#Pearline x Black!reader

[gweelczz]

“Into this”

Sammie x OC (Ola) x Pearlie

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: none but jealousy

Summary: Ola wants something she think she can’t have. She gets prove wrong quickly

You sat at the bar of the Smokestack juke joint watching everyone dance and laugh while you nursed a glass of whiskey. Pearline, who you had come with had disappeared with Sammie or Preacher Boy as everyone called him leaving you alone. Your eye catches them across the room dancing closely, jealousy surges through you causing your gaze to advert.

You didn’t notice them eyeing you

You gaze forward at Annie and Grace who are already staring at you with knowing looks. “Ya lookin like sum’body done kicked ya inna chest sweet pea” Annie speaks lowly while sipping her drink, Grace nudging her with a smile. “I’m ight Annie, just don’t feel like dancin” Annie immediately calls bullshit not buying it for a second. “Chile you ain’t foolin nobody. We know you want Sammie and Pealine done snatched him up”

Annie was halfway right, you wanted Sammie but you also wanted Pearline.

And now you were watching them wrapped around each other like they’d been born dancing. Sammie’s hands settled low on Pearline’s hips, her arms slung lazy around his neck, her head tilted back in a soft kind of smile that made your stomach knot up like bad rope.

The crowd around them blurred. The music slowed to something heavy and grinding, the kind that curled around your spine and made everything feel hot and too close.

They moved like they belonged together. Like there wasn’t anybody else in that juke joint but the two of them.

You tore your gaze away, quick and sharp like you’d touched a flame. Swallowed the last of your whiskey and set the glass down harder than you meant to.

Grace raised a brow, leaned in close.

“You in love, baby,” she said, soft and teasing. “Just don’t know which side of the fire you wanna stand on.”

You shot her a look, but your face betrayed you. Heat rising to your cheeks, guilt blooming behind your ribs.

“I just…” you started, but didn’t finish.

Because truth was, you knew.

You remembered the way Sammie looked at you when no one else was watching — eyes deep and heavy like he could see right through you. But Pearline… Lord, Pearline lit you up in a different way. The way she laughed with her whole body, like her joy came from something old and wild. The way her hand always found yours when the road got too dark.

And now she was up there with him, smiling, swaying, giving him a piece of herself that you weren’t sure she’d ever offered to you. Or maybe she had, and you’d been too scared to take it.

Annie leaned in, low and sharp like she was slicing truth right into you.

“You gon’ sit here n’ drown in jealousy, or you gon’ stand up and go after what you want?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because they were still dancing — and it wasn’t just a dance anymore. It was a pull. A promise. And you were on the outside of it, heart pressed to the glass.

Then Pearline turned — just for a second — and caught your eye.

And damn if her smile didn’t change.

Softer. Sadder. Like maybe she knew exactly what you were feeling.

Like maybe she was feeling it too.

Sammie leaned in to say something in her ear, and she nodded, but her gaze lingered on you — held you there, pinned like a butterfly under glass.

You sat frozen, stomach tight, every nerve lit up. The music thumped like a second heartbeat, and the whiskey burned at the back of your throat.

Something was shifting. You felt it in your chest, in your bones.

You couldn’t tell if it was heartbreak or something worse — the kind of love that didn’t know where to land because it wanted more than it had the right to ask for.

You weren’t sure what came next.

But you knew one thing for certain.

You couldn’t sit still much longer.

The music slid into something slower, darker — a low, rolling rhythm soaked in sweat and smoke. You were still sitting there, heart thudding against your ribs, when Pearline started moving toward you.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the light. The way the haze from cigars curled through the room, the way her hips moved through the crowd like the music was stitched into her bones. But then Sammie followed behind her, his gaze locked on you like he already knew what was about to happen.

Your breath caught.

Pearline reached you first, took your hand like she’d done it a thousand times. “C’mon, Ola,” she said, voice low, near your ear. “Ain’t no point sittin’ here lookin’ like that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but it was already too late.

Sammie was there too, tall and quiet, his hand sliding to the small of your back. You were being pulled up from the bar stool, pulled into them — into this.

You barely noticed your feet hit the floor before you were in the center of the room. Bodies swayed around you, but none of them mattered. Not when you were caught between them.

Pearline pressed her body to your front, the curves of her hips rocking slow with the rhythm, hands resting at your waist like they were home. She looked into your eyes with something unspoken — hunger, maybe. Or knowing.

And behind you, Sammie’s chest brushed your back, his palm warm and wide on your hip. You felt his breath at your ear, slow and controlled, like he was holding something in.

You didn’t know where to look. Every inch of you was burning. Pearline’s lips were close. Sammie’s hand guided your hips into the sway of the song.

They weren’t dancing with the room. They weren’t even dancing with each other anymore.

They were dancing with you.

For you.

Around you.

Pearline leaned in closer, her nose brushing yours as she whispered, “You think we don’t see you, baby? Been seein’ you.”

Your knees damn near buckled.

Sammie’s voice came low, voice like smoke and thunder. “You don’t know what you do to us.”

You felt trapped — but not in fear. Trapped in heat. In longing. In something that had lived just under the surface for too long, now finally crawling out into the light.

The three of you moved like a secret, like a prayer said in the dark. Pearline’s hand slid up your side, into your hair. Sammie’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you flush against him as Pearline tilted her forehead against yours.

You were breathless. Dizzy. Seen.

And when the music swelled, nobody else in the Smokestack mattered. Not Annie. Not Grace. Not the room full of people pretending not to watch.

Just you.

Just them.

And the fire you were all finally stepping into.

If y’all want a pt.2 with smut lemme know!

[twistedsistas-stuff]

Private Show

Club Owners SmokeStack X Reader

Pt 2 Here

The club smelled like sweat, perfume, and cheap ambition. Laser lights cut through the haze while some no-name track off a scratched Ginuwine CD tried to make the moment sexy.

Stack sat back in that wide leather chair like a man bored at church, one arm draped lazy over the side, the other nursin’ a glass of brown. His gold watch caught the light every time he shifted. Smoke leaned on the arm beside him, a half-smirk tucked beneath that toothpick he never took out his mouth.

Another girl was up. She spun half-hearted on the pole, heels clackin’ off beat, body rollin’ like her bones didn’t quite agree with the music.

Stack let out a quiet breath. “She movin’ like somebody mama at the family reunion after two daiquiris.”

Smoke grinned without lookin’. “Mmm. And not the cute mama either. The one who made that dry-ass macaroni salad.”

Stack sipped his drink. “Shame, too. She fine. But that rhythm? Tragic.”

“She dancin’ like her knees owe child support,” Smoke muttered, crossing one ankle over the other.

Stack chuckled low. “That spin was a hate crime.”

They weren’t unkind—not out loud to her—but the judgments between ‘em cracked like knuckles.

They’d seen talent. Real heat. Girls that could make a whole room hold its breath.

This? This wasn’t that.

Stack leaned forward just a bit, shadows carving deep under his jaw.

“She got one more spin ‘fore I cut the track.”

Smoke took the toothpick out his mouth just to say, “If she fall, I’m takin’ my drink back.”

The girl slipped. Right on cue.

Stack hit the remote.

Music died. Lights stayed hot.

She blinked down at ‘em, sweat on her brow, chest heaving.

Stack didn’t raise his voice. Just tilted his chin.

“Next.”

Smoke shook his head. “Lawd. Can’t even lie, I felt bad for the pole.”

Stack didn’t smile, but the twitch in his jaw betrayed him. “We ain’t here for charity. I need somebody who can own that floor.”

“We need a star, Stack. Not a stumbler.”

“You need somebody who make the room shut up and pay attention.”

Stack downed the rest of his drink and leaned back again, settling into the shadows like a king waitin’ on a better contender.

“Send the next one.”

The hallway outside the main room lit up with the slam of a door.

That girl—tan tights ripped at the thigh, lip gloss smudged—stormed out fast, mutterin’ something about “they don’t know real talent.”

But ain’t nobody chased after her.

You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, one hip cocked like you didn’t care—but your stomach was knotted tight.

You’d been listenin’ through the walls. The bassline. The mutters. The music cuttin’ off sudden.

They was in there takin’ names and crushin’ dreams like empty beer cans.

Mary popped her gum beside you, cool as ever, like she wasn’t up next.

Skinny, pale thing. No ass to speak of, just a little apple swingin’ in a room full of peaches and plums.

But she moved like she had somethin’ to prove. Sharp little walk. Collarbones cuttin’. And attitude to match.

She fixed the strap on her heel, then stood like she was on a runway. “Aight,” she said, snapping her waistband, “Watch how it’s done.”

You almost laughed.

Not ‘cause you ain’t respect her hustle—but because that was confidence you couldn’t fake.

Truth was—you ain’t never wanted this. Not the stage. Not the lights. Not the eyes. But if men was gon’ stare anyway… might as well make ‘em pay for it.

You needed money. Real money. And fast.

Mary ain’t need this the same way. Not like you. You were the kind of girl who had to survive every night.

She was the kind that could leave and be fine.

Still, you watched her walk toward the door, spine straight, heels clickin’. Watched her vanish into the smoke of that main room, where the music lived and died on Stack’s say-so.

The girls in the back room fell quiet.

And you?

You leaned against the wall and waited your turn.

The lights had settled low again, casting long shadows across the velvet floor.

Stack swirled the last of his drink in the glass, the ice clickin’ soft. Smoke had taken to lightin’ a Black & Mild, though it hung mostly unbothered from his lips, ash crooked and long.

“You think the next one gon’ have some sense?” Smoke asked, voice dry.

Stack didn’t answer. Just watched the stage, that same slow lean in his spine, like a man waitin’ for the earth to shift.

Then—heels.

Sharp clicks on the hardwood. A silhouette in the fog.

Mary.

Skinny little thing with that slick ponytail and walk like a mean girl in study hall. She stepped out onto the stage like she belonged there, not even glancin’ at the pole yet.

She grabbed the mic by the DJ booth—somethin’ none of the others dared do.

“Name’s Mary,” she said, chin up, voice loud. “Y’all can call me Duce.”

Smoke leaned forward, brow raised. “Duce? What that even mean?”

“Probably some white girl sh*t,” Stack muttered, but his eyes didn’t leave the stage.

Then the music hit.

Not trap. Not soul. Not slow.

It was No Doubt—“Just a Girl”—that sharp drum kick and Gwen’s voice blarin’ through the club like a dare.

Stack blinked once.

Mary—Duce—hit that stage like she ain’t got nothin’ to prove but everything to sell. She didn’t swing her hips low, didn’t crawl like the others. She bounced, spun, popped her little apple like it had weight. Arms up, hair whippin’, attitude electric.

She hit that pole with precision—not sensual, but controlled. Like a gymnast raised in chaos.

Smoke made a face. “Mmm. I ain’t feelin’ this. She bouncin’ like a wind-up doll.”

Stack tilted his head. “She workin’ it, though.”

“For who?” Smoke asked, side-eye hard. “That’s for the frat boys and trailer park bar tabs. We tryin’ to sell champagne and sin, not Monster energy.”

Stack didn’t laugh. Just kept his gaze steady. “Don’t matter. Room quiet.”

And it was. For the first time all night, the club hushed.

She flipped over, legs up the pole, upside down with her back arched like a drawn bow. Hit the floor and slid into a split like she didn’t weigh nothin’. Stood up again and winked directly at Stack.

Smoke groaned. “Aight, hell nah. She winked at you? That’s why you entertainin’ this?”

Stack smirked. Just barely. “She bold. I like bold.”

“She white,” Smoke said flat. “You got all these peaches in here and you lookin’ at that lil green apple like it’s forbidden fruit.”

Stack finally chuckled, deep and slow. “Ain’t about color. It’s about command. And she got the room.”

Mary twirled once more, breath comin’ hard now, sweat glintin’ on her collarbones, and ended with a sharp bow. No smile. Just the walk-off—cool, collected, heels clickin’ into the silence she owned.

The music cut.

Stack leaned forward. “Keep her name. I want her on Friday rotation.”

Smoke sucked his teeth. “She ain’t even shake nothin’ proper.”

“She ain’t have to,” Stack said, standin’ now, shadows stretchin’ behind him. “She made folks shut up. That’s the first rule.”

He handed Smoke his empty glass. “Next.”

Mary pushed through the door, ponytail swayin’, heels clackin’ loud with her exit. Still buzzin’ off her own performance.

But you were already standin’ there—leaned on the wall, arms folded, weight on one leg like you owned gravity.

She saw you. You saw her.

Didn’t say a damn word.

Just looked her dead in the face. Cold. Clean.

That kind of look that said: Cute show, bitch. Now let me show you how a woman moves.

Mary hesitated. Just for a second. Then kept walkin’.

You turned, stepped through the door slow, your breath deep and full—like you were breathin’ in the stage. The lights. The weight of the floor.

Stack and Smoke looked up.

No heels echo yet. No music. Just you.

You ain’t announce yourself with a mic. You walked right into the center of that room like you’d been here before, voice cool and full when you finally said:

“Evenin’.”

That voice—smooth like syrup but with a low edge, like trouble sweetened just enough to taste.

Stack sat up straight first. Eyes narrowed. That lazy sprawl he kept all night? Gone. His elbows hit his knees. Chin lifted.

Smoke leaned forward, blinked once. Even the toothpick came out his mouth.

“And you are?” Stack asked, voice low.

You looked at him. Then looked at Smoke.

“I’m the reason y’all about to stop lookin’ for who you need.”

Smoke let out a low “mmm.”

Then the music hit.

“Back to Life” by Soul II Soul. That slow bounce. That bassline smooth like hips in silk. That beat with breath built in.

You ain’t rush it.

Didn’t hit that pole right away. You started with your back turned. One hand slid down your thigh, the other in your hair, hips movin’ like smoke off a match tip.

You didn’t dance fast like Mary. You didn’t crawl slow like molasses either.

You moved like you knew exactly what every man in the room wanted—before they did.

That balance of tease and confidence. Power and grace. You rolled your hips and dipped low, flipped your hair like a question with no answer, and when you finally touched that pole?

Stack whispered, “God damn.”

You swung out clean, legs long, back arched just enough, never sloppy, never out of control. You used the music like it was made for your body.

Smoke let out a breath like he’d been holdin’ it. “That’s it.”

Stack didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“She don’t need the pole,” Smoke said. “She is the pole.”

You turned, caught their eyes mid-spin, and that look? Direct. Unapologetic. You didn’t flirt. You dared.

Smoke sat back. Then leaned forward again. “Club ain’t just quiet, Stack. They froze. Like she Medusa or somethin’.”

Stack nodded, eyes still on you. “Nah. Worse. She the prayer and the punishment.”

You dropped low. Split. Slow drag up the pole with your back to them. Then turned and strutted straight up to the edge of their platform, sweat gleamin’ down your chest.

No smile. Just breathin’. Just eyes.

Just silence thick enough to swallow the room whole.

Music faded. Still nobody moved.

Neither said a word for a moment.

Then Stack cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “You hired.”

You were still breathin’ hard, sweat clingin’ light to your collarbones, chest risin’ slow as the music died out behind you.

No one spoke for a second.

Then Smoke raised one hand—lazy but deliberate—and the waiter snapped to attention like he’d been waitin’ on that cue all night.

“Bring another round,” Smoke said, eyes still on you.

Stack didn’t move. Just studied you—jaw locked, throat shiftin’ like he just swallowed somethin’ that burned on the way down.

“You drink?” he asked, voice low, like he already knew the answer.

You tilted your head. “If it’s good.”

Smoke chuckled. “Everything here good. ‘Specially tonight.”

Stack nodded slow, eyes draggin’ over you one more time. “Have a seat.”

You didn’t hesitate. Just turned and dropped right there—on the stage edge in front of them. Legs hangin’ down casual, like you was born up high.

Your knee brushed Stack’s.

He looked down fast—like the contact caught him off guard, like his whole train of thought skipped a rail. His fingers twitched on his thigh.

But when he looked back up?

You were already lookin’ at him.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Just… watched.

Smoke leaned back in his chair, grinnin’ like the devil in silk. “Well, damn.”

The waiter returned with the tray—dark liquor in low glasses. Smoke reached out, grabbed one, then passed it straight to you.

You took it, fingers grazin’ his just enough to feel the heat.

Stack picked up his own, but didn’t drink yet.

“So what you lookin’ for?” Smoke asked. “You want night shifts? Feature sets? Talk to us.”

You swirled the liquor in your glass, eyes not leavin’ Stack. “I want top billing. A cut of my pull. And I want the good music—not that tired sh*t y’all keep runnin’ for the other girls.”

Stack raised an eyebrow.

Smoke let out a low whistle. “She negotiatin’ already.”

“I ain’t here to crawl,” you said, voice calm. “I came to work. I came to earn.”

Stack finally took a sip. Then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. That gold chain around his neck caught the light—so did the heat behind his stare.

“You came to build somethin’?”

“I came to make money,” you corrected. “And you look like the kind of man who don’t mind sharin’ when he see return on investment.”

Smoke nodded. “Sh*t, I like her.”

Stack nodded once. “Two weeks. Feature nights. We’ll see your pull.”

You raised your glass. “You gon’ see more than that.”

Stack clinked his glass against yours—sharp. Final.

Smoke lifted his next. “Welcome to Elysian. Where heaven’s earned.”

You smirked. “I ain’t lookin’ for heaven, baby. Just a good stage and a fatter envelope.”

Stack and Smoke were still talkin’ numbers, percentages, music rotation—big boss talk—but you already knew you had it in the bag. Ain’t need to keep sellin’ yourself.

You slid off the stage smooth, heels kissin’ the floor soft as satin. Your glass still in your hand, your body humming with leftover heat, that slow kind you don’t rush off.

You’d just slipped past the curtain when you heard Stack murmur, “Call one more.”

The DJ’s voice crackled overhead:

“Next up… Annie.”

Your head whipped around before you could think.

”Annie?”

And there she was—steppin’ out that back hallway, all hips and honey, skin kissed deep by the Delta sun, big curls piled on top her head like a crown she never took off.

You smiled before you could stop yourself.

“Annie?” you called, stepping forward.

She looked up—and the second she saw you, her whole face lit up like the Fourth of July.

“Bitch, shut up!” she half-laughed, already movin’ toward you.

Y’all met in the middle of that hallway like homegirls who’d been through some things—tight hug, arms locked, hips swayin’ with joy.

“I thought you was gone,” she said, eyes wide, voice thick with surprise. “I ain’t seen you since—what, Club Magnolias?”

“Girl,” you breathed, smiling. “Since forever. You still dancin’?”

Annie rolled her eyes playful. “Makin’ just enough to stay in trouble.”

You laughed, clinking your glass lightly against her nail-tapped hand.

“They treatin’ you good in there?” she asked, chin noddin’ toward the stage.

You shrugged. “Just made ‘em sit up straight. Might’ve made Stack blush.”

Annie’s brows rose. “Stack? Blush?”

“Swear to God.”

She laughed, deep and rich, then the DJ’s voice buzzed again, calling her name soft.

She sighed, pulling her straps up.

“I gotta go shake it for the bosses now. You stickin’ around?”

“I might,” you said. “Ain’t seen you spin in a minute.”

Annie grinned over her shoulder as she stepped onto the stage, hips already rollin’ light.

“Then get comfy, baby. I’m ‘bout to remind ‘em what sin really look like.”

And just like that, she vanished into the light and smoke.

You stayed just behind the curtain, glass loose in your hand, leanin’ on the wall now with a smile curled at the corners of your mouth.

Annie was up.

They ain’t ready.

She stepped out into that low golden light with a slow roll of her shoulders, her body carved like Sunday blessing and summer heat. Thighs thick, stomach soft, arms strong like she carried love and hurt both in ‘em.

Stack was still seated when she walked out, but Smoke? He straightened up a little. That lazy lean gone.

Annie didn’t speak—just let her eyes find theirs, one by one, then settle on Smoke like she already had a plan for him.

He blinked.

“Say Yes” by Floetry came in slow. Real slow. That moan of a bassline, that whisper-smooth vocal.

Stack took a sip of his drink. “Ain’t that your song?” he muttered to Smoke, real low.

But Smoke didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

Annie stepped to the beat like she was dancin’ in honey, every move full and deliberate. She ain’t speed it up—she let the music hold her, like a slow grind prayer.

And the thing was—everybody always underestimated Annie.

Too thick. Too quiet.

But you’d seen it.

You knew when Annie danced, the damn clouds paused to watch.

She dropped low, thighs spread wide and slow, rolled her hips like a tide just starting to pull—and looked dead at Smoke while she did it.

No smile.

Just that look.

Smoke exhaled deeply

Stack laughed soft. “She got you stuck, huh?”

“She real graceful for somebody so…” Smoke paused, caught himself.

Stack raised a brow.

“Thick?” he offered.

Smoke shook his head. “Nah. That ain’t the word. She… full. Like she got her own gravity.”

Stack watched as Annie climbed the pole just a little—just enough to flip slow and come down with a bounce that had the whole damn room leanin’ forward.

“She floatin’,” Smoke muttered.

Stack nodded. “She choosin’ you.”

“Huh?”

“Look at her. She ain’t flirtin’ with the crowd. She flirtin’ with you.”

And she was.

Every swivel of her hips lined up to where Smoke sat. Every arch of her back gave him a front-row seat. She licked her lips once—once—then slid a hand down the inside of her thigh like an invitation he wasn’t ready for.

Smoke didn’t even try to play cool.

You watched from behind the curtain, smilin’ like you already knew how this scene was gon’ end.

Annie was castin’ spells.

Stack leaned back in his chair, grinning now. “Look at you. Tryna play hard. That girl got your whole spine at attention.”

Smoke didn’t argue.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t look away.

And Annie?

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t rush.

She let the end of “Say Yes” stretch like taffy, slow and warm, every note a thread she was wrappin’ tight ‘round Smoke’s neck.

She turned on her knees, still on the stage, and ran both hands down her own sides, hips rollin’ soft, slow. Then, without a sound, without askin’ permission—she crawled.

Right off the edge of that stage.

Low. Smooth.

Eyes never leavin’ Smoke’s.

He leaned back on instinct, eyes wide but not movin’. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

Stack just sat there watchin’, amused like he knew how this was gon’ play out. Like a man watchin’ his brother get baptized in fire.

Annie reached Smoke, slid her hands up the arms of his chair, her thick thighs nestled right between his legs like she belonged there.

Didn’t sit. Didn’t rush.

She danced on him. No lap grind—this wasn’t desperation. This was control.

She leaned in just close enough for Smoke to feel her breath. Ran a fingertip along the line of his collar.

Let her chest brush his—barely.

Her hips still moved with the music, slow like syrup. Her eyes locked on his.

Smoke’s hands didn’t move. But his breathing did.

He swallowed. Hard.

Stack smirked. “You good?”

Smoke didn’t answer.

Annie? She smiled then—just a little. Just enough.

She turned with one final roll of her hips, walked off the same way she came—owned.

And left Smoke sittin’ there like the damn chair was holdin’ him up.

You and Annie were already back in the waiting room, still breathin’ hard from laughin’, flopped down like queens after the war.

“Glued, girl,” you wheezed, “you had that man like his soul left his body.”

Annie wiped her brow, grinnin’ wide. “He was sittin’ so still, I thought he was tryin’ not to pass out.”

Y’all both cracked up again, heads tossed back, no shame in the joy.

Then came the high click of heels.

Mary.

She strolled in like she was the one headlinin’ tonight, arms crossed, ponytail swingin’, lookin’ the both of y’all up and down like you tracked mud in her mama’s kitchen.

“Well ain’t y’all havin’ a moment,” she muttered, eyes narrow.

Annie didn’t even blink. She just looked at you sideways, one brow raised.

You smiled back.

Then together—without even plannin’ it—y’all turned and looked Mary dead in the face.

Silent.

Flat.

Mary rolled her eyes with a huff. “Whatever.”

She flipped her hair and flounced her little apple out the room.

Annie leaned in close. “She don’t know how we get down.”

You smirked. “Not a damn clue.”

“She ain’t never fought barefoot on river mud,” Annie said.

“She don’t know nothin’ about Delta dirt,” you said, voice low now. “Or what it made.”

Annie nodded. “Girls like us? We don’t learn how to dance. We born with it.

Y’all bumped shoulders, breath finally slowin’, still wearin’ that quiet grin that come from knowin’ you run the room even after you leave it.

Stack clapped Smoke on the back, the grin on his face damn near permanent.

“Boy, she climbed down and you turned to stone. I ain’t never seen you fold like that.”

Smoke was still starin’ at nothin’, jaw tight.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

Stack raised a brow. “Uh huh.”

Smoke ran a hand down his face, then looked Stack dead in the eye. “I felt… hypnotized.”

Stack paused.

“She got my vote,” Smoke added, quiet but sure.

Stack let out a low whistle, then nodded. “Well… if she got yours, she got mine too.”

He grinned wide. “Ain’t no point pretendin’ we both wasn’t starin’.”

Smoke didn’t answer. Just shook his head, like he still ain’t believe what just happened.

You and Annie were still loungin’ in the waiting room, settled deep in the aftermath of the show you both just gave. The other girls were scattered—nervous, tryin’ to fake confidence, side-eyein’ y’all like they knew they didn’t measure up but didn’t wanna admit it.

Then the door opened.

Stack walked in first. That slow, easy stride, cigar still tucked behind his ear now, like he forgot it was there.

Smoke followed—less relaxed, jaw tight, brows low.

Stack clapped his hands together once, loud.

“Alright,” he said, voice smooth but cuttin’. “Let’s not drag it out.”

He glanced around, let his eyes pass over a few of the girls near the wall. “If I ain’t call your name, better luck next time.”

Couple girls shifted in their seats. One stood up too fast and had to sit back down, pretendin’ like her heel was twisted.

Stack’s voice rang clean:

“Babygirl and Annie.”

Your head lifted. Annie already had her arms crossed, a knowing look playin’ at her lips.

“You two—come back Friday. Featured spots.”

The room got quiet. Long and awkward.

Stack glanced around, eyes skippin’ past all the other hopefuls, brows drawin’ a little as he squinted. “…Oh. Right.”

He nodded toward the far side of the room. “You too.”

Didn’t even say the girl’s name.

Just “You too.”

That silence came again. One girl let out a shaky exhale, another grabbed her purse fast like she knew her name wasn’t ever gon’ be called.

Stack dusted off his hands like the matter was settled. “Welcome to the team. Don’t be late.”

Smoke was quiet.

Real quiet.

And Annie?

She ain’t said a word either—but she ain’t need to.

She was lookin’ at him.

Eyes steady. Still. Heat behind ‘em like a slow fire set for cookin’ somethin’ tender. She didn’t blink when his gaze slid past hers—just waited.

You saw the shift.

The bob of his Adam’s apple.

The way his stance changed—just a little. Like he needed more room in his own skin.

Stack paused mid-sentence, glancin’ over at his brother. Brow raised.

Smoke cleared his throat.

“Mm,” Stack said low, like it was nothin’. But his eyes flicked between the two of ‘em again.

And then it happened again.

Annie didn’t move, but she pressed, without touchin’ a thing.

Smoke’s jaw clenched, breathin’ deeper now, like the air was too heavy.

Stack caught it this time.

He looked at her, then back at Smoke. Then just huffed out a breath and shook his head.

“Lawd,” he muttered, chucklin’ under his breath.

He turned toward the door. “Alright ladies, that’s it. Be sharp, be early, and bring what you brought tonight.”

He tipped his head as he passed you.

“Good night, baby.”

Then winked.

Quick. Smooth. Like it was nothin’.

But Annie saw it. You felt her clock it.

Her head turned just enough to catch the corner of your grin.

FRIDAY NIGHT.

The dressing room smelled like glitter, cocoa butter, and new money.

Lashes on mirrors, lip gloss tubes open like bullets. Somebody’s baby oil spilled across the counter, mixin’ with the bass thumpin’ from the main room. The crowd out there was already loud—louder than usual.

Because they knew who was on the bill tonight. Top of the flyer in hot red cursive:

FEATURE NIGHT — PEACH & HONEY

Annie sat across from you in front of the mirror, smokin’ a clove with one hand and tightenin’ her garter with the other. Her thighs shimmered in gold body oil, her hair piled wild like a lioness that dared the jungle to try her.

“You ready?” she asked, voice low like a dare.

You smirked. “I been ready.”

Your fit was black and plum, skin peepin’ out from all the right cuts. You ain’t even need a full beat—just liner, gloss, and attitude. The rest? Carried in your walk.

The other girls moved quieter than usual. Some tried not to stare. Some did. Mary was there, still tryin’ to find the rhythm between jealousy and admiration.

“Y’all got the good slots, huh,” she said, applying lip liner crooked in the corner.

Annie didn’t even look over. “We ain’t get ‘em, baby. We earned ‘em.”

You raised your drink, smilin’ just enough. “Cheers to that.”

Behind y’all, the manager cracked the door open halfway. “Ten minutes, Peach. Honey after that.”

Annie winked at you in the mirror. “Go on and warm ‘em up.”

You stood slow, smooth, every inch deliberate. You weren’t just dancin’ tonight.

You were opening nirvana.

You stepped out under that spotlight like you were born to own it.

The first low moan of “Any Time, Any Place” crept through the speakers, and the crowd fell silent—like they felt the heat before they saw it.

Bass deep. Keys soft. Janet whisperin’ sin through velvet.

You moved slow. Deliberate. Every heel-click like punctuation. Each hip roll an invitation. Body oil gleamed under the lights—your shoulders, your thighs, your belly catching glints like gold.

A chair waited center stage. You circled it once, let your fingertips trail over the back. Then you climbed it. Straddled it. Dropped slow, real slow, hips winding like smoke before sliding back down the legs, smooth as honey.

The crowd? They didn’t cheer—they worshipped. Bills flew up like praise. Fifties. Hundreds. It rained.

You didn’t even touch the pole yet.

Up on the balcony, Stack and Smoke leaned over the railing, drinks half-drunk, attention full.

Smoke’s eyes tracked your silhouette against the soft amber glow. His voice low:

“Lord… she ain’t just earnin’ money—she crowning this whole stage.”

Stack grinned, lips twitchin’. “Them boys down there givin’ up rent checks like she the landlord.”

Smoke tilted his head. “That ain’t no dance. That’s a sermon.”

They both watched as you finally took the pole—walked toward it like you had all night. Grabbed it. Arched. Spun once, slow, before dropping into a split that had the whole front row gasp.

“Goddamn,” Stack murmured.

“She’s control,” Smoke said, his tone lower now. “Pure control.”

Stack laughed soft. “That’s what we bought into, huh?”

“Nah,” Smoke corrected. “That’s what bought into us.”

Down below, you eased into your last roll. Took your time standing. Made a slow turn toward the crowd—toward the balcony. You didn’t look up just yet, but you knew they were watching.

Then finally—you met their eyes.

Smoke stood still.

Stack tipped his glass.

And you? You just smiled, and walked off slow while Janet’s last note faded like sweat drying on hot skin.

The DJ caught his breath before speaking. “Give it up for Peach.”

Thunder. Applause. More money hit the floor even after you left.

Up top, Stack flicked his cigar.

“That’s our girl,” he murmured.

Smoke tapped the ashtray. “She made it look easy.

And down below, the stage still buzzed with you.

Back in the dressing room, sweat still cooling on your skin, you sat fannin’ yourself with a stack of fresh bills.

Annie strolled over, heels still on, lips glossy, hair wild.

“Girl,” she said, mouth open like she couldn’t believe it, “they was throwin’ money like you was a damn hurricane.”

