#stack x male reader

don't get me wrong, he can and will dom, but when you reduce him into the puddle of pleasure that he currently is? he'll wrap his arms around your head tight and sob into the crook of your neck, hips twitching as he begs for you to slow down—for mercy.

"s-shit—darlin', you're goin' ham on m-me..." he'd stutter in a low voice, desperately gripping reality, but it swiftly slips out of his grasp when you roll your palm against his tip and giggle in his ear.

"you wanna cum for me, pretty boy?" and he nods, desperately sweating against you. his moans get louder and louder, shameless whines clouding your eardrums which only fuel your arousal.

"c'mon, sweets. know you can beg prettier than that." your voice, smooth as silk, making his knees buckle and her whimpers before obliging, finding difficulty in spreading his lips. "p-please–fuck... please let me cum... w'nna cum so fuckin'–shit—so fuckin' bad..." his eyebrows are knitted together in focus as he tries his very best to not cum right as you chuckle in his ear.

as for stack, he's way less shameful than his brother. he's always up for a good time, no matter who's on top.

did I mention you've got a gun pointed at his head?

unloaded, of course, but still enough to give him the thrill of danger and fuck, you're hot.

"fffuhh—baby–please, faster, c'mon–I'm begging-" words spill out of his mouth endlessly as you press the gun harder into his temple. "y-you talk too– fuckin'– much." you emphasized each word with a smash of your hips against his, making him jolt as his eyes roll back into his skull.

he drools, his mouth hanging open as endless whimpers jump out of between his lips at your every movement. you notice and bend your back to reach his level. "you're g'nna need that– back- baby.." and with that, you licked a stripe up the droplet of saliva he let out, which earned you a long, rich moan from his very core.

springing back up, your hand reached his cheek and you tapped on it twice, immediately pulling a reflex out of him as his jaw flexed and opened his mouth wider. you gathered all the spit you could inside your mouth and pressed your lips together, letting the long stream of saliva drip down onto his tongue.

his hips twitched at the feeling of your warm drool inside his mouth, and he immediately swallowed it all.

it's only when you grabbed onto his hair tugged it, inspected his mouth and uttered the words "such a good fuckin' boy..." that he unexpectedly finished inside you, strings of white, hot seed coating your walls.

You nod, with a small smile, "Thanks."

Exiting the store, you take the long trek home. The weather conditions never bothered you, Mississippi’s heat, sometimes an annoyance, made you consider another plantation north, but at the cost of losing contact with the community you’ve grown to find endearing; no way.

You didn't ponder on it very much, it served very little to dream big but sometimes you felt doubting kept you from reaching for opportunities beyond yourself, as if there was much to reach for. The rich life was madly tempting, you weren't gonna deny that. You bit your lip, scoping the vast fields with distance where huddled up homes were. You shake your head not even noticing the passing vehicle in parallel with your trajectory.

The polished motor growing smaller by the second almost felt comedically timed, acting as the external world’s method of rubbing what you could never have right in your face. It wouldn't be all too bad, at least you had the rest of the day to kick back til morning.

Circling into the small village, you give a nod to your known neighbors, picking up your pace as noon was soon to hit. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your house which was occupied by both someone on your doorstep and a vehicle by the front steps. Stunned, your brows furrowed as you picked up your pace. The man, wearing a top hat, gave your door a knock which only urged you to shout out to him.

"Hey!"

The man turned at your voice, his face slightly more visible. "Oh" he exaggerated, "There he is..."

You squint, tracing his face as the man leaned against the porch’s post.

"Thought you was ignorin' me."

The moment you got close enough, his features ran clear; the smug smile, familiar voice and stance. You didn't realize it, but you were expressing awe in his new attire; brisling in a tux that hosted room for a chain or two to hang freely. The unfamiliar look in both his outfit and vehicle made you consider if you were merely hallucinating. But no, the slight gust brushing against your skin proved otherwise. This was reality, and Stack was back after a year and a half of no contact. 

"What?" he inquires, getting you to make eye contact with him. "Somethin' on my face?" The hints of gold on his teeth had you scoffing before flicking your eyes in an exaggerated manner. You trot forward, not bothering to make eye contact with him. Before you could get into your house, he slid in front of the door; blocking your method of entry. 

You stare at his shoulder for a moment, tracing up to his expression reading as ‘well…?’ You mimic his features, tilting your head to the right, “Can I get in, please?”

“Not without hello. Or how about, ‘Long time no see.’ Yeah, that’a do it.” 

