to the anime that Daisy would put him on to.

He’d name drop her a couple of times in a few of his videos, leaving his comments in a frenzy.

‘So when we getting that you and Daisy collab???’

‘Is she going to be in your next video?’

Daisy kept dodging him, excuses after excuses. But Stack wasn’t having it, he knew she was avoiding him and so he kept asking until eventually she had no choice but to finally go through with it.

Her curls were up in a puff, her makeup was light on her face, fresh set of wispy lashes sat pretty on her eyes, her lips glossed and her edges laid flat.

She wore light yellow Alo yoga pants with the matching long sleeve top. Her feet were covered in cream colored Uggs that matched her Mackage. Daisy sprayed her most expensive perfumes, mixing the vanilla with her Jasmine Peach scented body lotion from Eos.

Her stomach turned as she drove to his apartment, fingers shaking behind the steering wheel. It was easier for her to talk to him behind a screen, she could hide behind pixels and poor connections. But now there was nowhere to run.

-

Stack opened the door the second she knocked, his eyes trailed from the top of her head to the tip of her shoes.

“Hi.” Her voice was softer in person, everything about her seemed to be.

“Hey. Come in.” Stack stepped aside watching her make her way into the warmth of his apartment. He took her coat and hung it on the rack as she looked around. They’ve talked long enough that this should’ve been normal, but Daisy couldn’t help but quietly freak out.

“You quieter than usual.” His eyes tracked her, she took in the deep navy blue walls, the smell of freshly baked pizza and the low lights hanging above her head.

“Sorry, I’m just—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just making sure you’re good. You good, right?”

She finally looked at him, black T shirt hugging tatted arms that she’d seen way too many times. Dark grey sweats hanging low on his hips, chains hanging from his neck and two studded earrings on each of his ears. Her mind went to places they shouldn’t have been as his arms moved about, muscles straining against the already tight shirt.

“Daisy?”

“Huh?” She snapped back to reality, clearing her throat slightly before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Y-Yea I’m good. Are you good?”

Stack grinned, slowly nodding. “I’m good, mama. You ready to start or you need anything?”

Her face reddened at the nickname, she placed her hands on her cheeks hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Yeah I’m ready.”

“Aight.” Stack led them to his room where his desktop was already set up and the camera pointed directly at the two of them. She sat down on one of the computer chairs, already feeling her nerves worsen by the second. Stack headed back down to the kitchen to grab the snacks and drinks while she sat pretty waiting for him. Her leg shook and her stomach turned in ways that made her nauseous.

He placed a plate of pizza in front of her and a drink.

“I ain’t know if you wanted liquor or not so I got you this and a water bottle.” He was close, so close she could smell his cologne mixed with what seemed like a faint smell of weed.

“Oh um. T-thank you.” She grabbed the glass cup and took a big gulp from it. Stack watched her with a small smile.

“Daisy. Relax, pretty. It’s just you and me.” Their eyes met for the first time since she had arrived and God did he look better in person than he did on camera. He gave her a small nod, reassurance that there was no need to be scared around him. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay.”

-

Tipsy didn’t come easy for Daisy but for some reason that night it did. Stack could barely focus, not with the way her giggles came often but were so refreshing every time he heard it. Not with the way her knee would press against his, or the way her smile would widen when she’d talk all nerdy to him and he’d listen like his life depended on it.

His mind was anywhere but the movie, his eyes kept drifting to her face so much so, that she’d catch him a few times.

“You’re not paying attention, Elias.” She had a shy little smile on her lips, fingers playing with each other while she pretended to focus on the screen. She could feel the weight of his stare but tried so hard to act like she didn’t.

“I can’t.” He simply answered, voice deep in a way she still hadn’t gotten used to.

“Why can’t you?” Her voice was small, nerves crawling up her spine.

“Cause I’d rather look at you instead.” Daisy’s breath hitched, her eyes looking down at her hands, refusing to look up even when she felt him move closer. “Look at me, Daisy.”