You laughed, a low, easy sound. “That stage owe me a thank you.”

She sat beside you, tossed her leg over your knee. “I bet we could make double that.”

You blinked. “How?”

She smiled. Lazy. Intentional. That same smile she gave Smoke that night. The kind that ain’t askin’—it’s tellin’.

“Come on stage with me,” she said. “Tonight.”

You paused, brows lifting. “What? You want me to intro you or—?”

“No,” she cut in. “With me. Together.”

You leaned back a little. “Annie…”

She leaned closer.

Close enough you could smell her perfume and cocoa butter. Her thigh slid further across yours. Her voice dropped to a hush.

“Come on,” she said. “We work it together. You already know how I move… Now match it.”

And suddenly you felt what Smoke did. That pull. That lure. She wasn’t just pretty—she was magnetic. Her gaze slid down your neck like fingers.

You swallowed.

Then smiled.

“Alright.”

The DJ’s voice cracked through the speakers.

“Next up, our feature—give it up for Honey—”

He paused.

“—and Peach.”

The crowd rumbled. Confused.

Up in the balcony, Stack frowned, leaned over the railing. “both?”

Smoke’s brow furrowed. “Wasn’t just Annie scheduled?”

Stack shrugged. “Change of plans.”

Smoke sat forward slow. His eyes cut to the curtain. “They doin’ somethin’.”

The beat dropped.

“Feenin’” by Jodeci.

Low and deep. The kind of bass that made knees weak and hearts stupid.

Then y’all walked out.

Together.

Annie in crimson. You in black. Y’all ain’t touch—but you didn’t have to.

You circled each other first. Like rivals. Like sisters. Like flames dancin’ just close enough to warm but not burn.

The crowd got quiet.

The money didn’t even fly yet. They just watched.

Waited.

You grabbed the pole first, hands high, thighs flexed. Annie stepped behind, slow drag of her fingers across your hip—not nasty, not sweet, just… heat.

Stack leaned over the balcony, grippin’ the rail. “What the hell…”

Smoke didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

You dropped. Smooth split.

Annie rolled under you, back arched, chest lifted, her thighs grazing yours without contact. The lights hit the oil on your skin like stars shimmerin’.

And the crowd?

Exploded.

The money came in waves now.

Fifties. Hundreds.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

His eyes locked on Annie—but every time she turned toward you, bent for you, looked at you, his breath caught.

Stack watched you wind slow up the pole, twist and drop into Annie’s arms like she was waitin’ for you.

He muttered, “You see this?”

Smoke didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

Annie flipped you slow—real slow—and climbed over your thigh with a grin like she had secrets written across her chest.

Your hand slid behind her neck—guiding, not takin’.

It was art.

It was fire.

It was damn near holy.

Neither of you stripped much. Didn’t need to.

Just sweat, muscle, and unspoken understanding. Backbends, pole spins, body rolls together. You in front now, Annie mirrored behind—hands above both your heads, arching the same, dipping like you was water in two glasses.

From above, the boys watched.

Stack shook his head, laughed under his breath. “They gon’ bankrupt the whole damn club.”

Smoke didn’t blink.

He just swallowed hard—watchin’ Annie watch you.

The way her eyes drank you in.

The way your body answered her.

And when y’all finally closed it out—cheeks glowing, eyes locked, bills piled like thrones around your feet—you reached for her hand.

She took it.

Y’all bowed together.

And left the stage like two storms rollin’ back into the night.

Backstage was loud with celebration—but only between y’all two

You and Annie tumbled through the curtain breathless and shining, cheeks glowing, bills stuck to your thighs like gold leaf.

“Bitch!” she yelled, smacking your hip with her wad of cash. “We did that!”

You doubled over laughing, high off the moment, that whole stage still vibrating in your chest. “Girl, we burned it down!”

You flopped into the chair, still panting, still tingling. Annie paced, pulling her hair tie out, shaking those curls loose like a lioness unwindin’.

She looked at you, slow.

Still smilin’.

Still that same heat in her eyes from the stage—but heavier now.

She came over, real close, crouched next to your chair.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” she said, voice low, husky. “But when we up there? I feel a buzz”

“You feel it too?”

You blinked, mouth open to speak, but—

The door slammed open.

Stack walked in first, jaw tight.

Smoke behind him, hands on his hips, chest still rising like he’d jogged the whole damn building.

You and Annie didn’t flinch.

You just watched.

“Y’all lost your damn minds?” Stack asked, lookin’ straight at you. “What the hell was that?”

Annie leaned back on her heels, still crouched by your side, head tilted.

Smoke stepped forward, eyes cuttin’ toward her. “That wasn’t what we agreed to. You was supposed to go solo.”

“Oh, my bad,” Annie said, standing slow. “Didn’t know we needed permission to elevate the brand.”

Stack scoffed. “That ain’t the point—”

You stood too, brushing your leg against Annie’s as you rose, all slow-like, lazy with defiance.

“You mad ‘cause we made y’all feel somethin’ you wasn’t ready for?”

Stack blinked at you, lips parting. “Ain’t nobody say all that—”

“No,” you said, stepping closer. “But your mouth hangin’ open like it wanna.”

Smoke folded his arms. “It was too much. That crowd ain’t know what to do with all that… heat.”

Annie stepped right up to him, head high, smile soft but sharp. “Did you?”

Smoke’s jaw twitched.

Annie leaned just close enough for him to feel her breath again. “’Cause you looked frozen. Again.”

Stack’s eyes shifted between them, then locked back on you. “You supposed to dance, not—start somethin’.”

You moved into his space, slow, deliberate, voice all honey and smoke. “And yet here you are. Lookin’ like somethin’ I started.”

He blinked.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t step forward either.

You could see it—all of it. His pulse in his neck. The way his fingers flexed like he wanted to grab somethin’. Or you.

Annie grinned, watching Smoke.

“Next time,” she whispered, “maybe I’ll call you up there with us.”

Smoke’s breath hitched.

Stack huffed, ran a hand down his face like he was tryin’ to stay professional.

Then his eyes met yours again—long. Low.

He smirked.

“I see what this is,” he muttered.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, still too close.

“Mmhm.” His voice dipped. “Y’all dangerous.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you like it.”

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t have to.

Annie brushed past Smoke, slow and deliberate. “We’ll be on time next week,” she tossed back.

Smoke just watched her walk, jaw clenched, hands useless at his sides.

You followed, but not before dragging your eyes over Stack one more time.

“Tip better next time,” you said, winkin’.

Then you and Annie disappeared down the hall, hips swingin’ like the stage never ended.

-—————————

Hey yall! Hopefully yall like this and if yall do ill continue requests coming soon😫🙏🏾

[woodle-isbae]

Having to say this is so weird..but

Sammie won't ever Date Remmick.

I get it's fiction and stuff, but there's a point where we need to think whole heartedly...Remmick talks about a WIFE, Sammie ate out pearline AND named a bar after her.

AND

Remmick becomes Sammie's oppressor towards the end of the movie. There's dark romance, and then there's just forcing unnecessary plots to feel included.

Unfortunately Sinners was not a movie for queer people, it was a movie for BLACK people.

There is 0 reason why Bo Chow, Remmick and fucking BERT!?!? of all people...have more fanfics than the main characters, the focus of the movie, the drivers of the plot🤦🏾‍♀️.

I'm an open person, I'll accept anyone for nearly anything, but it gets to a point where we can't enjoy anything because a certain...group comes in and washes out the whole point of a show/movie/book ect.

Sinners is not the media you can find queer or white representation at all. If you're looking for that, this is NOT the place for you

- Aza

[thevelvetwhispers]

This masterlist is a quick guide for my favorite fics and the writers that have been putting in work since the drop of this movie.

To the writers on this platform that take time to do what you love… if you don’t hear it enough….. BABY, YOU’RE APPRECIATED!

Let us read and enjoy. I'll update when I can, or if you have some that you'd like added let me know.

NOTE: If you’d like your work to be removed just let me know.

LAST UPDATED: 6/10/2025

Series

@uzumaki-rebellion — choose one [smoke X reader X stack]

@uzumaki-rebellion — ibeji series

@hotgrlcece fever series [stack X reader]

@theegyal — faded [smoke X annie]

@theegyal — hush [smoke X annie]

@artsninspo — penname: delta wise

@bleufu1 — honeysuckle's [sammie X reader]

@theethighpriestess — blood money [stack X reader]

@unholyhelbig — all i’ve ever known [mary X reader]

@theegyal — when i was your man [smoke X annie]

One-Shots

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore

Read Here

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore

Read Here

Smoke & Stack

Read Here

Smoke & Annie

Read Here

Remmick

Read Here

Stack & Mary

Read Here

Sammie 'Preacher Boy' Moore

Read Here

Annie

Read Here

Pearline

Read Here

Bo Chow

Read Here

[pyraomen]

current fic ideas . . .

DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS , tiana x sammie.

sinners au/crossover — tiana rogers (portrayed by pearline) is annie’s little cousin from new orleans. the shadow man approaches her with an offer she simply cannot refuse after she failed at opening her own business several times. she got a gift to sing, her own restaurant without the white man's permission, and her father brought her back to life. what might go wrong? quit literally everything, which forces her to flee new orleans and stay with her cousin in clarksdale, mississippi. where she meets the smokestack twins little cousin, sammie moore.

(based off almost there ; a twisted tale — contains horror aspects)

I’D RATHER GO BLIND , louis x stack.

sinners au/crossover — two men, born into sin trying to climb their way out. an empty shell of a man, louis de pointe du lac longs to see his brother one final time and to find a greater purpose in life than running a brothel. freedom, some may say but that word is foreign for louis. he doesn’t get a taste of it until elias “stack” moore. a man who believes he’s already found freedom, running wild with his twin and a woman that brings him nothing but trouble. the two end up in a tangled web of sin when a silent business partnership is formed.

(based off i’d rather go blind ; etta james — contains religious imagery and a smidge of gay denial, we all saw louis confession)

[enticingmelanin]

Fire We Make: A Modern Smoke x Annie Fic

Fire We Make || Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie (modern au)

This is Part 2 of the Savor Series.

Rating: E for Erotic.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, and Explicit Language. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: Smoke and Annie’s bond has only deepened since fate reunited them in the city. Their emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical chemistry keeps their love burning bright. But when they attend the grand opening of Pearline’s, the heat between them proves impossible to tame. Some flames flicker. Theirs? Blazes.

𝄞₊ ⊹₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ˚₊⊹ ₊𝄞━━⊱⋆⊰━━𝄞₊ ⊹₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ˚₊⊹ ₊𝄞

Melodic humming filled Smoke’s bathroom as Annie applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Soft and radiant, her look accentuated her natural beauty—subtle shimmer on her lids, feathery lashes, and a gentle highlight that kissed her cheekbones. Her hair, now an older perm rod set, was pinned back into a romantic bun, a couple of loose spiral curls framing her face like poetry.

It had been eight months since they’d rekindled what was once lost—and they were stronger than ever. Life didn’t slow down for love, but they adapted, carved out time, made each other a priority. Zariah’s was always buzzing, fully booked, while Smoke and his family had poured heart and soul into building their lounge from the ground up. And finally… tonight was the night Pearline’s would be born.

Annie practically glowed as she moved through his space, excitement in every graceful step. As she reached for her MAC Ruby Woo lipstick to match her dress, a giddy hum vibrated from her lips.

“Ready, baby doll?” came that gravel-smooth voice from the bedroom.

“Yep, just puttin’ my lipstick on,” she replied, gliding the bold red pigment across her plush lips in one fluid stroke.

From the corner of her eye, she caught his silhouette in the doorway—leaned against the frame, watching her like she was art. His eyes roamed her slowly, appreciating how she mirrored his sharp red suit with that stunning dress.

The dress—a vintage-inspired scarlet gown that clung to her voluptuous frame. The satin hugged her curves, dipping low at the bust to reveal some cleavage, then cinched at her waist before flaring softly over her hips. A thigh-high slit flashed glimpses of smooth brown skin and hinted at the strappy red heels she wore underneath. Her body looked sculpted by the ancestors, and the way she moved in it? Like she knew she was unforgettable.

Suddenly, he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing himself flush against her back. His lips found her neck, placing slow, reverent kisses on her skin. A soft giggle escaped her as she leaned into his warmth.

“You look so damn good, we might not make it out the door,” he murmured against her ear, their gazes locking in the mirror.

Annie hummed, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. She turned to face him, arms draping around his neck, her breasts pressing against his solid chest. “As do you, but you can’t miss the grand opening, Mr. Owner. This is the night we’ve all been waitin’ for.”

Smoke let out a low sigh, trying to pull himself back from the edge. “True… I’d never hear the end of it, especially from Stack. But...” His voice dipped, rich with promise. “Just know I’m puttin’ these pretty lips to work later.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she pressed a finger to his mouth, stopping him with a glint in her eye.

“Mm-mm. Not messin’ up my lipstick,” she whispered. “Plus… it'll give you somethin' to look forward to.”

She leaned in and slowly ran her tongue across his lips—teasing, taunting—before slipping away with a playful strut toward the doorway.

Smack!

His hand landed firmly on her ass, making her gasp mid-step.

“Elijah!” she scolded, breath catching in her throat.

He just grinned. “Better pray I behave tonight or you'll be screamin' that all night long.”

The fire between them crackled and Annie silently hoped she could tame the heat long enough to get through Pearline’s grand opening.

Slowly, the black Escalade rolled to a stop in front of the entrance, its paint gleaming under the moonlight and glowing building lights. Annie smiled at the long line of guests wrapped around the corner, all dressed in their finest. Their childhood friend, Cornbread, stood tall at the head of the line in a black tux as the bouncer of the evening. A bold neon sign in soft red script read “Pearline’s,” its light casting a sultry blush across the rich brick exterior. A red carpet trailed from the doorway like an enticing welcome.

She was lost in admiration when her car door swung open.

“Thank you, ba—” she started, then stopped, blinking as the face staring back at her wasn't Smoke's, though it was identical.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can admit you always liked me more,” Stack teased, grinning wide with those infamous gold-capped pearly whites, a toothpick dancing at the corner of his mouth. He wore the same tailored red suit as Smoke, but his button-down was black—sleek and sharp in contrast.

Annie shook her head, laughter already bubbling up. “Boy, you’re a menace,” she said, taking his hand as he helped her out of the truck. She pulled him into a warm hug.

“And you love me for it,” he replied, placing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Nigga, you wish my woman liked your ol’ country bumpkin ass,” Smoke called out, rounding the front of the truck, that signature smirk playing on his lips.

Stack raised both hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. “Sounds like the pot callin’ the kettle, big brother.”

“Stop terrorizing them, Elias,” came a soft, amused voice from behind him. Mary stepped up, all grace and calm. Her hair was styled in loose waves that framed her heart-shaped face, eyes bright and lips painted a subtle rose. The slinky rose gold dress she wore clung to her figure, shimmering with every step, the open back catching the warm glow from the lights behind her.

She pulled Annie into a hug with an easy elegance. “You look beautiful, love.”

Annie smiled. “So do you.”

The twins greeted each other with a dap and a tight hug before ushering their women inside.

Annie’s chocolate eyes widened the moment they stepped through the doors.

“Babe…” she breathed, rooted in wonder.

“Ain’t she a beauty?” Smoke replied, his voice laced with quiet pride.

Pearline’s was opulence made intimate. Deep ruby velvet chairs hugged black marble tables, each topped with crystal glassware and lush centerpieces of red roses. The walls were a glossy black laced with gold detailing, reflecting the soft, amber glow from the grand chandeliers that hung like golden galaxies above.

The stage was commanding—elevated, dramatic, framed by heavy crimson curtains that spilled like wine to the floor. A spotlight illuminated the center, while plush banquettes circled the space, giving every guest a perfect view.

Just then, a six-piece live band stepped onto the stage, dressed in crisp, classic black. The pianist flexed his fingers, the upright bassist plucked a note that hummed through the velvet-draped air, and the horns tuned in harmony. The rhythm promised something sultry, something smooth, something alive.

“Y’all got a hit on your hands,” Annie exclaimed, her eyes still soaking in every plush detail. “That line is gonna be wrapped around the city with people desperate to get in here after tonight.”

“That’s the idea,” Smoke replied, his smile slow and warm as his hand found the small of her back. The pride in his eyes wasn’t just for the lounge—it was for her. For everything they’d built together, in their own way.

“And once Pearline and Sammie hit the stage,” Mary added, her voice dipping into that sweet Southern twang as she glanced toward the velvet-draped platform, “they just might burn the roof down.” She let out a low whistle, the excitement dancing in her tone.

Stack smirked and nodded toward the back left corner with a casual flick of his chin. “Speak of the devil.”

Annie followed his gaze—and there they were.

Pearline stood poised in the corner, a tall glass of champagne in hand, dressed in floor-length black satin that shimmered like oil under the low lights. Her deep brown skin glowed under the chandeliers, and her natural hair was sculpted into a soft, elegant updo that showed off her high cheekbones and expressive eyes. She looked like every jazz song ever written about heartbreak and romance.

Beside her was Sammie wearing a charcoal-gray three-piece suit that fit like it was made just for him—shirt open at the collar, no tie. A soft gold chain peeked beneath the fabric. His guitar case rested against the corner of the booth like it had its own seat, and the way he leaned into Pearline, eyes low and easy, made it clear the stage wasn’t the only place they made music.

They were magnetic, undeniably so.

Mary squealed in excitement, eyes lit up like stage lights, and grabbed Annie’s hand without warning. “Come on!” she laughed, tugging her toward Pearline and Sammie.

Smoke shook his head, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. “Every damn time,” he muttered fondly as Stack chuckled, hands in his pockets, following behind them to join the growing group hug.

“I can’t wait to hear y’all’s new music,” Annie said, pulling back from the embrace, her eyes warm with admiration. She turned to shoot Smoke a teasing scowl. “He wouldn’t say a peep about it. Been keepin’ secrets.”

“Confidentiality clause,” he said with a smirk. “Artist privilege.”

The double doors opened behind them, and the low hum of conversation began to grow as guests trickled in—heels clicking against the marble floor, silk and perfume trailing through the air. Waiters dressed in black-on-black uniforms glided between tables, ushering people to their seats with ease.

“Looks like you won’t be waitin' too much longer,” Pearline said, giving Annie a playful wink. “It’s showtime. We’ll see y’all in a bit.” Her smile lingered as she looped her arm through Sammie’s, and together they slipped backstage.

The two couples made their way to a table positioned front and center—the table, with an unobstructed view of the grand stage. The plush crimson chairs hugged them in comfort as they settled in, the golden glow from the chandeliers bathing them in a warm, flattering light.

Classic jazz poured from the band now set up onstage—the kind of melodies that made you close your eyes and sway slow without realizing. The saxophone crooned like it had a heart of its own, mixing perfectly with the clink of glassware and soft laughter around the room.

Their table was a feast of elegance and indulgence. Thanks to Annie—who Smoke proudly insisted be listed as a partner—Pearline’s menu had soul and sophistication. Small plates filled the table like a love letter to flavor—oysters Rockefeller resting in gleaming shells, crab-stuffed mushrooms steaming beside golden catfish fritters, sliders layered with Wagyu beef and caramelized onions, honey roasted carrots, and baskets of parmesan truffle fries still hot to the touch.

The twins nursed their negronis, dark and bitter with just enough bite, while the ladies sipped lemon drops—tart, sweet, and chilled nicely.

“This is what luxury tastes like,” Stack said, popping a fry into his mouth and leaning back with a satisfied hum.

Mary raised her glass toward Annie. “That’s ‘cause our girl knows what she’s doing.”

Annie just smiled, letting her fingers trail over the base of her glass. “Only the best for y'all.”

After a moment of savoring their food and enjoying each other's company, the band’s saxophonist stepped forward, mic in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, the soul of Pearline’s—Miss Pearline herself!”

The lights shifted, casting a warm spotlight on the stage just as Pearline emerged from backstage. She strutted toward the mic stand with slow, sultry confidence. Her presence alone commanded the room. She grasped the microphone with intention, her fingers adorned with delicate gold rings, while Sammie joined the band—his foot stomping to start the beat of the song. The rest of the band followed suit, feet thundering in unison like a summoning drum, ushering her into the music.

Then, her voice—rich, raw, and velvet-smooth—cut through the air.

"Ooh, ooh Mm-hm, mm-hm Mm-hm, mm-hm Oh, pale moon rising over the pines, come Lawd away until the sun does rise Leave the day by the, by the door, I don't Care if sun don't shine once more, that's what I said"

A current surged through the lounge. Even Smoke, usually the embodiment of cool restraint, found his fingers tapping against his glass, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. The crowd came alive—feet stomping, hands clapping, the rhythm infecting every corner of the space.

As Pearline’s hips swayed and her voice soared, she stepped down from the stage gracefully, weaving through the crowd. She didn’t just perform—she shared the song. Women stood to join her, drawn into the spell she cast. Mary was on her feet first, dragging Annie with her as laughter bubbled from both of them.

“Y’all better move!” Mary yelled over the music, her curls bouncing as she hyped Pearline up.

Annie laughed, joining in the stomps and claps, her red dress hugging her curves with every twist and sway. Pearline moved between them, harmonizing with two background singers as the lyrics rang out.

"Ain't no love in the heat of the sun Keep on workin' 'til the dollar's won From the crow of the rooster to the morning dove Sing my song when the day is done"

The final note lingered in the air, followed by an eruption of applause, whistles, and the low hum of delighted conversation.

“Girl, you did that!” Annie praised breathlessly, grabbing Pearline’s hand in a high five, her eyes shining with pride. She felt like a proud big sister watching her shine.

Pearline beamed, her smile radiant as she glided back up to the stage and gently returned the mic to its stand. Sammie stepped forward, looping an arm around her waist.

“Give it up again for my baby y’all!” His voice boomed with pride, deep and smooth. The room answered in cheers as the couple shared a soft, lingering kiss, earning more whistles and playful teasing from the crowd.

Pearline swayed back toward the girls, her energy still electric, while Sammie stayed center stage.

“So clearly,” he said with a chuckle, “this place is named after the woman I love.” He looked across the room at Pearline, his eyes softening. “Seems only right, considerin’ the only thing I love almost as much as her is music.”

More “awws” and whistles followed, and he winked before continuing. “I gotta thank her, Annie, and Mary for their unwavering encouragement and partnership. And last but certainly not least—my cousins Smoke and Stack. They more like my brothers, and I wouldn’t wanna build this place with anybody else.” His gaze landed on each of them, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t know where I’d be without their guidance, love, and support.”

The ladies blew him kisses while the twins lifted their glasses in salute, proud and still grinning.

Sammie chuckled. “Ya see, we come from a lil ol' town in Mississippi named Clarksdale. Back home they call me Preacher Boy, on account of my daddy bein’ a man of the cloth.”

Laughter rippled through the audience.

“He used to say if I kept dancin’ with the devil, meanin’ the blues, one day he’d follow me home.” He paused, eyes glinting with mischief. “But far as I can tell, all blues ever brought me was freedom.”

He slung his guitar over his torso, adjusting the strap as the room grew still with anticipation.

“So this one’s for my daddy. Hope y’all like it.”

He plucked the strings with soulful ease, the guitar crying out in rich, aching notes.

“Somethin' I been wantin’ to tell ya for a long time... It might hurt you, hope you don’t lose your mind..."

The band joined him, stomping their feet once more, pulling everyone into the rhythm of his truth.

"Well, I was just a boy, ‘bout eight years old You threw me a Bible on that Mississippi road See, I love ya, Papa, you did all you could do They say the truth hurts, so I lie to you Yes, I lied to you I love the blues…”

Sammie’s voice poured out like honey over gravel—rich, aching, and smooth. It wrapped around the room and didn’t let go. The men nodded in quiet agreement with the beat, their expressions solemn and knowing. The women, drawn in by the slow pull of the music, swayed their hips seductively to the beat.

Annie felt Smoke’s stare heavy on her backside, his gaze smoldering. She didn’t need to turn to know Stack was doing the same to Mary, who twirled a lock of hair between her fingers and grinned to herself.

“Mm-mm Ohohoh, mm-mm Hey! Somebody take me in your arms tonight, well alright”

The crowd whooped and clapped as Sammie hit a powerful high note with effortless control. An older gentleman, known to most as Delta Slim, took his place at the keys. With fingers smooth as silk and sharp as razors, he played like the piano owed him money. He was family—more uncle than friend to the twins—and his presence alone raised the soul of the room.

“Sang, baby!” Pearline called out proudly from the sidelines, hands cupped around her mouth.

"Somebody take me in your arms tonight”

“Wheeew, boy! We ’bout to make us some money!” Stack hollered, his deep laugh booming as Smoke shook his head, chuckling low beside him.

“I hope you can stand it, stand it all ‘Cause what I’m out here doin’, you didn’t preach at all See, I’m full of the blues, holy water too I know the truth hurts, so I lie to you So preach on, speak your words I know the truth hurts Yes, I lied to you I love the blues I love the blues...”

As the song moved into its final stretch, Sammie stepped closer to the edge of the stage, lifting his hand to direct the audience.

“Sing with me now…”

The crowd followed eagerly, humming and swaying, the entire room moving like one being.

“Mm-hmm Mm-hmm Mm-hmm Yeah, yeah, yeah Hey, hey, oh Mm-hmm I know the truth hurts Hey Lied to you Somebody take me in your arms!”

The crescendo hit like a wave, his voice crashing through the air with such force it felt as if the very windows would burst. Plates vibrated, silverware tingled, and hearts pounded in unison with the beat. Applause exploded before the final note had even fully landed.

Annie blinked back tears that welled in her eyes as chills ran up her spine—not of sadness, not even pride. It felt ancestral. Like spirits of their kin had gathered in joy, hands clapping and feet stomping with them. She quickly dabbed her eyes and clapped, joining in the thunderous standing ovation as Pearline’s heels clicked fast across the floor, arms flung wide to embrace her man.

“I knew Lil Sammie could sing,” Mary hollered over the music as the band struck up a light, jazzy number. “But I ain’t never heard nothin’ like that before.”

“Me neither,” Annie laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Now I see why Smoke kept his mouth shut. That was the best-kept secret, that’s for sure.”

They giggled and clasped hands, spinning each other on the dancefloor like carefree girls in love with life. Laughter spilled between them, joined by the warmth of good company and good food.

But just as they slowed their pace, Mary’s smile dropped, her eyes narrowing at a figure near their table.

“Now I know she sees that ring on his finger,” she said, annoyance evident in her tone.

Annie followed her gaze. A woman with legs too long and a dress too short stood much too close to the twins. Stack was leaning back, twirling a toothpick at the corner of his mouth with a smirk. Smoke, stoic as ever, puffed slowly on a cigar, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Annie’s brow arched. “Mmm,” she hummed before strutting toward them, Mary on her heels.

“You boys twins?” the woman asked, her voice syrupy and too sweet. Smoke nearly rolled his eyes while Stack let out a soft chuckle, amused.

“Nah,” Stack answered dryly, his smile slow and sly. “We cousins.”

The woman giggled, clearly unfazed. “That was silly of me. Of course y’all twins. Fine ones at that.”

Annie nearly scoffed aloud but caught herself.

Girl, you tried it.

“They sure are,” Annie chimed in smoothly, stepping in with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Mary cozied up to Stack, his arm slipping naturally around her shoulders. Annie’s eyes locked with Smoke’s. He raised the cigar to his lips again, but she took his hand, guiding it—and the cigar—toward her mouth. Her crimson lips wrapped around the tip briefly, pulling a slow drag before blowing a stream of smoke in soft rings toward the ceiling.

His eyes darkened, the tension between them crackling like static.

“Hi, baby doll,” he murmured, enthralled. His gold open-face caps glistened under the warm lighting against his teeth.

“Hi, daddy,” she purred back, voice velvet and warm. “Who’s this?”

Smoke barely glanced at the woman. “Oh... uh. What was your name again?” he asked absently, like someone trying to remember what they had for breakfast.

“It’s April,” she snapped, her smile faltering with the realization that she was now completely ignored.

At that moment, Sammie and Pearline reappeared near the front of the stage, preparing to begin a duet.

“Well, April,” Smoke said casually, still not looking at her, “if you’ll excuse us, we’re gonna go dance with our beautiful wives. Have a good night.”

And just like that, he guided Annie toward the dancefloor, Stack following suit with Mary, leaving April dumbfounded in their wake.

Annie’s heart swelled as she rested against him, her heart full.

Wife.

The word echoed sweetly in her ears. She gazed up at his face, lost in him, eyes wide and full of love, the way a woman looks at a man who makes her feel like she’s the only thing that matters in the world. That's exactly how he made her feel everyday.

She never placed marriage on a pedestal—refused to, really, in defiance of the conditioning women had been fed since birth. But with a man like Smoke—a man who respected her, saw her, and always moved with her best interests in mind—marriage didn’t feel like some risky fairytale. With him, it felt natural. Like breathing.

Pearline and Sammie began singing a cover of Fire We Make by Alicia Keys and Maxwell—sultry, smooth, and perfectly tailored to their voices. The chandeliers above dimmed and shifted into a seductive crimson hue, bathing the room in heat and longing. The air felt thick with it.

Smoke pulled Annie flush against him in the center of the dancefloor, his arms wrapped tight and possessive around her waist as they began to sway in sync with the rhythm.

"Hey baby how you doing tonight I wanna let you know, I wanna tell just how I feel Don't wanna love you baby and it's going so right I wanna burn a candle, turn the darkness to the light With the fire we make, it's getting hotter and hotter"

Their eyes stayed locked, unblinking. The lyrics weren’t just music—they were confessions they both had yet to communicate. Annie’s stare was full of hunger and heat, but also anchored in something deeper. Love. Safety. Want. It stirred something primal in him.

Smoke’s brow quirked, and he leaned in, his voice low, rough velvet against her ear. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, cousin and Pearl won’t be the only ones givin’ a show.”

Annie bit her lip, pelvis tightening at the wicked thought of the kind of show he meant. “Just thinkin’.”

"Hi baby, wont you tell me the truth You wanna be the one, you can't stay away Hey darling, don't you mean no excuse We can chase this on, and burn the hole inside you From the fire we make it's getting hotter and hotter Like a moth to a flame, I can't stay away With the fire we make it's getting higher and higher Like the night to the day I can't stay, I can't stay away"

“’Bout what?” he asked, eyes scanning her face like he already knew.

He reached up and gently untangled the gold earring dancing against her jaw, his fingers trailing the delicate curve of her neck. She shivered.

“Wife,” Annie said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

His own smile mirrored hers as he smoothed a tendril of hair back behind her ear, then traced her cheekbone with his thumb like a man memorizing scripture.

"This abyss of the world and it takes us to the stars It's getting higher and higher It's the fire we make it's the fire we make Getting sweeter and sweeter Like a night to a day I can't stay away, say is, no no"

“I’m not takin’ this second chance with you for granted,” he said, voice low but steady. His eyes locked onto hers with devotion. “Those years without you? They felt hollow. Nobody’s ever seen me the way you do. And I’ve never tried to understand anybody the way I try to understand you. I spent that time fuckin’ up, learnin’ from it, becomin' the man I always wanted to be... the man I wish my father had been.”

His grip on her waist tightened slightly, grounding himself in her. “It all led me back to you. I ain’t sayin’ we gotta rush... but I know what I want and that's to be your husband.”

Her breath hitched, tears gathering in her eyes. Every word burrowed into her soul and settled there. “I want that too,” she said, barely above a whisper. “On one condition.”

He smirked. “What’s that?”

