#reminds me of Annie from Not a thing

[onehundredgar]

P-

*wheezing sounds*

Happy pri-

*hacking coughing*

Happy pride month! Ignore the delicate white handkerchief tastefully spotted with blood in my hand.

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ��slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part Two

Elijah ‘Smokes’ truck rolled to a stop. He cut the engine, taking a moment to finish his cigarette before he entered the home he shared with Annie. He could smell her cooking from where he sat, mouth watering. He missed good ‘ol southern cooking, more specifically his wife’s cooking. Smoke tossed his cigarette bud and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that he purchased from Bo Chow before climbing out of his truck. Walking around to the back of the truck, he lifted the tarp and grabbed a wooden crate filled with Irish Beer and Italian Wine.

Smoke made the short walk to the house, ascending the front porch steps before sitting the crate down to open the door. He needed this. No more running away from his problems. He craved his wife in ways he couldn’t put into words. Smoke had a lot of making up to do, and he was a man of action and very few words.

Smoke could hear Ma Rainey playing from a phonograph in the drawing room. He went to let himself in but paused when he’d heard sensual laughter and soft moans. His body moved from the door, down the steps, and around towards the back of the house. He crept stealthily, slowing down when he’d heard his wife’s name in a voice laced with lust…

One hour before:

Amelia held a woven basked against her left hip while she picked a bundle of collards for dinner. Her curly ringlets swept over her face annoyingly. She blew hair from her lips after grabbing the last bit of collards. Amelia makes her way back to the house. She climbed the back steps and through the screen door.

Inside, Amelia looked at Annie who was busy preparing the catfish for frying.

“Got the collards. I’ll go wash ‘em.”

Annie held Amelia’s gaze, “Thank you, Lia.”

Amelia started rinsing the collards off. Annie found herself caught in a trance. Amelia was situated on her knees in front of a bucket of water on the back porch. The motion of Amelia’s hands. The way her curly auburn hair reminded her of cascading stems, twisted leaves, and red, lipstick-shaped flowers.

Annie broke the silence, “Busy day at the shop today.”

“Sure was. Made a good profit too.” Amelia replied.

“…Whatcha think of Smoke?”

Amelia wasn’t expecting that question from Annie. She glanced up through her lashes at her.

“He scares you?” Annie questioned.

Amelia gave Annie a half shrug, “I—He’s a little scary.”

Annie giggled, “A little?”

“He’s a gangster, Annie. Scary comes wit’ the job.” Amelia jokes.

“Smoke is tough, but deep, real deep…he’s a softy.”

Amelia smirked, “Sounds to me you’re his safe space.”

Annie finished prepping the catfish and checked on the frying oil. Amelia brought in the clean collards. Annie situated herself beside Amelia, helping her cut the collards. Amelia stole glances at Annie. Smoke’s coming back did affect Amelia. Ways she never imagined.

“Is this his favorite meal?” Amelia asked.

“Smoke love him some catfish and collards. Throw in some skillet cornbread you got ya’ self a sappy man. Feed him good and put his head between my bosom.”

Amelia laughed lightheartedly. She bumped her hip into Annie’s and Annie reclined her head against Amelia’s shoulder.

“He strikes me as a breast man—”

Amelia stopped herself from talking. She caught Annie smiling at her warmly. Visuals played over and over in her head of the way Smoke sucked on Annie’s bountiful breasts. Like he wanted to fit his entire mouth around all that heaviness.

“He an all up on me man…every inch of me.” Annie spoke with intensity.

Amelia was witnessing in real time the beautiful bond between them. A bond so strong.

“The way he looks at you, it’s just so…so…”

Amelia studied Annie’s face as she tried to convey her feelings.

“…So inspiring.”

Annie’s eyes fell to Amelia’s lips.

“…You saw us havin’ sex…didn’t you?”

Amelia turned away from Annie. She tried to think of a way to respond to her. Too embarrassed to admit it.

“It wasn’t my intention, Annie—I just…”

Annie’s hand pressed against Amelia’s back. Amelia peered into Annie’s eyes. The hand on her back dragged down to her hip and she found herself flesh against Annie. Just like she did Smoke in that Shack, Annie’s lips latched onto Amelia’s ear. Amelia held onto the wash basin to steady herself. Annie’s skillful lips kissing and nibbling on her ear made her legs all wobbly.

“…thing is, I saw ya’ watching, Amelia…I saw ya’ fingering my pussy…”

“Did Smoke—”

“Smoke don’t know nothin’.”

Annie forced Amelia to look at her with a tight hold on her jaw, so tight her lips puckered.

“What happened between us last night…I’ve been fightin’ all damn day to keep from touching ya’. Truth is…I can’t stop…and I won’t stop…”

Amelia melted. Annie stroked her pouty lips with her thumb before sinking it into Amelia’s mouth. Amelia sucked on Annie’s thumb, eyes closed, soft whimpers filling the room. Annie’s thumb slipped away, leaving behind a trail of spit.

“I–I can’t stop daydreaming ‘bout it, Annie. I want ya’ to taste me again…”

Amelia extended a hand and stroked Annie’s cheek with her fingertips. She got up on Annie, breast to breast, and slammed her lips into hers feverishly. The sound of frying oil popping and the insects of the night mingled with smacking lips and soft moans.

Annie groped Amelia’s thick behind through her dress.

“Fuck,” Amelia tongued Annie’s lips, “Let’s go to the room, look how wet I am for you…”

Amelia grabbed Annie’s left hand and snaked it between her legs. Annie stroked Amelia’s pussy through her panties. Soaking wet heat. Annie attacked Amelia’s neck while her fingers pinched her clit through the satin material.

Immediately, Annie could feel her own pussy cat dripping. She wanted so bad to bend Amelia over the wash basin, lift the back of her dress, and ravish her cooze until she cried. Cried for Annie to keep going, cried after each orgasm. Cried like a good little bitch.

Annie needed to stop. If she didn’t, she’d have to eat Amelia on every surface in that house.

“We gotta get this food cooking…”

Annie broke away from Amelia reluctantly. Amelia’s chest heaved up and down. She thumbed away spit from her bottom lip. Annie was right, Smoke could be here any minute. Annie started frying the catfish and Amelia busied herself with the collards. Still, she craved more from Annie.

Sneaky glances, bumping into each other, soft blues with its melancholy instrumental circulating throughout the small home, no matter how hard they tried, neither one of them could resist. Amelia swayed her hips to the rhythm, stirring the pot of collards just the same. Annie had just finished cooking all the catfish and now she was working on the skillet cornbread.

“Shit…”

Amelia glanced over at Annie mixing the cornbread batter. Some of the batter spilled over her hand and fell to the floor. Amelia watched Annie reach for a towel, but before she could use it to wipe her hand clean, Amelia appeared by her side, capturing Annie’s fingers in her mouth.

Annie was paralyzed with lust.

“Amelia…”

Her finger slipped from between Amelia’s pouty lips with a wet pop, “don’t want all that good batter to go to waste.”

Annie’s clit ached.

Amelia trailed Annie’s spit–covered finger down her neck until she circled it around her protruding nipples. Annie’s eyes glossed over with arousal at the sensation of Amelia’s stiff, brown nipples prominently visible through her khaki dress.

“Lia…they so hard…”

Annie regained control of her hands. She cupped Amelia’s breasts and caressed them in a circular motion. Amelia jutted her chest out for more, extending her neck and throwing her head back.

Annie exhales, “You so beautiful, Lia. So soft…so delicious…”

“Not as soft and sweet as you, Annie…”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Amelia stared deeply into her eyes, “A big, beautiful woman.”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Buttons undone, Annie smoothed the opening of the khaki dress from Amelia’s satiny, chestnut skin. Her cup bra gave her melons extra lift, fleshy mounds like soft pillows. One by one, Annie released a breast, and she caved at the sight of Amelia’s wrinkled areola and hardened nipples.

Annie wasted no time flicking her tongue over each bud with speed. She circled her arms around Amelia’s waist and made love to her nipples with her teeth, lips, and tongue. Amelia chewed on the corner of her bottom lip, watching Annie move back and forth between each breast. She picked it up a notch and spit on her nipples before tweaking them.

“Annie, I’m so sticky between my legs…you’re making me so weak…” Amelia cooed.

Annie tugged on Amelia’s nipples while sucking on her neck.

“I bet that fat pussy is nice and messy…I know it taste good…”

Amelia whimpered when Annie went back to sucking her nipples. Annie forced one hand down the front of Amelia’s dress and wiggled her hand into her panties.

Annie popped a titty from her mouth, “Damn, wasn’t lying about how sticky you are…c’mon, quick…”

Annie quickly helped Amelia out of her dress and panties. She guided her to the back porch and pushed her down onto a chaise. Amelia didn’t have time to spread her legs and bring her feet up because Annie beat her to it.

“You seein’ this?” Annie questioned with a quiver.

Amelia dropped her hooded eyes down between her thighs. She couldn’t believe how soaked her folds are. Like a succulent storing water. Annie didn’t waste another minute. She smacked her lips and suckled Amelia’s pussy with urgency.

“You needed this pussy in ya’ mouth again look how good ya’ eating it, Annie…”

Amelia palmed Annie’s head. Annie strummed her clit with the tip of her tongue.

“Fuuuck…oh, shit,” Amelia moans, “Annie…Annie…Annie…”

Annie’s magical hands shoved Amelia’s thighs back to open her up more. She slurped and lapped at her pussy lips and deeper. Not once did she come up for air. Annie dragged her nails down the back of Amelia’s thighs.

“I’m finna’ cum…”

Amelia stuck two fingers in her mouth to suppress her cries of pleasure. Annie sucked her clit like she was sucking the sweetest juices off. Amelia closed her thighs around Annie’s head.

Smoke remained in the shadows of the Mississippi night and surrounded by evergreen. He had a tight grip on the flowers he’d gotten for Annie. Smoke watched with a twitch of his eyes. Perfectly round and perfectly shaped breasts with brown nipples bounced back and forth. The face of his wife hidden between buttery smooth thighs. The sound of a tongue and the smell of pussy.

His muscles were stiff. Obsidian eyes unblinking. The sharpness of his jaw clenched. Smoke felt all the blood in his veins rush to his dick. Amelia’s face caught the light of the night and it was whimsical. She stroked Annie’s hair affectionately while riding her tongue.

Smoke sensed it. He had a good feeling that Amelia and Annie were fooling around. Now that his suspicions were confirmed, he didn’t know how to handle the way his body felt. A mixture of lust and envy. Lust for the both of them. Lust to taste Amelia off of his wife’s tongue. Lust to join.

Envy because what’s his is on her knees bringing another woman to climax. Envy because whatever they shared, he wanted a piece of. Smoke’s free hand grabbed onto his thick print and squeezed. Tweed material itched his palm. Fuck, he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Fuck, he wanted to release his big dick and play with it. The desperation lining his face and the way his tongue smoothed over his teeth, these women sent shockwaves of pleasure through him.

“Annie! I’m cummin’ for you!”

Smoke’s nostrils flared.

“Cum for me, good girl!” Annie praised.

Smoke couldn’t believe the way his dick bulged out.

There was soft laughter followed by Annie surfacing with a wet face and brown eyes drunk with arousal. Amelia cupped her face and flicked her tongue with Annie’s.

“Thank you for that,” Annie kissed Amelia.

“Always,” Amelia spoke against her lips.

They both stood and Annie helped Amelia with her dress. Smoke tip toed away from the yard and pressed his back against the side of the house. He rocked his head back, glancing up at the starry sky. The throb in his dick and balls wouldn’t go away. Kissing his teeth, he drew another cigarette and lit it. His hands shook slightly as he brought it to his full lips.

Amelia.