You sigh, “Hello-”

“Ah!” he raises a finger before pointing at you, “Welcome back, Stack. How bout you give it a try.”

You roll your eyes, already being pulled back into his charming nature, “How bout you get that motor out my grass.”

Stack gets a good chuckle out, “Alright, my bad”, he grips your shoulder, squeezing it, as he passes you, “You got it. Baby.”

A huff left you the moment you push indoors, placing your pouch down onto the small but creaky wooden counter. You hated when he called you that with the knowledge of his infrequent visits.  

With the sniff of your shirt, your feet drag you into your bedroom instead of pondering. Quickly you throw on a fresh enough cassimere shirt with a hole or two in it, but nonetheless, a garment you consider nice enough for a visitor. Applying extra lotion for your skin, the door swung open followed by two whistles.

You suck your teeth, “Come in.”

Stack enters, immediately you drop your shirt, hoping the smell of salt was mitigated by the cream. It wasn’t for him, you told yourself, you’d do this for anyone visiting; your parents, friends, even Smoke on a good day.

Your steps have him snapping his head toward you, soldier instincts you supposed, you guess you couldn’t blame him for that like you could for other things. You gulp, with mixed feelings at Stack’s eyes looking you over. Typically it’d be a queue for sizing you up or the alternative of checking you out; face alone was proof alone that anyone could deduce that the former was practically zero. You had better reasons to mimic him however; his light brown cargos and clean coat, the traits of a wealthy man. 

You digress, biting your tongue, no way Stack was gonna get you fumbling easily over his current display, not without him even touching or sweet talking you. 

Stack smirks as you come into your living space. He takes his hat off and sets it down on your table before gently resting against it. He glances around, seemingly giving you an opportunity to get yourself situated with your items.

Stack huffs to himself, “Not much change huh?”

“Hmm?” 

“Here. Home.”

Your head shakes, “Nope. I mean, it's been quieter for the last seven years, cause…”, you look at him momentarily.

He puts two and two together, “Shit! My brother is quite the talker.” He knew well, you weren’t referring to Smoke, rolling your eyes once more. “Am I really that annoyin’?” You nod slowly. Stack sucks his teeth, walking up to and mounting his weight against the counter right next to you, “Now you’re gonna have to suffer with me then.”

You let out a long breath due to his proximity, but you kept focus on your food. You clear your throat, pivoting, “The plantation’s been calm as well…if you could believe that.”

He takes a second to respond, “None of the them Klan members try to-”

“Nope. As far as I know.” 

Stack nods, and what follows is a long pause. Whether it was him deciding to eye you again, or if there was nothing he had left you speak up, balling up your pouch in the process. “So why’d you come back? Aren’ you supposed to be in…Chicago, doing-”, ‘god knows what.’ 

He looks down at his boots, “Yeah…things up there have been alright. We still have our business. But shit! Let me tell you, we got our pockets chiming.”

‘Business’, what he really meant was killing for profit or getting involved in illegal activity. You knew it, he knew it. If there was something he couldn’t fool anyone on, it was this. 

A sharp breath comes, reminded all over again that the SmockStack twins still were pursuing that life. Being on and off with Stack over the years, felt constantly unsatisfying, only amplified by the infrequent visits; you’d be lucky if he’d visit once a year. You were sure every time he’d head north that he was essentially walking to his demise. Planning robberies, getting involved with gangs; was just as equally dangerous as the country was to the two of you.

You gritted your teeth, unsure of what to say. The pushing and pulling between ecstasy and dread was exhausting. You weren’t even sure what to say, your opinion previously conveyed, and yet he still kept at it. 

Instead of replying, you turned away, the silence even more deafening than ever. Almost instantly, or perhaps a moment of you staring out the window clouded your perception of time; either way a soft touch graces your side. The feeling of Stack’s fingers nearly have you tremble however you attempt to remain unshaken. 

His grip tightens ever so slightly, his warmth growing with his weight chest to your back; straightening your posture. You pear down, thoughts swimming, tenderness soothing over both your mind and physique. 

Stack’s hands carefully trace up your concealed stomach. Dare you try swatting them away to save yourself the trouble. No, your hands cup over his, where it was methodically caressing your abdomen. A warm breath tickled your ear, Stack’s head leaning against yours, soothing your nerves. 

“Is this alright,” he asked in a low tone. 

You swallow, tilting slightly toward him. He’s got you trapped yet again, the temptation overbearing. You gave in with a nod.