“I’m hyphenating my last name. It’s a piece of Mama I’m never giving up.”

Smoke nodded without hesitation. “Of course. But don’t think I’m proposin’ to you in the middle of this lounge,” he said with a grin, brushing his lips across her forehead. “When I do, you’ll know it. And you won’t be sharin’ that day with anyone or anything but me.”

He turned her in his arms, pressing her back against his chest. She relaxed into him, eyes fluttering shut as his lips found the crook of her neck and shoulder. The brush of his beard against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.

"I wanna tell you, I wanna love you, I just wanna stay with you I can't be done, just can't stay away, I wanna make so much fire with you Baby I wanna go, gonna go, to you darlin' Yeah yeah"

The crowd erupted into applause as the song ended, but Annie and Smoke didn’t even notice. They were still moving, still caught in each other’s pull like gravity.

Smoke gently cupped her jaw, guiding her gaze up to meet his. “I love you... so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, eyes dropping to his lips. And before either of them could say another word, she kissed him—deep and hungry, lipstick be damned.

A low grunt rumbled from Smoke’s lips as he kissed her back with just as much fire. His arousal pressed hard against her ass, thick and undeniable, making her moan softly into his mouth. It felt like they were the only two people in the room—like time had slowed and spun around just them. But as much as he wanted to take her right then and there, the thought of anyone else laying eyes on her in that state made his jaw tighten.

He slowly pulled back from her, reluctant but determined. Before she could even ask, he was already taking her hand, leading her upstairs with purposeful strides into a sleek, modern office space. She barely had time to admire the clean lines and dark wood finish before his strong hands cupped her breasts through her dress, massaging them with hunger. The seat of her thong was soaked with need, her arousal only heightening under his touch.

There was no more saving it for later. Later was now—and the urgency of it, the risk of being heard or even caught, sent a fresh thrill down her spine. The music from the band downstairs would likely cover any sounds, but the chance someone might hear? That alone made her wetter.

She gasped when her breasts were suddenly bare, cool air kissing her sensitive skin. Smoke had undone the bow at the nape of her neck without her even noticing. Her back arched involuntarily as his fingers worked her nipples, rubbing and twirling them until they stood firm, aching for more.

“Can daddy have his pussy now, sweetheart?” he murmured low and thick in her ear, voice coated in lust. “You been temptin’ me all night.”

A breathy moan escaped her. “Yes,” she answered, voice laced with anticipation. Then, with a teasing smirk, “But I thought you said you were puttin’ these pretty lips to work. Had a change of heart?”

That made him pause. A glint sparked in his eyes.

Without a word, he stepped away, walking toward the glossy black office desk. Still holding her gaze, he peeled off his suit jacket and draped it neatly over the back of the leather chair. Then, without breaking eye contact, he undid the buttons of his shirt with quick, precise flicks, metal clinking as he unfastened his belt next. A swift unzip of his slacks and shift of his boxers later, his thick, long dick was in his hand, slowly being stroked with deliberate rhythm.

Annie’s mouth parted slightly, damn near drooling at the sight.

“Thank you for remindin’ me,” he said, voice low and smooth like molasses. He curled his finger at her, beckoning. “Now… come over here so I can do just that.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Annie strutted toward him, eyes locked on his thick length. As she stepped between his legs, his hand reached up, fingers wrapping gently around the front of her neck to pull her into a ravenous kiss. Their mouths moved together in feverish hunger, moans exchanged as their tongues danced and tangled. Her left hand braced against his thigh while the right traveled up to his dick, fingers wrapping around it and stroking with slow, twisting motions.

Smoke grunted at the contact, eyes fluttering shut briefly before he released her neck to let her work. She loved this—pleasing him, taking care of him. The act was intimate, powerful, grounding. Just like him, she’d go to the ends of the earth to make the other smile, to bring peace, pleasure, joy. It was always mutual—physical, emotional, soul-deep.

Red lipstick prints marked a sensual trail down his muscular torso as she lowered herself to her knees. The layers of her dress fanned out around her, giving her just enough cushion. Her hand kept stroking his shaft while her lips wrapped around the swollen head, delivering slow, savoring sucks. His head fell back, bottom lip caught between his teeth, breath short and sharp.

Annie moaned as she sucked him deeper, her hands now splayed against his strong thighs. Smoke’s hand slid to the back of her head, fingers splayed as their eyes met once more.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, voice hoarse, hips subtly rocking in rhythm with the sultry number the band played downstairs. He began thrusting into her mouth, slow but deliberate. Pleased with the praise, Annie moaned again, the sound vibrating down his shaft. She relaxed her throat, letting him hit the back as she matched his pace, one hand sliding to gently cup and massage his balls.

Smoke let out a low, guttural groan. “Fuck… mmm. You want daddy to cum in that pretty mouth? Hm, baby doll?”

“Mhm,” she purred, his length muffling her voice.

Wet smacks and slick suction sounds filled the office as she devoured him like a woman on a mission. Her saliva spilled down her chin, dripping between her breasts. An idea sparked in her head.

His shaft throbbed against her tongue as his climax neared, and just before it hit, Annie pulled back with a sultry gleam in her eye. Rising onto her knees, she cupped her full breasts and sandwiched his slick shaft between them. Pressing them tightly around him, she glided them up and down his length.

Smoke hissed through his teeth. “Shit…”

She knew how much he adored her breasts—touching them, sucking them, burying his face in them—but this? This was new. And her boldness wrapped around his restraint and yanked.

“Fuck, girl…” he muttered, jaw tight as his hips began to thrust, titty-fucking her with increasing urgency. He slipped his thumb between her lips and she sucked it without hesitation, eyes locked on his like a challenge.

Then with a groan, his release hit—warm ropes of cum coating her chest as he growled, “Oooh, such a good fuckin’ girl.”

His thumb slipped from her lips with a soft pop, then wiped the spit trailing down her chin. He cupped her jaw, pulling her into a deep, possessive kiss. Their mouths melded in a passionate exchange before his hands dropped to her waist, gripping firmly as he maneuvered their bodies to switch places with practiced ease.

Now with Annie’s back to him, Smoke didn’t waste a second. He yanked her thong down with urgency, bunching her dress around her waist. Her breath hitched as cool air kissed her exposed skin, followed by the warm press of his fingers against her slick folds. Her moans spilled out instantly.

Meanwhile, Annie swiped two fingers through his cum on her chest, trailing it to her nipples and circling them teasingly, adding another layer of stimulation.

“Mmm... wet ass pussy,” he murmured against her ear, voice low and raspy as his hand slid up to gently grip her throat. “She needs me, doesn’t she, baby?” he asked before slipping two fingers inside her, deep and deliberate.

She whimpered, her knees nearly buckling as her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh fuck... yes, daddy. Please,” she begged, voice trembling.

Smoke pressed soft, adoring kisses to her cheek, her jaw, the length of her neck—watching her every expression. He was under her spell. Watching her unravel was his favorite part of making love to her. It never lost its thrill, and he knew he wanted to watch her come undone like this for the rest of his life.

“There’s somethin’ I need from you first,” he said with a smirk in his voice.

Before she could ask, his fingers began pumping her harder, faster—precise strokes against her spongy g-spot while his palm repeatedly brushed against her clit. The sudden intensity ripped a high-pitched squeal from her.

She knew exactly what he wanted.

And she didn’t fight it.

Because what daddy wants, he gets.

Her orgasm tore through her like lightning, thighs shaking as her release splashed onto his hand and down her legs, wetting the hardwood beneath them in a small puddle. Her hands slammed onto the desk to keep her balance. Had it not been for the band playing below, their guests would’ve easily heard the symphony of moans and cries raining down from the second floor.

Annie whimpered and shuddered as the aftershocks seized her body. “Hmmmm, shit!”

Smoke’s low, satisfied chuckle rumbled against her ear. “Good girl,” he praised, gently stroking her sensitive pussy, helping her glide back down from the high he'd so expertly pulled from her.

Once she had calmed down, delicate kisses trailed up the top of her back to the base of her neck. A shiver rolled through her as she felt the thick, bulbous head of Smoke’s dick gliding teasingly through her slick folds, gathering her wetness but not yet entering her.

Before she could beg him to fuck her, his grip tightened—right hand clamping down on her shoulder while the left took hold of her waist. With one powerful pull, he guided her back onto his shaft as she bent forward.

She hissed through her teeth in pleasure. “Oooh, yes, baby,” she moaned, long and needy, her eyes rolling back before fluttering shut. Every girthy inch of him filled her slowly, every ridge of his shaft dragging against her aching walls with maddening precision.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, watching as his dick disappeared into her, coated in her arousal. The wet clap of their bodies meeting echoed off the walls as his pace quickened. Their moans wove together, rising and falling like a sensual melody, each thrust drawing them deeper into a euphoric haze. But it still wasn’t enough. No amount of her ever was. Annie always left Smoke hungry for more—starving even.

He gripped her right leg and lifted it, bracing her knee on the edge of the desk. The position made her spread wider, fully open, utterly his. He drove into her harder, deeper, fucking her like he couldn’t get close enough.

The sound of her moans, the rhythm of their breathing, the heat between them—it all built into something wild and consuming.

“Mhm, that’s it. Gimme this pussy,” he grunted, landing a sharp smack on her ass. Her walls pulsed around him, gripping him tight as creamy white arousal gathered at the base of his dick.

“Yessss, cream on it,” he groaned with another slap. “Show me how much you love this dick, baby.”

Annie whined, her breath catching with each relentless thrust. His deep strokes and filthy praise had her unraveling, the ache between her thighs twisting tighter and tighter.

“Da-Daddy… uunh!” she whimpered.

“I got you, baby. Give it to me,” he urged, voice low and commanding. She couldn’t deny him if she tried.

“Elijah…” she gasped, her nudey pink nails clawing at the desk for leverage, trying to ground herself.

He leaned down, tongue dragging up the sheen of sweat along her spine to the nape of her neck before planting a kiss there.

“That’s right,” he growled against her skin. “Tell them who you belong to.”

His name poured from her lips like a prayer as she shattered—body trembling, pussy quivering around him in a tight, uncontrollable climax. Her orgasm consumed her, every nerve lit and raw, her voice caught between sobbing moans and broken cries.

Smoke’s restraint crumbled. He bit his bottom lip hard, fighting his own release as he continued to pound into her. But he needed more.

Suddenly, he pulled out and swiftly turned her over, laying her flat on her back. His hands pushed her thighs up and back, opening her wide again.

“Just one more, baby,” he murmured, slipping back inside her like he never left.

Her cries floated up to the ceiling—soft, wrecked, overwhelmed. She hadn’t even started to recover, and already he was digging for that spot that made her scream. One hand clutched the back of her thigh, the other gripped his forearm like an anchor.

Her eyes clamped shut just as his fingers found her clit, strumming it in time with his strokes.

That was it. The fire between them exploded into an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Fuck, Annie,” he groaned with one final, powerful thrust as he emptied himself deep inside her. Their moans tangled together in a raw, perfect duet.

Breathless, he collapsed forward, capturing her mouth in a slow, loving kiss. His fingers brushed the damp tendrils of hair from her flushed face, reverent even in the afterglow.

After a few more kisses, Annie felt the absence of his warmth. The soft click of the office bathroom door let her know where he’d gone, but she hadn’t yet summoned the strength to lift even one eyelid. Her body still hummed, boneless and spent.

Minutes passed, then her hips jerked slightly at the sudden warm pressure between her thighs.

“Shhh, baby,” Smoke soothed, crouched between her legs with a damp cloth. She whimpered quietly, still tender, still sensitive. He moved with care, wiping her down with featherlight precision.

A second cloth followed, warm and wet, this time dabbing the sticky mess from her chest with the same patience. She swore she could feel the pride in his touch—like he was handling something sacred.

When he finished, his hands enveloped hers and gently pulled her upright. He kissed her—slow, soft, and lingering.

“I promise I’ll put you to sleep when we get home,” he murmured against her lips. “Now, go pee. I’ll grab your bag.”

And with that, he turned and slipped out, quietly closing the door behind him. Somewhere in the haze, she realized he’d already redressed.

She sighed deeply, letting the moment sink in, before finally peeling her eyes open and rising to her feet. Moving gingerly, she made her way to the bathroom.

After flushing the toilet, she washed her hands and paused to study her reflection.

Messy lipstick? Check.

Tousled hair? Check.

Thoroughly fucked and utterly in love?

Check. And check.

A giggle bubbled up from her chest. Smoke made her feel so damn free—unapologetically herself. She used to think she could never do something this bold, this wild, in public. But with him? She felt protected. Cherished. Unleashed.

As she reached for the straps of her dress, the door opened. Smoke reappeared with her purse in hand, setting it gently on the marble counter.

“Let me,” he offered, stepping behind her.

She let go of the fabric and he took over, retying the straps into a secure bow at the back of her neck, adjusting it until her breasts sat right. Then his arms wrapped around her middle and his chin rested on her shoulder, eyes locked on her reflection while she touched up her makeup.

She giggled, tossing him a playful kiss in the mirror. He smiled, slow and genuine, his thumb brushing across her hip absentmindedly.

A few moments later, she gave herself one final once-over and turned to him. “Good?”

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation.

He took her hand, fingers laced, and led her back downstairs.

As they reached their table, Sammie and Pearline were seated, happily indulging in a new round of small plates. Across from them sat Stack and Mary, looking equally satisfied.

“Y’all make me an uncle while y’all were gone?” Stack asked with his signature slick smirk.

A round of muffled laughter and exchanged glances swept through the table.

Smoke turned to his twin, one brow arched high. “Aye, Mary,” he called, eyes still on Stack.

“Yes, brother?” she answered cautiously, already sensing the trap as she glanced between them.

“How’s that storage closet ceilin' holdin’ up?” he asked, wearing a near-identical smirk.

"Oop," Pearline squeaked under her breath.

Mary gasped, hand flying to her mouth as the memory of her recent midday quickie with Stack hit her like a runaway train.

“Oh, you playin’ dirty now,” Stack said, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Checkmate, lil’ brother,” Smoke replied coolly, and the whole table erupted in laughter.

The night flowed on in easy rhythm—full of laughter, good conversation, and the low hum of live music. Annie and Smoke stayed close, attached at the hip. He kept his promise when they returned home, rocking her to sleep in every way he knew how.

And just before sleep claimed him, his thoughts drifted to the little black velvet box hidden in the back corner of his walk-in closet.

To be continued...

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Is that wedding bells I hear? I hope y'all loved this as much as I loved writing it. I had the Sinners soundtrack playing as I got lost in this. I HAVE to go see it again. Glad I saw it in IMAX first. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. I love hearing from you guys. xoxo

𝄞₊ ⊹₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ˚₊⊹ ₊𝄞━━⊱⋆⊰━━𝄞₊ ⊹₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ˚₊⊹ ₊𝄞

Taglist:

@slvt4her @wanderingreigns @avoidthings @xjjawsomex @that-one-anxious-mango @wabi-sabi1090 @nubiawrites @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kianaleani @slutsareteacherstoo @slyy-foxx @dxddykenn @moujg @naughtynolly @wildcardmelaninfreak @pocketsizedpanther @wabi-sabi1090 @styleismyaddiction @novahreign @transparentphantomface @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @babymelaninn @jasmynn05 @notapradagurl7 @starcrossedxwriter @irefusetobeacasualty @bigjh @syko-jpg @akjonthebeat @margepimpson @diamondsinterlude @brownsugarcoffy @shamansha @samiecemonet-blog @nebulamilkyway

[thebumblebeesworld]

NSFW! • ALPHABET

pearline x fem reader (ft. annie)

summary: ton of gay shit—with pearline x annie x reader at the end ;)

cw: smut obviouslyyy, it’s giving service top readerrrr. pillow princess pearlineeee

a/n: this was so hard to write y’alll. i’m sorry i couldn’t do every letter smfhh. but i’ve given you the best of what i had originally :3. if y’all want an extended version of letter w, y’all better let me know!!! (i’m probably gonna do it anyway cause pearline AND annie??? at the same timeeee??? yea)

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

a = aftercare

After sex, Pearline likes to lay back, listening to the soft churn of a record player and the quiet rustle of your breathing. Music eases her body, and being wrapped up in you relaxes her mind after releasing so much energy.

She enjoys running her hands through your hair as your head lays on her bosom. She loves singing and humming along to the music, letting you hear the way the sound rumbles around in her chest.

d = dirty secret

It took Pearline a while to disclose that she prefers to receive mostly—although you had picked up on that fairly early in your relationship. It seemed like you both fell into a natural rhythm of things. You’d simply derive pleasure from seeing her enjoy herself, but she wore herself thin by overthinking too much about it.

“Y/n,” Pearline urges, voice as quiet as a church mouse. She puts her hand on your arm, stopping you from trailing hot, needy kisses down the side of her neck. Y’all are in a compromising position: you on top of her naked, sweat-covered body.

“What’s wrong, babydoll,” you quip, breathing heavy from your previous actions. The apprehension in her tone immediately unsettled you, shifting your mind completely from her body laying under you and to her worried eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! Of course not,” Pearline ensures, biting at her bottom lip and avoiding your gaze. “I just gotta tell you something ‘fore we continue.” Her eyes still refuse to look at you directly, so you grab her chin in a gentle grip and turn her face to you. You give her a short nod as an indication for her to continue with what she has to say.

“W-well, I,” she stumbles over her words, flinging her arms about in search of guidance, “I know we been makin’ love for a li’l bit now. An-and I enjoy every bit of it. I enjoy every bit of you.” You nod your head and hum along to show you’re listening. It’s like her words hang in the air a bit—like she’s confident in what she’s saying but doesn’t want you to feel like she’s being anything but truthful. “But I don’t really know.”

“What don’t you know, doll,” you raise your eyebrows, responding carefully to her anxiety. One of your hands slides down to her thigh, caressing her to ease that tension that has built up in her body. “I’m here with you,” you remind her. “It’s me and you.”

Her bottom lip trembles and her hands go up to shield her eyes from the sight of you. You place a kiss to her exposed collarbone just as a rush of words leave her mouth.

“Idon’tliketogiveIonlywannareceive.”

You blink twice.

Then chuckle.

“I know that, babydoll,” you laugh, smiling at her with such love. You pull her hands from her eyes and kiss the side of her face. You place a warm kiss upon her forehead then her nose and finally her pouted lips.

“You know?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “That’s usually how things go when we have sex, doll.” Pearline huffs, still pouting and eyes beginning to get heavy with tears.

“It’s not that I don’t like to fuck you, because I really do.”

“I understand,” you pause her before she can get going on a rant full of overthinking and overexplaining. You‘ve never once questioned y’all’s sex life. Things work well the way they are because that’s how it’s supposed to be. “I understand ‘cause it’s not that I don’t get pleasure from you fuckin’ me, but it’s far more pleasurable to see the way an orgasm washes over your body. To hear them pretty sounds you be lettin’ out.”

Pearline’s heart flutters, and her face flushes despite her dark skin.

“Stop it,” she swats at your naked chest, trying to push away how flustered you make her. You just smile your happy smile.

“You give me so much pleasure, baby,” you press harder. “I ain’t ever wanted more from you,” you plant kisses down her neck again, pulling her back into the sex-filled atmosphere that you previously had, “except for when I’m makin’ you cum back to back.”

e = experience

When she was married and being a good, little housewife, Pearline was naive to the world of sex. She had been kept locked away and shut in, but the day she met Sammie changed everything for her. Someone she regarded as young and naive himself had opened her up to an entirely new world, which led her to finding you, furthering the experiences she would have to learn from.

You loved watching Pearline step into her sexuality. She was so inherently sensual that if you thought about it too hard, you'd get upset thinking about how her ex-husband had treated her the entirety of their relationship. He treated her like a schoolmarm. Like a being with no needs or desires.

You committed yourself to making sure every one of her needs was met.

f = favorite position

Pearline likes you on your knees between her legs. It doesn’t matter if you’re kneeling on the bed or on the floor, as long as you’re kneeling.

“Oh, shit, baby,” Pearline cries as she attempts to hold her body up against the wall you have her pressed into. You are beneath her, knees close to caving due to the splintered wood floor. Y’all are in a spare room in Club Juke, fucking like it ain’t people walking passed the door, but you can’t seem to care much. All you want is for Pearline to ride out her pleasure and to sing her love from the rooftops when you’re done. “How yo’ tongue feel so good?”

You live for the slow drawl in her voice when you sucking on her clit just right. It’s like her tone mellows out, voice dropping an octave as she sits in that good feeling.

You’re practically gnawing at her body, nose buried in her folds as you swallow all she gives you.

“Yes,” she chants, screaming your name loudly. She’s completely forgotten the world turning outside of the small room y’all are occupying, and you like it that way.

g = goofy

Pearline loves to laugh during sex and adores when y'all talk to each other during. It helps her feel better connected to you, and it reminds her that y’all are in it together.

That you enjoy every minute of it, too.

Sometimes you nip at her thighs just to hear her honey-like sounds—a mix between laughter, moans, and music. Sometimes that’s one of your only goals: to make her body feel good and to make her laugh.

j = jack off

When Pearline realized that she could make her own self feel good, it was like the clouds had opened up. Like the heavens were shining down and singing just for her. Touching herself was like a personal freedom, a reminder that she was in control of her own body and pleasure no matter what.

Sometimes after foreplay and just before you get your hands on her body, you’ll find Pearline with her hands between her thighs. Playing with her clit while watching you undress and stalk her way. Her eyes’ll flutter in ecstasy, envisioning every possible way her body would be wrecked.

“You so beautiful,” you coo in a hushed tone, admiring the way Pearline’s nimble fingers work over her clit. She drags her hand through her folds while holding eye contact, a moan spilling from her lips.

“You want a taste, baby,” she whines. Her back arches slightly as she fingers herself, curling into her soft spot.

You don’t respond.

You climb up the bed on your hands and knees and settle your face directly in front of her open legs. You gawk—mesmerized by the sounds her pussy makes, the sweet smells coming off of her skin, and the lovely sight of her glistening folds.

Everything about your position is downright erotic.

While Pearline continues to fuck herself with a passion, she brings her other hand to circle her clit.

“Fuck, yes,” she groans deeply. You don’t stop her, enjoying that crinkle in her forehead that tells you just how good she’s feeling. Her thighs begin to tremble, and as she attempts to close them, you push them open. You watch as she cums all over her fingers, soaking her thighs and your sheets in her arousal.

Before she can fully calm down, you dive into her, seeking out every possible drop of her that you can get.

“Y/n,” Pearline screams. She tangles her hands in your hair, rutting against your face as she seeks out her second orgasm.

With the high pitch of her voice and the aggression in her movements, you can tell that she’s extremely close. All she needs is that extra push to tip her over the edge.

You dip your tongue into her entrance, fucking her as deep as your anatomy will allow. Within seconds, you feel her clutching around you. You look up to find her eyes screwed shut, her mouth wide open with no sounds escaping, and her chest, arms, and stomach flexed tightly as her orgasm finally hits her.

l = location

Something tells me she would be down with having sex anywhere—as long as there’s a door that locks or a foot to keep it shut.

w = wildcard if pearline and reader both had a thing for annie

“You ready to go, baby,” Pearline asks you, snaking her arms around your torso as you check over your reflection in the mirror. You are beyond nervous. Tonight you and Pearline are visiting Annie for a bit of wine and music. It was nothing serious; The three of you did this quite often actually, but this would be your first time being around Annie since you and Pearline confessed to each other your shared infatuation for the hoodoo woman.

It was an easy conversation for you and Pearline to have. It’s so clear how much you both adore Annie. Whenever you get the chance to be together, the three of you are gossiping, dancing at jukes, laughing at any and everything.

But you are worried that Annie might not feel how y’all do. That your friendship could be ruined.

Pearline turns your head to look at her. She analyzes the deep set look in your eyes—the uncertainty in your stance.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, y/n,” she places a gentle kiss on your lips. “Just let me handle it, ok? I already told her we had somethin’ to talk to her ‘bout.”

You step fully into her embrace, deepening your kiss ever so slightly. Pearline pulls at your clothes, tugging you closer as if you’re not pressed flush against her. She softly whimpers in your mouth as you overtake her, and you swallow every sound that leaves her.

“We gon’ be late if you keep up them sweet sounds, doll,” you admit, trying your damndest to not be pulled fully into Pearline’s orbit. But your woman so easily gets her way.

“You know you can make it quick though,” she persuades you, biting your earlobe. Her hands swiftly remove your clothes, and you let it happen, not once attempting to stop her.

You look over at the clock on the wall, contemplating how quick you can really make this.

“Get on that bed.”

“Took y’all long enough,” Annie shakes her head with a grin as she opens her front door for you. She steps to the side with a hand on her hip, eyeing you both as Pearline walks with a barely noticeable limp.

But Annie notices everything.

You watch as she lifts her eyebrow, looking over your disheveled state that you tried your best to fix before you were too late to the woman’s home.

“Mhm,” she hums. Her eyes are drawn to your neck with an amused expression. She laughs funnily.

“What,” you question, fixing your clothes nervously. “Is it somethin’ on my face or somethin’?” At this point, Pearline and Annie are both chuckling at you, trading sharp smiles and knowing eyes.

Annie walks up on you, placing two fingers under your chin and lifting your face to get a better look at you. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the way she examines you closely. The feeling of her breath on your lips makes your stomach churn softly. You see Pearline smiling wide behind Annie. She bites her lip and stares directly at Annie’s ass—unashamed.

“Look like Pearline kiss the only thang on you, love,” she practically groans, lip caught between in teeth. Annie leans into your ear. “She marked you real good.”

Annie taps your face and turns to walk away, leaving you shook and gripping at your neck like you could rub the reddening kiss mark off. Annie doesn’t spare you another glance, just strolls over to Pearline. Her walk is tantalizing and sensual.

“You said you had somethin’ to tell me, sweetheart,” Annie posits. Her eyes roam over Pearline’s frame, tracing every soft curve, every dip and groove. She leans into her, an evident hunger in the way she looks at her.

Like she’s imagining her naked.

“I, um, w-we,” Pearline trips over her words, intimidated by Annie’s dominant presence. You were nervous and intimidated before as well, but as you watch their interaction, the way Annie devours Pearline with her deep, brown eyes alone, you gain confidence.

You step behind Annie, placing a heavy hand on her waist. You whisper down her neck, sending a shiver through her body.

“You infatuate us, Ann,” you admit. “We want you. Bad.”

“Is that so,” Annie asks, resting her back flush shading your front. Her tone is coated in a ever-growing arousal. The way you grip at her waist makes her want to cave so badly.

Annie grabs Pearline’s hand, pulling her into the both of you. You meet your woman’s gaze, sending a wink her way that causes her to completely crumble. She’s unable to look at you or Annie. Her eyes are stuck to her feet, but Annie tsks at her before speaking, voice smooth and confident again:

“Come on, love. Let us see those pretty eyes.”

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

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[massiv3tr33p3rsona]

Remember You | Stack X Valerie (Black Fem Vampire OC) / Sammie X Pearline X Valerie

Home Part II.

Pairing(s): Elias ‘Stack’ Moore (Sinners) x Valerie (Black Fem Vampire OC) (Woman in Top Right: Nicole Beharie) and Valerie x Pearline (Sinners) x Sammie ‘Preacher Boy’ Moore (a smidge because this goes into Part III!)

Summary: After avoiding being captured by vampire hunters, Remmick and almost killed by a Klan member, Valerie goes to a juke joint in the middle of nowhere. As she spends time scooping around and flirting with Pearline & Sammy, she runs into Stack, who co-owns the club with Smoke. They have a conversation, where they reminisce about that night they spent together back in Chicago before she was transformed.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ (MINORS DNI!), a bit lengthy, slight bisexuality, oral (m receiving, f receiving), titty sucking, choking, slapping, riding, squirting, creampie, slight angst, vampirism, emotional feelings, flashback, mentions of death/rebirth, suicide, and racism, violence, blood, cursing, smoking, drinking, slight spoilers, slight spirituality

Dividers Made By: @uzmacchiato

Parts: I • III • IV.I • IV.II • Epilogue • Prequel

A/N I: Annie, Smoke, and Lucinda returns, with Slim, Sammie, Pearline, Cornbread, Mary, Bo, and Grace making their first appearances. And please ignore that Valerie is eating some of the catfish. Didn’t know garlic powder was in the seasoning. And I’m aware that the Saint Valentine’s Day massacre was during the day, but it sounds better at night for some reason. Also may have went a little too crazy with the violence in one section.

THIS IS MY WORK, SO PLEASE DO NOT STEAL IT

Its night time as the dark forest and dirt road glows under the pale moonlight, the cool evening air breezing. But, it’s disturbed by movement, particularly running.

Running down the road is a beautiful brownskin woman in a torn up floral dress and white sandals, hair loose and fear all over her. She constantly turns around to make sure no one is following her, being prepared to fight back if necessary.

Just about two hours ago, she was almost kidnapped by a devil incarnated vampire named Remmick, his wife and two other members, looking to start their own community of invoking evil into bodies to control.

Little did they know, Valerie was one herself.

About three and a half years ago, on a rainy night in downtown Chicago, Valerie was turned into one by her maker, Eros, after taking her own life by jumping off the bridge into the Chicago River and washing up on a dock. She learned how to live, behave, and eat like a vampire while recovering, even got the gift of hearing most people’s thoughts, which helped with having perfect survival and hunting skills.

Which lead to issue #2: an almost deadly encounter with the local Choctaw Vampire Hunters.

An hour after getting away from Remmick, she was startled by a group of Native men on horses passing by, causing her to fall and tear her dress in some areas. As she got up, she hissed at the horses and shown her fangs, scaring the animals back. One of them knocked their rider off, making all of them block Valerie from leaving, cornering her.

As she realized he was carrying things that can kill a vampire and has no way out, one of them jumps down to question her. Just as he was getting close, he gets ambushed by some shadow, with the rest of the man being attacked similarly. She looks up and sees Remmick floating in the air, blood covering his mouth and eyes glowing red.

“Join us, Valerie. You’ll fit in nice……you already one of us. I can smell your cinnamon magnolia scent from here.” he said, lowering himself to ground.

Valerie picks up a glass of an unidentifiable liquid from one of the deceased riders and throws it at him, hitting his arm. He lets out a hiss and begins rolling on the ground to get it off, giving her an opportunity to run away as fast as she could.

As she was getting further and further into the forest, she can see more Choctaw Hunters pulling up through the view of trees, making sure to avoid them while they past. Their blood scent roams through her nose, but she refuses to let her hunger cost her life and continued on. Now here she is, not where to do next now that she’s lost.

“Where am I gonna go..” she whispers, walking on the side.

Suddenly, she hears a car slowing driving up, making her walk on the side to avoid getting hit, not looking back. The car, a black Bentley 8 Litre, passes by, not seeing her. It stops and begins reversing, making her pause her movements.

Hiding her hands behind her back, she extends them into long and sharp fingers, preparing to defend herself as the car stop in front of her. The windows rolls down, with the driver revealing itself as a older, overweight white man, wearing a black and white plaid suit and gold framed glasses.

“Good evening, young lady. Are you lost?” he asked in a Southern Mississippi accent, looking her up and down.

As she walks up, she looks at the inside of his car, making sure nothing seemed off about it.

“Maybe.” as she moved her hair to the side, her fingers back to normal. “You know where I’m at?”

“Just outside of Clarksdale, north to be exact.. Never seen folks like you around here.” he replied.

“Folks, huh….” she said, side-eying him.