Her beauty reminded him of a fairy. Something ethereal and magical. Hypnotic. He’d felt it immensely the moment he laid eyes on her. Whatever it is, Annie was under her spell. He’d never known his wife to enjoy some pussy. He had to get himself together before he walked into that house. Shouldn’t be so hard, especially for a gangster with a reputation for violence.

Smoke remained outside for another ten minutes before making his way to the front of the house. He climbed the stairs and twisted the door knob. The door swung open with a creak.

Annie was busy in the kitchen while Amelia plates the table. She wore a different dress, a brightly colored floral dress with a lace–trimmed collar and sleeves. Her long, curly hair was styled in a chic and classic updo with pins. Smoke could tell it was a rush job, because some of the curls framed her face. Amelia’s eyes flicked to Smoke.

Annie looked radiant. She changed into a crushed velvet, dark green dress with chandelier earrings that matched. Her heels click–clacked against the floor boards. Amelia bent over to pick up a cloth that had fallen and the way her backside spread beneath her dress, Smoke’s dick pressed painfully against the seam of his pants. Annie caught his eye and she smiled brightly before making her way over to him. She was wearing her good bra. Those big titties bounced with each step she took.

Smoke gave her a faint smile, holding up the bouquet of flowers. Annie pressed a hand against her bosom and pouted her bottom lip.

“Smoke, these are beautiful!”

Annie accepted the flowers and puckered her lips for a kiss.

“They’re so pretty, Annie,” Amelia said with an elated voice.

Smoke accepted a kiss and then he slipped Annie some tongue. Annie tried to pull away but Smoke placed one strong hand on the back of her neck to keep her tongue in his mouth. The sweet twang of Amelia’s pussy still lingered. Smoke groaned in Annie’s mouth.

Amelia watched them intently while placing silverware on the table. She was absorbed in their intimacy. Smoke caught her eye, staring at her with intensity. Amelia broke her gaze and stroked hair from her face.

He growled.

“Behave,” Annie swatted his bicep, “Dinner is ready. Go clean ya’ hands first.”

Annie turned and Smoke tracked her hips with his eyes.

“Cut all that switchin’ out for I give our guest here a lil’ show.”

That seemed to peak Amelia’s interest. She tried to conceal a smile behind her hand.

“Down, boy,” Annie eyed Smoke up and down.

“Ain’t no boy…”

Smoke tried to stick his fingers in the cornbread. Annie slapped his hand away.

“Go wash ya’ hands, Elijah!”

Smoke pecked Annie’s cheek.

He disappeared to the wash basin.

“Bring anymore wine?” Annie asked.

“Did. It’s on the porch. I’ll go grab some—”

“I got it, Smoke. While you finish washin’ ya’ hands?”

Amelia appeared next to him with an eager smile. Smoke had to collect himself from getting lost in those doe eyes fringed with long lashes.

The very eyes his wife got lost in with a mouth full of pussy.

“Uh, no need, doll. They heavy…”

Smoke wiped his hands on a towel and slipped past Amelia, catching a whiff of her perfume.

Sweet like peaches.

Smoke eyed the table set up, noticing only three plates.

“Shit, forgot to tell ya’ll Stack comin’.”

“No biggie. I’ll put a plate out for ‘em.” Annie replied.

Smoke walked over the threshold and picked up the wooden crate filled with wine and beer. Amelia set up a place for Stack. She walked over to grab an extra chair, but Smoke picked it up before she could. Amelia looked up at him.

“No need, let a man do it.” Smoke said.

“‘Course,” Amelia sauntered back to the table.

Smoke grabbed a bottle of wine.

I’ll put it in the icebox. I know how much you like it chilled.”

Annie brought the food over on serving trays.

Knock knock knock

The door opened.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Annie said with a laugh.

Amelia’s eyes danced between both men.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical.

This Stack man just entered the home with a jovial smile filled with deep dimples and golds on his teeth. His eyes sparkled with mischief and foolery.

Amelia gawked at him.

But…their personalities…their auras…vastly different.

Stack removed his red fedora.

“Annie! Sup witcha, woman?!”

“Stack.” Annie said with a smile.

She opened her arms and Stack hugged her tightly.

“Big bro,” Stack dabbed Smoke before pulling him in for a one–armed hug. They did a slick handshake and glided back into a snap, “Woooo, good to see ya’.”

“Just saw ya’ earlier,” Smoke said.

Stack took off his suit jacket and hung it on a coat rack near the front door. His playful, lively eyes fell on Amelia.

Amelia gave Stack a shy wave. Stack strode forward, dapper gait drawing her in.

“Well, well,” Stack nibbled on the toothpick between his teeth and dragged his eyes over Amelia’s frame from head to toe with a tilt of his head, “Who this here, Annie?”

“My friend, Amelia,” Annie’s arm circled Amelia’s waist, “She came all this way from New Orleans to work wit’ me. I’m teachin’ her all I know about hoodoo.”

“She talk?” Stack questions with his brows pinched together and a twitch of his upper lip.

Smoke chuckled low, shaking his head at his brothers antics, “Chill now, Stack.”

“I’m only askin’.”

Stack held his hand out in greeting. Amelia eyed his hand with a slight lift of her brow before extending her hand with the back facing up. Stack wrapped his fingers around her.

“Amelia, huh?

“That’s right.”

Stack pushed the toothpick between his teeth to the side of his mouth. Cute little voice. Sounding like a princess in those fairytales.

“So, you do talk?”

Stack removed his toothpick and leaned in. With her hand still within his grasp, Stack puckered his plump lips and pecked Amelia’s hand like a true gentleman.

“Nice to meet ya’ gorgeous. Hope the Delta treatin’ you right.”

“Is. Thanks to Annie.”

Amelia smiled brightly. Stack stroked the back of her hand with his thumb before finally letting her go. Amelia fiddled with her fingers, darting her eyes away bashfully before swaying over to the table.

Smoke caught his brother’s eye.

Annie cleared her throat.

“Oh, let me clean these hands off.” Stack said.

He walked past the table, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips at the sight of all the food. Smoke pulled out Annie’s chair, and with one hand he pulled out Amelia’s chair. She curtsied before taking her seat. Stack finally joined them, unbuttoning the sleeves to his white shirt and rolling them up his forearms.

“Catfish, collard greens, cornbread, DAMN.”

They each took turns filling their plates.

“Amelia cooked the collards,” Annie shot her friend a look followed by a smile.

“Did she now? Let’s see what we got here…”

Stack and Smoke forked the collards in unison, not even realizing it. Amelia’s eyes danced between them with fascination. Smoke chewed slowly, eyes fixed on Amelia. Stack chewed with his eyes closed, shook his head, followed by a hum of delight.

“Baby girl…you put ya’ foot in this! Gahdamn…”

Annie nudged Amelia with her elbow. Amelia beamed.

Smoke nodded his head before scraping the side of his upper teeth with his tongue.

“They good, Amelia. Real good.”

Amelia twirled the fork in her hand with pride.

“Thank you, Smoke,” She glanced over at his twin, “Stack…”

“Forgot the wine…”

Smoke stood.

“You put a beer in there, Smoke?!”

“I gotcha,” Smoke continued out onto the front porch to grab the drinks.

Stack scarfed down the collards first, fork scraping the plate. Smoke returned and opened the wine, pouring the ladies two glasses full. He unscrewed the cap on the beer for Stack, sliding it across the table where his twin brother caught it with precision.

“Everythang alright, Annie?” Stack asked.

“Better,” Annie locked eyes with her husband, “happy you two made it back in one piece.”

Smoke cut into his catfish with his fork. He added a little hot sauce to it.

“I bet Chicago is nice,” Amelia chimed in, “skyscrapers, broadway…”

“Look nice. Still just the same as the south.” Stack said.

“Did you two stop by to see Sammie?” Annie asked.

Smoke nodded his head, “He good. Still got that guitar we gave ‘em. Daddy doin’ right by ‘em.”

Amelia nibbled on her cornbread drizzled with honey and butter. Stack cleared his plate and sat back to enjoy his beer. He couldn’t help but stare at Amelia. She could feel his eyes on her, looking across the table at him with a piece of cornbread between her fingers and hovering over her pouty lips.

“Amelia. Got a last name?” Stack questions.

“Broussard.”

“Pretty…”

Amelia coaxed the piece of cornbread into her mouth with her tongue. Stack continued to lay on the charm with his deep dimples and attentive eyes. He took a swig of beer as he stared down Amelia like she was the only person who existed.

Smoke glanced between the two of them, fingers digging into his pocket for a cigarette. He grabbed his last one and lit it. Annie sipped her wine and smiled at her husband. Smoke caught her looking and winked at her. Annie placed her hand on his thigh, caressing it.

“We never crossed paths?” Stack questioned Amelia with an expression of betrayal.

“No, Stack,” Amelia giggled genuinely, “Never.”

“You sure,” Stack pointed at her with a finger decorated with a gold ring, “Damn shame. Can’t believe this my first time seeing ya’. Annie, you been keepin’ her to ya’ self?”

Annie gave Stack a coy smile and then locked eyes with Amelia. Both of them looked away quickly, but Smoke was paying attention. He knew everything. She definitely is keeping Amelia to herself. Smoke leaned in to whisper in Annie’s ear.

“You got explaining to do later, baby…”

Annie cocked her head back and dropped her eyes to Smoke’s lips.

“Not as much explaining as you do, Smoke.” She quipped with a roll of her eyes.

Stack filled Amelia’s mason jar with more wine.

“Thank you kindly.”

“Anytime…”

Stack swept his hands down the front of his chest slowly, Amelia shyly pulled her attention to the last bit of food on her plate.

She loved Stack’s energy.

It excites her.

Some time passed and Duke Ellington Orchestra filled the drawing room. While Annie perched her big booty on Smoke’s lap, Stack twirled Amelia around like a merry go round, her dress spinning as she moved. Stack could jive! Amelia grabbed both of his hands and flailed her legs, laughed at Stack’s silly faces, and shook her hips.

Annie tapped her foot to the music. Smoke bobbed his head. Annie’s gyrating in his lap awoke the beast. He looked up at her. Annie felt him poking her rump. She picked up the pace of her hips, teasing him more.

“Annie…”

“What? You sticking me in the ass wit’ that dick.”

“Keep movin’ on me I can’t help it.” Smoke whispered.

“I felt that,” Annie was referring to Smoke making his dick jump, “Elijah…”

There was warning in her voice.

Stack exhaled, wiping sweat from his grow. Amelia fanned herself. Stack held Amelia’s waist as they swayed, hips pressed to each other’s and twin smiles on their faces.

“You the best fuckin’ dancer I ever seen.” Stack said.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Amelia bopped Stack on the nose with her finger, “And you a good time.”

“I try. Gotta make the most outta life with all the other bullshit goin’ on.” Stack replied.

Amelia snaked her arms around Stack’s shoulders.

“You got the sweetest eyes…mind if I call you Princess?”

Amelia chewed on her bottom lip and smoothed her hands down Stack’s chest.

“How much Irish beer you drank?” Amelia asked with a teasing smile, “that liquor got you sweet on me.”

“Not enough,” Stack peeled away from Amelia, “Let me grab some mo’!”

Amelia shook her head at Stack.

Smoke and Annie were dancing now. Amelia took a seat to cool off and removed her shoes. She massaged her left heel and flexed her toes painted red. Stack sought her out and took a seat next to her with a new beer. He slouched in his seat and swung his legs.

Smoke and Annie shared a passionate kiss in the middle of a slow waltz.

Amelia moved her hands up the back of her legs while flexing her ankles. Stack’s eyes were focused on her movements, studying her pretty toes.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Amelia teased.

“I’d take pictures of you any day. I got a camera back home.”

“So, photography ya’ hobby when you ain’t robbing banks and trains?”

Stack smirked with a single dimple.

“Sum’ like that. Whatchu like to do?”

Amelia pondered, “Reading. I love escaping from reality. Picture myself in a castle in the tallest tower…or going on an adventure…or falling in love…”

Stack studied Amelia. His beer was halfway through.