Stack took the chance to start kissing your cheek. You lean into him, biting your lip, “Shit.” His pecks started as soft, turning into an attack on your neck. You closed your eyes in both sensitivity and enjoyment. Bite, lick, then kiss over; you had forgotten that was his usual routine while buried in your neck. You recall having to worry you’d have to account for the marks on your neck to others, but no worries ever came up thanks to your collar garb. 

Spinning around, you lock lips with his, your hand wrapping around his back, his thick hands cupping your face. A mix of his salt and reminisce of a cigarette lingered, you didn’t care, you’d been craving the intimacy with him for a long while, and certainly it was mutual. His kisses had a certain sense of passion, his tongue slipping in, not even a few seconds into it. While expected of him, there was something a lot deeper you felt by how prolonged, how tight and long he’d hold each kiss. Maybe you were grasping for straws in the repetitive nature of everyday life, that Stack’s presence could alter your mindset. Or it could’ve equally been your growing bulge doing the talking. 

You weren’t sure either or could’ve been possible, but what you were sure of was his neediness for you. He releases his palm to cup your grotch, “-fuck…!’, you blurt into his mouth. 

He smirks against your lips.“Mhmm, you like that baby?”

You, of course, didn’t get a chance to answer when he nibbled on your lips. Hands now rubbing against his collar, you slowly start undoing his button up coat. He grips your hands, mumbling ‘uh uh’. Stack instead seemingly had other plans, releasing your wrist and unbuttoning your flannel. He lets out a sharp huff, looking over your chest, pupils enlightened by your skin.

Slipping his fingers into your shirt you speak up, “What’re you thinkin’”?

“Lotta things”, he softly plays with your nipples, “Some I bet you're going like?”

Your breath becomes shaky, “Really?”

“Yeah. Whichyousay we drink a bit and I’ll show you.”

You snicker to yourself, “I don’t got no beer in here”

Slack’s eyebrows raise, stopping the motion of his hands, “Guess that means you're gonna have to wait,” 

“You’re not thinking of the bar, are ya?”

He nods, “It’s not far out from here. Couple of rowdy folk in and out of there, but I doubt that’d be an issue.”

You felt awful not being there, especially since the twins paid your boss a visit a week back, talking about renovations. The twins directly informed you that you were more than welcome to come; moreso insisting. Smoke had come by to grab additional materials two days prior; you of course aiding him in filling up his vehicle. He didn’t say it then, or even hint at it, but you felt his questions regarding your absence during opening night were more than likely on Stack’s accord over himself. 

It wasn’t that you and Stack were on bad terms, but your relationship was definitely up in the air. You felt that they believed you were mad at them, Stack specifically. If Smoke was asking, then you wondered how much intel the older twin had in your relationship. It’d be impossible to decipher but you gave him the same answer, ‘I’ll be there, when I’m free.’ 

Well, better late than ever.

Upon arrival, you fix up your shirt as you exit the ford, tucking them into your jeans neatly. The perimeter was littered with parked vehicles, more than you were expecting at the hour. 

An acquaintance of yours patted your back, making his way to the entrance much like your whole crew of co-workers. You follow after a moment to ponder the exterior; a warehouse. It was quite a building to host a special place, but you weren’t complaining. Upon the doorframe, you greet a tall man who happily welcomed you joyfully. 

Entering, the music from outside became clear, the bright lights from red to yellow, and the number of guests caught you quite off guard. You might’ve even considered yourself in awe by how thoughtfully well put together everything was, even with so many people dancing and maneuvering about along the walls, in rooms, some thought was put into the layout. 

Your critical brain stirs coming to a halt when you notice a second to late the tap on your shoulder; Sammie. 

“You made it,”

“Sam”, you embrace him in a quick hug. “Damn I was not expecting ya here. Over church?”

He huffs, “Yeah, not supposed to but…the people here love me. So..” 

You hum, looking to his guitar’s headstock by his shoulder, comfortably strapped to his back, “Is it because you play now?”. He nods with a sheepish grin. “Look at ya! I’m tellin’ ya that talent will take you places.” 

“Tryin’, you know.” 

You nod, eyes drawn to the crowd. It was quite busy, overwhelmingly so, which you should’ve expected by the cars, very capable of carrying more than two people. “I'm gonna grab a drink, eh, where’s the…?”

“Counter’s this way, come” he informs you, leading the way. 

You follow him, subconsciously looking out for a red hat, “You know where the twins are?”

“No, but Smoke’s usually up there,” he points up, and your eyes trace to the short upper floor above. “As for Stack, I ain’ sure. Saw them both earlier.” 