“Not like that!” as he holds his hands up in a surrendering way. “Normally, they travel mostly west or east. I can take you there if you like. You look like you need something.”

Valerie looks at the man with a highbrowed expression, thinking about his offer.

He seems like he knows where to take me, she says in her head, hearing his heart beating accompanying as background noise.

Hope she doesn’t realize my actual plan if she gets in, he says in his head, which she hears.

Valerie is appalled by this, very shocked that he has pure malicious attention behind his innocent facade he has on.

You’re so dumb and oblivious for saying that. But now, I have my dinner for the night, she says, smiling a bit.

“You know if any fabrics store is open this hour? I do need a new dress.” she asked, leaning against the window so her breasts are in his view.

“N-no, ma’am. We close at 10 every night due to curfew.” he said as he looks at them. “However, my late wife has a lot of dresses she left behind at the house. I can lend some to you and drop you off downtown if you’re comfortable with that.” he said, having a profaned look on his face.

“….deal.” she utters instantly.

“Good! Hop right on in so I can get to moving.” he said as he opens the door for her.

Valerie gets in, closing the door and putting on her seatbelt as the man begins driving, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Name’s Harold.” he said, making her look at him.

“Valerie.” she replied.

“Valerie, huh? You don’t sound like you from arounds here.” he said as he steps on the pedal a bit.

“You would be correct. I’m from Chicago originally.”

Great. Another nig from there coming down here to infect the city more. he utters in his head.

Racist idiot. “…..got something against Chicago?” she asked, making him snap out of his contraction.

“Huh?”

Valerie laughs, facing forward as she adjusts into her seat, noticing a KKK blond drop symbol patch on his dashboard.

And you’re a member of the Klu Klux Klan? Wow, you’re gonna be an easy kill tonight, she said in a delightful tone.

“You went silent as soon as I said that.” she replied.

“Oh no! My friend just sold something to two black brothers from out there today, so you’re like the third one I’m running across.”

“Mm.”

“What brings you out here?”

“Wanted to start over as I outgrew living up there. I’m going to miss the night life though.”

“Night life?” as he scoffed. “You prefer that more than day time?”

“Day time drags on too long for my liking. Night life brings out everyone. Even the *bad.” she says at she looks at him.

“What, you liking hanging around those types of people?”

“Not really.” as she stretched out her legs, feeling his gaze.

She rubs her hand over her calf, slowly trailing her fingers up her body until she stops at her neck, hearing his heart beating going fast.

“Only the ones who don’t mind following under my control.” she added, saying it in a seductive tone.

Harold stares with lust, accidentally jerking the car wheel, which almost ran the vehicle off the road, going back to paying attention to it.

God I need to get her home fast, he said in his head.

Valerie smirks, patiently waiting for them to arrive to his house so she can indulge him and no one will come and help.

About 30 minutes later, the car pulls up to a red bricked house, with a roofed garage attached to it.

Harold parks the car and gets out, quickly walking to Valerie side to help her out of the car.

“Thank you, Harold. I really do appreciate you for this.” she says as she grabs his hand and steps out.

“No worries, me lady.” he replied, making the both of them laugh.

They walk to the door, with Harold looking through his keys, trying to find the house one. Valerie looks around the area, hearing a loud noise in the distance.

“Do you know what that noise is?” she asks, looking at him.

“Probably the brothers’ new club.” he replied, sticking the key in to unlock the door.

Which will be a killing field for us come tomorrow, he says, laughing as he opens the door, stepping aside.

You won’t make it and neither will they, she says as she walks in, giving him a smile.

Harold steps in and closes the door, turning on the lights to brighten the room. Valerie looks around, taking in the white walls, black furniture, and red items design.

Yeah, you’re definitely Klan with these color scheme you went with, she says as he clapped his hands.

“Alright. I’m gonna go bring in some dresses and shoes from upstairs. Bathroom is down the hall on your left. There’s some clean hair rollers and brushes she left behind. Be right back!” he said, walking past her.

Valerie nods, watching him head up the stairs, disappearing into the ceiling. She begins walking down the hallway, looking at the few photos he has hanging on his walls.

His wedding picture. A family picture of them with his kids. Him with a group of friends, holding up guns and a Confederate flag. Gross. And lastly, a picture of him getting sworn into the Klu Klux Klan as other members watch. The names of each member is listed, align with their face:

Bert Hogwood, Joan Smith-Hogwood, Charles Hogwood, Harold Hogwood, Jeffrey Johnson, and David Lee Hart. Noted.

She looks at it for a few more minutes before continuing walking. Passing a room with a door open, she see Harold’s white Klu Klux Klan robe lying on a chair in room surrounded by guns and knifes.

Hm….maybe I should take something while he’s not looking.

She looks at each gun lined up against the wall, turns away as they are too big for her to even carry out. She then looks at the desk where knives are laid out, examining each one. A gold holder catches her attention, picking it up. Taking it out, the knife is a reflective 8 inch, blade is sharp enough to cut through the skin easy.

“Yeah, Ima take you.” she mumbles, putting it back in the holder.

Hearing Harold coming down the steps, she put holder into the top of the dress and scurries to the bathroom.

She pretends to be preoccupied by the rollers when Harold appears at the door, holding dresses in one hand and boxes of shoes in the other as she looks at him.

“I see I have options.” she said, a smile on her face.

“Yeah, I was struggling to figure out which ones will look great on you as she had so many dresses.” he says, placing the boxes on the counter and the dresses behind the door.

He stands there as Valerie looks at the dresses, examining each one.

“Well. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you so I could take you downtown. Does that sound okay with you?” he asks.

“Sounds fine.” she replied.

“Good! I’ll let you get to it, Miss Valerie.” he says, turning away.

“Thank you again. I do really appreciate this, Harold.” she says as he walks off.

Good. That’s the last time you’ll appreciate anything, he says.

Same for you, she says as she closes the door.

Valerie looks in the mirror, thinking about what is she gonna do to him now that she has an hour to get ready. Many ideas run through ahead, from ways of luring him in or how brutal she should go out for him, but nothing lands.

Then, she remembers his robe is on the chair in the room, giving her a glorious idea for the execution as she began to do her hair.

An hour later, Harold gets up from the couch, begins to walk down the hallway. Just as he getting close, the lights go out, instantly making him mad.

“What the fuck?!” he utters, stomping his feet.

He turns around and goes to where the light switch was, flicking it on and off to success. He grabs the flashlight on the table and turns it on, taking his pistol he had hidden in the back of his pants.

“You okay, Valerie? Did the lights go out in the bathroom?” he asks in a loud voice as he slowly begins to walk.

No answer.

That woman better not have escaped, he says getting close.

Suddenly, a woman’s moaning echoes the hallway, making him pause his movement. It sounds like she’s singing beautifully, which makes Harold slowly get hard.

“What the….” he whispers, continuing his walk.

As he gets closer to the bathroom, the door to his weapons slowly opens, catching his attention. Pointing the gun and flashlight at it, he kicks open the door, watching it swing open.

The window behind his desk is open, blowing some air in. Knives? Looked untouched. But his klan robe that was lying on the chair? Gone. He turns to see if any of his weapons have gone missing and is startled by a figure, causing him to fall into the door.

As he gets back on his feet, he realizes the figure, holding its head down, is wearing his robe and mask, making him point his gun and flashlight towards it, cocking the gun.

“Who the hell are you and why in God’s name do you have on my robe?!” he yells.

The figure lifts its head up, with glowing green eyes. It begins moaning again. Its remove the mask, revealing itself as Valerie, who now had a sinister smirk plastered on her face.

“You liked that, did you?” she asks, causing him to drop his gun and flashlight as fear takes over him.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asks in a scared voice.

“What happened to me? I say….. a rebirth.” she utters, walking towards him.

Harold runs out, but just as he was getting close to the front door, Valerie respawns in front of him, causing him to fall into the living room.

“My old life in Chicago, I have freedom and felt like I was seen with my community work, helping out my people who lived there or came to escape from whatever they were going through. But that changed after I got my heart broken by someone I thought cared about me. So I took my own life.” she utters, somberness taking over her.

“Well, you should’ve stayed dead, nig!” he utters, crawling backwards to get away.

Valerie chuckles as she takes out the dagger, stabbing the core part of Harold’s foot, paling him to the floor. He screams in agony, watching him turn red as she climbs on top of him.

“But someone saw potential in me and transformed me into a new person. So I came down here to start a new life since Chicago is slowly dying and instantly, I almost died over how I looked twice so far. Would’ve been three hadn’t I heard the ability to hear people’s thoughts and your plans on killing me and my people in your little racist head.” she says as she wraps her hand, her fingers now long and sharp, around his neck, squeezing it.

He begins choking, filling the tightness from her hand, closing in his throat, preventing oxygen from coming in as she leans down to his face.

“And you know what I say to that? Instead of fearing being killed for how I look, I no longer fear that now I have the power to take out anyone who wishes to cause harm against me and my people as they get in my way.” she states as she moves his head up, exposing his neck more.

“Please…” he begs in a dried painful voice. “I’ll let you live if you just let me go.”

“……see you in hell, Harold.” is the last thing she utters.

Valerie opens her mouth, revealing her fangs as she chomps on Harold’s neck hard, beginning to suck the blood out. His screams fills the room he attempt to break out of her hold, but the pain is preventing it from succeeding.

She lifts her head up, his blood spread all over her face in the robe as she looks down at his half decaying self, tears falling out of his eyes.

“Oh honey….I promise this will all go away soon. Just let me get to the good part of you.” she whispers, pulling the dagger out of his foot.

She gets off him, kneeling on the left side of his body. Holding the dagger over his chest, she stabs through it, cutting a hole through it. As she uses all of her strength to push the blade around, she watches his body and leak blood from his eyes, mouth, ears and nose, the pressure pushing through all areas.

After completing the hole, she moves the layer of his skin, which exposes his heart. She yanked the heart out, watching it beat hard in her hand as she brings it to her face.

She smells it, groaning at the delicious essence it gives off before biting into it, indulging each bite.

“I’m gonna finish it before I leave so now by finds a dead body tomorrow.” she mumbled into an evil laugh, kicking at his leg.

She takes another bite, moaning at the texture and taste as the moonlight shines on her bloody looking self and his dead body.

Pulling up in the dead man’s car, Valerie looks at herself in the mirror.

Hair curled and layered, silk green dress fitting tight and kept her girlies up, and black flats fitting comfortably, she smiles.

Flashing two single gold bottom tooth grills she made from a watch and Harold’s teeth, she looks good for someone that just killed and ingest someone’s body about 45 minutes ago.

“Remember, Valerie: do not show your true self while you’re around all these people, dancing, drinking, and all that.” she said, grabbing the tan fur shawl in the seat and getting out.

Locking the car and adjusting the holder hiding above her underwear, she walks to the building, with the name, ‘Club Juke’ etched in red paint on the hanging sign above the front entrance.

Feeling people staring at her and some guys whistling as she walked by, she patiently waits in line, watching the two bodyguards turn people away or let them in until they got to her.

“Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to Club Juke!” said the tall, straw hat, overalls wearing man, smiling at her.

“Good evening to you as well, Mr??” she asked, a smile appearing on her face.

“Cornbread. I have another name, but because I’ve only ate cornbread growing up, that’s how I got the name.” he replied, laughing a bit.

“Wait…..” as she looks at him, a shocked look on her face. “You’re Cornbread?”

“Yeah? Just said that a few seconds ago?” he replied, confusion on his face.

What is this lady’s problem?, he utters in his head.

“Sorry. Had my friend who mentioned you to me added that you were this tall, I would’ve worn some heels at least.” she replied, earning a laugh from him.

Thank god I didn’t make it a little too awkward, she utters.

“I get that a lot from unfamiliar faces. But, ima let you in. And hope you have a good time, alright now?” he replied, moving to the side.

Valerie nods before walking in, greeting the other bodyguard as she passes by.

And bless whoever gets with her because damn…..if I wasn’t married, I would be all over her, Cornbread utters.

Too bad you’re not my type, she says.

As she enter the building, she can feel the vibe of the atmosphere flowing through. The music is loud and booming, with attendees dancing and drinking, some chatting and eating as the elder pianist plays on the stage, moving side to side.

She looks at him, taking in some familiar features that she has seen before. Parted hair, gold front tooth, a beer on the piano, and he’s moving to the music under his fingers.

Where have I seen this man before…

“Slim is a good player, huh?” asked an unfamiliar female Creole accent voice.

Valerie turns to her right and sees a short, plus size, darkskin woman with bangs and long hair standing next to her, watching the performance.

“Slim?” she replied.

“Delta Slim. We usually refer to him as Slim around here.”

That’s who that was. Good ole Slim.

“Oh right. I forgot that’s his first name. Then again, he hasn’t been to Chicago in a long time.” she added, leaning against the pole.

“You’re from Chicago?” the woman asks, curiosity in her tone.

“I is. I thought it was obvious with my accent.”

“I never been out there. But, my girlfriend’s husband just came back from there today, though.” the woman replied, drinking from her water.

“What’s your name if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Valerie, pulling out a cigarette and lighter from her chest.

“Lucinda. I work for Annie and well….date her.” said the woman, causing Valerie to pause.

Why does that name sound familiar as well?

“You’re not Annie?” is what Valerie replied, earning an intense stare from Lucinda.

“Nah. May I ask why?” she asked.

Dont tell me one of his whores traveled all the way down here to start trouble, said Lucinda.

Either this woman knows of me or its a misunderstanding, said Valerie, lighting up her cigarette and smoking it.

“That name. Annie. Haven’t heard it in a long time, but I don’t know where. Maybe I heard it when I was still in Chicago or it’s just a name I heard when I was on the road. But I don’t mean no harm at all.” said Valerie, blowing smoke out.

“No harm?” said Lucinda, who is noticeably irritated. “What do you mean by that? Are you someone that’s coming to ruin shit? Because if so you can ge—“ as she raises her voice.

Valerie’s anger was about to come out when a small Asian woman comes up to them, gently tapping Lucinda’s shoulder, making her turn.

“Sorry, Lu. But Annie needs you in the kitchen. We’re running low on the mixed rice.” the woman says.

“…yeah, I’ll be there in a few, Grace.” Lucinda replied, before turning back to Valerie.

She steps into her space, leaning forward as Valerie eyes her.

“This isn’t over. But I’ll let you slide this time. However, you pull something evil against my girlfriend or her husband, I’m gonna be the first person you’ll see charging at you.” she utters, making Grace look at her in a crazy way.

Valerie chuckles, leaning in to close the distance as Lucinda’s scent arises to her nose, making her sniff a bit.

Baby breath, sea salt, lavender, and nutmeg? Is this a witch in my presence or someone who is about to find out they’re pregnant in a few weeks?, said Valerie.

“Aye aye, captain.” replied Valerie.

Agbere (Whore), utters Lucinda as she turns away, walking to the kitchen.

Valerie rolls her eyes as Grace turns to follow her back.

“Just so you know: I’m not here to start anything.” she utters, making Grace look back.

“Excuse me?” said Grace.

“I’m just trying to understand where am I at and how come a lot of things I am discovering sound very familiar to me. I promise I’m not trying to start issues.” she stated, making Grace look confused.

Why is she saying this to me…, Grace uttered.

”She’s probably just exhausted. We did spend all day building this so we can open tonight.” she added, a small smile on her face.

“Well. It’s a beautiful job you all did. Especially whoever made the front sign.” said Valerie, inhaling more of her cigarette.

Grace stared at her for a bit before continuing, feeling like she’s getting a weird vibe from her.

“Thank you. It was the only color we had. But I am gonna go back. If you’re hungry, we have catfish, greens, white rice, and mixed rice. If you’re thirsty, we have water, Irish beer, Italian wine, and moonshine. And enjoy the music, of course!” Grace said in a fast way as she headed back to the kitchen.

What an odd way to exit, said Valerie.

The audience cheers as Slim stands up, taking in the positive reception.

“Y’all having a good time at Club Juke?!” he asked in an exciting voice.

The audience yells “Yeah!” in unison, making him blush a bit.

“Y’all want me to continue?” he asks.

“Hell Yeah!” is what the audience shouts back, making him nod erratically before he takes another sip of his beer and sits down, beginning to play again.

As Valerie turns to walk, she bumps into a woman, accidentally knocking her down.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you…..” she begins to say while helping her up.

As the woman stand ups, Valerie takes in her looks. Her deep brown skin shines under the lights as the beauty mark on her cheek enhances the curve of her cheekbone. Her lips look fluffy and a perfect shape as her eyes flutter, making eye contact with her.

“There.” she added, not letting go of the woman’s arm.

“It’s fine.” the soft Southern accent woman said as she gently removed her arm. “Most people tend to not see me walking by.”

Her ambery vanilla and blood scent roams through Valerie’s nostrils, making her inhale and slightly, feeling a buzz go through her.

“That’s sad.” she said, earning a slight squint from the woman.

“How so?” she asked, folding her arms in.

Valerie smiles, putting her cigarette out before sliding the lighter back into her top, the woman watching.

“They’re missing out on the radiance you bring when you walk into the room.” she says as she steps forward, taking in her green scarf and silk dress.

“Your confidence and elegance also elevates that. If they missed out on that….good luck with finding something better.” she added, sending her a seductive smirk.

The woman smiles back, putting her arms down.

“You sure you don’t have someone waiting for you in here?” the woman asks.

“No. Haven’t felt that in years actually. You?” asked Valerie.

Yeah. But he doesn’t have to know, said the woman, making Valerie smile slightly as the woman turns.

“I do. But he’s home.” she replied, walking away.

“Yet..you’re here.” said Valerie, following her.

“I would tread lightly if I were you.” said the woman, side eying her.

“I’ll listen because you asked nicely.” as Valerie fixed her shawl. “What brings you out here?”

“Someone I know is playing tonight and I thought I come to see it for myself. If only I can find him…” she said, looking around the room.

“He’s good?” asked Valerie as they begin to walk together.

“Yeah. Met him at the train station today where him and Slim were playing while one of his twin cousins was promoting this place.”

Twins? Cousins? Okay, where the hell am I at because why is this also familiar to me..

A young man in a brown hat, white shirt, light brown sweater and pants, and brown shoes walks up, smiling at the woman.

“You came.” he said to her, a deep Southern Mississippi voice coming out.

…He is truly blessed with sounding like that, said Valerie, feeling herself get hot.

“I did. Couldn’t miss your performance.” the woman said to him.

The man looks at Valerie, taking in her beauty.

Wow….she’s just as beautiful as Pearline, he said, looking Valerie up and down.

“Could’ve told me the man was young and handsome.” said Valerie, looking at Pearline.

“Didn’t think you would be interested. Since we just met.” Pearline replied, looking back at her.

“Oh? You making friends already.” the man said.

“Don’t might having another one. I can handle two at once.” said Valerie, eyeing the both of them.

Pearline bits her lips as the man smirks, impressed by that response.

This woman is going to be the death of me more than him, said Pearline, wiping her face a bit.

Will gladly be that for you…and him, said Valerie, adjusting her stance.

“Where are my manners?” as she holds out her hand. “Name’s Valerie. I’m from Chicago.”

“Pearline. I’m from outside of Clarksdale.” she said.

“Sammie. Also known as ‘Preacher Boy’. I’m from around here.” he said, taking Valerie’s hand and kissing it.

His woody spice and blood scent tickles her nostrils, making her smile a bit.

“Wow, y’all smell delicious.” she mumbles.

“Hm?” said Sammie, confusion on his face.

“I mean…” as she cleared her throat. “Wow. You’re the one who plays the guitar.”

“Yeah.” he nods. “Been practicing for a while.”

“Must feel a little nervous doing your first performance here.” said Pearline.

“A little, but my confidence is great now. Thanks to my cous….” he said, trailing off.

He looks past both women, seeing something that’s bothering him.

“Can you two excuse me for a moment?” he utters, walking towards whatever the issue is.

Valerie watches him, seeing him walk up to a white woman in a light pink silk dress, a matching shawl, and brunette bob, beginning to say something to her.

However, she focuses on the woman, her familiar presence lingering in her mind, making her think about where she has seen her.

“…I have a question.” she said, looking at Pearline.

“Go ahead.” she replied.

“You said “one of his twin cousins” earlier.”

“Yeah. I did. Why?”

“…who are the twins? Feels like I’m missing something…but I’m also aware?” she stated, feeling herself body getting hot.

Why does it feel like deja vu is happening… she utters to herself.

“You never heard of the SmokeStack Twins? Especially in Chicago? They like to run around, terrorizing people while making deals. Why?”

Smoke….Stack….Twins. SmokeStack Twins. Smoke and Stack!, she utters, her body getting hotter.

Valerie begins to tremble, stumbling back a bit as Pearline watches, a worrying look on her face.

“Val, are you okay?” she asks, attempting to reach her to keep her stable.

“I think I need to g—“ was all Valerie could get out.

Suddenly, as she was turning, she runs into something hard, causing her to tumble forward but keep her on her feet.

She pushes herself back up, but whatever she ran into keeps her up, with a pair of hands holding her up as she comes back to herself.

“Damn, girl! You almost knocked yourself out running into m….” said the familiar, thick Southern accent voice, trailing off with the last word.

As Valerie opens her eyes, she sees the face that broke her heart three years ago, causing her to take her own life. Hair slicked back, mustache bushy, a little more older but still sculpted, lips still full and his mouth slight opened, showing off the gold grillz in his mouth.

Stack.

“Elias?” she blurts out, her mind going blank as she watches his lip tremble.

“Valerie? Is this…this really you?” he asked, tears beginning to form.

Valerie nods, feeling herself get emotional as he pulls her in an embrace, hugging her tightly. She hugs him back, hearing his heartbeating fast and his cedarwood patchouli scent invading her airwaves

She missed this. She missed how he felt, how he smelled, and how he looked. This was the man she knew from home.

Now she’s in his home.

“I thought…..thought you died?” he whispered, looking down at her. “We were at your funeral and all…”

“Um…..no.” as she pulls back. “I..I survived that jump. And swam to shore. Ran away because I was too…embarrassed to show that um…” she says, hearing herself getting choked up.

“It’s okay.” he said, squeezing hand. “It’s a miracle you’re still with us. Surprised you’re even here. At me and Smoke’s juke joint!” he exclaims, holding his arm up.

Still the same ole Stack. Just as I remember, she said, smiling.

She knows him?, said Pearline, eyeing him a bit.

Smoke is gonna freak out when he finds out you alive, said Stack, a bastardly smile on his face as he looks Valerie up and down.

“You know ole girl here, right?” said Pearline, sucks the moment out.

Mary.

“She is?!” he said, annoyance in his voice as he looked across the room and sees her taking to Sammie, trying to get away from him.

“Yeah. But I can go distract her so Sammie isn’t doing it by himself if you want.”

“Please do. Me and um…Valerie, have a lot to catch up on.” he said, keeping a lustful gaze on Valerie.

“Will do. See you later, Valerie.” said Pearline as she squeezes Val’s shoulder and walks to Sammie, with Valerie watching.

You too. Cause I’m damn sure not missing out on messing with you and Preacher Boy, she said before turning back to Stack.

“Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?” he said, pulling her to walk.

Her stomach growls, pausing her movement.

Girl, you just ate a whole body an hour ago. How you hungry again?!, she yelps, grabbing her stomach.

“I would love to. But maybe we should get some food and drinks as well?” she asks, smiling a bit.

Stack nods, looking at Sammie and Pearline perfectly distracting Mary before looking back at Valerie.

“Alright. I did promise you I was going to introduce you to Annie’s cooking. She got some good ass catfish right now.” he says as they begin walking, arms hooked.

“I bet. That Grace lady said they also got some sides too.” she added, hearing him laugh.

“Yup. Different rices. Greens. Even pickled garlic.”

Valerie’s stomach kicked in, having an uneasy reaction to the mention of garlic.

“Can’t do that. I’m allergic, unfortunately.” she reveals, lying through her teeth.

“What?! Last time I saw you, you were saying garlic is the best damn thing to have in the kitchen, girl!” he yelps, shocked at that reveal.

“Well…a lot of things have changed since we last each other.” she states shrugging her shoulders.

He nods, pulling her close.

“You ain’t wrong.” as he leans in. “Cause last time I seen you….your eyes was a bit darker and brown. Now they are hazel green?” he asks with a confused look on his face.

She chuckles, looking down to hold in her laugh.

“Wait until I tell you about my medical condition. Trust me. It’s a long story.” she said, stretching the last part out.

“Oh trust. We got enough time in the world right now.” he said, looking at her with admiration.

Even in a dead body, she can feel that he has never lost the love he had for her. Which makes her feel very special in this moment in this moment at the juke joint.

They walk up to the kitchen, where he formally introduces her to Annie, who greets her with a warm smile. He had her make Valerie’s plate, where he tells her to avoid the garlic as she is now allergic to them.

As she watches, she notices that she can’t hear Annie’s thoughts, which she thought was strange. They go to Grace and Lucinda, where he orders them both Irish Beers while keeping his gaze on her.

After grabbing the drinks, he takes her to the poker room, where he gets them a table in the corner, a perfect way to hide from anyone he doesn’t want to be seen by.

Especially Mary.

Stack says a quick prayer before they begin indulging, both moaning at the crispness and well seasoned food in front of them.

“Annie sure can cook.” said Valerie, dipping her piece of catfish into hot sauce before biting it.

“Told you! That’s why we always rely on her to make food cause we do not trust anyone’s cooking out here.” he replied, biting into his fork of greens.

“Also, when did Annie and….?” as she tilts her head towards Lucinda, who was standing behind the window cooking, making Stack follows her direction.

He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink before clearing his throat.

“Trust me. I was a bit shocked myself at him he saying “Annie’s worker AND girlfriend” when they first arrived.” he replied, making her laugh.

“I see. Well, if they’re happy, I’m not judging.”

Speaking of, he said.

“How you been? I’m still…blown at the fact that you’re alive after we *buried you?” he asked, making her look at him.

“Yeah, it was a mistaken identity thing, apparently. Probably why they didn’t open the casket. From what I was told.” she replied, sipping her drink.

“But. I went to Memphis. Stayed there for almost two years, eating their food. Dancing to their music. Helping out the community.” she added.

And what she meant by helping out was killing all of the rapists, murderers, and predators that targeted primarily women and children. Even some officers who abused their power.

“Then I went back to Chicago and laid low. Was shocked that I still had access to my place. And now…..I’m down here. Eating and drinking, and soon-to-be dancing at Club Juke!” she stated, laughing a bit at the last part.

Stack nods, a small smile on his face, looking like a proud man watching someone he admires doing something good.

“That’s good to hear that you’re doing something with your life.” he said with a grin.

“What about you?” she asked, turning her body towards him.

Stack looks down, taking in her legs before looking back up, seeing her eyeing him seductively.

“We finally got out of Chicago. Capone went down, the city started falling apart, and well…North Side can’t really fix the mess they and South Side caused.” he replied.

“Is that how you and Smoke managed to steal Irish Beer and Italian Wine from both sides?” she asked, sipping her drink.

“They won’t notice since they hate each other. Especially since they can’t tell us apart, which makes it even more fun for us.” he replied, eating a piece of the catfish.

“That seems to be a common thing you like to say. Makes me wonder…”

“Wonder what?” he said, instantly squinting his eyes.

Valerie laughs, amused at how angry he’s slowly getting over a simple sentence.

“Is this really Stack? Or did you two trade places so the real one can avoid not just me because he still doesn’t forgive himself for what happened between us and the result of it. But Mary as well.” she utters, resting her chin on her hand while looking at him.

Stack looks away, his face twitching as he feels her intense stare burning the side of his face. His heart races, causing butterflies to flutter in his stomach.

I would never do some shit like that with Smoke. Considering how much I can’t stand Annie, he uttered, clearing his throat.

Annie too womanly for you? Cause she doesn’t act like a dog chasing…, Valerie utters, disgust flowing in her head.

“You know her momma passed, right?” he revealed.

Valerie scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“You think I give a fu—“ she exclaimed but is cut off by him.

“I know you don’t care.” he stated. “Especially after how she treated you. And um, we ended.” he said, looking down.

The two sat in silence as the piano and crowding cheering grows louder as Smoke passes by in the doorway, not noticing them.

Why is it so awkward to talk to you? I don’t get it, he uttered.

Guilt, she responded.

“How’s Hollie?” she asked, biting into her piece of catfish.

“Woah.” Stack said as he places his hand on her leg, leaning forward.

“Don’t….don’t bring her up in here. Its already bad that Mary’s here, let along you being in here too.” he said in a low tone voice as he moved his hand closer to her thigh.

Valerie felt her lips clenched, feeling the effects of his deep voice slowly taking over and her fangs almost coming out, but she stops herself.

“…she nor Annie knows, huh?” she replied.

“And they never will as long as you keep your mouth shut. You hear me?” he said, getting closer.

Valerie leans forward, closing in the distance between them.

“Annie won’t care cause they were separated, so she got someone else to fill in her needs. Mary on the other hand….” she says in a low tone voice.

“That’s all on you because you made that bed and it’s trying your best to destroy it. But I know deep down inside, you do really love her because even when you’re avoiding her, she keeps you excited. And I can feel it brewing off of you because I know you.” as she leans in for a kiss.

As Stack is about to kiss her, she pulls back, removing his hand and going back to normal as if nothing happened.

“I just wanna know when’s the last time you seen Hollie, that’s all.” she states in her normal voice.

Stack looks down, attempting to laugh the pain away, but fails. He’s in disbelief that she curved him just like that.

“Last time we seen her was at your funeral. Told us that she was going back to New York to become a showgirl, leaving everything she did in Chicago behind.” he said, taking out a cigarette to smoke.

“Ever wanted to go there?” she asked, finishing her rice and greens.

“Yeah. Might go on my own this time.” as he finish his drink.

“You should.”

“How come?”

“Elias….” as she wraps her hand around his arm. “How long are you gonna continue dragging Elijah into everything? Lord knows the man is tired.”

“How would you know?” as he lights up the cigarette, smoking it. “You just came back tonight. After being a dead woman walking for years.”

“Because he saves your ass each time something happens to you. Seems like he gotta lead you every single way he can.”

“You watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” as she leans forward. “You’re gonna get him to harm me? Since you’re too scared to do it yourself?”

“I ain’t scared of nothing” as he leans forward. “Especially you.”

Valerie laughs, grabbing his smoke ridden face.

“Yet…that night we shared after that shootout told a different story.” she said, tracing over his lips.

She can hear him growling low before grabbing his hand with the cigarette, bringing it to her mouth. She inhaling, blowing the smoke into his face, watching him blink as she lets go.

She’s playing hard to get, he utters.

I sure am.

“It did. Because you’re remembering it wrong.” he said, licking his lips.

“Oh, I am?” she asked, watching him laugh.

“Yeah. Cause remember we were running away from the cops…” he begins, adjusting his seat.

The music, crowd cheering and dancing, and the the men playing poker fades around them as Stack retells the night from his view.

Saint Valentine’s Day 1929

Swinging the door open, Valerie and Stack run inside, with the latter shutting and locking the the door fast, guarding it.

Hold up his gun, he looks at Valerie, who is leaned against the wall, catching her breath.

“Remind me to wear flats next time cause boy, I’m not strong enough to run in heels.” she said as she removed them.

“And look at the hole in my favorite purple dress!” she hisses, looking at the tattered fabric between her legs.

“I’ll get you a new one.” he replied softly as he removed his shoes.

Stack walks to the window, peeping behind the curtains. Watching the cops run by, he puts his gun on the table, removing his jacket as Valerie throws her shawl on the chair.