“We all need a lil’ break from the real, ya’ know?” Stack said.

“Yeah,” Amelia nudged Stack’a shoulder, “If ya’ ever need a good book to read, I’m ya’ girl.”

Stack licked his lips, “I’ll hold you to it, Princess.”

Stack and Smoke shared a cigarette on the front porch while talking closely to each other.

Annie and Amelia had just finished cleaning up. Amelia yawned into her hand. She felt lightweight and relaxed from all the wine.

“Had fun tonight?” Annie asked.

“It was wonderful, Annie. Best time in a long while.”

Amelia wiped her hands off with a towel while staring at the twins in deep concentration.

“Ya’ like Stack?”

Amelia looked at Annie, “He’s a good time. And he’s handsome.”

Annie glanced towards the door. Smoke and Stack had their backs turned. Annie slithered her way over to Amelia, dropping her head to her ear to whisper.

“Careful wit’ ‘em Moore men. They’ll turn your world upside down.”

Annie’s warm breath ghosted across Amelia’s cheek. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She kept her eyes forward.

“And it’s been a while since Nathaniel had ya’ right?”

Amelia clenched her thighs together.

Annie pecked Amelia on the cheek.

“Get you some rest. I’ll see ya’ in the morning.”

“Night, Annie.” Amelia said.

Annie disappeared into her room. Smoke heard the door shut and walked back inside followed by Stack. Stack shut the door behind him. Both men stared at Amelia. Smoke with an unreadable expression and Stack with a flirty smile. She looked away before heading to her room.

“I see ya’ later brother—”

“No, no, no. It’s late stay here.”

“I be aight—”

“Stack. Keep yo’ ass here, understand? Ya’ had too much to drink.”

Stack kissed his teeth, “Then where I’m a sleep, fool? On this hard as floor? In the truck? In your room—”

“Nigga—”

“You can sleep in my room.”

Smoke and Stack looked down at Amelia.

“There’s extra blankets and a pillow.”

“Hm,” Smoke eyed Amelia from head to toe, “See? Now ya’ got an excuse to stay.”

Smoke tapped Stack’s shoulder before backing away to his room. He left his twin brother and Amelia standing there.

Stack was wearing his white button shirt tucked into his pinstriped slacks. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone. A chain hung from his neck with a tiny circular dog tag from WWI. The same one Smoke wore.

“Well,” Stack ushered Amelia towards the room with his hand, “Lead the way, Princess.”

Amelia took slow strides towards the room. Inside, she grabbed extra blankets and one of the pillows from the bed.

“Aye, I got this,” Stack piled the blankets on the floor with the pillow, “I’ll give ya’ a second to change.”

Stack left the room and shut the door. Amelia opened the wardrobe in the room and picked out a lavender chemise with a matching robe. She undressed quickly, slipping on the chemise.

“Stack, you can come in,” Amelia climbed into bed.

The door opened and Stack peeked inside.

“All decent, Princess?”

“Yes,” Amelia slipped beneath the sheets.

Stack walked in, took off his shoes, and his shirt. Amelia chewed on her lip while her eyes swept over Stack’s burly frame. Bulging biceps, a thick yet toned torso, defined pecs. Stack tossed his shirt over a chair in the room and lowered to the floor. He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Amelia turned off the kerosene lamp, bathing the room in mostly darkness.

“Goodnight, Stack.” Amelia said.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.”

On the other side of the house, Annie watched her husband strip down to his underwear, the fabric of his boxer shorts riding up his well–muscled thighs. His mojo bag sat between his pecs along with dog tags that mirrored Stacks. He tied a pressing cap over his hair to make the brush wave style Stack did last longer.

Annie wore a champagne–colored night gown that left little support for her large and heavy breasts, but it was breathable. Her hair was wrapped in a white scarf. Smoke sat on the edge of the bed. Annie got onto her knees behind him, massaging his shoulders.

“What explaining I gotta do, Elijah?” Annie asked.

Smoke shut his eyes and licked his lips with one swipe of his tongue.

“You sure Amelia just your Hoodoo apprentice, baby?”

Annie huffed, “What? Whatchu mean?”

“Ya’ know what I mean, Annie.”

Annie paused.

“…Smoke…”

Smoke looked up at Annie over his shoulder. Annie couldn’t hold his gaze.

“…How you find out?” Annie questioned with a tremble of her voice.

Smoke didn’t respond right away.

“I heard ya’ name, baby. I heard her moaning ya’ name. Then I saw it…I saw you tongue deep in her cooze…”

Annie’s eyes darted to the floor. She slipped her hands away and sat back on her knees. Smoke stood from the bed, facing her.

“How many times?”

Smoke folded his arms over his chest.

Annie shut her eyes slow.

“Three.” She revealed.

Smoke cocked his head.

“You fuck her three times, Annie?”

“Yes…I did,” Annie fiddled with her fingers, “It just—”

“I neva knew you to cheat on me, let alone wit’ a woman?”

Smoke shook his head in disbelief.

What Annie did next surprised him.

She laughed. Smoke furrowed his brows.

“Oh, Elijah,” Annie shook her head between laughs, “You left me for seven years. What did you think I was gon’ do?”

“I came back to you! I love you!” Smoke fired back.

He lowered his voice.

“Stop. Just stop it, Smoke. Ya’ like it.”

“Huh?” Smoke curled his top lip.

“Ya’ heard me. That’s why ya’ kissed me like that before dinner. Ya’ wanted to taste her.”

Smoke shifted his head and shoulders.

“I coulda’ put a root on that dick but I didn’t. Don’t stand there all tough and shit. I know you.”

Annie stood, walking up to Smoke. She got in his face with her hands on her hips.

“Say it. Ya’ like it.” Annie pressed.

“Annie—”

Annie cut him off, “Ya’ wanna play games, I can play wit ya’. Admit to it, ya’ liked seeing me eat her pussy…ya’ liked the way she reacted to it…ya’ like me being wit’ another woman.”

Smoke growled. He wasn’t trying to give in. Annie pressed up on him, never backing down, eyes glued to his.

“Say. It. Nigga.” Annie pressed with sass.

Smoke clenched his jaw. Annie lowered her searing gaze down between her husband’s legs. She almost whimpered. Thick dick twisted to the side in his boxer shorts and poking out the bottom. A big dick.

“…Fine,” Smoke stared her in the eyes, “Yeah. Yeah. I liked it.”

Annie tilted her head, “Wasn’t so hard, now…was it?”

Smoke clenched his shaky hands.

“Shit,” Smoke glared at Annie, “The way you looked…”

Annie placed her hand on Smoke’s chest. She glided it down his body until she was cuffing his dick. It seemed to pulsate in her hand. Annie curled her fingers around his shaft through his boxer shorts. Smoke worried his brows and parted his full lips.

“How did I look, Papa?” Annie whispered seductively.

“So sexy…”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s face and pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues swirled in a sloppy manner. Smoke lowered the straps to her night gown and Annie pulled his boxer shorts down until it fell around his ankles. Smoke stepped out of them, standing before Annie in all his naked glory.

“You actin’ all upset. For what?”

Annie dropped to her knees. Smoke’s big dick was pointed out and curved to the left. Annie looked up at her husband and then wrapped a warm hand around him, stroking him with a twist of her wrist.

“Alls you had to do was be real wit’ me, Elijah.”

Annie tongued the pre cum from his tip. Smoke placed his hands on Annie’s shoulders. He bowed his head to watch her, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

“You know I’m right,” Annie dragged her tongue along the side of his shaft, “Don’t ya’?”

“Yeah,” Smoke licked his lips, “Stop teasing me, baby…”

Annie wrapped her lips around Smoke’s big dick and fit him all the way down her throat. Annie began sucking, down to the base and back to the tip. She tightened her jaws and rolled her neck to get a good rhythm. Smoke groaned deeply, hand on Annie’s head. Smoke tilted her head back a little so he could fuck her throat with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Fuck, Annie…deep throat on you…”

She was sucking on his pipe and looking him dead in his eyes.

Annie’s sucking made loud, wet sounds and left saliva all over her chin down to her chest.

“Damn,” Smoke could cum from how good it felt, “I wanna eat your pussy.”

Smoke slipped out of Annie’s mouth, dick dripping with spit and throbbing. Deep veins like loving trails for Annie’s tongue. Smoke picked Annie up and put her on her stomach. Annie arched her back and Smoke got down on his knees. He spread Annie’s big cheeks, keeping her open with a firm grip. He caught a whiff of that cooze and almost drooled down his chin.

“So beautiful…so beautiful.”

Smoke rubbed his face in it.

Smoke slobbered all over it.

Smoke sucked to his heart’s desire.

Smoke spanked those cheeks.

Annie was a moaning mess. She couldn’t form words, only sounds.

“Mm…oof…unh…ooo…ahhh…”

Smoke flipped her over. He pushed Annie’s thighs back so far her titties sat beneath her chin. Annie watched Smoke between her fat titties and round belly. He tongue fucked her, got his nose up in it, munched on it all with his eyes on her. Annie’s toes curled at the way his fluffy lips sucked on her clit.

“Smoke!”

She was loud, and she didn’t give a damn.

He ate her pussy up.

Smoke surfaced. He fisted his dick and then pointed it at Annie’s gushy.

“Had my dick so fuckin’ stiff—”

Smoke pushed in and started stroking. Annie watched Smoke’s hips grind, loving his stroke and how it pressed deep to make her cream.

“I’m creaming it, huh?” Smoke slapped her titties.

“Papa!”

“Uh-huh…”

Annie’s titties swayed in a circular motion. Smoke had her thighs out the way. Annie had nowhere to run. He looked up staring into the mirror situated in the corner. A slow smirk painted his lips. Sharp, calculated strokes had Annie gripping him with her walls.

“Cum on Papa’s dick, baby…”

Annie’s eyes crossed. Smoke’s mojo bag dangled in her face.

“Fuck, Annie! This good pussy!”

Smoke’s hips stuttered out of control. The bed creaked from the withering springs. Smoke shot off a thick nut deep inside of Annie’s womb. He propped himself up, staring down at her as sweat dripped onto her. Annie was experiencing an orgasmic high.

“Just what I needed,” Annie opened her eyes to stare at her husband, “I love you, Smoke.”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s hand that was stroking his face and kissed it.

“I love ya’, baby. I’m not mad about Amelia.”

“Ya’ sure?”

“I is,” Smoke leaned forward to kiss Annie, “Just a lil’ jealous. She got ya’ under a spell, baby. Three times?”

Annie giggles, “It’s that good. She tasted good on my tongue?”

Smoke responded with his lips sucking on Annie’s titties.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

Annie lifted Smoke’s face.

“She gon’ be here a while, Smoke…”

Annie thumbed Smoke’s bottom lip.

“…Then we give her a proper welcome.”

Annie’s eyes lit up.

Smoke let Annie up to get dressed. He decided to sleep naked. Annie turned off the kerosene lamp and Smoke settled behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his front. Annie’s backside snuggled against his dick. The pale moonlight bathed their bodies, the sweat on their dark skin glistening.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @alexbabyyyy @readingaddict1290 @thedondada05 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @sug3rco0k1es @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @blossom3010 @kykylovesblog @desthefanfc @jeurden23janise @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @goddessofthundathighs @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @mynameisnikkinik @girlsneedlovingfanfics @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @pinkprincessluminary @rissa21405 @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @massivewolfslimeturtle @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @intellectualassholee @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @mysteriouslycertaincherrybl-blog @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[cherryheairt]

Last Time (I Seen the Sun)

req: HI! could you do a remmick imagine but instead of him coming for Sammie's voice he comes for his sister because he feels a soul tie to her almost like soulmates

Remmick x f!black!reader

Everything about looks left to imagination, but obv is Sammie's twin sister lol

This really ran away from me.

wc: 10.3k

cw: remmick, religious disbelief, ultimatum, (don't like dont read), thirsting after sketch men, f!r is an adult, dark!remmick? kinda but not crazy? you'll see

You avoided Sammie's knowing eyes as the Juke started to come to life.