You follow, still looking out for either one of them as you scoot by an occupied poker room, and dining space. Sammie leads you to a fairly large counter, he places down two dimes, “Mrs. Chow, one please for my hard-working brother.”

She nods, getting to work on her mixing. You scuff, sliding into a stool, watching her effortlessly prepare your drink in under ten seconds. “Thank you.” You take a sip, muffling to yourself. “You want a drink?”

“No. Gotta keep myself sober.”

“Ah, don’ wanna lose that spark, I get you” you tease, taking a long sip. “I’ll be sure to owe you, Sam. Keep me to it.” 

He shook his head, snickering, “Just don’t get fried, could get you thrown out.” 

You nod, partially taking in his consideration. He brings up, how he’s been thinking about traveling, which piques your interest. The conversation was quite engaging, Sam’s passion clearly yearning to break from the constraints of his father’s church. Soon you both were interrupted, an arm slinging over your shoulder; similarly for Sammie. 

The man, Slack, leans in between the two of you, “How are we doing today? Sam?” 

“Well enough,” the boy replied. Stack tilts to you, “And you?”

“Doin’ much better.”

“Stack, them boys back there are causing trouble earlier”, Mrs.Chow points across the open hall.

“Don’t you worry Mrs. Chow,” Stack whistles toward his brother, where you finally see Smoke just across the room, “We’ll keep the peace, no ruckus goes unheard.” He circles you, leaning against the counter and inquiring for a drink of his own. Stack states your last name, “So decided to show up, no excuse this time?”

“Yeah. I actually have time.”

“So you ain’ got other plans?”

“Nope. Not today, Stack.”

The twin takes a quick spit, looking at Sammie who was glancing between the two of you as if he’s intruding. Sammie stands, “Remember”, he reinforces to you, heading off elsewhere. Right, don't get too drunk. If you’d take that to heart, it’d be a smart move to follow Sammie; far away from Stack. You couldn’t, Stack was staring at you, expecting something more than a short response.

“You know, Stack, if I'd make you feel better, I plan to stay as long as I’m allowed.” Slack nods, “Or until one of my co-workers is ready to leave, they drop me here.”

“Nah, I got you on that,” your eyebrows raise by a slim, “Of course if you’re stayin’, I could drive you back. Free of charge.”

Your lips parted, “Free, I’m honored.”

“So what’ll be? Three hours and I’ll take you back.”

Oh boy, here comes the talking business. It always slithers its way into conversations, somehow. That fact that he was using it against you of all people was comical, you play along. “Two hours and thirty minutes”

“Two hours and fifty.”

“Drop it to forty.”

Stack bites his lip, “Two hours and forty five. Strike a deal now you get yourself a free drink.”

You take a last sip of your drink, looking about momentarily, shaking your head. He’s good at that.

His smirk grew, “Deal?”

You stare into his eyes, seeing if he’d give you some leeway. Who were you kidding, you were playing within his ballpark, his speciality; there was no winning or upholding Sammie’s remark. You turn, placing the glass down, “Deal.”

Stack queues Mrs.Chow for your second glass. You take it with exaggerated eagerness. He sips his glass as you do, sealing your agreement. Staring back at him you wonder how on earth someone like himself could even manage to retain the glint in his eyes after spending time in the army. He was likely good at hiding it under his formal attire and talkative persona. You couldn’t believe he of all people would have you in a fix. 

—

The two of you spent the night fairly close, as close as what gave no clear hints, dancing fairly close but nothing beyond what close friends would do; some occasional hand grabs came that you wished lasted longer. You just really didn’t want trouble, nor hard stares, just a calm night is all you could ask for. With any commotion, you were sure it would result in Smoke, Stack, or the big guy by the entry chucking them out. But you didn’t want to be the one responsible for stirring up the night. This notion became difficult with every performance, the singers bringing out the energy you needed to last the night.

You and the crowd give a huge ‘whoraw’ as another song comes to a conclusion, raising your third glass head high. By that point, you were through with drinking. With one hand on Stack’s back, you release, whereas his arms over your shoulder stay put. “Phew, I’m done. No more for me. I don’ wanna lose myself.”

Stack chuckles, “Good,” he takes the cup from your hand finishing it for you. “I most certainly don’ want to see you any other way. So many fine folk in here, but you-?”

You felt your cheeks get warm at the implication. You playfully push him off, flattered and a tad bit embarrassed. He follows you where you lean up against a pole, hands in your pockets. “You're talkin' drunk”.

“Now, that very well may be, but I assure you, it ain' a lie”.