He gently grabbed her jaw, eyes locking into each other. “Why you so nervous around me, mama? Hm?”

“B—because… I don’t know— you just make me nervous.” Her eyes were wide, body burning from the warmth he radiated.

“I don’t want you nervous around me. You’re safe with me, you know that, right?” She melted into his touch, head nodding slightly.

“Elias I—” she cut herself off, teeth sinking into her lip. Her hands slowly raised to his chest, touching the hardness hidden behind his shirt.

“What you want princess, hm? Tell me.” Her body almost arched into his just from the tone in his voice. She didn’t know if the sudden confidence came from the way he looked at her, as if she was the only woman in existence, or from the liquor, but the next words out of her mouth were

“I want you to touch me.”

Stack let out a low groan. “Yea? You sure?”

She nodded, eyes hooded and hands gripping him loosely. “Please?”

Stack almost lost all restraint, he took a deep breath, bulge growing under the weight of his sweats. He turned his head, facing the camera before looking back at her. “Want me to leave it on?”

Daisy licked her lips, her dropped slightly from shyness as she let out a small “Yes.”

Stack smirked, “Nah speak up. Let em hear you.”

Daisy shoved her face into Stacks shoulders. “Elias stop.” He chuckled lowly before grabbing her face again.

“So fucking shy. What am I gonna do with you?” He placed a kiss to her cheeks before stopped right in front of her lips. “What should I do with you?”

“Anything.”

-

The camera was moved towards the bed, capturing a perfect view of Daisy with her legs wide open as Stack licked and sucked on her clit.

“Oh my god.” Her legs shook around his head, body arching as her fifth orgasm threatened to break her apart. Stack ate like he was starved, moaning into her pussy as his eyes rolled back from her taste.

“Give me one more. Yeah? Can you give me one more?” The look in his eyes almost seemed crazed, as if he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Daisy whined, the pout on her face deepened as her whole body shook.

“Eliaaass, f-fuck” He slipped two fingers inside of her, curling and hitting that spongy spot that had her spine bending. “I’m gonna cum.” She whimpered as her hands gripped the sheets. Elias had his mouth stuck to her clit, staring up at her while he watched her unfold. His tongue licked up and down her slit then pushing into her and swirling it around. He moved down slightly, kissing and sucking the puckered hole before moving back up and attaching his mouth to her nub.

Daisy sobbed as the coil snapped, her juices drenching Stack. He opened his mouth wider, drinking her down like water and groaning.

By the time he was on top of her, Daisy was in a state of bliss. “Look at you, fucked out already and I ain’t even start yet.”

His dick was bigger than she’d seen in videos, thick, veiny and already dripping pre cum. Her body tensed up as she felt him rubbing himself against her folds. Her hands reaching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to her. “Gentle, please.” She begged, lips pouted while her eyes stayed glued to his.

Stack leaned down, sealing the kiss with a gentle force. “Anything you want, baby. I’ll be gentle, okay?”

Daisy nodded, eyes focused on his as he slowly pushed in. She gasped, finger nails biting his skin as she tried not to push away.

“Keep looking at me, don’t look away.” Stack kissed her again, hands holding onto her hips as he sunk deeper. “Fuck you feel so good.”

Daisy’s eyes filled with tears, her legs trembled and her pussy clenched around him. She whimpered as she felt him slowly pull out before sinking back in until his pelvis kissed the back of her thighs. “Oh my— Elias.”

“You doing so good. I’m so proud of you.” Stack moaned as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and started moving. His thrust were slow but deep, grinding into her so that she could feel everything.

Tears slipped past Daisy’s eyes as she sobbed loudly. Her body hummed in a way she’d never felt before, the pain had subsided but the pleasure was overwhelming, she could’ve sworn she felt him in her stomach.