Bo was busying himself setting up the bar while Grace steadily worked at the sign that would be the finishing touch on the old mill.

Annie was flittering between the back of house and the trucks outside to get a head start on the cooking for the night: prepping vegetables and mixing the seasonings that would later garnish the heavenly plates of catfish that you remembered oh-so-fondly from your childhood. That was, before Smoke and Stack left for Chicago to find their way in the world. You didn't see much of her after that, especially not after the loss of Smoke and her went through years back. You don't think either truly recovered from it—or if anyone could.

Delta Slim was at the little stage in the back, humming to himself and smoothing aged hands over the second hand piano like meeting an old friend again.

Your cousins were who-knows-where, counting beer and cash and whispering to each other about complicated things you'd rather not stress yourself about. You had a good hunch that a lot of their new money was come by in less than favorable ways, and sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.

You sat in your sunday best, feeling slightly out of place although tonight you knew you'd have to be the center of attention. At least you had Sammie, still. Your pillar when things got rough, especially at home. You were both the eldest of your parent's children, deemed the caretakers and the legacy followers. Sammie more so than you, who was expected to follow in father's footsteps and become the next town Preacher. Though, you weren't let off lightly and allowed to slack off. All of the young Clarksdale girls looked up to you for example, and all of the older women expected you to be the epitome of a perfect and pure young lady since you were nothing but a babe.

Still, although your father forbade it outside of the Church choir, you and Sammie found time in your late nights to practice. After everyone had gone to sleep for the night, the small Church was a secluded paradise where everything else seemed to fade away. Good things could only last so long until they were ripped from under your feet.

The betrayal to your parents was eating away at your stomach. The image of your father's dark eyes glaring at you as you followed Sammie outside of the Church and into the twins’ car haunted you every time you blinked. The frown that tugged at your mother's face tugged at your own unconsciously.

“You're not gonna throw up all o'er the stage, now, are you?” Slim asked, noticing your expression and knuckles tightening against your guitar's neck.

“No, sir.” You managed, swallowing back bile and reminding yourself that the bitter taste on your tongue was just your mind playing tricks on you.

“Good. ‘Cause I'm not the one that'd clean it up.” Even if it was your first day with Slim, you could tell he had a good heart. A good soul. Checking on you subtly while he was busy tuning the piano.

You smiled weakly in response, brushing your tongue over your teeth in some attempt at grounding yourself.

‘You keep dancing with the devil, girl, one day he'll follow you home.’ Your mother's warnings were a gentler version of your father's preaching. You'd be wise to listen to your parents, yes, but then you'd also be stuck in the outskirts of Clarksdale your entire life, being reduced to the Preacher's sister and the wife of some faceless man.

You'd never played in front of a crowd before, not like Slim had. Not without the rest of the Church singing with you. Even then, your voice was hidden beneath the masses and your tone muted and dull with the repetitive hymns.

Smoke and Stack were practically throwing you to the wolves with tonight's opening performance. One mistake, and it could affect their business as well as any future you could have possibly gotten a chance at. Just one chance, that's all you needed. Prove to everyone, and yourself, that you weren't just blowing smoke up your ass about your talent.

A drink appeared in front of your eyes, and you looked up to see your brother holding out one of the twins’ Irish brewed beers.

“The people are gettin’ antsy.” Sammie spoke up casually, walking up from a conversation with one of said people from the faceless crowd. It was all too much and yet nothing compared to your dreams.

You took it, wetting your lips with a slight peak of tongue before popping open the bottle, clinking necks with Sammie's own and taking a hearty gulp. Cringing at the bitter toffee flavour and tracing your fingertip over the narrow rim in favor of taking another.

“You need me to go solo?” He asked after a beat of silence. He could, he really could. Sammie had a certain talent of captivating people, getting lost in his music and transcending the Earth. You stayed grounded in times he was up in the clouds, all too aware of everything to be carefree.

“Nah.” You assured, nudging his knee with your own. “I can do this.”

He smiled, and let his gaze follow the mingling crowd and the individuals making it up. A particular lady caught his eye—perhaps a bit too old for him to be biting at her heels, but who were you to judge your brother's whims?—and he never took them off of her for more than a few seconds as she weaved around men and women like a dove.

And even with a million things racing through your mind, you could always make room for a bit of teasing. Especially with Sammie, the only one who would tolerate it. “That's the woman from the station, ain't she?”

Sammie's brows lifted to his forehead like he'd been caught in a scandal. “Could be. There's a lotta folks from the station here.”

“Right.” You hummed. “Her husband didn't join her, what a pity to dance alone.”

Before Sammie could stammer out some urged reply, the elephant in the room caught both of your attention. A woman, skin pale and cheeks rosy, striding through people like no one m's business.

“Is that. . .?” Sammie trailed, sounding nervous at the implication.

“Stack's girl.” You narrowed your eyes, shocked but not entirely disappointed at Mary's appearance. From Mary and Stack's encounter at the station, you had figured she wanted nothing to do with him or his new joint. Nothing to do with her past at all. You'd never met her up front, but heard of her from murmurs throughout the town about her white husband saving her from the prejudice her mama went through. She was furious, and understandably so with how he handled their ‘break-up’ years prior. Marrying her off like some broodmare and calling it protection. You couldn't personally understand her tribulations, but they were certainly an underlying fear of yours. Being hidden behind a man was the last thing you wanted, and as much as you loved your brother you would sure as hell work your ass off to be on the center of your own stage.

“I wouldn't let ‘er hear you say that.” Sammie huffed, dusting himself off and moving to approach her, likely to convince the woman to leave before the twins caught wind of her arrival. You snickered as you watched her get defensive immediately, shouldering past him on her way to the bar where Grace was pouring drinks. It only took a minute of them sitting down and speaking in hushed tones for Stack to catch sight like a hawk watching his skies and all the prey within his sight, swooping down and taking Mary aside to deal with their matters alone. Sammie shuffled his way back to you, looking more like a scolded child than he had been when you left the church with your father’s scornful stare on your necks.

Patting his shoulders, you welcomed him back without a peep, despite the effort it took.

It was Smoke who approached you, leaving Annie's side from the stockrooms to urge you up on your feet.

“It's gon’ be dawn before the two of you stop draggin’ your feet.” He started, exasperated though you could tell it wasn't stemming from you and Sammie. You didn't pry, just stood up and straightened your shoulders, trying your best to appear collected.

Shaking your hands out, you rested them atop the strings of your old guitar—a double gift from the twins, of course—and felt Sam move to do the same beside you. You met his eyes, noticing how his nerves began to wash away even when eyes turned to the two of you. People surrounded you from all sides as you stepped from the stage and onto the leveled floor of the mill. Stack and Smoke stood at opposite pillars, wearing eager and somber expressions respectively. Annie stopped serving plates and fixed her attention on the two of you like her customers did, an expecting look on her serious face. Slim was still up on the stage, allowing you your own time to shine before he touched the piano.

A strum, then another.

Sammie plucked at his guitar, silencing the room until it was nothing but your music and quiet leftovers murmurs.

“Something I've been wanting to tell ya.” He reverberated, deep voice pulling the crowd in. “For a long time.”

Your head bobbed in time with your foot as you kept time, backing him up with chords.

“It might hurt ya, hope you don't mind. Well, I was just a boy, ‘bout eight years old. Threw me a bible, on that Mississippi road.”

Finally, you joined him, voices harmonizing with his vibrato baritone and your own melodic one. “See, I love ya papa, you did all you could. They say the truth hurts. So I lied to you.”

“Yes, I lied to you. I love the blues.”

The hums filled the room, and soon the crowd started dancing and flowing like water all around you, breaking off into pairs or trios, or simply dancing all alone like no one watched. Grace brought Bo out from the back, enticing her husband to dance with her with large grins on their faces. Mary and Stack two-stepped under the warm lights and for one night they could finally be together after years apart, laughter breaking through music and stomps. Annie glided through the dancefloor with Smoke close behind, never distant for too long and always making some kind of contact as they swayed to their own rhythm.

“Somebody take me in your arms tonight,” The Juke grew impossibly hot, sweat beaded on your brow and exposed neck and chest but you kept on. It was exhilarating to be surrounded by so much movement and familiarity, a place where no one could stop you or hold you back.

For the first night of your life, you felt alive.

Alive in a way you never could back home.

Alive in a way the church could never make you feel within those caging walls.

For once, the blood rushing through your veins and heart pumping against your chest like it was trying to escape wasn't because of fear or frustration, but jubilation and acceptance.

The Juke continued to grow in heat and noise as bodies mingled and danced, feet stomped, and voices sang to their heart's desire. It felt like raging fire burning through around you and throughout the old floorboards. Your body was weightless, floating from your spot and rising up to the stars when your eyes closed to revel in the novel feeling.

Sammie’s back was against yours as you hummed and sang in tandem, grounding you and bringing you back to earth.

“So preach on, speak your words.”

For a moment, a mere millisecond in that Juke, you swore you saw a glimpse of the impossible. Dancers dressed in large ornate gowns dancing like they'd burn a hole through the floor from their passion alone, guitarists striking foreign chords with shining, sharp instruments and dressed in tight, glossy clothing, and twirling women who weaved gracefully around people like they didn't need to see their surroundings to understand it. Within the same moment they were gone, replaced by the same people you'd seen all night. You blamed it on the strange beer although you'd only taken one sip, ignoring the tightening feeling in your stomach from your mother's words. They weren't true, devils and spiritual communicators were simply traditionalists’ way of coping with the things not yet understood. Your music was life, never death. You'd stand by that belief ‘til the day you died.

“I love the blues.”

Looking around the Juke Joint, experiencing the best night of your life thus far, you knew for absolute certain that you'd never let yourself be trapped in that small, forgotten corner of Mississippi.

You went upstairs to take a small breather when Sammie went off with the train station woman, letting the cool night's air wash over you before you went back down to dance again.

A smile tugged at your lips as you sat at the opened upstairs docking dock door, the vulnerable position not bothering you but instead freeing you. Your legs swung from the second floor, crossing at the ankles while you wrapped a borrowed silky shawl around your shoulders. From your view you could see cars parked in the dirt and gravel, and all the stars blanketing them. It was hard to see in the near pitch-black, but the Juke's entrance light illuminated at least thirty feet out, slowly fading into dark the further from the joint you watched.

It was only a few minutes of your solitude before it was interrupted. Not directly, but the shadows of distant figures gradually growing as the light cast onto them caught your full attention. Grasping your hands around the edges of the old wood, you carefully leaned to catch a better look.

It was three people, all dressed fairly fine and modestly and striding up to the door where Cornbread was guarding dutifully. They seemed to carry an easy air of confidence and self-assurance, though any white person walking around in Clarksdale and surely any other town in the South was the same. They all were carbon copies of each other: cocky, predictable, prejudiced, and spiteful even as the laws progressed in favor of you. If anything, it made some even angrier at the very idea of black folk being equal to them. In their eyes, there was nothing worse.

Were they here for trouble?

“. . .don't mind us coming in, right?” The center man asked Cornbread. “We hungry as dogs.” The other man and woman laughed at his quip, trying to ease the obvious tension and apprehension that they created just by approaching.

They each carried different instruments leisurely either strapped to their backs or held under their arms. A banjo, a violin, and a guitar. Not an odd choice, but definitely a calculated one. Easy to travel with and even easier to claim as stolen.

The twins’ voices carried from the doorway as the conversation went on. You only heard bits and pieces when Cornbread spoke to them, but now it was clearer.

“I don't think so.” Smoke said firmly, set in his decision to not bring any trouble to his joint. Especially on opening night, which would make or break the business for the rest of its time. Folks saw that white people were welcomed and pushing themselves into their sole weekend escape and they'd never see the walls of the place ever again.