“And there will probably not be a next time after that shit that happened.” he replied, looking at her.

“You might be right. They been looking for reason to take out Capone and this might do him in.” she said, turning to walk into the kitchen.

“Which means I’ll be finally free for a bit. Until me and Smoke come up with our next move.”

Valerie shakes her head as she smiles, taking out two glass cups from the cabinet.

“You already have a concept of a plan while not wondering if your brother made it out.” she said, taking out a water pitcher from the fridge.

“I know he made it out.” as he unbuttons his shirt, removing it and placing it near his jacket, leaving him in his undershirt.

“How you know?” she asks as she pours water into each glass.

“He said he was gonna be the first out when he arrives with the Irish folks, making sure he doesn’t get caught in the ambush. Just as we were coming to the floor, I saw him hop in a car and drove out, making sure he has an alibi in case they come looking for him.” he replied, walking towards her.

“Hm.” is all she said as she hands him a glass before picking hers up.

Stack takes it, drinking a bit of it before leaning against her fridge, staring at her.

“Do I fall anywhere into your plan?” she asks, jump onto the counter to sit down.

“Yeah, if you’re willing to leave.” he replied, his voice getting a little sleepy.

“Always a catch with you.” she said, drinking some of her water.

“Cause I know you love it here so much. But no matter where I go…..I’ll always come back to see you.”

“Even if it’s on the other side of the world?” as she spreads her legs open, feeling him look down.

“Even if I’m only 10 minutes away.” he replied, finishing the rest of his glass.

Valerie smiles, laying her head back as she places her glass next to her, feeling herself getting hot.

“Come here.” she whispers, motioning him to come to her.

Stack places his glass on the counter as he walks to her, getting between her legs as she looks at him, rubbing her hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscular curves around it.

“Like what you see?” he asks in a low tone, tensing a bit as she traces over his chest.

“Always.” as she slides her hand up his shirt, tracing his abs.

Stacks growls, wrapping his hand around her neck as he lifts her face up, hearing her whimper as he leans in, a few feet away from her lips.

“Val?”

“Yes, Elias?”

“..I love you.” he admits, looking at her with lust in his eyes.

“…I love you too.” she replied, looking at him.

Stack smiles before placing his lips over hers, giving her a sloppy kiss. The lovers fight over dominance while breathing hard and rubbing over each other, but Stack gets the upper hand by lifting Valerie up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom.

Gently laying her on the bed, Stack breaks the kiss, helping her remove her dress by ripping it in half, hearing her squeal.

“Told you I’ll get you a new one.” he said, kisses her once more.

Valerie giggles as she sat up, helping Stack remove his undershirt before reaching down to unbuckle the belt and remove it, watching him remove his pants. She can see an outline of his throbbing dick through his underwear, precum leaking through.

He climbs back onto the bed, hovering over her as he begins kissing her neck. She moans softly as he trails down to her breasts, taking one into his mouth while wrapping his hand around the other one, fondling it.

“Just like that.” she whispers, rubbing his head as he flicks her nipple with his tongue, sucking back on it.

He moves to the other one, moving his hand to the one he finished as he engulfs the other one, slightly biting down. He hears her panting hard as he removes himself, letting out a POP! sound.

“You ready for me?” he asks, tracing his fingers over her underwear.

Valerie nods, feeling him grab her underwear and yank it off in one motion. He lowers him onto his chest, placing one leg over his shoulder and the other under his arm as he touches her clit, watching her clench around air.

“Oh, you been waiting for me to taste you huh?” he says, letting out a deep, dark chuckle.

He began sucking her clit as he inserts his index and middle fingers inside her, rubbing around the softness. Valerie moans, wrapping her hand around his head.

“Hey.” as he slaps her thigh, making her wince. “Eyes on me while I’m down here. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, yeah.” is what she said before pushing his face back into her pussy, making eye contact.

Stack begins sucking hard as his fingers plunge in and out of her at a fast pace, making her let out a few *fucks and louder moans as she fondles her breast with her free hand.

The sounds of her essence gushing, her hard panting, his low groaning, and the bed creaking fills the bedroom as she feels herself getting closer and closer to release.

“Stack, you’re about to make me lose it!” she utters, tears forming in her eyes.

He removes his mouth, watching her tremble as he curves his fingers, feeling her grip getting tighter around them.

“That’s it.” as he rubs his thumb around her clit. “Let it all out. Don’t hold back from me, baby.” he whispers.

On cue, she releases, squirting out her essence and body spazzing as Stack holds his tongue out, feeling some of it hit it. Her breathing is out of control as the room spins around her blurry vision, feeling her high coming down.

Stack laps up some of her essence around her before standing up, kissing her leg in the process. He pulls down his underwear, where his hard, throbbing dick sprangs free, kicking them to the side.

Just as he was about to insert himself, she sits up, grabbing his dick and stroking it, watching him wince.

“Valerie, you don’t have to do this.” he said, trying to remove her hand.

“You say that every time we fuck, but doesn’t stop me.” she replied, slapping his hand away.

He holds his hands up as he watches her, leave a trail of her spit across his shaft, rubbing it around before taking him into her mouth, hearing him groan.

“Maybe I should stop saying that.” he mumbled, looking down at her as she begins bobbing her head.

Her saliva begins coating his shaft, making her up her pace as his tip touches the back of her throat, her almost gagging. She wraps her hands around the rest that can’t fit in her mouth and begins stroking it.

Stack holds her hair up, fondling his nipple as she swirls her tongue around his tip, keeping her eyes on him.

”You like when you’re sucking me off, don’t you?” he asks, his breathing coming out hard.

Valerie lets out a moan as she speeds up, filling her mess, dripping onto her chest as Stack moans, feeling himself getting close.

“I know you want my seed down your throat.” he utters in an aggressive tone.

Suddenly, he removes her from his dick, watching her pant hard as he looks at how dazed out she is. He taps a tip on her tongue, rubbing it over her lips.

“But I don’t wanna wait all night to fuck you.” he says, stepping back.

Valerie laughs before turning on her stomach, putting her ass in the air with her feet hanging off the bed.

“Come get it then, Eli.” she said, shaking her ass a bit.

Stack smirks as he walks up and gets on the bed, lowering himself into a crotch. He slaps her ass real hard, hearing her squeal before inserting himself into her pussy, both letting out moans.

“My God, you feel so good stretching me out like this.” she utters, feeling him moving around a bit.

He kisses her back as he wraps his hand around the front of her neck, brings her up to his chest. He begins fucking her, biting her shoulder.

“Fuck…” she moans, wrapping her hand around his arms.

His balls bouncing off her lips from his strokes, creating a sensation she never felt before when they made love. He speeds up his pace, watching her body move hard from him slamming his hips into her, filling her essence dripping on him.

“Mm, you like when I fuck you like this?” he whispers into her ear, hearing her whimper.

“Yes. Only you can do me like this!” she yelps, feeling him brush over a sweet spot.

“Good! No other motherfucker will ever touch what belongs to me.” as he goes at a rapid pace, hearing her scream.

Valerie falls forward, feeling herself go limp but stays in position as Stack wraps his hands around her waist, keeping himself up.

“Oh baby…..why are you doing me like this?” she moans, throwing herself back to match his pace.

“Because this is not a regular session between me and you.” as he goes deeper. “This is me showing you how much I deeply care about you.” he admits, removing his hands.

Valerie smiles, in awe of him while he is breaking her pussy like she owns him something, becoming enchanted by his spell.

“I’m getting close.. getting close!” she yelps, him continuously hitting her sweet spot a few times.

Stack gives her one final stroke before she cums again, watching her essence coat his dick her body pushing it all out as she moans, the pleasure consuming her. He pulls out, gently taps her pussy before laying on his back, adjusting a pillow under his head.

”Ride me, baby.” he says, stroking his dick.

She catches her breath for a few minutes before crawling to him, hovering over his body. She lowers herself onto him, feels him stretching her out once again, making her wince.

“You okay? We can do something else if it feels uncomfortable.” he said, lifting himself up but she stops him.

“No, no.” as she shakes her head. “You feel good, Stack. Just catching my breath.”

He nods as she begins moving her hips, creating a rhythm with him as she slowly wrapped her hands around his neck.

“Like that.” she mumbles, placing one of his hands on one of her breasts before returning it back to his neck.

He moans, squeezing her breast gently as she bounces up and down on his dick, slamming herself into him each time, clenching him.

“Fuck.” he whispers, feeling her squeeze his neck hard as she slaps his face, catching him off guard.

“What the hell, Valerie?!” he yelps, the sting brewing on his face as she laughs.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” she replied, slapping him once more.

He groans, trying to hide how much he actually did enjoy that. He slaps her ass, feeling her quickening up her pace as she moans. She can feel him twitching inside, making her smirk.

“Fuck me, Elias.” as she slaps him once more “You know you wanna cum.” she says, pulling him up to his chest.

He wraps his arms around her waist and slightly lifts her up as he begins pounding underneath her, both moaning loud enough in the neighbors to hear.

“Alright. That’s an offer I can take up.” he utters, slamming continuously over and over as he was slowly losing feeling in his lower half.

These two were both going all out the show how much one cares about the other while making sure their needs are also being met.

Valerie makes out with Stack, his hip, slowing down as another release went up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Cum in me, please.” she utters, feeling herself tightening.

“You sure?” he asks, moving her hips in a circular motion.

“I wanna feel all of you.” she admits, about to pass out.

Stack nods with a greedy smile before giving her a few more strokes until they both release at the same time, him letting out expletives and her letting out moans for the last time. His dick twitches inside her as he pumps out all of his seed while she squirts all over him.

The lovers lay in each other’s arms, both catching their breaths as the moonlight shines on them, the cool air hitting their skin.

“…promise me you won’t forget me.” she says in a sleepy tone.

Stack looks up, rubbing his chin over her chest as he kisses her.

“I promise I’ll never forget you. Ever.”

Valerie smiled, give him another kiss before falling asleep in his embrace.

Valerie stares in a daze, the memory on a loop as Stack snaps his fingers, snapping her out of her faze.

“Jesus.” she whispers, looking away in embarrassment.

“You okay?” he asks, amusement in his tone.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Just wondering. Cause you’re drooling.”

Valerie touches her face, feeling wetness around her mouth. She grabs a napkin and wipes her mouth, hearing him laugh.

“But. You didn’t forget that night either.” he added, eyeing her.

”Who wouldn’t? That was the last positive memory I have of us before you left me.” she said, looking down.

I knew she was gonna bring that up, he said.

“…I fucked up, didn’t I?” he asked.

“You did.” as she shook her head.

She can feel tears begin to form in her chest, beginning to burn as she looks up, not wanting to look at him.

“I understand. Nobody really gets over their first love. But I wished you.…” as her voice trails off.

Her breathing becomes pitchy as images of her seeing Stack kiss Mary in a dark alleyway, their argument that lead to their breakup, and her a few moments before jumping into the Chicago River plays in her mind.

“Forget it.” she said as she got up, quickly wiping that tear as she fixed her shawl.

“Valerie, wait.” he says as he tries to grab her, but she steps back.

“Nice seeing you again.” she utters as she begins to walk.

She sees him getting up to follow her, but she stops at the entrance.

You have to tell him about that Klan member, she utters, the memory of him revealing the killing field plan playing.

“I have to tell you something so that you and Smoke are aware.” as she turns around to face him.

Stack looks at her, a glaring expression on his face.

“What is it?”

“That man who sold you this place? What’s his name?” she asks, seeing his face relax.

“Hogwood.” as he sighs. “Why?”

“Hogwood. He’s the local Kl—“ is all she could get out before loud stomping cuts her off.

Mary, now heated, walks into the room, shoving Stack back.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night, but Sammie and Pearline were stalling me.” she utters in irritation.

Stack, shocked that she shoved him, looks at her before looking at Valerie, causing her to turn around and be shocked at her standing there.

“Valerie?!” she yells. “You were with her?!”

Stack shushes her and pulls her back as Valerie laughs, backing out through the entrance as Mary becomes louder with yelling at him.

“I’m gonna leave you two to talk. Nice to see you again, Elias.” said Valerie as she walks away

Mary pops her head out, with Stack struggling to hold her back.

“I thought you was dead?! But, here you are, talking to my man?!” she yells, but the loud music shuns her, no one paying attention as Stack pulls her back into the room.

Valerie shakes her head, walking up to Lucinda as she takes out money from her top.

“A refill on the Irish beer, please.” as she puts a few coins on the table.

Lucinda nods as she hands her one, taking the coins.

“By the way. I was actually here for Stack. Sorry if I made it seem like it was for Smoke.” she said, taking the drink.

Before Lucinda could say anything, Valerie walks off, heading to where Pearline and Sammie were sitting as they watched Slim play.

“Missed anything important?” she said, both looking at her instantly.

“Almost. Sammie about to perform.” said Pearline, rubbing his shoulder.

“Well, I made it just in time.” she said, winking at Sammie.

“What was you and Stack discussing?” he asked, tuning his guitar.

“Old business from when I was still in Chicago that might get me on trial if I go into detail.” she said as she stands next to Pearline, sipping her drink.

All three laugh until Sammie and Pearline stopped, fear growing upon their face. Valerie looks at them confused until she hears loud footsteps behind her, making her lower her drink.

“Well I‘ll be damned.” said a familiar, deeper thick Southern accent voice.

She sees smoke fumes blow out from her left, which tells her who it is standing behind her.

“Nice to see you again, Smoke.” she says as she turns around, see him standing there.

Smoke whistles, taking in her look before hugging her, with her doing the same back.

“Thought Stack was lying when he said you were here! I thought he was lying because we were at your f…” he says, trailing off with his last word.

He sees Sammie and Pearline sitting behind her as she looks at him, waiting for him to say the next part.

I don’t think I should bring up the funeral in front of them, he utters.

Thank god.

“Fair!” he yelps. “The Chicago City Fair! Val here used to throw good fairs to help out the people who couldn’t go to the upstate ones. Always seemed like a hero to everyone up there.” he added, smiling at her.

“That sounds amazing.” said Sammie, Pearline nodding.

“Maybe Clarksdale can get that.” she said.

“Love to do that! Just point me to y’all council and we can set it off….non-gangster style.” said Valerie, making everyone laugh.

“Damn….when did your eyes turn green?” asked Smoke, looking at them.

“Caught a medical condition out in Memphis. Thought he was lying when he said your eyes might turn a different shade if it gets worse, but here I am with hazel green eyes now.” she replied.

“Well. I’m glad you’re here at our Club Juke. Hope you enjoy Sammie’s performance.” he said, squeezing her hand.

“Will do.”

Smoke nods at Pearline and Sammie before walking to Annie, with Valerie sighing in relief.

Thank god Smoke the one with the brains.

The audience erupts into cheers once more Slim stands up, taking a bow.

“Thank y’all, thank y’all!” he says, smiling gleefully.

“Now for this next performance, I’m bringing on a young cat that’s from around here.” he added, smiling big.

“He’s one of the finest blues guitar players around here and has a little song for us to hear. So give a big old welcome to the stage: Sammie Moore!” he exclaims, ushering Sammie to come up.

The crowd erupts into cheers as Sammie get up and walk to the stage.

“Let’s go get a better view.” said Pearline as she grabs Valerie’s hand and pull her to walk with her.

Valerie laughs as she’s pulled through the crowd, with the women taking a position next to a pole, having a clear view of Sammie.

“Hello. I’m Sammie Moore. Also known as Preacher Boy since my daddy is a preacher. I’m a sharecropper on a little plantation around here. So I wrote this little song for him and hope y’all like it.” Sammie said as he begins playing the guitar.

He walks down the stairs, greeting some people as he begins to sing.

Something I been wanting to tell you

For a long time

It might hurt you, as he looks at Pearline and Valerie.

Hope you don't lose your mind

Well, I was just a boy, as some people begin stomping their feet.

Bout eight years old

You threw me a Bible

On that Mississippi road

“Mm.” said Valerie, nodding her head to the song.

See, I love ya, Papa

You did all you could do

They say the truth hurts

So I lie to you, as he moves the guitar around.

Yes, I lied to you

I love the blues, as he smiles.

Valerie looks back, sees Stack watching the performance, with Mary next to him a few feet away. She turns forward, taking a big sip as Sammie sings his next part.

Mm-mm

Suddenly, the room because a little brighter as Valerie watches everyone, including Pearline, began to dance.

Oh, mm-mm, as Slim joins him on the piano, playing a tune to accompany it as the band follows.

Hey

Somebody take me, as he drags out each note, surprising both women.

In your arms tonight

Well alright

“Alright.” said Pearline, making Valerie smile.

Somebody take me

In your arms tonight

Yeah, yeah, as Pearline takes the drink out of Valerie’s hand and drags her to the center of the floor.

“Pearline, I don’t dance, so I think Ima go—“ is what Valerie could get out before Pearline cuts her off.

“Follow me. And don’t do it too hard.” she said, kissing her cheek.

Valerie blushes, following each move Pearline does as Sammie continues singing the song.

Somebody take me in your arms tonight

As he begins his next part, the room darkens and becomes a blurry vision to Valerie, which confuses her as it looks oblivious to everyone around her except Sammie.

What is going on? Why does it feel like I’m in someone else’s vision?

As Valerie turns her head, she sees an African dancer run past them as two African music players perform their music around Sammie. She’s in awe, seeing how beautiful they look playing their music next to him.

Mm-mm, as Sammie stands next to her, passionately singing his song.

A man dressed in glam plays an electric guitar on her other side, startling her. She notices he ain’t wearing the same clothes that they are currently wearing, confusing her even more.

“…..is this Sam’s mind I’m in?” she asked, but no one seems to hear her.

Somebody take me in your arms tonight, as a gospel choir appears on stage while the electric guitar gets louder.

Alright, as he walks around, getting even more passionate with his playing.

Pearline dances away as Valerie stands there, trying to figure out how she’s the only one seeing this, very impressed.

The guitar player walks through her, which shocks her. She runs up to the choir, and swings her across them. Her arm goes through them as well, making her step back.

These are spirits, she mumbles. These are his spirits that he has woken up. Meaning it’s the past, the current, and the future in this room right now.

Somebody take me in your—Hey!

A hip-hop beat drops, with Sammie’s vocals mixing in with it.

Valerie turns around, seeing a man breakdancing around where Sammy is walking. Looking up, she sees a man behind a DJ booth, spinning the song.

She smiles, amazed at what’s she seeing and how the future is gonna change a lot for their people.

Until a sharp pain shoots through her chest, causing her to fall to the ground, grabbing it. It gets worse, causing her to whine a bit.

“Help!” she yells, but no one seems to hear her.

As she looks up, she sees everyone dancing, missing her somehow. A few more spirits, including two Xiqu dancers, run next to her, jumping and dancing around room.

Valarie lays there, paralyzed to the floor as the roof catches on fire, with the parts falling onto her. She tries to move, but fails miserably.

“Why can’t no one see that the roof is on fire?!” she yells louder.

But once again, no one hears her.

A burning wood breaks off and is about to hit her, make her close her eyes.

However, nothing happens.

When she wakes up, the building is completely gone, but everyone is still dancing as Sammie, Slim, and the band are still playing. But there’s no sound.

Valerie gets up, looking around the burned area as she sees Pearline dancing with Annie, Lucinda, and Smoke as Stack and Mary dance with each other.

As she looks to her left side, she sees three white people standing so far away, each has glowing eyes. The middle one, a middle aged man focuses directly on Sammie, smiles as his eyes are red and his fangs are out.

Remmick. Oh no.

Just she was about to say something, she is knocked out by a shadow, causing her to fall to the ground.

When she wakes up, she’s leaned up against the pole. Everything is back to normal as the crowd is cheering, amazed at the performance Sammie gave, with Pearline clapping the hardest.

“Wow, he did amazing.” said Pearline, looking at her.

“What….what happened?” asked Valerie, dryness in her tone.

“Damn, girl. All that dancing you were doing took you out.” she said, laughing a bit.

“What? You didn’t say what I saw?” Valerie asked, a confused expression on her face.

“We all did. Sammie hitting notes, everyone dancing and vibing. But you were clearly having a good time.” Pearline replied, kissing her.

Valerie is caught off guard and breaks the kiss, very bewildered. She also realizes she can’t hear her own or anyone else’s thoughts anymore, which is not a good sign.

“…okay, what is going on?” she asks in a frustrated tone.

Valerie looks at her, laughing to herself before wiping her face.

“I think I’m just tripping. I got a little too lost in the dance. I’m fine, I promise.” she replied, grabbing Pearline’s hand and kissing it.

Pearline relaxes, smiling a bit as Sammie comes over.

“He comes our star.” she says, before facing him.

Valerie smiles before looking out of the window, feeling something bad is about to happen. She brushes it off, focusing her attention back on Sammie and Pearline.

Far, far away, in the foggy night, stands Remmick. Along with his two members, they stand on the dirt road, listening to the loud music. He smiles brightly, as his eyes are glowing red and his fangs are out.

“That’s our boy.” he says. “Let’s go get him.”

The other two smile as they begin to walk towards the location, with Remmick’s evil laugh filling in the darkness of the sound.

A/N II: Whew. This was a long one, but it was definitely worth it! Hope you enjoyed it and as always, thank you for reading this! If you want to join the tag list, let me know.

🏷️ : @iloveekeiarah @childishgambinaax @ziayamikaelson @ssamm1984

[iam-whoyouwantmetobe]

Back where you belong

Synopsis - Solána makes her way from Georgia to New York, leaving her trauma behind to start a new life. She’s set her heart on singing and boy can she sing. As Solána navigates her new life and a new job at a burlesque club, her past threatens to unravel right before her very eyes when the twins she fought the hardest to forget, pop up again after 7 long years.

Main Characters - Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore, Solána Âme Knowles

Warnings - SMUT, Tension, Dom Stack, Dom Smoke, Sub OC, Angst, Fluff, Cursing, Violence, Jealousy, Slow burn, Brat, Poly

MINORS DNI

Part 3

-

The twins learned very quickly that Solána was a magnet for attention. Everywhere she went, people followed.

They hated that.

Smoke and Stack were extremely possessive of her. She couldn’t go anywhere without them being right behind her like guard dogs and as much as she tried to act like she hated it, she always felt safer when they were around.

“Ya’ll can’t keep fighting every boy that try to talk to me.” Solána sat on the floor in her baby pink bathroom with alcohol in one hand and a small towel in the other. This was the third time two weeks that the twins fought random little school boys for trying to flirt with her.

“Yes we can and we will.” Stack answered with a shrug as he watched Solána carefully try to clean his knuckles.

“Ya’ll gon get yourselfs’ locked up.” Solána bandaged his hand and placed a small kiss on it before moving on to Smoke. He was quiet as usual, eyes locked on her.

Once she was done, the boys cleaned up and put everything away. They followed her back to the room, lying on each side of her, before wrapping their arms around her body and going to sleep.

Sol got used the boys being around, she kept them well fed and busy. Forced them to do their homework and even took them to get their haircuts. Her neighbors gave her weird looks and strangers whispered behind her back but she didn’t care. All she cared for was the happiness and well being of her daughter and the boys.

Unfortunately it wasn’t long till the twins started hanging out with the local gang kids. They started selling drugs and stealing from anyone they could find. Solána figured it out first, caught them in the middle of a ‘sale’. The disappointment turned her around and walked her home as they followed closely behind in complete silence. Smoke didn’t say anything. He never did. Stack couldn’t figure out a snarky comment to say and the grin he always wore played hide and seek.

Once inside the house, she ignored the blatant elephant in the room and just tugged the boys close to her body. Solána knew that there wasn’t much she could do or say to convince them to choose a better path to walk on. Life had been cruel and unfair to them since babies and the hurt they carried couldn’t be solved with kisses or I love you’s. But she tried, and kept trying and trying up until they disappeared.

-

Solána walked into Âme with her head in the clouds. For the past few weeks she’s been ignoring the twins every attempt at speaking to her. They did everything they could. Every night she’d walk into the dressing room to find flowers at her vanity. When it was time to go home, they’d have a driver drop her off and someone pick her up the next day. Any concerns she addressed with Annie in terms of needing new costumes for her and the girls, would be immediately fixed as the boys would spend hundreds of dollars on new garments. They’d even buy her the latest microphones and have the piano tuned and polished for her every night.

Still Solána ignored them and the twins walked around looking like somebody killed their dog. Their moods were sour and everyone around them always got it the worst.

Tonight was gentlemen’s night, which meant that after their numbers, the ladies would be walking around the club to entertain the men. Solána had just came off the stage, dark blue bodysuit encrusted in diamonds covering her body. She walked right past Stack as she headed to the dressing room to change. His scent hit her nose briefly and she had to bite her lip to keep herself calm and in control.

Caramel stomped around the room looking for her shoes when Solána walked in. “Everything okay?”

“No. Not at all. I’m gon kill Smoke if that man step to me again.” She threw her body on the bench in the middle room and started strapping on her heels.

“What happened?” Solána sits down as she starts styling her hair into an updo.

“He gon yell at me cause I was 20 minutes late today. That man never yelled at me before. I don’t know what you done did to them but please fix it. God I can’t deal with sassy men.” She groans as she stands up, looking at herself in the mirror one last time before heading to the door. “See you out there, boo.”

Solána giggled and shook her head. She grabbed the green dress and snake print boots that Pearline had set out for her before starting to get dressed. Her mind was back on … them. She had spent so much time missing them, wishing to be in their presence again and now. Now she was just angry. How could they just pop up in her life again after so long?

It wasn’t fair.

But her body, her soul, her everything called out to them. The way their eyes drank her in her every night. She couldn’t help but remember the times they would watch her shake under them over and over again. They loved to watch her fall apart, to loose her sanity as they continued to drive into her until she was drained. Not an ounce of energy to even blink.

Shivers ran down her spine as she thought about the way they would talk to her.

“Good girl.”

“You taking us so well.”

“Look how pretty you look with my dick in your mouth.”

A loud groan echoes the room as Solána fixes her makeup. She was frustrated beyond belief, hadn’t been touched by a man in years.

Solána attempted to date after the twins left. Attempted. But anybody she met just wasn’t them. Nobody could ever understand her body in the ways that they did, often leaving her unsatisfied. She hated that they ruined her that way.

With a shaky sigh, Solána adds some perfume to her wrist, ankles and back of her ears before standing up and walking out to the main area.

-

The lights were low and dim, the jazz band played sultry music that made men feral and the women aroused. The air was thick with laughter, liquor and passion. Private rooms were filled with moans and the dance floor burned hot from the sins being committed.

The girls were already making their rounds, some were on the second floor making out with potential lovers, others dancing and most giggling and flirting with customers. Solána walked to the bar to grab a drink, needing the liquid courage to continue on with her night. As she stepped onto the floor, she immediately felt them. Their eyes were burning holes at the side of her face. She ignored them, like she’d been doing for the past few weeks but the way her nipples pebbled under her dress and her body shivered despite the heat in the atmosphere, didn’t go unnoticed by the twins. They knew she felt them looking and that the facade she was trying so hard to keep up, was slowly crumbling.

Regardless, Solána walked with her head high, drink in hand, already feeling the effects of the strong liquor. She went from table to table, smiling wide, touching gently, softly giggling and drinking like there wasn’t a tomorrow to drink for.

“Hey gorgeous, you gon come sit with me for a while?” Solána turned her head to see a scrawny looking man dressed in a suit that was a little too big for his body. She had seen him way too many times before, he always came early so that he could sit in the front. In a half drunken state, she walked up to the man. He stood up as she approached, slightly towering over her. “Well, what’s your name?”

“James. And you’re Georgia, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Is that your real name?” He smirked as he took a swig of his cup.

“Why you asking? You like it?” James stepped closer to Solána, trapping her between him and the table behind her.

“I do. I think it’s sexy, just like you.” She suddenly felt uncomfortable, his breath hot against her face and his body too close for comfort.

“Well- Thank you. I um, I have to go now.” Solána tried wiggling her body away from his but froze when his arms wrapped around her waist. His hands trailed lower and he squeezed her ass before letting them rest there.

“Come on baby, stay a lit-” A loud gasp escaped her lips as James is suddenly ripped away from her and slammed onto the table. Her eyes follow Smoke who wore his anger on his sleeve and Stack’s was loud and proud on his face.

“What the fuck is going on?!” James yelled loudly as Smoke held him down. Stack leaned down to his face, a smirk appearing on his thick lips. “You ever heard of the SmokeStack twins, nigga?”

At this point the jazz band had stopped playing and all eyes were on them. Solána looked around in embarrassment, suddenly sobering up as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

“N-no.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to formally meet you. I hope we not making a bad first impression.” Stack lightly slaps his face. “Unfortunately for you, my brother and I been in a real shit mood lately and your fucking sticky fingers was the icing on the cake.” He slaps James again, harder this time. “Seems like luck ain’t on your side today buddy.” Stack takes the cigar he’d been holding and presses it against James forehead before nodding to Smoke. The man screamed and howled as the older brother grabbed James and dragged him out the club.

“Well… The fuck y’all looking at? Continue on with y’all night.” Stack signaled to the jazz band to continue playing before turning his attention back to Solána who looked at him with nothing but shock in her eyes. “You. Come on.” He grabbed her the arm and pulled her towards his office that sat on the second floor of the club. Once inside, he pulled out a chair for her to sit on before grabbing one for himself.

“I don’t wanna sit.”

“Sit, Solána.”

“No. Why am I here?”

“Sit.” His voice was sharp, jaw clenching so tight it looked like he might break it. Solána sighed dramatically before sitting down on the chair that was placed opposite of his.

For a second too long, nobody spoke. The silence seeped through their skin and bones, nestling itself deep. She couldn’t meet his eyes, wouldn’t dare look at one of the men that could shatter her with just one look. Stack wasn’t having that though, he reached forward and gently gripped her jaw. Their eyes meet and Solána could see the storm that’s been raging through him. “Why am I here Stack?”

“Just wanna talk to you. Please.”

“No.”

“Solá-”

“No. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Just as she stands up, Smoke enters the room, dark brown orbs traveling up and down her body before he closed the door and locked it. Bloodied knuckles briefly catching her attention.

“Unlock the door Smoke, I’m leaving.” He stepped closer, standing next to Stack who was still sitting down.

“No you ain’t” Solána’s eyes go back and forth between the two, realizing she wasn’t going to win this one, she sits back down with a groan and pout of her lip. Smoke watched her, wanting nothing more than to just touch her, feel her, love on her. Show her just how much he truly missed her.

“Now, are you gon finally hear us out?” Stack raised his eyebrow at her.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always got a choice when it comes to us Solána. You know that.” She turned her head to look back at Stack. He was serious, the most serious she’s ever seen him.

Since they were kids, the boys always made sure to remind Solána that if they were ever too overwhelming, she could leave. They always wanted to keep her happy and if her deciding that she couldn’t be with them made her happy, then that’s just something they were going to have to live with.

“Say what you gotta say.” She mumbled, eyes lowering down to her fingers that played with the material of her dress.

“Please believe us when we say that we ain’t never meant to leave you or to hurt you.” Elias removes his hat, placing it on his lap as he kept his gaze locked on Solána. “Our father he- he was drunk that night. Probably high too, I don’t know.” He shifts his body and Smoke notices, ready to speak for him but Stack continued before he got the chance. “He was mad for no reason, screaming and yelling. I got tired of hearin that shit and I told him to shut up.”

He pauses.

“Nigga ain’t like that and so he started beatin on me. Hard. Like I wasn’t his kid. Smoke-Smoke uh. He started hitting him, grabbed a bat and swung it at his head.”