“This what you wanted?” Stack grabbed her face. “Look at me. Talk to me. This what you wanted, right?” He sped up slightly and Daisy almost chocked on her own breath.

She nodded, completely dazed from how deep he was inside of her.

“I said talk to me. Let me hear you.”

“Yesssssss. Yesss Elias. I— I wanted this.” Her cries filled the room along with the sounds of him sliding in and out of her. Cream slid out of her swollen folds, forming a ring around his dick.

“Mhmm, you so messy. Look at you.” Stack moaned, eyes locked on to where their bodies met. Daisy couldn’t stop crying, her body twisted and bent while her tears formed puddles on the bed. Stack watched her in awe, he grabbed her legs and placed them on his shoulders then intertwined their fingers together as he deepened his thrust. His strokes sped up slightly, still gentle but sharp enough to leave her gasping over and over again. “You cryin? Hm? Let me see you cry for me. Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

She came mid stroke, body trembling under him while her cum painted his thighs. “Good fucking girl, princess.” Stack moaned, gripping her hands tighter, he pulled out, rapidly stroking his dick, covering her pussy with his seed.

Daisy thought he was done, but Stack couldn’t stop. He flipped her around in a blink of an eye, her chest pressed to the bed while her back arched high up. He slipped inside her with ease. Daisy cried out, her hand reaching back to rest on his lower stomach. “Elias… I—It’s too much. I can’t—”

He was grinding into her, making sure to keep himself buried all the way in before sliding out. He grabbed her hand and held it, then leaned down to kiss her palm and her spine that was covered in a light sheen of sweat. “You can take it, you been doing so good for me.”

Stack was stuck in a trance, her moans fueling an obsession he felt forming deep inside of his body. Her ass clapped back onto him, bodies meeting with a sticky slap every time he moved. “I could fucking drown in this pussy, mama.”

He pulled out, buried his face in between her legs and sucked her pussy like it was his job. Daisy screamed, squirt shooting out of her without permission.

“Give me all that shit. Keep going. Don’t stop.” Stack slid back in while she continued to squirt. Thrusting faster this time, hard enough to hit that spot he kept abusing. Daisy’s body twitched, trying to pull away from him but he held her hips in a grip so tight she was sure it’d form bruises. “Don’t run from me. Take it. Keep cumming on this dick. You doing so fucking good.”

Daisy couldn’t stop screaming, her body convulsed and her knuckles turned white from how hard she gripped the sheets. “Elias! Elias— Fuck! I can’t!—” her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her juices still flowing out of her. “Eliiiaassssssss!” She was a mess, sobbing into the bed as if it’d save her from the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling.

Stack felt it, felt her body reaching a point of overstimulation. He slowed down his strokes and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her up so that her back met his chest. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I got you.”

Her body trembled against his, her breathing was nothing but short gasps and whimpers. He still moved inside of her, slower this time, helping ride out the intensity she just went through. His hands rubbed up and down her body while he placed kisses on her neck on shoulder. “Breathe baby, you’re good. I’m here. You’re safe with me, remember?” Daisy nodded weakly, still softly sobbing against him, moans slipping past her raw and bitten lips.

Stacks hands continued to soothe her as he slowly thrusted in and out of her. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Daisy listened, her body finally calming down and slumping against him. He held her there, hips still grinding into her. She tilted her head to look at him, her face flushed, mascara running down her cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Stack grabbed the side of her jaw then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, so soft and gentle that it broke something inside of Daisy. Her eyes watered again without meaning to, they stared into each other’s eyes as he kept moving, kept building the both of them up in pace so slow it felt like torture. “Beautiful” He mumbled against her lips before kissing her again and again until both of their bodies were at the verge of breaking.

The orgasm that followed wasnt harsh, it held them together as both of their essences mixed. She felt him pulsing inside of her, he felt her dripping down his legs. Their eyes never faltered, they came while studying the way their pupils dilated for each other. She held onto his arms that were wrapped tightly around her waist, moaning against his mouth as her body came down from the high.