“We just wanna sing.” The woman pressed on, using her best sweet-girl voice. Nothing like that would ever work on Smoke, who quite possibly the most loyal man in the entire town and was not quiet about that fact.

“We came all this way,” the center man added. “It'd be a damn shame to go all the way back home without gettin’ a few dances in.”

Stack hummed, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Yeah, a shame.” Though no one made any move to let them in.

“Got money to spend and hungry bellies.” He offered, pandering to the twins directly, like three people's cash would make a large effect on the place's funding. Though, who knew, people like him seemed to have wealth growing from their backyards.

You didn't hear what exactly was said next by the people inside, making you lean slightly more and scooch your thighs off the edge just slightly more. You flinched when a stray splinter found it's way digging into your fingertip, immediately taking it to your mouth to attempt to pry it when you couldn't see it in the shadows of the second floor. Still picking at it, the bead of blood on your tongue turned metallic quick and the taste was all-too unpleasant, you'd have to return to your abandoned beer to wash the taste out before your next song.

When you turned your eyes back to the doorway, your heart dropped to your ass when the banjo-carrying man was staring right at you. Instinctively, you curled your legs up towards your body and away from the open air. Even if he couldn't reach from the ground, it just felt necessary.

You heard Sammie from behind the twins. “Stack, y'all alright?” In his deep drawl, always worried for family before anything else.

The man smiled, breaking eye contact with you and looking to Sammie instead. “You must be the voice I heard from out here.” He put a pondering finger to his bottom lip, subconsciously dragging it slightly down. “Is she part of that lovely duet we heard?” The finger moved slowly up to you, where all eyes that could see from the doorway glanced up. Smoke squinted, shifting on his feet with growing annoyance. He ignored the man's question.

“Like we said, you guys can find any other place to play. Jus’ not here.”

The man waved his hands, shaking his head along with them. “I think we got off on the wrong start, here. Let me introduce myself.” He placed a gentle hand to his chest, where the strap tightened against his white shirt. “My name's Remmick. This here is Bert and Joan.” Like the movement was rehearsed, the three of them whipped up their instruments into position, wasting no time to be interrupted as they started singing.

“Oh, I picked poor robin clean.”

If you weren't already creeped out by their insistence and synchronization, you definitely were now. The song was good, great even, you'd admit, but the lyrics rubbed you the wrong way right off the bat.

“Picked his head, ‘n picked his feet. Would'a picked his body but it wasn't fit to eat.”

A hunting song, a gambling song. Not a party song, like they apparently thought would be appropriate to sing after they heard the blue's being played.

Slowly, while they still played and swayed to their own music, you stood to your feet and held onto the doorframe while listening. Remmick's gaze met your own again, and his pearly teeth shone in the lamp's light even more, flaunting sharp canines and perfectly straight teeth. Despite yourself you refused to shrink back again and instead held his gaze, watching his grin tick upwards even more when you did.

It's fine, you assured yourself. He couldn't get up here or even past the doorway. Soon he and his little ragtag group of singers would be back on their way home and out of your sight.

Finally, when their eerie song had been interrupted after the joint owners had enough, Smoke asked a low question that you couldn't quite catch behind his cigarette.

Remmick suddenly seemed shocked, and his silver tongue stuttered over his words. “Sir. We believe in equality, and—and music.” You could put two and two together, and wondered the same thing for a moment. The twins did mention something about buying the joint from an old white man, and who knows what strategies they employ these days now that the Klan was technically outlawed. No one ever stopped, really, just had to get creative.

More words from Smoke and Stack, before eventually Remmick seemed to reluctantly get the idea. Not before getting a good last word in though, when he chuckled and rubbed the top of his wrist. “Oh, I get it.” Earning a solemn nod from Joan beside him, who seemed almost offended at the implication. “This ‘cause we. . .?”

Silence was his answer, and it said everything it needed to.

“Right.” He hummed thoughtfully, resting his hands over his banjo. “So, how'd she get in?” You could only assume Mary was standing somewhere behind Sammie and the twins, and the question made you snort before covering it, hoping no one heard it amongst the immediate defense.

He had a point, even if it was not asked for. The only reason Mary got in was her past with the twins and Annie. Still, family to the twins was famly to you.

“. . .family—” Came from Annie, solidifying your thoughts. Smoke quickly hushed the rising voices behind him, firmly stating his position one was time.

“So y’all sayin’ we aren't welcome?” Remmick asked, almost pouting.

“Y'all have a nice night.” Smoke smiled, waving him and the others off finally.

“We can take a hint,” sighed Remmick.

“We'll get out of yer hair.” He moved the banjo over his back again, turning to walk off. “But we'll walk real slow. . .just in case yall change your mind.” And he stayed true to his words, walking away at a snail’s pace and turning his head slightly. You watched him walk on looking like a kicked pup before deciding that he wouldn't be dumb enough to linger around a Juke filled with people plenty fit enough to dispel them if they tried anything, disappearing into the juke and rushing down the stairs to meet your brother.

The moment you touched down on the last step, it was Stack that met you instead of Sammie like you'd expected. He was leaning on an old banister, watching Mary walk away from him and back to the entrance where Cornbread was.

“What's up with those guys?” You asked in a huff, mind still lingering on the intense stare Remmick had set on you while fixing your shawl tighter against your shoulders.

He shrugged, unbothered by them like you'd expect from Stack. If you wanted concern, you'd go to Smoke for answers. “You ready to get up again?”

“I was gon’ look for Sammie.” You sniffed. It was odd that he disappeared so quickly.

He smiled like he knew something you didn't. “Sammie's fine, got busy with something else. I'm asking about you,” this earned him a raised brow and an unimpressed face.

“Yeah. I'll be up in a beat. Gon’ go make water.” You brushed past him to where Mary had disappeared to. Why had he let her go outside so soon after the three's departure? They couldn't have gotten far.

He scrunched his nose up briefly. “Don't gotta tell me that, just hurry back.”

You snorted, the words reminding you of a much younger Stack—the boy he was before Stack even existed. You didn't forget to grab a beer on your way to the exit, popping the top off and taking a breathless few gulps to steady your mind. The old bottle was probably long gone by now, anyway, discarded near the stage and making a sticky mess.

You felt like a creep following after Mary's footsteps, but the curiosity struck you deep.

“I'll be right back in.” You patted Cornbread's shoulder on your way past him, loosely holding the bottle by its neck and letting the coolness of it spread to your palm. It was hot tonight, as always, and the mix of bodies and movement didn't help. You just hoped you didn't look a sweaty mess in front of the whole joint when you went on stage again.

Your steps were hesitant and slow as you walked straight, staying in the light and approaching a small half-wall made of old concrete brick. You were sure you saw Mary in that fine dress of hers, just before seeing her disappear behind the overgrowth of the forest.

“Mary?” You called out, stretching up on your toes to catch a further glimpse.

No reply.

“Looking for someone?”

You flinched away from the voice behind you. Facing him, you clenched your hand tight the bottle, glancing between him and the door over his shoulder.

It wasn't too far. One smash over the head and you could run back to your cousins for safety.

“Where's Mary?” You asked. Bert and Joan were gone, too, and though that made it easier for you to run it made you worried for Mary. Would you be leaving her out here alone with them, when it was so easy to disappear into the thick of the woods.

He smiled, teeth showing past his pale pink lips with no worries in the world. “Mary?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “I'm afraid I don't know any Mary's.”

“You know,” you grit, taking a careful and miniscule step back. “She just went past. The white girl in pink, hard to miss.”

“Hard to miss, indeed.” He muttered. “You, on the other hand, are much more worthy of remembering. Got a name to go with those mesmerizin’ chords of yours?”

A lie would be easy, though perhaps useless. If he went asking around he'd never find you anyway. No one knew your name or did you much kindness without the mention of the twins. Beyond your little community, your name wasn't remembered.

In one short, small breath, you introduced yourself.

“Suits you. I'd reckon everyone from here to Jackson is raving about the little starlet from their home.”

You didn't bother replying, he seemed perfectly happy to talk and talk and talk his way into and out of anything, completely ignoring your tense figure and defensive stance.

“I ain't heard a voice quite like yours in. . .” He stops to think, looking to the stars like they might have an answer somewhere up there in the vast darkness. He trails his eyes right back down, and somehow it feels like they glow from the moonshine. “Well, I think it's safe to say never.”

What did he want from you? What could you possibly give him besides good word to come into the joint. Unless it wasn't stemming from his want to get inside anymore, and simply a want for something else. If that was true, you feared you might not get to go back inside. “Thank you,” you managed to choke out, furrowing your brows as you looked through your dark lashes up to him.

Appease, appease, appease. That's what every woman was taught to do. Not that it always worked, but sometimes it was better than immediate offense.

He inched closer, walking right past your shoulder and parallel to you, looking sideways like inviting you to follow. “Why don't we have a seat? I'm sure your feet are killin’ you in those shoes.”

You glanced down at them, shifting slightly. Maybe, but no foot pinching from old shoes were as bad as the things a man is capable of.

Did he change accents? Just for a moment, his r's rolled off his tongue differently. Whatever it was, a slip of tongue or genuine effort to hide something, you'd never heard anything quite like it.

You could run now. Run and get Smoke or Stack or even Cornbread as unarmed as he might be. But then Mary would still be out here alone. And he hadn't threatened you yet, just gave you an eerie feeling. Listening to your gut was the smart thing to do, but something compelled you to sit with this strange man.

Reluctantly, you sat at the half-wall a few feet away from him, noticing his smirk as you did. He didn't close the gap, which you were grateful for. Still, your back was rod-straight and body faced forward while your head faced him. Your hands stayed on both ends of the shawl, bringing the bottle to sit on your lap, slightly out of his sight although it never left either of your minds.

“How's that cut?” He asked.

“Cut?” You didn't catch on.

Remmick nodded towards your hand that wasn't holding the bottleneck. “Saw you got cut by that old wood upstairs. Nasty thing, to get wood out in the dark.”

His words were so casual that it was almost like catching up with an old friend. On his part, at least. You didn't move your hand to inspect it again, not taking your attention off his figure. “Just a splinter, I'm fine.”

He seemed satisfied with that, glancing to your hand and then right back up. No blood, no problem. The simple fact that he noticed your quiet exclamation of pain was astonishing. You didn't quite recall being so loud that even the cicadas didn't drown you out, but some people just had that sixth sense.

“Where'd Mary go?” You start, breaking the silence.

His shoulders moved like he sighed, though you couldn't hear the exhale. “Joan said something about her asking ‘bout a song.”

“A song?”

He hummed, “they're a real talent, aren't they? Singing in harmony like that. I'm new to their little night act, haven't quite found my place yet.” His eyes never left your face. Didn't oogle or stare at your legs or chest, and somehow that wasn't any better. His gaze felt like it looked straight into your soul and past flesh and bone. All-knowing and omnipotent, anticipating your every action.

“I'm sure you know about that.”

“Why d'you say that?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at the implication. You weren't out of place in your music, and certainly not new to playing with Sammie. There was no comparison.

Remmick leaned back, tucking his ankle over his knee and resting his hands on the top leg casually. “You ‘n that boy.” He said sagely. “Your brother, I assume?”

It was best not to answer that, wasn't it?

“He's good. Real good. Sings from the soul and holds a room.”

“He's a real talent.” You nodded.

“Are you?” He tilted his head again.

“Am I talented?” He's the one who said that by the entrance. “Isn't that vain to admit? I enjoy it, that's enough.”

“But you're good. You know it, too. Nothin’ wrong with a little pride.”

There was, in the eyes of the ‘Lord’. Pride, the acknowledgement of your own accomplishments and the want to gain more; to be more than a humble servant to the Lord. You were greedy, prideful, envious—a sinner. Maybe you knew, deep down, that your father's preachings were true and simply didn't want to believe for the fact that you were digging yourself a path straight to hell for your actions. If you were to sin, you'd do it without regret.