"Speak for yourself." you whisper, drawn back to the stage, people cheering as the performance, two ladies, took everyone's attention. You weren't familiar with the song, but the startup had a low rhythm, perfect for dancing in groove with someone.

Watching pairs get together, swarming in front of the stage as the singers began, "Come on folks, get on in, don' be a stinker!" Her long dragged out hum was definitely the beginning to a groovy song that someone who wasn't into dancing could get involved.

Your eyes draw to Stack, who was glancing over at his brother, seemingly urging him and his significant other, who you believed was Annie, to jump in. Smoke almost looked as if he was about to do the same thing, but Annie was already dragging the cigar out his mouth and the two were off to join the main crowd.

Stack and you dancing, in a pair, you were sure that wasn't gonna happen. Noted was his silence as well, both sharing a mutual understanding of your relationship. Even then, he slowly tilts toward you. 

With your lips pursed to the side, you change your attitude, keeping your tone upbeat, "I'mma go wash up." Stack nods, watching you walk off.

You spent a little too much time in the restroom, cleansing your fingers. Some part of you certainly wanted a break from the noise, as well as the unfortunate circumstances.

It wouldn’t be long, five minutes, a guest comes knocking as expected. You dry up and come out rather quickly, to appease him.

Returning to where Stack was stationed, surprisingly he was missing. You look around, shifting through the crowd coming up short. By surprise, a hand, Stack's hand grips your shoulders, leading you forward.

You curse, which gets a snarky laugh out of him. "Tried to scare me?"

His grin grew, pushing you ahead, "Come on, now. Takin’ your sweet time in there, we’re gonna miss it." Miss it? You let him lead you with no further inquiry about the Joint, stopping at a door, he checks to make sure no one's inside before nudging you to step in first. 

You do so, entering the room filled with nothing but a few crates, bags, and cabinets. A click has you turning to face the most devious shit eating grin you've seen out of him before. 

Almost immediately he’s pulling you into him. One hand intertwined with yours, the other slipping behind your pits. Not once did your brows return to level. 

“Stack. What are you doing?” 

He doesn’t reply, he just casually sways in sync with the music, muffled but still very much audible. You huff, his quietness unusual. You sync up with his slow movement, keeping your gaze between his eyes and his shirt’s collar. 

Although he wasn’t speaking, his eyes were doing all the talking. For once, you could say a silent moment with Stack no less, was very much appreciated, just getting to share a moment as one freely in peace. You wish you could’ve gotten more moments like it, but his endeavors in Chicago and you being you, prevented any quality time. 

“You like slow music, or do you like some groove,” he jokes, shaking his hips. 

“Either or. Whichever one gets you doin’ what that old man was doin’.”, you mention. 

Stack brows rose, “You talkin’ bout that old crook? He’s been flauntin’ about like that ever since the Grand Opening.”

You bite your tongue, “He was havin’ fun.”

“You sure he was? Cause I thought a nigga was about to run our joint dry.”

You snort, leaning into him, “He wasn’t that bad.”

“I can assure you. That you haven’ seen the worst of him.”

You peel back, chuckling with him for a moment. Your eyes fell to Stack’s curved lips. Of course, he tries playing you up, voice lowering, “It’s quiet in here”.

You acknowledge that fact, a sign to let yourself lose, pulling him into your lips. You both spent the first couple of kisses, hovering inches from each other's lips, as if some force was stopping you both. It wasn't until Stack pulls you in further and kept the gap between the two of you closed. 

Tingles shoot up your back as you lean back ever so slightly; only giving Stack a chase to keep you from pulling far from him. You didn't think you've kissed anyone is good as Stack, pinpointing how or why seemed fairly intuitive, his more sensual pecks were far beyond any of the other men who were practically trying to ravage your face. With him, it felt he had planned each kiss that was now moving up the side of your face.

Stack weight, had the you backing into a wall. Trapped and pinned, your neediness took over, lips going for his neck. Stack's head shooting back, "God yes," he growls, his fingers slipping in his collar to loosen it. His weight didn't let up, his hands stuck against the wall on either side of you. "Right there," he hums, "Yeah, baby...keep going."

You feel yourself getting flushed, licking the same spot, followed up by groans that made it harder to keep your groin from feeling any less tighter. Your fingers slither down his back, scraping the vest's fabric, pulling his pelvis against yours; getting a groan out of you as well.

Stack’s hips grind, your face buried deep in his neck, his scent palpable; familiar. The distant music, muffled, ends with cheers from beyond the walls, bringing your senses back.