Solána felt like she couldn’t breathe, her hands tightened around her dress as she listened.

“His body dropped to the floor… There was blood everywhere.” Stack cleared his throat, looking up at his brother before turning his attention back on Solána. “The way we saw it. It could go one of two ways. Either he was dead and we was gon let locked up or he was alive and he was gon kill us… So we did the only thing we knew how to do… We ran.”

Their eyes meet again, Solána let a tear slip as she watched Elias. “ Why couldn’t you have just came to me? Told me what was going on? I could’ve he-”

“Nah.” Smoke’s voice vibrated through the room. “That’s what we was tryna avoid. We knew if we ran to you, you and ya mama would’ve gotten mixed up in our mess and after everything ya’ll done for us. We ain’t wanna bring that burden onto ya’ll”

“Ya’ll were never burdens. Not to me or my mama. We would’ve did anything to help.”

“And that’s exactly what we didn’t want. You had dreams Solána. Big dreams. You wanna be a star. You wasn’t gon get there with us around.” Solána shook her head in disbelief.

“How could you say that?”

Stack reached out and grabbed her hand, rubbing circles on her knuckles. “It’s the truth baby. After we left… We wanted to write to you. Tell you we were okay and explain what happened but we knew you would’ve tried to find us, try to convince us to go back home and we just couldn’t do that.”

“The men we turned into… wasn’t the boys you fell in love with. We couldn’t bring you into that world, God forbid you got hurt.”

“We’d burn the whole world down if you did.” Smoke spoke as he walked closer to Solána. He placed his hand on her jaw, moving his thumb up and down as if he was trying to soothe her.

“We couldn’t stay mama. As bad as we wanted to. Our father, he would’ve found any way to get to us. Them guns in his house wasn’t just for decoration.” Solána looked up at Smoke as more tears gathered in her eyes. The feeling of both of them touching her felt surreal but the feeling in her heart just wouldn’t go away. It was as if the love she felt had disguised itself as hurt and now she couldn’t find a way to reverse what it’d done.

“You… you don’t know what I’ve been through since…” She took a deep shaky breath. “I lost you and then … Then I lost my momma and I was so alone.” Solána stood up as she backed away from the twins, suddenly feeling suffocated. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “When you two left, I kept questioning myself. Maybe I wasn’t worth it, maybe I wasn’t pretty enough, maybe I just wasn’t enough.”

Stack stood up, furrowed eyebrows and jaw clenching. “Solán-”

“Could you blame me? I didn’t even get a goodbye note… Didn’t even come to my mommas funeral. I had to bury her all alone, surrounded by a bunch of people who only knew her by face and not who she really was.” A sob ricochets loudly throughout the room and Solána covers her mouth to mask the pain that was itching to pour out. “You left me all by myself. You all did.” She crouches down and buries her head onto her knees as she cried. Releasing all the emotions she’s been keeping in for years.

She felt the both of them sit down on either side of her. Smoke gently picks her up, placing her on his lap while her legs landed on Stack. He gently removed her boots and rubbed her legs and feet as Smoke placed her head on his shoulder, rubbing her back and kissing her forehead.

“We’re sorry Solána. I know that don’t fix nun. I know it don’t turn back time either but we’re so fucking sorry.” Smokes deep voice soothed Solánas ears as the tears continued to flow.

“We love you. Never stopped loving you and we just want a chance to make this right… Solána we changed our whole game plan for you. The goal was always to come home to you but we decided that when we came back, we’d do it right. Find a way out that business and have something to show for it.” Stack pressed a kiss to her knee. “You wanted to sing right? So we opened this club just for you.”

Solána slightly scoffs.

“What, you don’t believe us? It ain’t our name that’s on that door, is it?”

In the midst of all the excitement and chaos, Solána hadn’t even noticed that the clubs name was her middle name. Âme. The French word for soul. As much as she tried to pride herself as being smart, this didn’t click for her and maybe it was because she didn’t think they’d do something like this for her.

“You opened this for me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, looking at Stack like if he held half of her heart in his hands.

“Of course. A couple of years into being gone, we realized how miserable we was without you. We wanted to come home but we wanted to make sure we came home the right way. We stacked our money, lots of it, killed any and everybody who threatened our way out and then moved here. You always said you wanted to sing in New York so we built this for you. You just came to us before we got the chance to get you.”

Solána didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. Her emotions were everywhere, so much so she wasn’t sure if she could even form a sentence. So she just laid there, eyes closed, breathing steady. For once she had felt at peace but she knew they were far from it.

Smoke continued to rub her back, lips pressing to her head every few seconds. Stack rubbed her legs and feet, eyes staring straight at her. She felt how deeply their love ran as their hands attempted to mend her broken heart with such intimacy she hadn’t felt from them in 7 years.

“I - I need some time to think.. Okay?” The twins nodded and helped her stand up. Before leaving, Solána grabbed Smoke’s hand. Stack went and grabbed the emergency kit without needing to be told, a routine he remembered all too well.

She carefully tended to the wounds, wrapping them in gauze before hesitantly pressing a kiss on them. He watched the whole time, barely blinking or breathing. Solána turned to Stack and pressed a kiss on his cheek before turning around and leaving.

-

Solána didn’t open the door to her apartment when Gladys came to bring her food, didn’t open it when Yolanda came knocking and certainly not when the ladies from the club yelled out for her.

But when Annie refused to leave, Solána had no choice.

“Talk to me.” Was all she had to say before Solána broke down.

“I still love them Annie. I’m in love with them. I-I feel like I’m in chains, like I’ve been in them for the past 7 years and I haven’t been freed.” Annie held her as she sobbed. “I tried to act like I hated them but truth is … I’m so in love with them. I can’t breathe when they’re near me. I can’t function properly. I feel … I don’t know. Like I’m bounded by them.”

“Sweetie. It’s okay. You know that right? It’s okay. You’ve been angry long enough. Maybe it’s time to let yourself love them. Let them make it right.”

Solána sighed and wiped her tears. “Yeah?”

“Yes Solána. If that’s what you want… or you can tell them to leave you alone. To walk away.”

Her eyes shifted to the song book that sat at edge of her bed before meeting Annies eyes. “Can I change my song for tonight?”

-

The curtains rose and the lights shined on Solána who wore a deep red silk dress that had an open back. Her hair was up and curly, and a dark blue rose sat next to her ear. The diamonds she wore on her neck and ears shined bright enough to blind anyone who looked too closely.

She was nervous, for the first time ever. Her legs shook a bit as she walked to the piano and sat down.

She could feel them, she always did.

With a deep breath Solána played the first few notes of the song. Smoke and Stack straightened up as they recognized the song immediately.

"It don't got no lyrics yet but hopefully when I feel it, it'll come to me."

They stood up as Solána stopped playing for just a second . She turned her head to meet their eyes before looking down at her fingers that had started playing the song again.

“Sweet love, sweet love, trapped in your love

I've opened up, unsure I can trust

My heart and I were buried in dust

Free me, free us”

Her voice carried throughout the club and people stopped drinking, stopped talking, even stopped blinking.

“I found a man I can trust

And boy, I believe in us

I am terrified to love for the first time

Can't you see that I'm bound in chains?

I've finally found my way

I am bound to you

I am bound to you”

The twins felt their hearts stutter, their body freeze and their minds go blank. Annie watched them with a small smile on her face. The ladies were teary eyed and clutching their chests as if the song was written for them. Pearline couldn’t help but wrap her arms around Annie, placing a kiss to her lips and whispering “I love you”

“So much, so young, I've faced on my own

Walls I built up became my home

I'm strong, and I'm sure there's a fire in us

Sweet love, so pure

I catch my breath with just one beating heart

And I brace myself, please don't tear this apart”

Solánas tears slid down her face as if she gave them permission. She sang through it all, the hurt, the ache, the loneliness, the passion. She poured her entire being onto that stage in hopes to make room for someone new, someone ready to love and to be loved.

“Suddenly the moment's here

I embrace my fears

All that I have been carrying all these years

Do I risk it all? Come this far just to fall?

Fall”

And when the curtains closed, the people were long gone, the lights turned off and the cups emptied. Solána found herself in their office, leaning into Smoke as he closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together. She couldn’t help but let out a small moan as the kiss almost took her breath away. It was sensual and intense. He wrapped his arms around her waist, her hands automatically going around his neck, as they’ve so many times before.

She pulled back and looked at Stack before walking to him, not wasting another second as their lips quickly meet. He groaned into her mouth as his hands softly cradled her face. She felt everything he’d been trying to put into words and it caused her body to shiver.

Solána took a small step back, looking at them as if they’d disappear any second. “Baby steps, okay?”

They nodded and for the first time in a long time, the boys felt at home.

-

Tag list - @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @daniiwrites

[cloveroctobers]

TRACK TWO — MESS WITH MY MAN, Stack Moore (summer writings)

A/N: I can’t tell you how long this song has been stuck in my head recently and then I thought over which character can I write this for? It only makes sense 😆

WARNINGS: a little longer than intended, language, acts of violence, & Mary slander.

synopsis: It was supposed to be fireworks in the sky…but yours went off lakeside. You already knew what it was. The water has its own taste. Just ask Mary.

<- rewind to the previous anthology track here.

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚

[~Clearlake, CA~]

Stack is driving.

The sky is the shade of cotton candy while the two of you are cruising around the curves of the road, and the windows to Stack’s candy apple red vintage Porsche are down to let the fresh air in—cause you “needed” it, his words not yours.

You can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, even underneath his shades as you sat passenger side. He leaned over towards his window, elbow resting on the door with his right hand at the top of the steering wheel, trying to be slick as he’s side eyeing you.

Your gaze was on your swollen and scrapped up knuckles, until you rolled your neck to send Stack a matching narrow of your own eyes.

“See,” he starts out with his usual Mississippi drawl, “I knew yo ass was crazy from the first day I met’cha.”

You scoff, throwing your head back to tap the headrest.

“Says the man that started to square up with a pigeon.”

“That mothafucker took my piguet.”

“Which you should have left in the car.”

“Fuck would I do that for?” Stack questions, “I needed to flex on these yacht ownin’ sons of bitches, just like they try to show out thinkin’ a black man can’t also be successful…you know what? This ain’t even about me. It’s about you, ma.”

A scoff immediately flies out of your mouth, “And what about me?”

“If I remember correctly,” Stack starts, still leaned over, yet chilling against the steering wheel, “You’re always the one lecturing me to be good n’ shit and there you go.”

You point to yourself, making Stack dip his head at you mockingly, “You act like I don’t know when a bitch tryna bait me.”

The bump on the overcrowded boat didn’t feel accidental. It felt more like a shove. It was hard enough to send the blue lagoon in your martini glass sloshing over the rim. By the time you turned to see who did it, she was already facing you—too quickly. How convenient.

There Mary Sicard stood in a red bathing suit to match her cover-up and, most likely, to match someone else.

Stack’s signature had always been red.

She attempted small talk at the start but the jabs landed quicker.

“You know stack told me he was also comin’ to this big shindig.” She cooed, leaning towards you as if she was letting in on a secret rather than making sure you heard her over the music, “I’m sure as soon as he see’s me he’ll have a drink waitin’ for me. He’s always been good at tending to my needs.”

You had no plans to stick around and talk to her. You knew how to be cordial (when necessary) but liking the little hoe wasn’t on your summer to-do list.

Sighing you respond, “Maybe if you tended to Andrew, you know your husband? And his needs, then he wouldn’t be grabbing on asses that don’t belong to him.”

“Fuck did you just say to me?” Mary snarls.

She shouldn’t be so surprised. Word from Smoke was Mary and Andrew had an open marriage—one Andrew only agreed to when he wasn’t sober.

“You heard me,” you smiled wide, voice dipped in fake sugar, watching her nostrils flare, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be huffing and ready to blow this boat down trying to look for my—let me spell that for you, M-Y, my man. Go find yours before he ends up with a charge from one of these other good women, which disrespectfully…you’re not.”

Mary felt a tick in her jaw as you got the upper hand.

You peeped it. You liked it.

The way your vibrant nails caught the light as you waved her off, mirrored in the shades pushed up into her hair, felt like karma waiting for her, served cold, melting like a ice cream cone that you held, with the brightest of smirks on your face.

The difference between you and Mary was evident. She was stuck living in the past and came looking for a fight that had nothing to do with you.

You were the future. Stack’s.

A rising sun that was meant to stay.

“I’ve got your good woman,” Mary calls out to you, hand going out to grip your shoulder and turn you back to her, “The only thing Stack will ever know is me. I bet every second he’s with you, I’m always on his mind. After all…you did miss out on that business trip to New York. Let’s just say…he didn’t waste his time with sleep. Not with me there.”

It’s the wink. And her hand, still on you, starting to burn like a bullet waiting to be fired. Her sunscreen smells like honeyed grapefruit on her wrist. You can feel your blood begin to simmer, because this girl really thinks she’s won.

Won what, exactly? You’d have to ask the delusion infecting whatever’s left inside her skull.

Stack shakes his head at you, knocking his knuckles against your thigh to pull you back down from wherever you were, “And what did you do? Take the bait. Yeah look at you, daydreamin’ so hard about it, got you showing your tooth gems and back rows. Yo ass is a maniac.”

He was one to talk.

But that was another argument.

For another time.

Shrugging you say, “I warned your heffa of an ex too many times now. Then she had the nerve to lie about New York, like you don’t call me a thousand times a day? She’s lucky I didn’t slice those moles right off her dumb face with my martini glass. Shit, hopefully the sharks will bite them off for me.”

Stack highly doubted there were any sharks in that lake. But you probably knew better—since you’d been keeping up with shark trackings the second summer hit.

He runs his tongue across his own grillz in his mouth.

“And you’re lucky we got off the boat on time before the feds showed up. Last thing I need is them on my dick ‘cause my girl was about to body a has-been who can’t let go.”

You roll your eyes but there’s a sense of pride in you. You wouldn’t lie about that as your bruised hand goes to grip his face, facial hair pricking against your palm while you cupped his face, “You love that shit. And you call me the twisted one.”

He doesn’t deny it, sending you a grin full of dimples. “What can I say? I’ve always been attracted to women who can hold their own. The one sittin’ right beside me will remain in my number one spot, though.”

Keeping his eyes on the multiple curves of the road, he can’t help but to slightly turn towards you with his face still in your hand. You nod your head, also moving forward to peck his lips.

“You know you can’t go around praying that people get eaten by freshwater fish, like it’ll finish the job.”

Sucking your teeth, you squeeze his cheeks together in disagreement before letting go, “Mary isn’t people. She’s a raggedy jezebel with nice eyes and a smart ass mouth. I hope jaws eats those first.”

Stack lets out a low whistle, hand going back to your thigh, “Aight killa, let’s try and focus on the fresh air and scenery instead, huh?”

Giving him a flat look with a purse of your lips, you sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest while Stack runs small circles above your kneecap.

“…You’ll rub my back later?”

Stack snorts, not at the fact that you had chronic lower back pain but because you sounded so damn cute, even after that mess you found yourself in.

“Hell yeah I will,” stack answers, “Might even throw in a deluxe package: booty rub included.

It was on the tip of your tongue to throw Andrew’s name in there at the mention of booties but the alarms in your head told you to keep that to yourself. It was in everyone’s best interest and if Stack found out about that?

Both of y’all would have started singing that one Akon track.

With in sync smiles, he keeps running soothing circles against your skin while you turn your gaze to the right, water beyond the rocks, glistening from the sun, just like what you would see in Stack’s eyes whenever he snuck glances at you.

And he would deny it every time with a smirk right on his lips.

Finally.

His moment of peace.

That he loved having because of you.

Until a few days later…

You’re seated in the dining room, Sammie’s lounging in the living room with his guitar in his hands, fallen asleep not that long ago, still dealing with the aftermath of his ex, Pearline choosing to officially get a divorce from her husband and move out of the delta for good once finalized.

She also had wild dreams of being on stage, much like Sammie.

She even performed with him and solo at a few of his shows!

It was rough for Stack’s younger cousin.

So he flew in for a couple of days, staying with you two for a break, after wrapping up his tour out in Chicago.

It seems like lately it’s always been a case of an ex.

You’re smiling down at lil Leroy, Cornbread (Clyde, which still gagged you once you learned his government but Stack was always convinced “Cornbread” was his actual name despite the fact they grew up together) and Therese’s baby boy that you’re watching while the woman had to rush off to the bathroom, complaining about her bladder still not being the same since labor.

You were hesitant since you weren’t around a lot of babies or kids but the braided woman persuaded you that every woman had motherly instincts, whether they were destined to be a mother or not.

It’s just part of nurturing.

Their kid was pretty cute, much to Stack’s surprise but you became good friends with the couple after Cornbread started being around more due to Stack and Smoke’s business endeavors.

He was currently off with Smoke out in Alabama (both men would always be country boys through and through and preferred southern locations over the west) and both you and Stack agreed to keep an eye out on Therese and Lil Leroy.

Therese had a quiet nature about her with a good head on her shoulders and had a photographic memory. Stack was convinced she was a witch too.

That man had something to say about anyone.

Rocking lil Leroy to sleep more than Sammie’s blues, you gaze only shifted to the breath-taking water views out your dining room window, for maybe a minute before you hear footsteps making their way around the corner.

Stack tossed a thick manila envelope on the dining room table, marked: Certified Mail – Legal Notice — making you turn your gaze up to his.

His hand rests on the back of the chair you sat in, toothpick in his mouth as confusion was also the expression on his face.

“You got mail, killa.”

Your eyes zero in on it, taking a deep inhale as you decide, “I’m not interested.”

Stack laughs, reaching over to open it up himself, “C’mon, ain’t you a little bit curious?”

“I’m pretty sure what you’re doing right now is illegal.”

Stack and you both meet each other’s share, holding it before he winks at you and you’re left shaking your head while you slowly rock from side to side with the little one in your arms.

“Gotta keep those hands pretty,” Stack comments as he pulls out papers, “You’re more paper cut prone than me anyway.”

He just wanted to be nosy but alright.

“The fuck?” Is the first thing that comes out of Stack’s mouth as his eyes scan over the words on the paper.

Your eyes go wide, reminding him of the literal child in your arms, “Elias. Baby in the room.”

“My fault, little nigga.” Stack peeks down at the sleeping baby, “Hope the cussin’ from your favorite uncle don’t affect your sweet dreams.”

“Oh my god.” You cover the sleeping baby’s ears, “I see why Bo and Grace don’t want you around Lisa.”

“Please,” Stack scoffs, “That bad ass girl is what? Twelve? Thirteen? She’s taught me some of the best insults I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His eyes are trained back on the paper before he’s flipping through the packet, “Hol’ up…I know this ain’t from Mary’s punk ass man?”

He slaps the paper down on the dining table, face dark and begins to pace, rubbing at his jaw while you lean forward to see his name and Mary’s husband, Andrew, in bold at the top.

You squint. “Is this a lawsuit? I don’t get why it was addressed to me if it’s mostly aimed at you—

Pausing, you flip over the envelope to study the handwriting. You couldn’t be sure but it definitely looked feminine.

She wouldn’t.

Would she?

“This dude really trying to sue us over some boat day shit?”

It was a “us” matter because anybody coming after the other automatically means you’re a target together.

“He wasn’t even around when Mary got her A-S-S handed to her?”

Stack hums, “Hittin’ us wit a civil claim. Says the boat incident led to ‘irreparable financial damages’ and ‘emotional harm to his legal spouse. If I had known that was his business partner’s yacht, we probably wouldn’t have been on that shit no way.”

You throw your hands up at his use of vocabulary with a whole baby in the room again.

“How would he have even known? I don’t picture the two chatting about her beat down over her nasty raisin potato salad. The relationship doesn’t even give secure! He was probably too busy having a heat stroke mixed with that booger sugar thinking that’s enough of an excuse to sexually harass women.” You sass as you also start to flip through the papers, “Says Mary almost drowned—like that’s not her own fault.”

Therese comes back into the room now, clocking the tension as she pauses while she takes in Stack’s heated glance.

Carefully she placed her purse back on the table, while Stack scraped the chair across from you back to plop down in, knee bouncing and elbows pressed onto the table.

“What I miss?” She asked quietly.

Stack sucked his teeth.

You explain with a stretched smile, “Oh nothing just a lawsuit from bitch Mary and her jackass husband.”

“From that boat party during the Fourth of July?” Therese questioned, making you blink at her, “Oh…Annie mentioned something about it, how she was glad Smoke wasn’t goin’ and figured you’d keep Stack in check.”

Stack scoffed, “My sister-in-law should have mixed up a potion to prevent Mary’s ass from starting some shit. I wonder if she knew Mary was going…matter fact, imma call her tonight.”

Annie wasn’t like that.

Yes she was closer with Mary since she got involved with Smoke from the age of eighteen not long after moving up from Louisiana, the two were practically like sisters. Half—maybe but you and Annie were cool too.

She would never set you or even Stack up like that.

Annie wasn’t with the drama.

“Don’t be pissed off when she declines your call.”

Stack shrugged his shoulders like that had no effect on him, “I know where she stay at.”

You laughed.

Therese took it upon herself to take the packet into her hands, sitting at the head of the table to your left, one leg crossed over the other, her single braid resting against her shoulder.

“Emotional distress. Pain and suffering. Property repairs,” Therese summarized, “Looks like he used a template and didn’t even clean up the headers properly. It looks annoying enough. A quick cash grab even but I’m no lawyer, just a postal worker. My cousin practices civil and I can get his entail on it if y’all want?”

You’re nodding your head.

Stack clasps his hands, loudly enough to make Sammie stir but Stack lifts his chin towards the sleeping baby, taking in yet another warning the two women in the room send him, “Say that.”

“We’d appreciate it, Rese.”

She smiles, “Of course. Apparently you got about thirty days to respond…we’ll get this straightened out in less. May I take these with me?”

“Burn ‘em when you’re done,” Stack answers, “I was going to use them as my toliet paper tonight anyway.”

“Boy, ew.” You scrunched up your nose while Therese laughed to herself, placing the packet back into the envelope before sticking them into the outside section of her baby bag.

Therese is back on her feet, “Yeah then it’s best I keep it just in case,” she moves around the dining room to grab the car seat to gently sit on the table, “I best be gettin’ home before it gets dark. My sight is not great at night.”

She thanks you as she takes her baby back into her arms before securing him into the car seat.

Stack is fully waking Sammie up now, ordering him to help Therese to her car. The both of you stand in the doorway watching the three down below in the driveway before you tell Therese to give you a ring when she gets back.

Sammie headed right down stairs once he entered back through the home, ready to fully crash early for the night, leaving you two up on the main floor seated in the living room.

Your legs are thrown over his lap, Stack is slouched down, just finished rolling one up that he split between the two of you.

“You ever think life’d be quiet when we settle down?” He starts, after exhaling.

Lolling your head over to meet his eyes you grin, “You? Settling?”

Stack raises a brow, “You actin’ as if we ain’t been locked in. Bout to catch a case over yo ass and everything too.”

“That’s not settling.”

“What is it then?” He inquired.

A twitch of your lips is prominent, “Ride or die.”

He snorts but gently knocks his forehead against your face before handing the joint back to you, “Corny.”

You laugh once more, taking it and enjoying the quiet.

“Speaking of dying,” Stack begins drumming his fingers against your thigh, “…What’s this I hear about coke head Andrew sexually harassing women? There sum’n you need to tell me? Do I gotta bring Tony out?”

“Tony,” as in his favorite piece he bought from some Italian mobster man when Stack got his business started in Chicago.

Oh no.

At the end of the day…somebody’s gonna get dealt with.

It could have all been so simple, if everyone just learned to stay in their own lane.

Yet with someone like Andrew Sicard, they forget that the streets don’t do lawsuits. His mistake was thinking he could put fear in Stack Moore’s chest.

Andrew liked numbers.

Stack?

He loved headlines.

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ‧₊˚

》 》 NEXT.

[shetheabsolute]

— Fruit for thought

(Sinners, 2000s era au)

Stack × Original character (Imaan Irie Miller)

Pilot, "Flashback to us" (next)

Seven Years Ago

Imaan’s living room glowed warm like late afternoon honey. A floor lamp draped in orange scarf fabric cast little swirls of color onto the walls. The whole place smelled like patchouli and something sweet simmering from the kitchen. The stereo in the corner hummed low with a scratched-up Lauryn Hill CD, track five: "I Used to Love Him."

Stack was posted up on her couch, one arm lazily draped across the back, legs stretched out like he paid rent there. He didn’t. But he looked too at home. That was his thing—always lookin’ like he belonged even where he didn’t.

Imaan sat near him, cross-legged on the floor, braiding her hair in the mirror propped on the coffee table and laughing at something he said—real soft, one of those breathy, mmm-you-a-fool laughs. She was only one braid in, an oversized tee with the collar slipping off her shoulder, and her shorts had hiked up way past her thighs, not that she cared. Her house, her heat, her rules. Stack? He was watching her with everything she did it.

“Mani,” he lingered, voice just above the music, “if I knew you had all this peace out here, I woulda stopped messin’ with them city girls a long time ago.”

She paused to glance over at him. “I don't like my peace being followed by chaos, Stack.”

"Oh, word? Okay then. Be liked that," He smiled, eyes lazy with that flirtation he always carried like a second skin. “You ever think ‘bout movin’ back to Jamaica?”

“Mm, I dunno,” she mused, fingers twisting. “Only when Mississippi start feeling like it don’ want me here.”

“..I want you here,” he almost cooed the words out. Made Imaan’s insides churn just the way she loved.

She turned away to hide her grin. “You want everything that got a heartbeat.”

“Damn that was cold,” he said, pressing his hand to chest dramatically. “And, that ain’t true.”

“Oh it ain't?” she teased, standing now, walking over slow with the braid half-done, end flying out wild. “You mean tell me you don’ still got Mary tucked way in your back pocket?”

Stack leaned forward, grinning. “Why you steady bringin’ up old stuff?”

“Boy, you know damn well that ain’t old,” she said, slipping between his legs to stand over him, “especially if it’s still in rotation.”

He looked up at her, that dimple pressing deep into his cheek. “You jealous?”

“No,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I’m territorial with my peace, not my options.”

He laughed, his head shaking. “Why you always gotta have a mouth?”

“Cause you always come through my house playing.”

The song switched to “Ex-Factor.” Her hips circle a little with the intro. Slow and teasing without her meaning to do it. That bass always did something to her. Maybe he noticed. Probably did becasue before she knew it his hands ghosted up to her waist, fingers curling against her skin. And she didn’t stop him.

“Imaan,” he called, voice dipped in something sticky. Like he didn’t already have her attention.

She looked down at him, face unreadable. He slowly moved to pull her in closer—like he didn’t want to scare the feeling away if it was real this time. His breath brushed against her mouth and her lips parted, just slightly. One more inch and he woulda tasted h—

A hand raises, single finger pressed to his lips, stopping him right there in his tracks.

“You still messin’ with that white girl?”

Stack blinked, caught off guard. “You know, she not really whi—”

“Whatever she is,” Imaan interrupted, tilting her head down, eyes locked onto his, “if she still on your hip...”

She leaned in, lips so close he could taste the candy on her breath.

“…then you ain’t gettin’ none…”

Her finger slid from his lips down to the underside of his chin, shifting his head up. Then she paused, mouth resting over his, breath warm against him.

“…of this.”

And just like that, she pulled away, smooth and sure, shifting to sit back down on the floor like she didn’t just leave him breathless.

“You messed up for that,” Stack groaned and fell back onto the cushions, dragging a hand down his face.

She smirked over her shoulder. “Told you ion do second.”

【Present Day】

Folks call her Bag Lady.

Not outta spite or mockery—no. It was just how things worked round here. If you lived far off the gravel roads and came to town dressed like Erykah Badu meets thrifted Dior, carrying a red fishnet bag stuffed with poem books, personal grown fruit, and a single carved wooden pipe? You got a name. Became a story.

But Imaan never minded.

The south had a lot brewing in it. It had home written in its air, soul, people–new and old, it had culture. It is the culture. It might not have looked like much to outsiders, especially in the new millennium. Just a stretch of open sky, faded paint on wood porches, and dust that clung to shoes like secrets. But to Imaan, Mississippi had become her quiet place. Her new beginning. Even if it never stopped whispering about her.

She moved to the States from Mandeville, Jamaica when she was eighteen—alone, carrying little but a suitcase, her mother’s anklet, and a purse slung low over her shoulder. That was when people around town started calling her bag lady, half-joking, half-afraid. She didn’t bother correcting them either. She liked to let people talk.

Imaan lived by herself on the countryside. A pretty but worn two-story, off-white house with metal gates surrounding the border and a funny sign on the entrance that let people know she wasn’t someone to be scare of. Wild grass wrapped around the porch, and wind chimes she made from colored glass bottles and metal spoons danced on her window ledge. Imaan kept to herself. Smoked her weed in the morning with tea, read romance paperbacks with dog-eared pages, and grew fruit to sale. Her eyes were soft brown, framed by lashes too perfect to fake, and her skin glowed with the kind of care that comes from loving yourself in private.

Back in the day, there use to be Stack.

They talked sometimes. Not often, but enough to linger in each other’s memory. She liked that he didn't always try to impress her. Sometimes he’d catch her outside while she was watering her herbs or walking back from Bo Chow’s store with her fishnet bag heavy with meat or soap.

He’d lean up on her porch rail, shirt clinging to his sweat, and say something like, "You always smell like sumn sweet, Mani." Or "let me buy you a drink tonight." He was slick that way.

She never let him touch her for too long, though. They may have had their silences, their glances, but she wouldn’t cross that line—not when she knew he had Mary, even if no one else knew for sure. Imaan wasn’t about to play second fiddle to nobody.

So when the twins dipped for Chicago, she knew he wasn’t gonna say goodbye. No letter. No call. Just gone. But still Imaan stood on her porch for a while the next morning, watching the empty road like it owed her something.

Then seven years passed.

People forgot how close Imaan and Stack might’ve been. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Imaan stayed quiet, laid back, kept to her routines like clockwork. But some day's, when she was alone, she still thought about him. Wondered if he was okay. If he still thought about her the way she did him.

She hated that she cared so much. Cared about everything with her heart, not her head. It was cruel when she felt that way about the man who had left her high and dry. Life was fucking cruel.

But that was just how things went. Win some, lose some.

masterlist

[pupcor3]

Can we please talk about Pearline in sinners like omg

ILL COME OUTSIDE FOR YOU

[twistedsistas-stuff]

Sunday Storms

Sammie Moore x Reader

@chanelbarbbb request

Cw: rough sex, consensual choking, crying during sex, verbal conflict, and religious themes

The sky was still dark when Sammie eased outta bed, careful not to wake her.

She laid curled beneath the sheet, bare shoulder peeking out, lips parted just a little like she was still dreamin’. Her breath rose soft and slow, and he stood there a second longer than he should’ve, just watchin’.

Then he leaned down—pressed a kiss to her temple, warm and slow. Whispered against her skin, “Be back ‘fore long, baby.”

She didn’t stir. Just sighed a little, turned deeper into the pillow.

Sammie straightened up, ran a hand through his hair, and reached for his guitar case like it was armor. Stepped out the door into a world still quiet with sleep.

⸻

The Prayer House— 9:12 a.m.

The choir was already singin’ when Sammie walked in. “Power, Lord!” ringin’ from the rafters, the old church swayin’ like it remembered freedom in its bones.

He moved slow up the center aisle, Sunday suit hangin’ just right, guitar slung across his back. Folks turned to watch him pass, but he didn’t look at none of ‘em.