Stack gently pulled out, before laying her body on the bed. Before he could walk off, she grabbed his arm. “Wait.” Her voice was hoarse from the screaming, her grip weak against his arm.

He leaned above her, placing kisses to her face before pulling back. “You alright?”

She nodded, her hands rubbing along his face and beard. “I— I want more.” She’d whisper so quietly he thought maybe he had heard her wrong.

“You want more?” Stack kissed her chest, lips wrapping around her perked nipple before pulling back with pop.

“Yes… please.” Stacked moaned, sucking on her breasts and licking her damp skin. His mouth went everywhere it could, licking, sucking, biting. Marking her up as if she was his own property.

He lined himself up again, ready to slide in before she placed a trembling hand to his chest. He stopped immediately, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Not like this… L—Lay down.” Stack raised an eyebrow, lips pulling up in a smirk before he moved to lay flat on the bed. Daisy climbed on top of him, her movements shy but needy.

He watched her with what looked like adoration, which at this point, it probably was. She looked like art above him and from that, he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Her knees bent on either side of him as she slowly sunk down. She moaned, hands gripping his chest as she started to move. Stacks eyes stayed glued to her, his mouth open slightly, little groans escaping from between his lips. His hands moved to her waist, not to guide but to pull her closer. Her body laid down on top of his, she moved her ass up and down, her walls swallowing him whole.

Stacks breathing began to stutter, his moans became louder and his grip tightened against her. “F—Fuck, Daisy.” She was so wet, so warm and so tight that his eyes crossed from how good she felt around him.

Daisy sped up, chasing that bliss that she desperately needed just one more time. She watched him squirm under him, trying hard not to loose control but failing miserably. “S— so pretty, Elias.” She moaned against his lips.

Stacks hips snapped up at the compliment, his body reacting without second thought. She felt his abs tightening and the way he seemed to swell inside of her. “Not yet, baby. Hold on a little longer, please? For me?”

He moaned loudly, hands gripping anywhere “I can’t — Fuck, Daisy. I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop, mama.”

Daisy placed kisses on his chest, hips still snapping down on him at a steady pace. Her walls fluttered around him and Stack whimpered. She moaned at the sound of him, somehow getting wetter from hearing him loose it.

“Just a little longer. Please? You just feel so good.”

Stack could barely hold it together, his legs trembling from the restraint. “I— Shit— Im tryin, baby. Im tryin to hold it— I can’t.” He groaned, head tucked into her neck while his hands gripped her ass, helping her ride him.

“Almost there. Fuuuckkkkkk.” Daisy whined, her own legs shaking from the pressure building up. “Kiss me, please kiss me.”

Stack grabbed her face, lips meeting in a heated kiss that snapped the last bit of patience he had. “I’m bout to fucking nut— Daisy, fuck baby. You gotta— get up.”

Daisy moaned, moving her hips faster as she slightly shook her head. “I want it. I want you to cum inside of me.”

His hands gripped her ass again, holding her tight against him as he thrusted into her, moaning loudly while his seed decorated her walls. “Take it, take all of it.”

Daisy sobbed, her back arching as she squirted all over him. He stayed buried inside of her, riding out what was left of the orgasm. She slumped on top of him, both of their bodies twitching and exhausted.

Stack rubbed his hands up and down her spine, she traced the tattoos on his chest and listened to the beat of his heart. They didn’t move, he didn’t pull out, she didn’t complain.

The camera still recorded, capturing the way they fit so perfectly against each other, like missing puzzle pieces. It captured the kiss Stack placed on her forehead and the small smile on Daisy’s lips. It captured the way neither of them knew what this meant, why it was so intense, why it felt like something they’ve both been missing.

The camera kept rolling long after her eyes closed shut, melting into him fully and then the last few strokes of Stacks hands on her back before he too, fell asleep.

-