It was a mistake, with Stack tilting your head up, and going right for your throat; your Adam’s apple stinging. A yelp escaped you, too loud for comfort, you grip his wrist tightly, attempting to calm yourself. “Damn…”, Stack’s soft bites were asphyxiating; both in a good and bad way.

The walls were thick, enough, and the music was loud along with the people. But no-one would hear, right?

“What do you want, handsome,” he asked with a low hum that tickles your skin.

“I want…?”, you huff, a stronger bite tainting you. “I want ya to get in me.”

“You clean?” You nod, with a dubious smile, “Attaboy,” his accent ran sharp, “Oh, I knew you had it in you.”

Stack backs up, undoing his red vest, looking over you yet again as you unveil your flannel. Your black tank stayed on, but your jeans and underwear were pushed aside. He loses his tie, his undergarments thrown off, as he sits atop of a sturdy crate.

You were hard, but his was ready for you. He motions for you, and shifts it around. You happily oblige. One knee on the wooden floor, you knelt down enough for you to take in the tip. He seems to like that, how you swirl around his tip. His hand flew to your head, gently pushing it down.

Up and down, rinse and repeat. You bob your head constantly, taking in his shaky breaths as queues to either speed up or slow down. He tasted just so natural.

“More spit baby,” he says stroking your cheek. You apply a good string or two, spreading it from his tip to his balls. You weren’t even going to question if he could fit into you, all that mattered was ensuring it’d be easy. Stack knew what he was doing, allegedly, no, he likely does know. All the sweet talking he does, you were certain he’s fucked around more than enough.

He tilts your head up, wiping up any remnants of saliva from the corner of your lips. His pupils pull you in, more than his strong hands, until you're hovering over his lap; standing with your legs on either side of his thighs.

"'m goin' slow..." you pant.

Stack licks his lips, straightens his shaft, "As slow as you need."

Huffing, you line up on him, and ease your way down, using one hand gripped tight to his shoulder. You curse to yourself for finding it difficult to get past his tip. It wasn't long before you felt more of him go into you, a quick exhale coming through your pursed lips. Shocked, you couldn't help a, "Wow..." leaving your mouth.

Stack was snickering and humming simultaneously, "A little more," he urges, his hands helping your hips settle all the way into his lap.

You let out a heavy breath, eyes closed tightly, feeling all of Stack inside of you was way more overwhelming then you initially thought, definitely not the ecstasy you believed would occur. A very different sensation, no doubt, something you focus on a little too intently. The nibble on your chin has you locking gazes with Stack, his crimson amber was unbelievably something you could stare out for awhile, with his current starry eye expression; you'd like to extend it long term.

To stay put, wasn't optional, you move in an irregular rhythm. You lift yourself up and down, at a rate you'd compare to a slug, but it was comfortable. You weren't sure if you were doing it right, and Slack picks up on this quickly offering comfort by wrapping his arms around you.

"Slow n steady", he repeats mockingly, his hips rocking up.

You shake, "Fuckin' hell." Another thrust up, and you groan. "Shit-!"

A shift of the door came, sadly that didn't stop the moan from slipping through you. Quickly he leans up, keeping your lips locked with his. He didn't let go, his teeth keeping you from escaping. His thrusting didn't let up either. You thought Stack would come to a halt, however he didn't seem to care, his gitty breath told you more than enough.

"Shh. A little louder they might hear us."

"Hope not," you grunt, taking into account the music that you unknowingly filtered out. Taking up the challenge, the silence from the door helps in feeling secure enough to pick up your pace ever so slowly, You bit back the need to howl from your discomfort.

Stack enjoyed the additional pressure by his shaft, his teeth sinking deeper into your bottom lip. "I've been wantin' you like this for a while," he thrust up into you. "You know something about them pants? You look way too fine in those pants," he says gripping your ass.

You go faster.

"Was so close to just-" he smacks you, "But I held back."

“Elias-.” Then, spontaneously, you don't know what hit you. A flash, or surge of sorts causing your legs to give out. The spasm from your knees followed by you finishing all over the both of you, was completely unexpected.

Stack whistles, peeking down at the continuous mess staining his shirt.

“Was not expectin’ that,” you infer.

“No harm done. Now-.”, he continues fucking you, which now more than ever, felt overstimulating, your stomach bubbling with all too many tingles. You honestly questioned whether you were more drunk than you initially thought since, no orgasm has ever been as good as that.

Moreover, Stack’s tip was hitting you just right that the blues outside might have to be the second best thing to exist.