Heaven knows how much your mother's fate might condemn you more than the devil would.

“That depends on who you ask.”

“It does,” he breaths through his nose, amused. “If you ask me, I say to make the most of life while we're still livin’ it.”

The words left you sitting in silence for a while. A few moments, a few minutes, it didn't matter. You shrugged, laxing your shoulders slightly. The night cooled down significantly, leaving little heat on the earth under your feet. Remmick didn't seem to mind the chill, simply throwing his head back and enjoying the earthy scent it carried. Music was playing from the joint, still, loud and lively. A woman's voice rang loud and clear, and stomps vibrated the ground so strongly that you felt them from outside.

“I'm good.” You finally said. “But I think Sammie's better. He makes the room feel like it's got no walls, like something otherworldly. . .it comes like breathing to him.”

“On the contrary,” Remmick says. “You make it feel alive.”

You couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips and make your cheeks burn, running a nail over the rim of the bottle to distract yourself from his stare.

Playfully, he raises his hands in the air. “On my momma's grave, I wouldn't lie to you, darlin’.”

“Mmhm,” you chuckled quietly. “I'm sure.”

“If there's one way to describe it, it's like seeing spirits from the other side dancing and singing right by your side.” He really believed what he was telling you, and that almost made it worse. You denied the same feeling a hundred times before, playing it off as the spiritual remnants and heavy aura of the Church. Tonight, it was just the mix of dancing bodies and heat.

Your throat felt tight again, and you chewed at your cheek thoughtfully. “I don't believe in that stuff. It's just a feeling, a fleeting moment when adrenaline influences you like liquor. ‘S a nice thought, but that's all it is—a thought.”

“A thought,” he nodded, taking in your words and looking at the lively building. “No one in there can appreciate your gift. One night of fun is all they're after.”

“Escape isn't a bad thing.” You mused. “Everyone in there is coming from their dead-end jobs or screaming kids. One night is nothing compared to the week's labour. If I can play just for a few hours a night to make them forget the day, then it'll be worth it. Don't need it to be appreciated.”

His lip quirked up in a small smirk, one that you interrupted as his relation to them.

“What do you do during the week, mister?” You asked. “What toils your body so and makes your soul yearn for song?”

The upturn falls faster than it rose and suddenly Remmick was downcast. It takes a while for him to answer, and his tone sounds reminiscent when he finally does. “I was a farmer.”

“Was?” You ask tentatively.

“Was.” He confirmed. “It was hard. Long, hot days. Restless nights.”

“What was your solace?”

“Well,” he smiled, almost bashfully. “I didn't have anyone to come home to. No wife or kids. The thought of all of it paying off one day to give them a good life was my solace. I suppose my hope woke me up every morning and gave me sweet dreams every night.”

“What made you quit?” Your hands played with the hem of your dress rather than the bottle, indulging yourself in conversation.

“Someone took it from me.”

“Oh,” you hummed. He didn't explain, and you didn't ask further.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Your escape. What're you running from?”

“I'm not running from anything.” You defended quickly. “Can't I just have dreams?”

“Every dream comes from somewhere.” He shrugged. “No escape, then. What about. . .destiny?”

Again, you shook your head. “I don't believe in whatever faith you're tryin’ to sell me.”

“Not a preacher.” He assured. “Just a man, humbled by life. You don't believe in destiny, either?”

“I believe that our choices are the only thing that leads us down the road. No predetermined fate that gets set for us before we're even born. What's the point of living if it's all drawn out for us?”

“I can't argue with that, lass.”

A faint, almost drowned-out screech led your attention to the forest behind you. “Mary?” You murmured, standing and wildly looking around the pitch-black to see movement.

“What's wrong?” Remmick asked, unmoved.

“You—you didn't hear that?” All the progress you had made with Remmick felt like it dissipated into the air. She went off with two strangers and you'd just sat conversing casually with the third.

That's when he did stand. Taller than you, broader, with not a worry on his face. “I didn't hear anythin’. You feelin alright?” The hand that reached out to you was slapped away, and he had the nerve to look shocked.

“Don't touch me.” You panted briefly, head fogging with fear and regret. Get Smoke and Stack, then find Mary with them and their guns. You should've done it the moment you saw her disappear into the bramble.

Hands up, Remmick nodded firmly. “I won't do anything. Thought we was just having a nice chat. Guess I was mistaken.”

Stiffly, you nodded. “Excuse me.” You turned heel to slide away from the half-wall and towards the Juke Joint, glass gripped in your hand like a vice ready to be wielded. If you had to, you would. He didn't make any move towards you and it almost felt like a home run.

You got halfway before he spoke again. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Almost there. You could see Cornbread in the door, but he was turned around and clearly talking to someone that you couldn't see.

In a flash, you were physically halted. Flinching, you looked up to see Remmick right in front of you with a light touch on your shoulders. Too light, unrestraining but imposing. There was no way he could've sprinted in front of you like that in the split of a second, not unless he wasn't human.

Your name came softly from his lips. Familiar and tender in a way you'd never heard before. Frozen, you didn't move a muscle in his grasp nor take your eyes off his. You weren't mistaken when you saw his eyes flash for the first time in that doorway. Everything about him seemed more menacing, from his teeth to the browns of his eyes glowing unnaturally red even when faced away from the light.

“I believe it's rude to ignore a question.” He clicked his tongue like you were nothing more than a disobedient child. His smile was cool and lazy, trusting that you weren't getting out of his hold.

“Let me go.” Your voice shook despite yourself. Your resolve wavered and stomach twisted with fear, and he soaked it up like fine liquor.

“That's alright, maybe you didn't hear me the first time, hm?” He purred out. “I asked: do you believe in soulmates?”

“I need to get back inside.” To Sammie. To safety. You were stupid to indulge in this man's whims despite your gut feeling.

“What's in there that's not out here, lass?” He twisted, waving one hand towards the decrepit building and keeping the other on you. “They're not gonna make you famous. They won't remember your face come morning, and certainly can't appreciate that gift you got.”

Remmick almost sounded angry for you. Like he was the one getting stubbed.

“I never said I wanted to be famous. Just wanted to sing, that's it.”

“Oh, baby.” He tutted, teeth flashing behind his pink lips. “I know exactly what you want. Maybe even more than you.”

The world was still. Has the cicadas and crickets been silent all night, or were you just noticing now, when your heartbeat replaced all other sounds? Without another prolonging moment, you swung your hand up and broke the half-empty bottle over his head.

He didn't stumble, but his eyes widened after the initial hit and let you go. Blood poured from his temple and over his ear, dripping in rivers down the side of his face and to his neck.

He laughed.

Remmick laughed, and you ran.

It felt like you carried a thousand pounds on your shoulders as you did, but you didn't stop or look back until you got to the door.

“Whoa there, little lady.” Cornbread soothed as you ran right into his chest and wrapped your arms around him in heaving breaths of terror.

“Close the door!” You shouted, relief unpalpable.

Bemused, he did as you commanded and called behind you both for either of the twins.

It was Smoke who came for you, Annie trailing behind him. With wet eyes you started to sob out incoherent explanations. “They got Mary, Smoke. I don't know what they are but they ain't human. She followed them and I heard her scream. God, Smoke, I think they killed her.” You panted out, clutching your stomach as bile rose to your throat.

Annie reached out for you first, her warmth a welcoming comfort despite the heat overwhelming your body already. “Calm down, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack like that.” She rubbed your back up and down, firm and slow.

“Who got her?” Smoke asked, hand reaching for the gun in his jacket.

“The guys you sent away. I saw Mary and Stack talkin’ and followed her outside. Those two led her into the forest and one of them stopped me before I could get to her.”

Smoke shared a glance with Annie, narrowing his eyes at your words. “You said they ain't human?”

You shook your head quickly. “The man—Remmick—he came in front of me from twenty feet away in the blink of an eye. His teeth are sharp, and he didn't even flinch when the glass got stuck in his head. His eyes were red and glowing.”

Annie tensed. Smoke, on the other hand, seemed to relax even just slightly. “You sayin’ those three are some kind of demon?”

“Something!” You exclaimed, exasperated. “I don't know what, but they got her. We need to help her.”

Smoke resolved to a simple nod and beckoned across the room for Stack to come down from the rafters. “We'll find her.” He leaned above you, muttering something in Annie's ear that you couldn't make out. Annie's hold on you tightened and began leading you to the back rooms.

A light knock sounded on the wooden door. Everyone in the entrance froze, eyeing the door carefully.

Cornbread, who had been a silent observer this entire time, waited for permission from Smoke to move before he slowly cracked open the door. Smoke pointed his gun right at the door, head-level, waiting for an opportunity.

There, right as rain, stood a perfectly intact Mary.

“What's everybody standin’ around for?” She smiled, and it seemed all too familiar to you. “You gon’ let me in, Cornbread?”

“Of‐of course, Mary.” He stammered out, opening the door wider for the young lady to be let in.

“Mary?” You whispered out, clinging to Annie's arm tighter. “But. . .”

“You feelin’ okay?” She tilted her head slightly, brown eyes lit with concern for you. You flinched when she felt a hand out to your forehead, and she slowly withdrew it back to her hip. “You're not looking too hot.”

Smoke kissed his teeth, putting his gun away just as fast as it got brought out. Cornbread closed the door again and the tension was thicker than the previous fear. “You been drinkin'?” Your name came from his mouth like a curse, which surprised you. He'd never turned his anger to you, or been angry at all, really. “Get back to the stockroom, I think you're done for the night.” He turned away, steps long and heavy as he met Stack half-way across the room. They shared a small muted few words before Stack nodded and went to Mary's side, discreetly glancing at you as he did. If you saw guilt in his dark eyes, it was gone a moment later. Mary grinned as he approached, their own conversation out of range for you as Annie led you to the kitchen's backroom.

“Annie, you gotta believe me.” You pleaded as she left you to sit on a crate. It wasn't a moment later that she brought you a glass of lukewarm water. She leaned on the crate next to you, folding her hands over her chest and simply observing.

“I believe that you saw something that scared the life out of you” She said, voice soothing and slow. “You're sure it wasn't just the light or the liquor?”

She was asking, but not in the condescending way you thought she might. Annie was cautious, always wary of her surroundings and looking out for the people she loved. She had been spiritual since the day you met her when you were both younger, and though you didn't believe her words of warning before and hoodoo bags of protection, you sure as hell did now.

Annie was trying to figure out what she was dealing with and how big of a threat it might be.

“I haven't drank anything, just a half-bottle of beer.” You persisted. “I walked away from him and he was right in front of me like a ghost. Hell, Annie, I smashed that bottle right over his head and he didn't even flinch. What kinda man doesn't react to blood seeping down his face?”

She pursed her lips, glancing to the open doorway and to the dancing people. They didn't have a clue in the world. You wished you could say the same and live in blissful ignorance again.

“You said you heard Mary scream. That she went off with those people?”

“Yes! It wasn't some jumpy screech, she was terrified, like they were hunting her down.” How was she alive, if Joan and Bert were indeed the same thing Remmick was? She couldn't have outrun or outfought them any more than you did.

She took your words in carefully, considering her options and opting to straighten up. “Finish that and stay right here. I'll be right back.” With that, she was off before you could get another peep out. It was easiest to guess she'd be right by Smoke's side, telling him her genuine concerns and getting brushed off when he insisted stuff like that simply wasn't real.

You weren't gonna wait around for her to come back with bad news.

The only way to find out what really happened was from the source. Or rather, victim of the source. You weren't crazy. Nor drunk or disillusioned by the night and it's tricks. You crept out from the room right behind Annie, merging with the crowd to slip back out of sight and towards where Mary and Stack last were. Near the entrance, parallel to the door you'd so desperately ran to, was one of the now-closed store rooms.