Only one man mattered in that room.

Reverend Moore locked eyes with him from the pulpit. That look he gave Sammie? Wasn’t fatherly. Wasn’t proud.

“You bring that devil’s music in here again, boy,” the reverend said low, but sharp, “you best be ready to answer for it.”

Sammie stopped at the altar, nodded once to the pianist, and took hold of the mic. The church quieted down, like breath caught in a throat.

“I ain’t bring no devil’s music,” Sammie said. “I brought what God put in me. That’s all I got.”

The first strum of his guitar rang out low and full. The kind of sound that came from a deep place—lonely, rooted, tired but still fightin’.

Then he sang.

Not from the hymnal. Not from no book. Just from his chest.

It was the kind of voice that made old women clutch their hearts and made young folks lean in like it held secrets. He sang of wanderin’. Of bein’ misunderstood. Of findin’ God in the cracks—between hard days and blue notes. His voice was velvet rough, full of tears unshed and prayers not quite prayed.

And his daddy?

Reverend Moore sat back tight-lipped, jaw workin’. He couldn’t deny the spirit movin’ in that room. Couldn’t argue with the way Sammie’s voice wrapped around them rafters like incense.

Sammie strummed one last slow, syrupy chord before stepping away from the mic. The congregation didn’t erupt—just sat in a hush, like they ain’t know if they should clap, pray, or cry.

When it was over, no one clapped. No one breathed. The silence itself was holy.

Sammie lowered his head.

“Amen.”

He nodded once. Packed up his guitar. On the way down the aisle, folks reached for him—shaky hands, whispered praise:

“Sammie, baby, the Spirit was in you today.”

“That voice—you touched somethin’ deep.”

“You sure you ain’t ready to come back home for good?”

He smiled polite, nodded soft, but didn’t linger. The sun was creepin’ in through the stained-glass, dust spinnin’ in the light. He was two steps from the door when—

“Samuel.”

His daddy’s voice. Still sharp enough to make the back of Sammie’s neck twitch.

“Sit.”

Sammie looked over and saw Reverend Moore sittin’ in the second pew from the front, one hand on his Bible, the other drumming slow against the wood.

Church had emptied, but the air was still thick. Heavy with spirit, sweat, and all the things unsaid.

Sammie sat down slow, a pew between them. Guitar leaned close by.

For a long moment, neither man spoke. Just the creak of the wood under their weight, and the faint hum of cicadas outside.

“You enjoy that?” Reverend Moore asked, not lookin’ at him.

“I ain’t come for enjoyment,” Sammie said. “Came to tell the truth.”

“That ain’t truth. That was pain. That was rebellion. You turned the Lord’s house into a roadhouse.”

“I turned it into a mirror,” Sammie shot back. “What you mad at? The words I sang? Or the fact that folks listened?”

Reverend Moore’s fingers stilled. “They don’t need more music, son. They need saving.”

“And who said they can’t find it in a chord?” Sammie leaned forward, voice lower now, almost a growl

“Jesus walked with whores and drunkards, but you won’t let me sing cause my gospel got a backbeat?”

“You sound just like him,” Reverend Moore said. “Soft on sin. Loud with pride.”

That name again. His uncle’s ghost stirrin’.

Sammie’s jaw flexed. “He was more God-fearing than you ever been.”

The reverend turned now. Looked straight at him. “You keep walkin’ this path, boy, ain’t gon’ be no comin’ back.”

Sammie held his gaze. Steady. Defiant. “Then don’t expect me to crawl.”

He stood. Reached for his guitar.

“Pride goeth before the fall,” his daddy muttered.

Sammie turned, just before steppin’ into the sunlit aisle. “And truth goeth whether you like it or not.”

Then he walked out—boots echoing against the wood, leavin’ behind the pew, the pulpit, and the man who never saw the light in his voice.

The door creaked open slow, like even the hinges knew he was carryin’ more than just his guitar.

Sammie stepped inside, head low, jaw locked tight. Suit clingin’ damp to his back, face dark with somethin’ he couldn’t shake. He didn’t say nothin’—just shut the door behind him and stood there, stewin’.

You felt it the second he crossed the threshold.

You moved quiet through the kitchen, filled a glass—two fingers of brown, splash of ginger, a little sugar just to take the edge off. You pressed it into his palm. He took it, didn’t look, didn’t thank you. Just threw it back hard enough to make your throat ache in sympathy.

No flinch. No sigh. Just the sound of glass tappin’ back against wood.

“You let him get to you again?”

Your voice barely broke the stillness, but it landed like a stone on water.

He didn’t answer right away. Just rubbed a hand over his face, eyes still stuck to the floor.

“I ain’t never wanted him to hate me,” he muttered. “Ain’t never asked to be no disappointment.”

“You ain’t no damn disappointment, Sammie.” You stepped in closer. “You hear me? That man just mad the church loves you the way he never let ‘em love him.”

“I ain’t ask for none of that,” he snapped. “I just sang.”

“And you sang the truth. That ain’t no sin.”

He shook his head, jaw twitchin’. “You don’t get it.”

“Try me.”

That got his eyes on you, finally. And they were blazin’.

“You don’t know what it’s like to carry his name,” he said, voice rising. “To be his son. Every note I sing, every chord I play, he see it as a stain on his damn legacy.”

You stepped up chest to chest now, voice firm. “So what? You gon’ let him shame you into bein’ quiet? Again?”

“You think this easy for me?!” Sammie barked. “You think I like feelin’ like I’m killin’ my daddy every time I open my mouth?”

“You doin’ what he never had the courage to do!” you shot back, voice rising to match his. “You tellin’ the truth! That ain’t weakness, that’s faith.”

Sammie’s hand slammed down on the kitchen counter, glass rattlin’ with the force. “You don’t get it! Every Sunday I show up, it’s like beggin’ for a father that don’t exist!

You flinched—but only for a second. Stepped right back in.

“And every Sunday I sit here watchin’ you come back torn to pieces, tryna patch you up just for you to shove me away like I ain’t tryin’! Like I ain’t the one stayin’ when he keeps rejectin’ you!”

His chest heaved. Yours too. Two fires facin’ each other, breathin’ the same smoke.

“I ain’t ask you to fix me,” he bit out.

“And I ain’t tryna fix you,” you snapped. “I’m tryna love you. But you so busy fightin’ ghosts, you can’t even see what’s right here.”

Silence dropped like a hammer. Heavy. Breathing ragged between you both.

Sammie looked at you like he wasn’t sure whether to run or fall to his knees.

But he did neither.

Just turned his back, fists clenched at his sides, and said low—

“Then maybe you should stop tryin’.”

That line dropped like a match in gasoline.

You didn’t even think. Just saw red.

“The hell you just say to me?!”

Your voice cut the air in half, and his shoulders tensed—but he didn’t turn.

“Oh, you bold now?” You were already on him. “You think you can talk to me like I’m some damn stranger?”

You shoved him—hard. His body jolted forward from the force, and when he turned, that heat in his eyes wasn’t pain.

It was fury.

“Don’t start with me,” he warned, low.

But you wanted to fight. You wanted to make him feel everything he kept tryna bury.

“I’ll start and I’ll finish, Sammie! Don’t you ever talk to me like I ain’t the one holdin’ you down when your whole damn world falls apart!”

He clenched his jaw. Fists balled. Veins jumpin’. You saw it all.

And you poked it.

“What you gon’ do, huh? Raise that voice like your daddy do? Ball up them fists like you him now?”

You shoved him again, chest to chest. “Go ‘head! You wanna shut me up, right? Make me stop.”

That was it.

He moved.

Fast. Hard. Sure.

Snatched your wrists in his hands like he’d been waitin’ to, spun you and pressed you to the wall

“You bout’ done runnin’ that mouth ?”

His voice was a low growl, breath hittin’ your neck, hands pinning your arms beside your head.

Your breath caught.

But you weren’t scared.

Still tryin’ to push back. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

His grip tightened.

“You want me to make you stop? Here I am.”

You bucked against him and he pressed his hips flush to yours, holding you there, commanding your whole body without even breakin’ a sweat.

“Say another word,” he hissed in your ear.

“See what happens.”

You twisted in his hold, breath comin’ short now.

Not from fear.

From the way he was claimin’ you without askin’.

“You gon’ act right?”

You stayed quiet.

So he dropped his mouth to your neck—bit. Hard. Just enough to make you gasp.

“That’s what I thought.”

He pulled your arms down just enough to flip you around, back hittin’ the wall now, his chest pressin’ into yours. Eyes locked. Fire to fire.

And he kissed you.

Not soft. Not sweet.

It was a punishment. A reward. A command. Tongue deep, mouth hot, takin’ control of everything you had left.

“You done now?” he asked again, voice hoarse, lips hoverin’.

You still wouldn’t say it.

So he grabbed your thighs, lifted you clean off the ground, and pressed you tighter to the wall.

“I said—” his voice dropped dark— “You done now?”

He kissed you like it was the last word.

But you pulled back, chest heaving, eyes locked on his. And you smirked.

“That all you got, Preacher Boy?”

His jaw ticked.

Breath slowed, but his eyes? Blazin’.

“Still talkin’,” he muttered, grip shiftin’ on your thighs, diggin’ in harder like he was remindin’ you who had you pinned.

You leaned in, your voice slick and daring, heat dripping from every word.

“If you gon’ shut me up, Sammie, then do it. But don’t half-step.”

He stared at you for half a breath, jaw clenched, teeth grit like he was holdin’ back a flood.

Then he dropped his head, low and dark at your neck, teeth grazin’, breath scorchin’.

“You want me to take it there?”

Voice raw.

Mean.

Real.

“Take it,” you hissed, bitin’ your lip, back archin’ into him. “Handle me.”

That was all he needed.

His hand slid under your thigh and he lifted you higher, slammed your back harder into that wall—not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you feel him. All of him.

You gasped.

He didn’t slow.

His mouth crashed into yours again—teeth, tongue, spit, heat. Hands roamin’ like he was claimin’ territory, not beggin’ permission.

“Mouth still runnin’?” he growled, voice muffled against your lips.

You bit his bottom lip, pulled it between your teeth.

“Mmhm.”

Then smirked again.

“You gon’ fix that, or you just gon’ look pretty?”

He chuckled—dark and dangerous.

Then he turned, carried you off that wall with one arm under your ass, stridin’ toward the nearest room like you ain’t weigh nothin’.

“You talkin’ a lotta shit for somebody who’s bout to be beggin’.”

—————-

He kicked the bedroom door open with his boot, you still gripped tight in his arms.

Tossed you on the bed like you ain’t nothin’ but breath and bad decisions.

You bounced, laughing—tauntin’.

“That all you got, big man?”

He stood at the foot of the bed, dark eyes draggin’ down your body like he was about to destroy it just for breathin’ too loud.

“You got one more time to test me.”

His voice was low. Threat-level low.

You sat up on your elbows, licked your lips slow, still smirkin’.

“Or what? You finally gon’ stop talkin’ and start doin’?”

That was it.

He jerked his shirt over his head, muscles flexin’ tight with tension, skin gleamin’ with the heat he brought in from outside.

He was already on you—grabbin’ your ankle, yanking you down the mattress with one pull.

You squealed, tried to sit up—he shoved you flat.

“Uh-uh.”

He crawled over you, caging your body with his. “Keep that ass still.”

“Make me.”

He grabbed your jaw, tight. Not cruel. Claimin’.

“You don’t wanna play with me right now, girl.”

“You don’t scare me, Sammie.” You grinned through clenched teeth. “I like this.”

“You gon’ beg me to stop by the time I’m done.”

He pressed his forehead to yours.

“And I ain’t.”

His hand slid down your body, no finesse, all possession. Grippin’. Squeezin’. Daring you to keep that mouth open.

You did.

“Gon’ have to do better than that.”

So he did.

His hand shoved beneath your waistband, no warning, fingers draggin’ through you like he was searchin’ for somethin’ to ruin.

Your body jolted.

“Sammie—”

He laughed dark. “What happened to all that talk?”

You squirmed, grabbed at his arms.

“That all you—mm—”

Your breath hitched when he curled his fingers just right.

“Go on,” he said, teeth at your ear. “Tell me what I ain’t doin’. Run that mouth again.”

You gasped, eyes rollin’ back as he picked up pace, rough and unrelentin’, thumb circlin’ like he had a point to prove.

“Fuck—”

“There she go,” he murmured. “Knew I’d shut you up.”

He bit down on your shoulder.

“This what you wanted, huh?”

Your hips bucked into his palm.

“Say it.”

You turned your head, lips brushin’ his.

“I wanted it rough. Not lazy.”

That line hit him like a slap.

His face twisted—something dark, something hungry.

“Oh, aight.”

Then he slammed his fingers back inside you, deeper than before, faster, thumb rubbin’ circles that had your back archin’ off the bed.

“Say it again,” he growled.

“Say it with your fuckin’ chest.”

Your jaw dropped, breath caught.

“Fuck, Sammie—”

“Nah, don’t start cryin’ now.”

His hand moved like punishment—no rhythm, just need. Sloppy, wet, deliberate.

He leaned over you, watchin’ your face as he worked you.

“Said I was lazy, right? You want effort?”

He grunted.

“Take it then.”

Your legs shook, hips jerkin’, hands clutchin’ the sheets—tryin’ to brace for how good it hit.

“That’s right.”

His other hand grabbed your thigh, shoved it wider.

“You feelin’ that? Huh?”

You couldn’t speak—just noddin’, eyes wild.

He was locked in now—movin’ mean, wrist flexin’, knuckles hittin deep. His breath heavy as yours.

And then—

you snapped.

Back arched, mouth open, eyes shut—you finished hard, loud, legs tremblin’ around his wrist.

You barely came down before he yanked his hand out, wet and glistening, wiped it across his tongue like he was tastin’ victory.

Then—

he shoved you flat back on the bed, hands firm on your thighs, yanked your bottoms off with no patience.

You barely caught your breath before he was there—

face between your legs, mouth on you like revenge

“Thought I was gon’ stop?”

He growled it, breath hot, tongue mean.

He didn’t ease in. He devoured.

Fast. Messy. Relentless.

Suckin’ your clit, tongue flickin’ like it was tryin’ to break you open again.

“Don’t run,” he said, holdin’ your thighs down.

“You wanted this, remember?”

He shook his head into you, tongue draggin’ through slick, nose nudgin’ your most sensitive spot—no mercy.

He paused just long enough to spit on it—then went right back in, two fingers slidin’ back inside without missin’ a beat.

You choked on your breath, legs kickin’.

“Uh-uh,” he said, mouth full of you.

“You gon’ take all this shit.”

No warm-up. No sweet nothin’. Just two rough hands spreading you wide and that mouth diving in like he had somethin’ to prove.

His tongue landed fast and hard, flickin’ over your clit like it pissed him off, suckin’ it sharp, steady, mean. No rhythm to ease you in—just pressure, punishment, purpose.

His fingers followed, slick and quick, two slid in deep with no warning, curlin’ upward and pressin’ like he was tryin’ to wring you out from the inside.

You yelped, back archin’.

“F-fuck, Samm—” you stammered.

Pop. His hand slapped your thigh, fingers never slowin’ inside you.

“I said shut that pretty mouth.”

You gasped, hips twitchin’.

His mouth pulled off just long enough to speak, breath hot.

“Keep talkin’, I’ll stuff it full.”

Then he dove right back in.

His tongue lashed over your clit like it was beggin’ to be tamed. No teasing, just relentless heat, the wet sound of him suckin’ you down loud and obscene between your thighs.

Your hands scrabbled at the sheets, mouth falling open in another gasp.

“I—Sammie—baby, please, I can’t—”

Pop.

Another slap to your thigh, harder this time.

“Did I say you could speak?”

You whimpered

He leaned up just enough, lookin’ down at you with fire in his eyes, mouth and chin glistening.

“Nah. You gon’ take this. You run that mouth so much—now you gonna learn how to lose it.”

His fingers pumped faster, thumb draggin’ tight, rough circles over your clit like he was tryna send you to hell and heaven in the same stroke.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, body burnin’ up with every curl of his knuckles.

Your legs shook, a moan caught deep in your throat. “S-Sammie, I’m—fuck—I’m—”

He watched you, eyes locked, jaw clenched.

“Yeah? You gon’ cum? Go on then. Let it out. Squirt on my fuckin’ face—let me see you fall apart.”

You cried out as your whole body seized up, hips jerkin’, thighs closin’ tight around his face. But he grabbed your hips and held you down—made you take it.

And then—

You broke.

The pressure burst, a hot flood pouring outta you, wet and wild, coating his mouth, his chin, the damn sheets. You squirted hard, loud, and messy—guttural moan spillin’ from your lips as your body shook through the high.

But Sammie? He didn’t stop.

He growled into you, tongue flickin’ faster, suckin’ you through every tremble.

“That’s it,” he rasped, mouth still locked to you. “You’ll never forget who made you cum like that.”

Your voice broke into sobs of pleasure, words lost in the mess he made of you.

And still—he kept goin’.

You were tremblin’ now, damn near sobbin’ through clenched teeth, thighs sticky and twitchin’ with every flick of his tongue. He was still down there—mouth locked, fingers deep, thumb pressin’ circles over that same oversensitive spot like he wanted to make you scream till you had nothin’ left.

“P-please—” you gasped, body buckin’ under him

He growled against your skin, eyes dark, wrist flickin’ sharp inside you.

“That don’t sound like you beggin’. Come on, pretty girl—cry for me.”

You sniffled, chest stuttering with each breath.

“Cry right,” he whispered, mouth dragging up your thigh, “or I’ll take you there again.”

And just like that, you fell apart again—chest archin’ off the bed, a high-pitched sob spillin’ from your throat as another wave hit you. He held you through it, tongue slow now, just enough to keep the sparks dancing on your skin while your body tried and failed to settle.

Your thighs trembled. Your arms weak. Your eyes slick with tears as you stared up at the ceiling, wrecked.

And only then—only when he’d finished you good and raw—did Sammie rise.

He crawled up your body slow, deliberate, mouth still wet, chin glistening, breathing hard through his nose. Your legs were still twitchin’, body heavy, arms limp at your sides.

He reached down, pulled himself free, thick and heavy, already throbbin’ from everything he’d done to you.

Pressed the weight of him right against your mess.

Didn’t slide in just yet.

Just leaned over—forehead to yours, breath mingling—and spoke:

“I ain’t wanna be angry with you, baby.”

His voice was low, honest, but still edged in heat.

“It’s just that mouth”

You whimpered, lips parted, body still flutterin’.

“Don’t you worry. I’ma fix it.”

And then—he pushed in.

Slow. Deep. Thick enough to punch the air out your lungs.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came

He filled you inch by inch, stretchin’ you around him like he was tryna make space where there wasn’t none.

His forehead dropped to yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, hot and rough.

“Look at me.”

You blinked through tears, eyes heavy-lidded.

“Keep lookin’. You feel that?”

He rolled his hips, pulled out halfway, then slid back in with a grunt.

“That’s me. Deep. Right where I belong.”

You tried to speak—tried to say his name—but all that came out was a whimper, broken and raw.

Sammie leaned back, braced his hands on your thighs, and folded you up slow, pushin’ your legs toward your chest, thighs pressin’ down on your stomach.

Still inside. Still thick. Still ownin’ every inch of space in you.

He sat back on his heels, palms steady on your knees, lookin’ down at you like you were a song he’d written just for this.

“Now be good,” he said, hips startin’ to move, “And let me finish teachin’ you.”

Sammie stayed sittin’ back on his heels, deep inside you, thick and stretchin’ you wide as his palms held your legs up against your stomach. He stared down at you—face tight, breath comin’ hard.

And then he started movin’.

Long, slow strokes.

Grindin’ his hips forward ‘til you felt him press deep at the top of your walls, then pullin’ out slow, makin’ your body ache with the loss, only to slam it back in with a grunt.

Your mouth opened, but nothin’ came out yet. You was too stunned, too full.

His voice came like a sermon.

“You know where you fucked up?”

He slammed in deep.

“First—runnin’ that mouth like you ain’t know who you was talkin’ to.”

Stroke.

“Tryna tell me what I was and wasn’t doin’. Lazy? Me?”

Stroke. Harder.

Your back arched.

“Then pushin’ me—again. After I told you, stop.”

Stroke. Deep, punishing.

You whimpered, body squirming beneath him.

“Ain’t no safe word in attitude. You asked for this.”

Another thrust—hard enough to shake the bedframe.

Your voice cracked on a moan.

“Now look at you.”

His hands slid under your thighs, pushin’ ‘em higher. He leaned in, angle changin’—stroking deeper.

“You loud now?” he taunted, smirking as your breath stuttered.

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a broken cry.

That made him grunt—approval, possession, pride. And then he picked up the pace.

Sharp, thick strokes. Slappin’ skin.

Every inch he gave, he took back harder.

You were moanin’ now, voice high, pitch hittin’ something desperate.

“Mmmhm. There she go.”

He leaned in.

“Loud again. Just how I like you.”

Your body jerked, legs tremblin’, hands graspin’ for anything to hold onto—but he was already leanin’ down, pressin’ his chest to yours.

Bear hug. Tight. Locked. Still fuckin’ you.

One arm curled under your shoulder, the other hand slid to the back of your neck, holdin’ you still. His lips came right to your ear.

And he whispered.

“Shhhh. It’s okay now, baby.”

Stroke.

“You done run your mouth.”

Stroke.

“Lemme take care of it now.”

Stroke.

“Don’t cry, baby. I got it.”

His voice was soft. Sweet. Condescending.

Like he was rockin’ a child.

Like this wasn’t him fuckin’ the lesson into your body—this was him takin’ over.

You sobbed out his name again, walls clenchin’, breath short and fast.

He smiled into your neck.

“That’s it. Let me fix you.”

Still inside you, chest to chest, Sammie breathed through his nose—slow, heavy, hot against your cheek. The bear hug stayed tight, one arm coiled around her back, holdin’ you like you was some fragile thing he was done bein’ gentle with.

But the other hand… it moved.

From the back of your neck—soft at first, thumb slidin’ along your jaw. Then firmer. Fingers curlin’ under your throat.

Chokin’ you. Not too tight. Just enough to hold your breath, make you focus. Make you feel the control—every inch of it.

You gasped, eyes flyin’ open as his palm flattened against your throat, fingers snug, thumb restin’ just under your chin.

“You feel that?” he whispered, voice calm like this was just conversation.

He rolled his hips slow, deep, grindin’ up into you like he was moldin’ you around him.

“You know what this is?”

He thrust again—sharp.

Your legs kicked a little.

“This right here’s a correction.”

Your hands clawed at his back, mind foggy, but body on fire.

“I said shut that mouth—now look at you,” he rasped, pressure on your throat increasing just enough to make your breath hiccup.

“Loud. Wet. Shakin’. And still not done.”

His hips picked up—deep grind, then a sharp thrust. Then again. And again.

You couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t beg. Your breath was stuck under his grip, the sound trapped and rising in your chest like a scream with no exit.

And he felt it. All of it.

Your walls flutterin’ around him, thighs tremblin’, tears spillin’ down your cheeks as that wave crept up again.

“Mmm, yeah,” he murmured against your mouth. “Go ahead. Give it up for me, baby. Let that pussy break for me one more time.”

You tried to nod. Tried to answer.

But that hand on your throat? It held everything.

And that’s when it snapped.

Your body arched, legs stretchin’, arms flailin’ as another orgasm ripped through you—harder, deeper, full-body violent. Your moan barely slipped past his grip, just a choked sob as you squirted again, coating both your skin and his, shakin’ like you was comin’ undone from the inside out.

He held you through it—didn’t let up. Didn’t stop strokin’.

Just watched your face twist with pleasure, pain, surrender.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, mouth on your cheek, hand still firm around your throat.

“Let me teach you what your mouth forgot.”

You ain’t even had a second to breathe ‘fore Sammie snatched you over, face-first to the mattress, legs spread, ass high. That sweet boy gone—all that was left was heat, muscle, and spite.

He grabbed your hips up and drove in deep, thick and full, makin’ the whole damn bed creak under you.

“Unnnhh—fuck, girl…” he groaned, voice dragged low and gritty, accent thick like swamp air.

“Told yo’ ass, keep talkin’… now look atcha.”

His palm flattened ‘gainst your back, pushin’ you down each time the bed bounced you forward. He held you like that, pinned, used, his hips smackin’ into you over and over, the slick slap of skin echoing off the walls.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere now. Naw.”

You tried to speak—voice caught, cracked, a sob laced with a moan.

“Sam—Sammie please—too deep—”

Your hand reached back, tryin’ to catch breath, catch mercy.

Pop.

He slapped that hand away, grabbed both your wrists up, pulled ‘em back behind you with one big hand.

“Told ya I don’t give a fuck.”

His voice was strained now, words meltin’ at the edges.

“Said too deep, huh? Mm. Good. That’s where I live.”

He thrust. Hard. Deep.

“You gon’ feel me in that spine, sugar. Gonna limp for days.”

You cried out, sobbin’ straight into the mattress.

“You sound so goddamn sweet when you hurtin’.”

His mouth fell open, breath hot and wild as he ground into you. That drawl slurred more with each stroke.

“Mmmfuck—make all that mouth just to end up cryin’ on this dick.”

You was shakin’ now, belly clenchin’, whole body caught in that rhythm, that storm of him.

And he was gone. Eyes rollin’, muscles flexin’, hips drivin’ like he was tryna bury himself in you.

“Ain’t no runnin’.”

Thrust.

“Ain’t no stoppin’.”

Thrust.

“Your attitude. Your smart mouth. You all mine.”

Each one hit harder, deeper, uglier.

You wailed, and that pushed him over the edge. He leaned in, wrapped that thick arm around your waist, pullin’ you up, his chest on your back, body shakin’ behind you.

His other hand slid up—from stomach to chest, to your throat.

Wrapped tight. Claimin’.

“Shhh now,” he breathed, right by your ear, that Southern lilt drippin’ like wet heat.

“Hush now, baby. S’okay. S’okay… gon’ take it.”

You sobbed his name, and he held it right there, pulsin’ inside, rockin’ his hips in short, deep strokes.

“Tha’s it… go on ‘n finish again for me. One mo’ time, baby. Jus’ one mo’…”

Still inside—deep, thick, all him. Her ass high, her body tremblin’ against his, her face hot and flushed , cryin’ soft now.

He leaned over her, chest on her back, mouth open at her ear, breath hot and hitchin’.

“Still clenchin’ on me, girl…”

His voice was slow, lazy with heat, all Mississippi drip and thunder.

“Like yo’ body don’t know when to quit.”

And then his hand came down between her legs—slick, sure, mean.

Two fingers rubbin’ her clit, not soft.

Fast. Precise. Knowin’.

“C’mon, baby… you finishin’ again witcha man.”

His hips rolled into her slow.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere till you do.”

She whimpered, tryin’ to shift, to breathe.

And then—

Her hand reached back.

Shaky fingers slid low, findin’ his sack, cuppin’ his balls soft, thumb draggin’ ‘cross the bottom like she was feelin’ how full he still was.

Sammie damn near folded.

“Mmmfuuuck—” he growled, voice breakin’ straight through his throat.

“Tha’s how you gon’ touch me? You nasty lil thing…”

She rubbed him gentle but firm, that grip sendin’ fire straight through his spine.

And he sped up—fingers draggin’ tighter over her clit, hips grindin’ harder, deeper, his balls hittin’ her hand with every thick stroke.

“Lemme—lemme feel you lose it, baby…”

He choked out the words, hips stutterin’.

“One mo’ time f’me, c’mon now—fuck—lemme fill you up while you cry.”

And she did. Her body broke again.

A sob, a moan, a shudder ran through her, her hand squeezin’ on him as she came, loud and wet and ragged.

Her thighs jerked, back archin’, palm still on his balls like she was tryna milk him down with her.

Sammie snapped.

“God—DAMN!” he shouted, slamming into her once, twice, then holdin’ deep, pulsin’, emptyin’ all that heat inside.

His chest collapsed to her back, that hand still trapped between her legs, twitchin’ from the aftershock.

Both of y’all a wreck.

Sticky. Loud. Torn down and rebuilt.

And his voice?

Low. Filthy. Tender.

“Mmm. You earned that, baby… earned every drop.”

The room was quiet now—heavy with sweat and breath and the ghosts of every cry you’d let loose against them sheets.

Sammie still lay pressed to your back, arms around your waist, breath slowin’ against your neck. But the tight hold he had on you loosened, just enough for him to pull out with a low, shaky groan.

You whimpered—sore, spent, legs weak.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, gentle this time, before shiftin’ off the bed, barefoot on the hardwood. No words yet—just movement. A hand draggin’ down his face, another reachin’ for a clean towel from the dresser.

He came back quiet, eyes a little glassy now. All that fire faded down to embers.

Kneelin’ beside you, he wiped you clean slow, careful over your thighs, the back of your knees, down where y’all were still stickied together.

“Didn’t mean to say all that,” he mumbled, voice thick, accent warm like Sunday syrup.

You blinked at him, rollin’ onto your side. “Me neither.”

He gave a small, tired smile. “You cut deep when you want to.”

You breathed a laugh, eyes glossed but soft. “So do you, Sammie.”

For a minute, just the hush of cotton on skin, his hand movin’ gentle as water. He tossed the towel toward the hamper, missed, didn’t care.

You reached up, dragged a lazy finger along the line of his jaw. “Your daddy ever hear you scream the Lord’s name like that again…”

“…he might actually combust.”

Sammie huffed—a real laugh this time, low and from his belly.

“Man, he’d start speakin’ in tongues… ‘cept not the holy kind.”

You both cracked up, exhausted and grinnin’, breathless in a whole new way.

He shook his head, leaned in, crawled back into bed, stretchin’ out over you like he was home.

“Mmm,” he hummed, mouth on your temple, “If I’m goin’ to hell, I’m takin’ you with me.”

You let him kiss you slow—real sweet this time, mouth warm, lips draggin’ over yours like he was sayin’ “I’m sorry” with every stroke.

No more fire. Just you, him, and the peace that only comes after losin’ yourselves in each other.

——————

I AINR PROOFREAD YALL HOPEFULLY ITS FINE mommy’s sleepy

[strawbrrycowboy]

Divinity

Pearline.

You had heard the name when someone announced her going onto the stage. It might not have been one of them fancy stages, but you could picture it all the same. Her energy was divinity, uplifting the entire joint until everyone was stomping their feet and clapping along.

Nestled between the crowd was you, clapping in time with the stomp of her heels. A wide smile crept up onto your lips as her song carried through the air. Heat engulfed you on either side, starting to brew down in your gut. The feeling was inevitable and all from Pearline.

When the crowd surged you found yourself pressing against the stage as she crawled across it. You wondered if the wood hurt her knees or what it would be like to kiss them better, to slide them apart. Darting your eyes around her, you studied the way her body moved like water. Nothing hindered her from expressing herself the way she needed to, wanted to. She was free. Up the curve of her back to her shoulders to the way her neck arched as she sang. Feeling the people around you grow louder, you glanced at her face, catching her staring you down.

Pearline’s smirk grew at the sight of your eyes widening almost imperceptibly. She was close enough to the stage now that she could see how you took a small step back, hands pulling at the front of your dress. Another step back followed and then you were turning and rushing over to the bar counter in a flustered trance.

You pressed your hands to the counter, leaning forward as you tried to gather your breath. “One glass of corn liquor please,” you said quietly, smiling politely at Grace. She nodded and glanced over your shoulder at Pearline wrapping up her song. “She’s something ain’t she,” Grace drawled as she poured your drink and slid it across the counter. You refused to turn around.