His grunts grew stiff until his voice hitches. He too blew his load, only noticing such when his pace slowed down; completely stopping. Both of you sat silently for a moment, heavy breathes filling the subtle change of the room's tempo. The hum of music was therapeutic, relaxing, just as much as Stack's fingers drawing circles on your back. 

Neither of you said anything for a bit. Simply, you both just enjoy another moment of peace. 

After gaining some of your strength, you pull Stack from your neck, his gaze visibly daze-like.

“You alright,” you inquire, as if Stack couldn’t handle you.

He hums in acknowledgement. “You’re good,” he pulls out and the two of you breathe heavily. "Would you look at that?"

You chuckle, "Get dressed, people are gonna get suspicious."

"Suspicious? It'll be just business to them. Remember, you needed a ride is all," he emphasizes.

You mouth, 'god' to yourself, dressing up in a timely manner as did he. Luckily for either of you, all the evidence could be concealed, Stack most notably, but he had his vest to cover the mess you made on his pink shirt.

After he straightens his tie up, you take a sec to ensure your garb wasn't disheveled. Stack was fairly well put back, nothing anyone could infer, no dripping shaft nor the his cum still inside of you. It was no bother. Treading to the door, he stops you from reaching for the handle.

"Hold up-". His closeness has you wondering if he might've wanted seconds already, his softer gaze said otherwise. “You are gonna come around often, yeah?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Yes? Don’t live no further from town.”

He hums, pulling out a toothpick to jam in between his teeth, “I know you're busy, and my brother and I are…gettin’ things settled here again but-,” he pauses shortly. “I do wanna see you, even though you know I ain’ been around. But, I don’ want any of that shit in between us. Not Chicago, not no money-.”

“Stack. It’s fine,” you swallow. “All of whatever you two got into, it’s over I presume? So then let’s just do it right this time," you finish caressing his vest. You snatch his toothpick from his mouth to lighten the mood.

You jokingly sigh, leaning back into the seat, the air cooler than usual. Stack drove the two of you past a familiar town, heading further south. You raise an eyebrow, glancing back momentarily. Suspicion started to set in, only made worse by Stack trying to conceal his smirk.

You stare at him, long enough to where he finally looks back at you. “Somethin’ is up,” you point.

He grabs your hand before it could fall to your lap, pulling it into his instead.

“Nothin’ is up, baby. You just need somethin’ new. Somethin’ that’ll make you shine even more.”

Your brows rose even more, finally getting somewhere, although still vague. But you decide not to press, wanting him to savor whatever scheme was up his sleeve. You almost rest deeper into the seat, but Stack pulls you closer til your knees touch.

He leans his head toward you, eyes still on the road, knowing you well. Promptly his cheek receives a kiss. Another follows as he wanted extra.

“One more.”

With one long kiss on the cheek, you let yourself relax against his shoulder as the ride continues.

The foliage opens up, and just up ahead was a town you were familiar with from the occasional times you came this far out. Wasn’t anything fancy or excessive necessarily. It was somewhat nicer from your local town in Clarkstown though.

Stack drove through casually while you pick up any bad-apples or suspicious folk among the road and street; a bad habit really. Stack turns into an open spot, just between two trucks, putting his vehicle to rest. He lets out a sigh, jumping out, fixing his coat, “Aight.”

“You sure nobody here’s gonna steal your shit?”

He shakes, “Nobody done nothin’ to my shit yet, cause they know who I am. They know my car.”

You nod, “Just give me the call if someone needs shooting. I got your back.”

“Tough guy.,” he states, leading the way. “Don’ worry yourself, they know what’s to come if they fuck with my shit”.

“If you say so.”

Stack leads you past a few places, from plant shops to general stores, until suddenly turning toward one painted in black. He holds the door open, a small bell ringing. “Noah.”

Clothes were everywhere, hanging and most folded along multiple shelves stretching across the room. A man, dawning in white and black, pops out from under the counter. He coughs, “Stack…”

Stack grips his coat’s collar, “You have some time? My…fine companion here is looking to buy something new.”

"Ah! Give me a moment, I'll be with y'all."

You glance at Stack, confused but also a bit surprised. “Clothes...?"

He leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper, "Trust me, you need it." He pats your chest, walking around as you curiously look yourself over. Your clothes weren't…bad, rather it was standard you’d say. Your attire wasn’t making it into any magazine in the delta. As for needing new clothes, you weren’t gonna say no to that.

--

With the right measurements, you were offered a selection of tailor clothing to try on. The first two weren't half-bad, they were a little too formal for your liking, but Stack insists you get at least something that screams wealth.