Gingerly, you twisted the knob open and called for her. “Mary?” The lighting wasn't too dim, a single oil lamp lighting the entirety of the area from the doorway and allowing you to see her straddling Stack on the floor. For a minute, you thought you had walked in on something you weren't supposed to, but the stillness of Mary's shoulders made you stiffen.

She slowly rose from her leaned-over positioning, face no longer buried into his neck. It's then that you saw the blood pouring from the side of it, watching him writhe in pain and bring his hand up to stop the bleeding. Your jagged breath caught in your throat as you took a step back to get help.

The music was too loud. The floor buzzed with the vibrations. The people were too densely packed to move through. Cornbread was missing from the door. You had to get Mary off Stack and stop the bleeding, and then simply hope that someone will come running in when they hear the commotion.

You ran up to her, reaching for her arm to tug her lithe body from Stack's, only to barely graze her skin with your nails when she jumped up. While he still twitched and gasped for air, Stack tried his best to look down at you and shake his head. The world spun around you as you got pinned to the floor, Mary's frame now hovering on top of your hips to hold you down. Blood dripped down her face and onto yours as she leaned over you, and you clawed at her face to get her off.

After a few moments of struggle Mary caught your wrists and held them tight. Blood and skin caught beneath your nails and you could taste the bile in your throat rising from the metallic scent that plagued you. She giggled airily at your plight and sighed. “You weren't s'posed to see that.” The words didn't sound like their own, wrong and dark out of her mouth. "I wanted to charm you the traditional way, but this works too."

Stack stopped moving by your feet.

“He'll be okay.” She reassured in a soft coo. “Little Mary just couldn't live on without Elias. Sweet, isn't it?”

“Mary. . .” You swallowed, willing all of this to be a dream. Stack was dead. Your cousin was dead right at your feet and Mary killed him. The woman he loved and thought loved him, too. His blood was on your face. You were next. No one would come to help you in this dinky little storage room. You'll die and then she'll kill your brother next. Smoke, Annie, Grace and Bo—every soul who just wanted one night of bliss wouldn't even make it to their own beds.

For once, you missed those cold church pews that made your ass sore and legs fall asleep. If you had to die, at least you were free for just one night.

Her grin only widened, stretching unnaturally wide and showing red-stained teeth. “We won't hurt ya’. You, or anyone else in here.”

Your hands trembled as you whispered, “I thought you cared for him. For all of us.”

Mary sneered, smile downturned like the flick of a switch. Claws dug into your arms as she seethed. “I do. You have no—” She paused, righting herself back up out of your face and loosened her harsh grip on you. “You don't understand yet, that's okay. We'll show you, won't we?”

“What happened to you? What'd they do to you?” You asked. Your limbs felt hot with pain but the fear of worse had your adrenaline pumping faster than a greyhound's.

Mary looked behind her to Stack, eyes tender despite the massacre she was looking at. “Nothing that you won't understand. But, honey, you need to make a choice real fast before he wakes up.”

“Wakes up?” You scoffed. “You fucking killed him!” She should have never been let in, and you should've never gone after her. The crazy bitch deserved to be alone.

She squeezed your wrists warningly. “I could go out there right now. I could tear a hundred necks right off without being stopped. But I'm bein’ generous tonight. You can come with us outside or let them all die—and then get dragged outside anyway. I don't particularly mind either way.”

You sucked in a breath. “Go with you where?”

“Not her, hon’.” She laughed.

“You?” Remmick.

“You're a smart girl, aren't ya? Smarter than most.” She, he, purred. “And I'll bet you're clever enough to make the right choice.”

The right choice. There wasn't a good choice for you, but instead the lesser of two unknowns. Why Remmick wanted just you to follow him without question was something you wouldn't know until you were in his clutches. Would he kill you, or perhaps do something much worse? There was no buffer or protection, no Sammie to look to when your father scolded you and no cousins to hide behind when grown men started growing bold. Just you and the devil staring into each other's soul. The devil who stole Mary's face and corrupted her soul.

Your mother was right, and you were foolish to think yourself above old wive's tales. Every one of them was rooted in truth, after all.

“If I come, no one else gets hurt?”

“Not a soul.” She grinned. You wouldn't forget the bloodthirsty glint in her eyes for as long as you lived.

“And if you're lying? If I walk out there and you choose to kill ‘em all anyway?”

“Cross my heart, sweet thing.” She sighed. “You just gotta take a leap of faith. Trust me, and you'll get trust in return.”

There was no reason you wanted them to trust you, for the same reason a wolf doesn't need to trust that a deer is faking its limp. It just doesn't matter in the end when the prey is dead in its maw anyway.

“Okay.” You said, relishing in the release of your limbs and the pressure of her body finally getting off of you. You slowly stood up, warily watching Mary dust herself off and hum.

“You can get up now, baby.” She laughed.

When Stack's deep laugh reverberated throughout the small room, you nearly fainted. Was it all a prank, or were you dead alongside your older cousin? Whatever they, or he, did to Mary and Stack, he'd surely do to you.

“Took you long enough to convince ‘er.” He said, wiping blood off of his neck and standing up as if nothing happened. But it was there, and it was real. A gruesome bite into the dark skin of his neck that had stopped bleeding the moment his heart did.

“Stack?” You sobbed out in disbelief.

He smiled, a more genuine and soft one than he had before. “I'm alright. Better than I've ever felt.” He placed his hands atop your trembling shoulders sympathetically. “You ready to say your ‘goodbyes’?”

Mouth agape, you slowly shook your head. How could you ever be ready to leave your family?

His jaw ticked. “Me neither.” But he guided you out anyway. He found a small, out of place looking scarf to cover his neck up, motioning for Mary to leave the Juke through the open entrance while he did. She rubbed your back as she passed, striding out of the building like she hadn't just upturned your entire life.

Stack headed to Smoke immediately, finding him huddled with Annie and whispering out of earshot from everybody else. You made way to Sammie, feeling your stomach churn with every step. He was just stepping off the stage from his second performance, sweat making his forehead gleam in the light and eyes shine twice as bright.

“Where've you been?” He exclaimed when you approached, boyishly smiling as he adjusted his guitar around his back. “We were supposed to play together, flake.”

You wished more than anything to tell him the truth, to beg him for forgiveness and never leave his side. “Wasn't feelin’ too great.” You said instead. “Stack's gon’ take me home so I can get some sleep. Heard you, though. You don't need me to share the spotlight.”

He shook his head with a playful scoff. “Don't be so dramatic, course I need you to play. That's what we promised, right? Two-man band.”

Born twins, just like your cousins. Always together, always having each-other's back when shit got to be too much at home. You had no clue what you'd do without your other half.

“Two-man band.” You agreed, blinking away tears from your waterline. You tugged Sammie into a tight hug, laughing when he patted your back in confused consolation.

“You sure you're okay to go home?” He asked quieter. “It's not long before we're all drivin’ back anyway.”

“I'm sure. Joint's too loud to get any sleep and my head's poundin’.”

He pulled away, inspecting you with a scrutiny that matched your mother's. He always had her face and kind eyes. “I can come with.” He said. “Make sure you're okay?”

“No.” You denied quickly. “No, I'm okay. Just a headache. ‘Sides, I think someone would burn a hole right through me if I took the showman away.”

When his face scrunched up in confusion, you nodded to the train station woman yet again, snickering when he noticed her intense stare on the back of his head.

“Stack's got me.” You offered. “You enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

“Okay. I'll see you at church.” He said lightly.

“I love you. Be good, Sammie.”

He scoffed and lightly shoved your hands away. “Don't gotta tell me that. Love you, too.”

When he turned and went to the awaiting woman's vicinity, you finally let your face fall. Stack's hand was brought down onto your shoulder, a firm reminder of your promise.

“I know.” You grit out. But one look on his face, and you knew he felt the exact same way.

“I know.” He repeated. You stiffened your lip and looked forward.

The fresh air hit you like a warm embrace.

Remmick's knowing smirk welcomed you like a hyena finding a sick fawn. You could only feel like the prey in the fables, the ones that never quite learned their lessons about avoiding sharp teeth. No matter how much you cheered the little rabbit on, it always got too cocky and couldn't outsmart the fox.

Your hand was taken first. Remmick pulled it to his hand and placed a feather-light kiss upon your knuckles. No matter how much your mind screamed at you to pull away and run again, you were frozen in place. Nothing could save you out here in the open field. He didn't mind the tenseness of your arm nor the rigidity in the way that you stared up at him. “Smart girl.” He greeted with a satisfied grin. “You don't have to worry that pretty little head about a thing no more. I'll take care of you.”

“I don't want this.” You bit. “I don't want to be like you.”

Even as regret and fear slithered its way into your very soul, you couldn't help feel no disgust toward the affection he granted you. He hadn't stared untowardly, hadn't immediately forced himself upon you when you walked out the door, hadn't even threatened your life or your body.

He uprooted your life, though. And you couldn't forgive that.

He hummed thoughtfully. “You can't see it yet. But you will, dove, you will. You'll feel it just as I do.” He nodded towards the very happy couple off to the side. “Just as they do.”

Stack held Mary by her shoulders lovingly, and she snuggled her head into his shoulder with a content smile.

“Y'think I'm gon’ be like them?” You hissed. “I don't know what you did, but they aren't themselves no more.”

Remmick chuckled at your supposed petulance. “I just showed them what they could have. An eternity together. All I ask of you is a little cooperation and an open mind.”

“You're a damned fool if you think I'm kissing your feet and calling you a savior.”

He only laughs again, more genuine and less antagonistic. “I'd sure hope not. We're equals, ain't we? That's what soulmates are for.”

“You keep saying that.” You glanced to Mary and Stack, who were listening with thinly veiled amusement at your insistence. “That type of thing doesn't exist. M'not a child you can tell tall tales to and expect me believe them.”

“I agree.” He shrugs. “You're smart. You did what you had to do to save your brother. A hard choice, but you'll thank me for it later.”

“Thank you—!” You fumed, appalled at his quip and mention of your family. “It was either watch his throat be ripped out or walk into a snake pit!”

He wet his lips briefly, pink tongue just showing a sliver before disappearing back behind his teeth. Hands in his pockets, he stepped forward just a bit. It wasn't meant to be threatening, but it was all the same and he had to know it. Wordlessly, Mary and Stack left to his car to presumably wait for you.

“Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I had to do. Didn't get much of one, really, when the sun was risin’ and I had to hide away from my own folks and never see ‘em again. I know how you feel, really, I do.”

Your eyes were wet all over again, unable to be concealed even in the face of the devil. Or, especially in the face of the devil.

“So why'd you do this to me?” You whispered.

“Because,” he matched your low and even tone. “I wasn't meant to die a human. N’ neither are you. Once you wake up, you'll understand exactly what I'm feeling right now just lookin’ at you. When I heard your voice, that sweet, honey-like song you sang in there, I knew it was you I've been waiting for all these years. Every single moment I've spent wandering aimlessly has been worth the mind-numbin’ loneliness that's kept me company. That's why I had to show you, to save you from mortality.”

“Do I get a choice?”

Remmick smiled bittersweetly, eyes more human-looking than they'd been all night.

“‘Fraid not, mo chroí. Don't you worry that pretty little head o’ yours, it'll be over before you know it.”

was very tempted to write a small epilogue timeskip of her and remmick visiting Sammie's bar years later and showing mc/reader's happiness in her new life with her soulmate but it already went over 10k words and I'm alr doubting this will do well lmaoo

man idk the exact order of events that happened this means i need to go rewatch Sinners about 4 more times in cinema. also idk who manned the bar, Bo or Grace? or Annie? But she did the food so ughhh I just went with Grace.