“Yes ma’am.” Grace smirked at your response and shook her head, “Don’t gotta call me that. Enjoy the drink,” she gathered your payment and went back to the kitchen. You exhaled heavily, nervously taking a sip to cool your nerves.

It did little to soothe you when a presence appeared next to you. Your breath instantly caught in your throat as Pearline approached, her sweat sheened skin practically glowing under the dim lights of the joint. She murmured something low, your surprise preventing it from reaching your ears.

When Pearline asked if you had enjoyed her performance, you could only manage a flustered and breathless “Huh?” in response. “Me on that stage,” Pearline clarified, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her full lips. “You looked like you were enjoying the show.”

You nodded slowly when the words registered in your mind, finding your voice after a moment. “You looked like a goddess up there,” you murmured, captivated by the memory of Pearline’s sensual movements. “Truly.”

Pearline let out a soft, melodic laugh, reaching out to give the reader’s bicep a light, lingering slap. “Well, I could have said the same about you, baby,” she purred, her eyes gleaming with playful mischief as she smirked. “Maybe more cherub-like…except for the way you were looking at me up there.”

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and undeniable attraction, unsure how to respond to her advance. But Pearline merely squeezed your arm gently, her touch sending electric tingles through your skin.

“I didn’t mind,” Pearline continued, her voice a sultry sweet lull. Then, with a slight correction, she added, “I don’t mind.”

With a final sway of her hips that had your gaze transfixed, Pearline turned and sauntered towards the back room, casting a smoldering look over her shoulder. The invitation was clear, and you stood frozen, heart pounding, acutely aware of the lingering sensation of Pearline’s fingers trailing down your arm.

Though uncertainty fluttered in your chest, the magnetic pull of Pearline’s captivating presence was utterly encompassing. Steeling your nerves, you took a deep, steadying breath and followed after the alluring woman, drink forgotten at the bar.

[woodle-isbae]

Coming out of hibernation, fighting back exams and large amounts of work-- just to cleans the sinners tag, expect multiple one shots 😭

[enticingmelanin]

The Reckoning: A Modern Stack x Black Reader Fanfic

The Reckoning || Elias "Stack" Moore x Black Reader (modern au)

Rating: E for Erotic.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, spit swap, and explicit language. No Mary love to be found here, babes. 🤣 18+ Only.

Word Count: 6k+

Summary: All you wanted was to celebrate your friend, but your past wouldn’t let you live in the moment. When old betrayals resurface, will you bury the pain and hold a grudge—or finally face it and allow the reckoning to commence?

════════════════════════════════════════════

You're enjoying the club atmosphere, letting it sink into your skin. Deep red lights throb through the space like a heartbeat, casting sultry shadows across velvet booths and glass tabletops. Fog hovers over the dancefloor, diffusing the light into something dreamlike. The bass is relentless—low, hypnotic, pulsing in your chest like a second heartbeat. Laughter rings out nearby, glasses clink, bodies move in sync with the music under the seductive pull of strobe lights. For a moment, the energy feels good. Alive. Freeing, even. You haven’t been out like this in a while, and it shows. Your body aches to loosen up, your shoulders to drop, your mind to stop spinning.

Tonight, though, is different. Special because it's Pearline’s birthday. You, Annie, and Sammie had planned every detail to a T—dinner at Marcel’s, one of your favorite spots in Atlanta, complete with warm lighting, shared appetizers, and belly-deep laughter. The food was incredible, the company even better, and the love? Tangible. When gifts were unwrapped and desserts devoured, Pearline had looked around the table and said, “I’m not ready to go home yet.” So, of course, you ended up here—VIP section of a club none of you could name, champagne flowing, the night still young. It was only right that she got what she wanted.

Still, something twisted in your stomach every few minutes. A quiet, persistent knowing that someone else was on their way. Someone you weren’t ready to see.

“Aye, cousins! Over here!” Sammie’s voice cut through the music, loud and sharp as he waved frantically at the entrance to your section. He was grinning, drawing attention from a pair of tall figures stepping into the dim light.

You drained the last sip of your cocktail, the ice clinking as you sat the glass down a little too hard. “That’s my cue to go,” you muttered, already gathering your things.

The protest was immediate from the group. Pearline’s bottom lip jutted out into a pout, arms folded. “Y/N, please stay. You can still have fun.”

“Not with him around I can’t,” you replied quietly, not trusting your voice to do more. Your expression faltered, and the group saw it. You didn’t need to say his name. The ache in your tone said it all.

Just then, the DJ shifted into Glorilla and Meg Thee Stallion’s Wanna Be. The beat hit hard, the crowd exploding in cheers. You should’ve known that song would play tonight. Should’ve known your resolve wouldn’t survive it.

“Oh hell no, now you really can’t leave!” Pearline yelled, tugging your hand like a child in a candy store. “You know this our song, girl! Just one more dance. Pleeeeeaaaaassssse?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching with a sigh. She wasn’t wrong. This track had seen you through makeup applications, glow-ups, and late-night drives screaming the lyrics with your girls. But your heart? It was still tethered to the past, the part of the club where he was now standing, watching. Breathing the same air as you again after seven damn years.

“Go on, y’all,” Annie chimed in, her tone calm, reassuring. “We’ll keep him occupied. Go have fun.”

Sammie nodded, his eyes kind. “We got you.”

“Fine,” you said, dragging the word out like it was being pulled from your soul. “But just this song. Then I’m out.”

It was perfect timing—or maybe fate playing its usual cruel game—because as Pearline led you to the dancefloor, your past and his twin strolled into the section like they owned the place. Of course he wore black. Of course his eyes found yours instantly. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a glance back.

You let Pearline pull you into the music, into the red haze and thrumming bass. You danced like your heart wasn’t shaking in your chest. Like your stomach wasn’t tying itself in knots. You moved with your girl, laughing, swaying, twerking, rapping along to every word like you were center stage.

"He don't wanna be saved, don't save him That is not my nigga, don't claim 'em 'Bout 20 missed calls, he faded White boy wasted, Channing Tatum"

You spit the lyrics with more heat than usual, like if you said them loud enough they might actually reign true. You wanted to embody the same cold confidence Meg was preaching. You wanted to be untouched, unbothered, immune. But the truth was, even after all this time, even after all the silence and distance, he still had the power to stir something inside you.

And that was the worst part.

Because deep down, you weren’t mad he was here.

You were mad you still felt something.

Why couldn’t he just let you forget?

The lighting, though dim and sultry, still kissed the golden brown of your skin and cast a low shimmer over your curves. Your dress—cowl-neck silk slip in rich copper—clung to you in all the right places and teased cleavage. Its delicate spaghetti straps showed off your shoulders, and the fabric danced with every movement, catching flashes of red light from the club’s lasers. A thigh-high slit teased with every step, giving just enough to draw attention without begging for it.

The room pulsed with bass and heat, the kind of beat that thumped through your body and into your bloodstream. Between the crimson haze, electric strobes, and the crowd of bodies swaying, grinding, laughing. Some women hyped y’all up, some gave side-eyes laced in envy. Hungry glances followed you, admiration and desire woven into each lingering look. But there was one gaze—hot, heavy, and razor-sharp—that pinned you to the ground.

You felt him before you saw him. That slow burn under your skin. Like being watched by a memory you never quite shook off. You didn’t need to look to know Stack was in a trance, getting an eye full of everything he let go.

The song faded into another anthem, but you were done. Staying any longer felt dangerous, like playing with fire and pretending you wouldn’t get scorched. You needed to get out before it all unraveled.

“Booo. Come on, party pooper,” Pearline teased, dragging you by the hand toward VIP so you could say your goodbyes.

“Bye, love. Get home safe. Don’t forget to text when you do,” Annie said, hugging you tight.

“I will,” you promised, then turned to Smoke as he stepped up.

“Good seein’ you, Y/N,” he said with a casual warm smile, embracing you in a quick side hug.

“It’s good seein’ you too,” you replied, meaning every word. No matter how complicated things got with his brother, you always had a soft spot for Smoke. He was good people. You were genuinely happy he and Annie found their way back to each other. She glowed differently these days.

Sammie pulled you into a tight hug next. “Sure you don’t want me to call you an Uber?”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m good. That little cocktail barely did a thing. It was givin’ more juice than alcohol.”

Sammie chuckled, voice like the richest whiskey. “Say less.”

Then Pearline wrapped you up, squeezing you like she didn’t want to let go. “Thank you for everything, friend. We gotta do this again.”

“Of course, boo. We’ll definitely run it back. Happy birthday. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she beamed.

As you turned to grab your clutch from the couch, your breath caught—and time stilled. There he was.

Elias “Stack” Moore.

First time in a long time. And damn… he looked even better than memory allowed. Same outfit as his brother without a white top—black tank top stretched over a muscled chest, tailored slacks hugging narrow hips, black dress boots sharp enough to cut glass. But while Smoke kept it minimal, Stack stood out like always. Around his thick wrist were layered Cuban link bracelets in gold and platinum. Diamond studs glinted at each ear, and a heavy rope chain sat bold across his collarbone. A fashion statement. A walking temptation. A problem.

You blinked yourself out of it and grabbed your things with purpose, ready to ghost the moment before it swallowed you whole.

“No hug for me, huh?” His voice, slow and deep with that southern molasses drawl, rolled over you like smoke. It used to soothe you, make your knees weak, whisper your name in the dark while you shook under him. Now, it just pissed you off.

You sucked your teeth and strutted toward the exit, hips swinging with extra intent.

Kiss my ass.

Your heels clacked against the glossy floors as you crossed the final stretch. You pushed open the door and stepped out only to be met by a curtain of pouring rain. Of course. You’d completely forgotten about the storm the Weather Channel app had warned you about. No umbrella. No jacket. Just your dress, your heels, your clutch, and your skin about to be soaked.

Guess I’ll have to make a run for it...

But before you could take that first brave step into the parking lot, a black leather jacket appeared above your head like a shield.

The culprit?

None other than Stack himself... Of course.

“Let me walk you,” he said as your eyes met, the gold caps on his canines catching the glow of the streetlights.

Your brows furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t need your help,” you snapped, the sharpness in your tone slicing clean through the air.

He huffed, jaw tight, frustration flickering in his eyes. “You really wanna drive home soak n’ wet?”

Soak n' wet...

You remembered the days he caused you to be exactly that... and not from rain.

“Oh, now you give a fuck about what I want?” you shot back, your voice thick with venom. The words landed hard, making him visibly flinch.

His expression softened. Some of that pride faded as he took a step closer. “Y/N, please. Just let me walk you to your car and we can talk.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, your voice cracking as heat pooled behind your eyes. “About how you promised me you were gonna stop runnin’ the streets and go to school? How you said you loved me, fucked me ‘til the sun came up, and then disappeared without a word? Or… about how you somehow got wrapped up in Mary again when you got back to Clarksdale?” Your voice broke, each word a dagger. Tears slid down your cheeks. “Mind you, this is after that bitch did everything she could to manipulate you into doin’ her biddin’. And let's not forget how her proudly racist ex almost had you killed.”

His eyes closed. He took a deep breath, chest rising. “Baby, I’m—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “I don’t want your sorries or excuses. And I ain’t your baby… not anymore.” Your last words came out in a whisper, nearly drowned by the sound of your own heartbreak. The sobs were coming fast behind the lump in your throat, but you pushed through, determined to end this with what dignity you had left.

“Do me a favor, Elias. Leave me… the fuck alone. It’s the one thing you’re good at.”

Before he could respond, you turned and bolted into the rain, letting it soak your skin as you ran toward your sleek white Benz coupe.

When you finally slid into the driver’s seat and locked the doors, it all came crashing down. The tears, the ache, the truth you didn’t want to face. Sobs racked your body as you crumbled in your hands. You didn’t want to admit it, but the pain only cut this deep because the love you thought you’d buried was still alive. Still burning. You were still in love with the boy who’d become your first and only love… and the one who shattered your belief in fairytales.

At this point, it felt like God and your ancestors would have to come from the heavens and manually untether the two of you.

After pulling yourself together and carefully maneuvering through the drenched streets, you finally pulled into the garage of your townhome safely. You sighed as the familiar clatter of your keys hitting the gold tray on your entryway console filled your ears.

Home sweet home...

Your nerves slowly began to unravel now that the warmth of your home wrapped around you. The earthy tones, warm lighting, natural textures, and sweet, spicy scents delivered a calming peace to your spirit. You liked going out and having fun, but it was too easy to be a homebody in a space perfectly curated for your soul.

You took off your heels and padded barefoot up the stairs toward the kitchen. You needed something else to soothe the ache, something warm—comforting. You settled on a mug of hot chocolate, extra marshmallows. The creamy scent rose with the misty steam, following you as you climbed the last flight of stairs toward your bedroom. Your feet were thankful for the plush, fluffy beige carpet that welcomed them with every step.

You returned your heels to their rightful spot in your walk-in closet, then made your way into the bathroom. The ceramic mug clacked against the stone countertop of your double sink vanity as you set it down. A soft sigh escaped you as your gaze landed on your reflection. No amount of powder or setting spray could’ve saved your makeup after the night you had. Thankfully, your kinky tresses were still neatly secured in the hip-length goddess braids you’d spent hours getting done.

You quickly bent over and swept the braids into a messy bun atop your head. After a sip of your chocolatey comfort, you washed the day off your face, leaving your skin soft and fresh. The sound of fabric hitting the floor followed as you peeled yourself out of the tight dress. You turned toward your glass shower, ready to summon hot water to your rescue—when the sharp chime of your doorbell rang out, startling you.

Your brows furrowed.

Who the hell...

You grabbed your phone and checked the Ring camera.

Annie?

Relief hit first, but confusion quickly followed. You had no idea why she was at your doorstep. It looked like the rain had eased into a gentle sprinkle, and the porch overhang kept her dry. Still, you didn’t want to keep her waiting. You grabbed your white fluffy robe, tied it around your body, and jetted down the stairs.

The moment you opened the door, you were met with Annie’s signature scowl and the soft, familiar scent of her vanilla-based perfume.

“Didn’t I tell you to text me when you got home?” she asked, one hand on her hip.

Classic Annie, the protective “mom” of the friend group.

A soft laugh slipped from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Sorry, Annie bear,” you replied, lips pulling into a playful pout. Your nickname for her softened her expression just a little. She was as cute and sweet as a teddy bear—but when it came to her people, she turned into a full blown mama grizzly.

“I was gonna call you after I got out the shower.”

“So I could worry ‘bout you bein’ toppled over in a ditch somewhere in the storm?”

“I’m sorryyyy. You know if you called I would’ve answered,” you whined, dragging the last word.

“And you know if you’d called me as soon as you got in, like I asked, I wouldn’t’ve had to pull up,” she said, eyeing you up and down like a disappointed mother.

You nodded, lips pressed together. “Touché… But did you really come all the way here just for a wellness check?”

“Well… yes and no,” she said slowly, her tone hesitant. “There’s someone else that was worried about you too.” She stepped to the side and your heart dropped like a weight in your chest.

There he stood. Stack. Behind him, you spotted Smoke behind the wheel of his black Tahoe.

“Oh, hell no...” you muttered, your stomach twisting into a knot all over again.

“Look,” Annie began gently, trying to read your face. “He told me how upset you left, and that’s what really got me worried. I know he hurt you somethin’ fierce. And you and I both know I understand your pain more than anyone,” she said softly, alluding to Smoke ghosting her the same way. “I’m not sayin’ y’all gotta kiss and make up. I’m not even sayin’ you gotta forgive him, but…” she paused, exhaling. “At least let him apologize and leave nothin’ left unsaid. He owes you that at the very least. And believe it or not… he’s hurtin’ too.”

Your eyes dropped to the hardwood floor as her words sank in. Your chest tightened. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face. But another part—God help you—still wanted to hear what he had to say.

“He’s got five minutes. That’s it,” you said firmly.

Annie nodded, offering a small smile before she turned and signaled him over. With every step he took toward you, your anxiety curled tighter around your ribs. You folded your arms and tapped your fingers against them, trying to keep it together.

When he finally stood beside Annie, she turned to him, but his dark brown eyes never left your face.

“Now Elias, you’ve got five minutes to say what you need to say, so you betta make it good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, flashing a subtle smirk before finally glancing at her.

“If he acts a fool, Smoke'll handle it,” she added, only half-joking.

You knew she wasn’t playin’. Smoke had always been the more grounded of the two, stepping into the role of a father figure where their own father had failed miserably.

You gave her a nod. She winked at you, then made her way back to the car. The slam of the car door echoed faintly in the distance.

Your attention shifted back to him.

His eyes flicked behind you, taking in the cozy aesthetic of your home before settling on you again. “Damn, girl,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I see Atlanta’s been good to you.”

His gaze dropped slightly, lingering just a second too long on the curve of your cleavage where your robe had shifted. Your eyes had slipped observing his muscular arms and the mist of rain glistening off his skin. Immediately, you crossed your legs and tightened your grip on the collar, pulling the fabric closed, snapping him out of his daze.

Stay on task.

“Five minutes, Elias,” you reminded him sharply.

He licked his lips and nodded, letting out a sigh. “I—I fucked up.”

“That’s an understatement,” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him with a raised brow.

His jaw clenched. Hands disappeared into his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them. “What you want me to say, hm?” he asked, his deep Southern drawl gravelly with frustration. His eyes pierced through yours, searching, desperate. “That I’m in love with you? That I think 'bout ya eh'ry day?”

You turned your head away, blinking back the tears that had been threatening to fall since he showed up. But he reached out, fingers warm and steady as they gently cupped your chin, guiding you back to face him. You should’ve flinched. Should’ve pushed him away and slammed the door. But the weight of his hand, the way it steadied your trembling—felt too damn familiar, too comforting, to resist.

“Well, I am,” he said softly. “And I do.”

Your breath hitched.

“I just wanted to keep you safe. And that was never gon' be there… And it was neva gon' be with me, not with the man I was back then.” His voice cracked slightly as his thumb brushed along your jaw, slow and aching.

Your heart twisted at the confession.

“I meant what I promised you, I did,” he continued, eyes locked on yours. “But me and Smoke had one last job. One last scam, one last lie, one last robbery... and we’d be free.”

He shook his head, jaw tightening. “But I knew that shit came with consequences. I refused to let that touch you. If anyone ever laid a finger on you…” He paused, eyes darkening. “I’d kill ‘em dead myself.”

You shook your head, tears finally breaking free. “So, you’d kill for me,” you said bitterly, “but you couldn’t just stand by your word?”

He lowered his head, exhaling sharply before tilting his face to the ceiling like the answers might be written there. “Fuck,” he muttered.

When his eyes met yours again, they were glossy with tears. Haunted.

“The job… the money… Mary. All of it was to sabotage what we had. It was easy, and I was good at it. Mary knew that—hell, we grew up in the same house. She knew my mess, enabled it. But you…”

His voice softened.

“You saw me. Really saw me. The good, the bad… the ugly. You saw who I had the power to become. And that scared the shit outta' me, Y/N.”

Tears ran freely down both your faces now.

“I didn’t think I was worthy of your love,” he confessed. “My daddy wasn’t shit. And somewhere along the way, me and Smoke started believin’ we weren’t either. But you—” he paused, breath catching. “You made me want to be better. And I’ve been tryin’. Eh'ry day since.”

His voice cracked as he stepped just a little closer.

“Not just for you, but for me. Because I finally understand—I don’t have to keep payin’ for my father’s sins. I don’t have to repeat that cycle. I’m my own man. I know what I want. And I want you… and the life we always dreamed of havin’ here.”

A smile broke across your face even as your tears flowed, soft and tentative.

“There’s that smile I missed so much,” he whispered with a grin of his own, swiping a hand down his face to dry his tears.

“Boy, hush,” you said with a shaky laugh, nudging his chest. “You can’t just sweet talk me and think I’m gonna forgive you.”

But he had already cracked your armor. You both knew it.

He shook his head, his thumbs tenderly swiping your cheeks. “I ain’t just talkin’. If I gotta' prove it to you eh'ry day for the rest of my life, I will. If you’ll let me.”

You exhaled slowly, heart thudding loud in your chest as you looked into the eyes of the man who’d broken you—and who just might be ready to heal you too.

“If you hurt me again, Elias…” you said firmly, voice steel. “Consider yourself dead to me.”

He chuckled quietly, nodding. “I expect nothin’ less. I’d pick out my casket myself. But I swear to you… I’ll never do that shit again. I only wanna see you happy.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners. “Tell 'em you’ll see ‘em tomorrow.”

His eyes widened with a brow raised. “You sure?”

“You better go tell ‘em before I change my mind.”

Without another word, he took off down the walkway toward the car. You let out a much needed real, unguarded laugh, the kind you hadn’t felt this deep in awhile.

Smoke gave a quick honk as they pulled away. You waved, and Annie blew a kiss from the window. You caught it in the air, heart a little lighter than before.

As Stack made his way back up to the porch, you stepped aside, letting him in. He closed and locked the door behind him, turning to face you like the lost boy you used to know.

“I love you,” he blurted, shy again now that the moment had caught up to him.

“I love you, too,” you replied without pause.

He stepped closer, tucking a loose braid behind your ear with a gentleness that made your knees weak. “And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes welled up again, that single word hitting like a bomb. You wanted to be okay without hearing it—but hearing it now… brought you peace.

“I know,” you whispered.

His lips curled into a crooked smirk. “You gon' kick me out if I kiss you?”

You giggled, swatting at his chest. “I hope you plan on doin’ more than that. You got a whole lotta makin’ up to do.”

His gaze darkened with desire, voice dropping low. “Indeed I do.”

And just as thunder rolled across the sky and rain came pouring again, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was deep, soft, and long overdue. A moan slipped from your lips as he pulled you tight, your hands cradling his face, your body melting into his.

The storm raged outside.

But inside…

You were finally home... and so was he.

He sucked on your bottom lip in the midst of the kiss, slow and savoring. His fingers worked at the knot of your robe, but you stilled his hands, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "I was 'bout to take a shower before you got here. Wanna join me?" you whispered against his lips, that mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

He smirked, eyes already dark with anticipation. "Lead the way, gorgeous."

You grinned, grabbing his hand and leading him up to your room. You put an extra sway in your hips, knowing damn well he was watching. Then, smack! A firm palm landed on your ass, followed by a possessive squeeze.

You gasped, turning over your shoulder. "Elias!"

His rich chuckle echoed through the stairwell. "Don't act like you ain't want it. Walkin’ like that, waggin’ that tail knowin’ I missed it." And truthfully... you couldn’t argue.

In the bathroom, you moved with fluid grace. You lit the jarred candles across the sink, their flickering flames casting golden shadows over your skin. Stack watched you like a man starved, eyes trailing each soft gesture as you flicked the light off, shifting the room’s energy with the warm, amber glow. You grabbed a clean washcloth for him, set it down, and opened the shower door to get the water running—perfectly warm, steam already rising.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes gleaming with temptation. Your fingers found the knot of your robe again, this time undoing it slowly before letting the fabric fall from your body like silk. Without a word, you stepped into the shower, hips swaying as if daring him to follow.

He didn’t hesitate. You watched as he stripped, his gaze never leaving yours. Every inch of brown skin, every curve of hard-earned muscle made your pulse flutter. And when his boxers dropped—your mouth watered, your center ached. The steam wasn’t the only thing making the air heavy now.

You reached for your African bath net and poured tea tree soap onto it, letting the crisp, herbal scent fill the space. Then, with the damp washcloth in hand, you slowly began smoothing it over his chest and shoulders. He leaned in, catching your lips in a deep, sensual kiss as the two of you bathed one another—washing away regret, pain, silence. Wordlessly sharing the softest, rawest parts of yourselves.

Your kisses drifted from his mouth to his jaw, then down to the faded scars across his chest and arms left by his father. He tilted his head back, biting his lip, breath shallow. His dick pressed hard against your pelvis, and you sighed at the delicious friction. You kissed your way back up, nipped at his ear, then gently sucked on the lobe. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he dropped his head, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you under the waterfall stream. Milky suds slipped down your bodies, carrying the past down the drain. Your bun, heavy with water, finally gave way—your braids tumbling down your back. Stack took it as a sign. He turned you gently and pressed you against the cool glass, your back meeting it with a soft gasp. One hand fisted your braids, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your neck. A moan slipped from your lips as his mouth found your skin—kissing, then sucking hungrily at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His hand slid down to grip your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The thick tip of his dick glided between your slick folds, teasing you, making your stomach flutter. "Fuck, I missed you," he breathed against your neck just before slowly easing inside—inch by thick, aching inch.

You gasped, head falling back against the glass as he stretched you open. It had been a while since you let a man touch you… too long, and the last time hadn’t been worth remembering. But this—this was different. Your walls gripped him, molded to him. He cursed low, his mouth falling open as he began to grind into you with slow, deliberate rolls. A small line of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth.

"Baby... mmm, you're droolin'," you muttered through soft moans, breath hitching.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand, blinking like he’d snapped out of a trance. Then his gaze locked on yours—hungry, unashamed.

"Want some?" he asked, voice low and dirty.

Your pussy clenched in response. You nodded, tilting your head back, mouth parted and waiting. Slowly, he let a thin stream of spit drip into your mouth, landing warm on your tongue. You moaned as you swallowed, and he groaned, crashing his lips into yours with a kiss soaked in years of longing.

His thrusts deepened, pace quickening as his hand gripped your ass, angling you just right. Your moans and his groans tangled between kisses until you tore your mouth from his.

"S—Stack," you moaned, voice breathless and trembling.

He lifted you off the slippery tile with ease, hoisting you up by your thighs. Your ass met the fogged-up glass as he began pounding into you, hips snapping with hunger. Your breasts pressed tight to his chest, arms locked around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Ooooh, shit," you gasped, eyes rolling back.

His lips trailed your chin, kissing sloppily through his grunts as your walls clenched around him. With every thrust, his groin nudged your clit just right, and the soft scrape of his low pubic hair only heightened the sensation. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parting in silent cries as your body trembled with need.

"Mm-mm. Let me see those pretty eyes, baby," he said, voice thick with desire. You blinked them open, brows pinching in pleasure. "There you go," he cooed with a cocky smirk, then rolled his hips deep, hitting your spot with brutal precision. Your breath hitched, lips trembling. Every stroke had your body unraveling.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Let me hear you," he panted, tightening his grip on your thighs. "I know I'm hittin' that spot only I can reach," he growled between groans.

You cried out, high and helpless, your pleasure echoing in the steamy room. He wasn’t wrong—no one ever fucked you like he did. No one worshipped you like this.

"I love you so much. Mmm... And I'm gon' prove it to you eh'ry day," he mumbled against your skin, hips never slowing. You whimpered back an I love you too, your voice barely audible between moans and shallow gasps.

Your body went stiff, toes curling as your climax crept up, relentless and hot.

"Fuck, Elias. Right there," you gasped.

Stack’s brow furrowed as he looked into your soul, his rhythm steady and ruthless. "Mhm. Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, voice low and deep, and you couldn't fight it. The head of his dick kissed that sweet spot again and again, his thick, veined shaft stroking your walls perfectly.

You trembled in his arms as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cries mixed with his groans as he slowed his strokes and emptied inside you, heat flooding your core. His lips moved over your face, then down to your breasts, planting kisses before teasingly grinding into you again—still hard, still wanting.

"You got another one for me?" he asked, voice husky, before capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily.

You held the back of his head, biting your bottom lip, eyes still glassy. "Try me and find out," you dared.

His brow arched at your challenge. With effortless strength, he set you down and spun you around. Your chest met the glass this time, nipples pebbling against the cool surface. You whimpered at the contrast. Using his foot, he nudged your legs apart, exposing your dripping pussy to the warm, humid air.

The side of your face rested on the steamy glass, your breath fogging it further as you glanced back at him. Just as your eyes met his, he slid back inside—slow, thick, full. Your eyes fluttered shut again, lips parting as you melted into the moment, savoring the feel of him all over again.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you back to meet each deliciously slow thrust. From this position, you could feel him deeply—so deep it felt like he was stroking your soul, caressing your stomach from the inside. You whimpered, palms flattening against the fogged-up glass.

“Uunh, that feels so go—”

Stack’s sudden, ruthless plunges cut off your sentence, replacing words with sharp cries of pleasure. Your hand shot back to press against his abs, trying to ease his depth, but he quickly caught both your wrists and pinned them above your head, palms splayed flat on the glass.

“You were doin’ so good, baby,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “Want me to stop?” he asked, slowing his strokes just enough to make you ache for more.

You shook your head fast, panic rising in your chest at the threat of that bliss ending. “N—No. Please... don’t stop,” you breathed, desperation coating your voice.

A smug grin played on his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

He picked up the pace again, his thrusts unrelenting. He watched your face, studied the way it twisted in pleasure, the way your ass rippled against his hips with every impact. The sight had him biting his lip. He pulled your braids to one side and leaned forward, kissing the curve of your back, slow and reverent.

Chills rippled up your spine. Your pussy clenched hard around him, dragging a grunt from his throat. He kissed his way up to your neck, then your cheek, his breath hot against your damp skin while the soft hairs of his beard tickled it.

“I’ll never stop, Y/N,” he groaned, voice thick with promise. “Never stop lovin’ you, never stop showin’ you... and never stop makin’ you cum.”

His words broke you open. Your walls squeezed him tighter, and all you could do was whimper, body teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, snaking his hand around your waist. His fingers found your clit and rubbed tight, fast circles. That was it. Your knees buckled. You came hard, vision blurring, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed his name into the steamy shower.

He swallowed your cries in a deep, consuming kiss, your moans mingling with his as his own rhythm faltered. A few more erratic strokes and he was right there with you—his hips pressed flush to yours as he emptied deep inside all over again.

You both slumped against the glass, panting, bodies heavy with the weight of release. He kissed along your shoulder and neck with soft devotion before slowly pulling out. Then he reached for the handheld showerhead, rinsing you both down with gentle care, washing away the evidence of your passion.

You whimpered when he turned to step out, your legs too shaky to move.

He chuckled low. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, turning to you. He scooped you up and carried you out, carefully setting you on the dry part of the counter, away from the flickering candlelight. He toweled himself off first, then turned to you, working the soft towel over your sensitive skin with soothingly.

Just when you started to relax with your eyes closed, your back arched with a gasp—his lips had found your sensitive clit, kissing it gently.

“Baby, pleassse... I can’t,” you whimpered, voice broken and breathless.

He chuckled, placing one last kiss to your puffy folds. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said, trailing kisses up your stomach, chest, neck—until he found your lips again. His eyes locked with yours. “But I make no promises for the morning.”

You giggled and gave him a soft peck. “You’re a damn menace.”

“I am,” he smirked, grabbing a fresh towel to dry your braids as best he could, “but I’m your menace.”

Once the candles were blown out, he lifted you effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The moment your back met the cool sheets, sleep started pulling at you. You yawned, and a matching one left his lips.

He slid in beside you, arm wrapped tight around your waist, head resting on your chest like it belonged there. Your fingers caressed the waves of his hair while your other hand rubbed slow circles on his back. Your breaths fell into rhythm, soft and steady—a perfect lullaby that pulled you both into a deep slumber.

And when the sun rose…

Elias gave into his craving and devoured you for breakfast.

He was there, just like he promised.

And every morning thereafter.

The End.

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I couldn’t leave Stack Daddy hangin. This is my first fic for him, but definitely not the last. Hope I made the “x reader” babes proud! Drop a comment and let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged in future stuff, just let me know. xoxo

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