You didn't like any, until you button up your third coat, adding the top hat that matches perfectly. Observing yourself in the mirror, you wouldn't lie if it didn't make you feel like you shine, as Stack put it. It was perfectly in the middle of not too casual but not too fancy.

Stepping out, Stack was awaiting you. He pipes up upon seeing you step out, your hands fixing up your dented sleeve.

"Here we go", Stack compliments. You do a slow twirl around, dropping your hat as any gentleman would.

You had yourself a small applause from Stack. "What do you think?"

"What do you think?", he repeats back.

"It works. Would like a different color for the coat though."

"Noah-"

The store owner fetches you up the coat of your choice, and soon the streets of town would bear witness to your new attire. You were helpless to Stack hyping you up for the next hour or so in town, the two of you both spending time roaming around buying additional needs. The small smirk on your face never left, it was difficult to wipe off; how could you when he is building your ego. After a quick street performance, you return to his vehicle, feeling beat from the sun.

“I’ll drive,” you comment, putting your wrapped items in the back seat. 

You drive off, past town, heading back south. Steering out of town was a relief, less people as well as quieter rural roads were calming. 

Stack remains quiet, aside from you humming and him tapping on beat with the door.

“You ain’ hot?”

His head shook, “Ya get use to it.”

“Don’ know how you do it, Stack.”

He chuckles, biting at his finger. "Wear it often, sweat won' kill ya."

"It's the extra layers is all," you comment while playing with your collar. "Won' be bad indoors at least." He agrees, resuming his casual rhythmic taps. Though the heat was a complaint, you couldn't be more grateful for the gift. You never asked for it, nor was it a necessity, but it was certainly enlightening he gave something such as what you wore consideration.

You glance at him for a moment, "Thank you, by the way, seriously."

Stack was flattered, you could tell. "Of course, just don' cause a crash is all."

You maliciously step on the brakes for a split-second, gasping. Stack grips his hat tightly, for a split second seeing worry crossover his face was amusing. You laugh out loud, at him looking at you like you're crazy. "Sorry." You didn't mean it fully, your grin still remaining.

"Scared the lights outta me".

"Ya heard what I said?"

"Yeah! What you want me to say it formally, you're welcome?"

"No runnin', I'm tryin' be serious. I owe you."

He huffs, "Stop with that."

You laughter settles down, "No think about it, the shack, money, this", you motion to your clothes.

"Look, I love ya, you don't gotta do nothin' you aren' already doin' to make me any happier."

Your eyes left the road, observing him. It could be inferred you were questioning his words, if he was actually being serious.

Stack picks up on this, nodding, “Yeah, yeah see I'm being serious now too"

You focus back on the road, feeling your cheeks slightly becoming flushed. You huff, biting your tongue, at a loss for words. 

“I ain’ lyin’, you know.”

You nearly stumble over your words, but you find your footing, "When two people care…love each other, they usually give back to one another. So, I think it's fair that I give something to you." Stack doesn't say anything, perhaps he was coming up with another refute, or reading between the lines; so you clear it up. "And yes, I love ya too."

Uncontrollably your gaze darts to his for a second, seeing him nod repeatedly. The two of you go quiet for a moment, with Stack silently commenting how hot it was, ironically so. He offers up his hand for you, which you happily take up, a warm fuzzy sensation riddling your stomach.

“I’d happily take whatever you want for me,” he mentions.

Eddie Brock

Blurb/Imagines/Request

What it would be like dating Eddie Brock

A Teaser

Riding With Eddie for the first time...

Eddie thinking about proposing to you...

I Choose You (x Peter Parker Fic)

Long

Rinse and Repeat

Hold on, For Us (18+ , Smut)

Peter Parker

Blurb/Imagines/Request

I Choose You (x Eddie Brock fic)

Long

N/A

---

The Last of Us:

Joel Miller

Blurb/Imagines/Request

Being with Joel Miller, Headcanon

Worst to Come

"Enough, you Two"

Untold Pair

In Need

Heal My Wounds, Heal my Heart

Impatience (18+)

Long

Louder than Words

Shared Warmth (18+, SMUT)

Gone Too Long

Secret Admirer

---

Others:

Sinners

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore

Blurb/Imagines/Request

Long

Series

The Other Fine Tuner (A03) (NEW, latest)

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore

Blurb/Imagines/Request

Just for You

WIP

Long

"Long Time No See"

Be My Guest (18+)

Bo Chow

Blurb/Imagines/Request

Mended (18+)