Sammie's pretty ooc but I imagine he's a lot different with a sibling than the cousins he hadn't seen in years. Different levels of comfort bring out different sides from all of us.

it's so frustrating i genuinely could not find clips of smoke and stack speaking during remmick's intro scene its all just the ‘sir, we believe in equality’ clip so the dialog is horrible on the twin's side. i cant wait for the movie to stream!

this one-shot is my longest single fic yet. she's a mammoth, of course

[pathologicalreid]

born in a burning house | s.r.

in which an arsonist is going around and abducting children, with your daughter as their next target

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: arson, child endangerment, references the popular kids, the instincts, and amplification, girl dad!spencer, happy ending word count: 4.21k a/n: as my good friend haley would say: baby arson! happy father's day (if you didn't figure out why i was posting every day, it was because of father's day. i'm going to take a nap now.)

Tears that welled in your eyes made it impossible for you to read the papers in front of you. The descriptions of violent crimes being committed against children made your chest feel tight, and you continuously had to hold yourself back from calling your nanny. You trusted Sydney, and she’d been vetted by Penelope, who’d used the strictest scrutiny possible when conducting a background check. 

Tapping on the screen of your phone to wake it up, you were met with an image of your daughter. You had fast enough reflexes to snap a photo of her very first smile. Spencer had the same photo printed out on his desk. 

You took a deep breath, you returned to the case file that Hotch handed you. Someone had already skimmed through it, removing all of the photos before it landed on your desk, protecting you from your job. 

It didn’t take a profiler to know why they’d done it. Someone was going around the tri-state area and abducting children, going younger each time, and each child had turned up dead less than twenty-four hours later. Your daughter was only four months old, you were fresh off of maternity leave, and despite the fact that Hotch had offered you a way out, you were determined to stay on this case. It was your first big one since coming back, and if you couldn’t handle this, you couldn’t handle your job anymore. 

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, entering the roundtable room and taking a seat next to you. He eyed the file suspiciously, scrutinizing the details of the page before turning his attention to you. “How are you holding up?” 

Refraining from taking your eyes off of the files, you hummed in response, flipping through the pages before truly answering. “If the UnSub sticks to pattern, they’ll be abducting another baby soon,” you reminded him, “and they’ll go younger.” 

Spencer was quiet for a moment, acknowledging the same thing you’d been anxious about for the past day. The last child who had been abducted was seven months old, a little boy whose mother you’d comforted until you had to excuse yourself. He eyed your phone, “Did you call?” 

“No,” you answered miserably, you’d been holding back. You were afraid of recognizing it as a threat. “Do you think I should?”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I think that if worrying about Annie gets in the way of working this case, then you should probably call Sydney.”

Nodding slowly, you tapped the screen of your phone again, looking at the photo of your daughter that illuminated the screen. You picked up the phone, deciding you’d make the call out of an abundance of caution, you opened your contacts and dialed Sydney’s number, holding the phone to your ear while it rang. 

And rang. 

And rang. 

When you got her voicemail instead of a real answer, you frowned up at your husband. “Uh, Hey, Syd. Spencer and I just wanted to give you a call to check in and see how Annaliese is doing. Give me a call back.” 

You hung up the phone, pursing your lips at the fact that the action intended to quell your anxiety had only made you more nervous. In the albeit short time you’d known Sydney, you’d never gotten her voicemail, the sound was so foreign to you that it’d taken you a moment to even realize you’d gotten the machine. “What’s going on?” Hotch asked, walking into the roundtable room on the other side, Kate and Derek following close behind him. 

“Uh,” you said, your voice breaking a seal of emotion in your throat. “Our nanny isn’t answering the phone.” You sent her a quick text asking her how it’s going before looking back up at your boss. 

Hotch took one look at you and Spencer before nodding, “Go home and check in.” You stood up from your chair at his direction. He shook his head before you could protest, “Take JJ with you.” 

Just in case. He didn’t have to say the words, but you knew that was his intention of bringing the other agent along with you. It didn’t help the tightness in your chest that he didn’t suggest sending a squad car through your neighborhood before he sent you home. The acknowledgment that your daughter fit the victimology hurt almost as much as the fact itself. 

After Spencer insisted that only one of you needed to go, you passed through the bullpen, grabbing JJ on your way through headquarters. You let her drive, knowing you were too unstable to do so, “What’s the over under on Hotch letting me bring her back to the office?” You asked, trying to break through the thick tension of the SUV.

JJ laughed lightly at your joke—a pity laugh, really—as she turned onto your street. “I don’t know. That little girl kind of has us all…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed something in the distance, and you followed her gaze until you saw it too. 

“Call Spencer,” you said, letting yourself out of the car before it had the chance to come to a full stop. You pushed through the front door, broken off of its hinges, stepped into your home, and drew your weapon. 

Your heart raced while you walked through the eerie silence of your home, clearing the main floor before going upstairs. The first room that you checked was the nursery, decorated with toys that she couldn’t play with yet and stuffed animals that she wasn’t old enough to sleep with. You knew JJ was close behind, hearing the creak of the bannister that you needed to fix while you cleared the bathroom, checking behind the curtain when you noticed the sound of the birds chirping got louder the closer you got to your bedroom. 

With the sound of blood rushing to accompany you, you let yourself into the room, surprised to find the balcony doors were wide open. You rarely left it open anymore, and you definitely wouldn’t have left it like that before leaving for work. Peeking into the bassinet, your heart dropped at the sight of the bare sheets, but something nagged at you, telling you to check the balcony. 

Trusting your instincts, you hesitantly approached the fence, checking out the backyard before looking down. There was Sydney, sitting in a puddle of blood that seemed to be coming from her head. Her green eyes were still open as they stared up at you, blankly pleading with you to help her, but there was no saving her. 

The blood that surrounded her had coagulated, transforming your back patio into a murder scene instead of an entertainment space. “Did you find anything?” JJ asked from the doorway, moving through the room until she was standing next to you, looking down at the horrific picture painted beneath you.

Annie was gone, and her nanny was dead. The only conclusion you could find was that your daughter had been taken, defenseless at only four months old, and based on the way Sydney’s limbs laid at the end of her fall, she’d been pushed—the last line of defense, defeated. 

“Spencer’s on his way,” JJ assured you. “The whole team’s on their way.” 

Along with a small army, you imagined, crime scene techs and local officers and anyone else they could scrounge up on a moment's notice. You were grateful for JJ in the moment, how she stayed with you on the balcony until Spencer arrived. She didn’t tell you anything, and she didn’t try to get you to talk. JJ didn’t need anything from you except for you to keep standing. 

“Reid,” you heard JJ say, overhearing the shuffling of feet before you were turned ninety degrees, positioned face to face with your husband. 

His eyes were lined with red, a mixture of his current emotions and the residual exhaustion from a late night with the baby. Your body was rigid as he pulled you into his arms, your eyes burned as you resisted the need to cry. You refused to succumb to violent tears when your daughter needed you, but you felt Spencer’s silent tears drop onto your neck while he held you. 

Your resolve unraveled in an instant, all of the phones around you started going off, the hauntingly familiar sound of an AMBER Alert bringing all of your emotion to the surface. The first sob wracked through your body while your legs gave out beneath you, the both of you dropping to the floor together. 

Everything that happened in the interim had been a haze, friends and strangers alike walking through your home like you weren’t there. You were sat on the couch with a stuffed bunny that someone had given you to hold onto. It was the one that Annie fell asleep with every night, gripping it with her tiny fingers until you were sure she was asleep, at which point it rested on your nightstand. 

Separate from you, Spencer was in the kitchen with Rossi and Kate, going through every detail of the case while you sat on the couch, unable to do anything except for catastrophize. Whoever had turned on the TV was eligible to win a Least Valuable Player award, leaving you to watch your daughter’s missing persons report flash on the bottom of the news screen. 

Despite the fact that they assumed you’d tuned everyone out, you were listening into their theories about the UnSub. “What do you think he wants with the kids?” Spencer asked, a layer of hesitation blanketing his tone, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

“Well,” Rossi started his answer, “I think it’s pretty clear at this point that he’s looking for a surrogate, but there’s one thing that’s been off about his victimology.” 

“Gender,” Kate filled in the blank. “He switches from boys and girls sporadically.”

While they shuffled around papers, you traced shapes with your eyes on the textured ceiling of your living room. “Is there a gender he keeps for longer periods?” 

You closed your eyes while you waited for someone to answer, going over the details of the case solitarily while listening into their conversation. “The boys,” Rossi answered regretfully.

“He keeps the boys longer,” Spencer said, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and taking a seat.

Dragging yourself up from the couch, you walked over to the kitchen at a sloth’s pace, looking at the crime scene photos that were now scattered across your home. No one spoke to you, but they all turned to face you. Expectant looks from everyone went your way, though whether or not they expected you to speak up or break down, you didn’t know. 

When you did speak, your voice was hoarse, and your throat felt like you had spent the last hour swallowing shards of glass. “Do you remember Michael Bridges?”

Kate frowned, “Who’s Michael Bridges?” 

“A little boy from a case we worked in Las Vegas six years ago,” Rossi clarified. 

Patiently, Spencer nodded at you, “He was kidnapped by a woman who was experiencing psychosis after going off her medication while she was pregnant. Her son was taken away from her by the state, so she used the boys as surrogates for her baby.” You weren’t surprised that Spencer remembered the case so well. Aside from his eidetic memory, that case had also caused memories of another little boy to resurface—someone he had known in his childhood. “What made you think of him?” 

You peered at the photos of your daughter that had made their way to the table, “Claire Bates was kidnapping young boys even though her son was only a newborn. Her psychosis was strong enough to convince her that the boys were only infants.” You swallowed thickly, your hands shaking uncontrollably until you wrapped your arms around yourself, “Men abduct kids. Women abduct infants.”

“The UnSub’s a woman,” Kate clarified immediately. 

Nodding, you stepped up to the table, returning to an active role in the case. “A mother,” you continued, “Probably to a little boy, only a few months old.”  

Rossi set his phone on the table, placing his hands on his hips while he waited for Penelope to answer the phone. “Please tell me you found something,” her voice chimed in, not waiting for a traditional greeting before jumping into the case. 

“Garcia, compile a list of accidental deaths of infants four months old and younger within the comfort zone,” he started giving her parameters. “We’re looking for someone who lost a little boy.” 

Penelope sighed on the other end of the call, “Oh, this is a sad list.” 

You leaned over the table, planting your palms on the oak surface for stability, “Penelope, start with accidental deaths and then broaden out to removals from the home.” 

She was quiet for a moment, likely searching for the proper thing to say while her fingers continued frantically typing. “First list, sent, Honey Bunches of Oats,” she told you, the chime of your phone signalling that you’d gotten a list in your email. “Okay, and– oh…” She said, her voice trailing off. 

“What is it?” Dave asked, furrowing his brows at the phone. 

The technical analyst took a deep breath, “Well, you see, two months ago there was an incident in Alexandria. A baby boy named Elijah Holmes was napping in his crib when the house went up in flames while under the care of his babysitter, Natalie. According to the fire department the fire was totally accidental and was caused by faulty wiring, but the mother of the baby has been quoted as putting all of the blame on the sitter. I was just thinking maybe there’s a connection because of how the last victim was found. Maybe. Possibly.” 

You frowned at her implication of a connection, “What was the connection?” You asked generally, looking around the kitchen while you waited for someone to tell you the truth. 

“The most recent victim, the little boy, he was found with burns on his left side,” Kate answered for everyone else.

Glaring at Spencer, you set your jaw while he avoided your gaze. “Penelope, where’s the mom now?” 

Listing off an address, you all grabbed the things you needed before heading out of the front door, you loaded into cars. You and Spencer sat in the backseat on an SUV while Rossi and Kate sat in the front, Penelope conferenced the rest of the team in on the call while you let your anger and fear simmer. “I didn’t think it was pertinent,” Spencer admitted mournfully, telling you what you’d already assumed: he’d been the one to hide the arson aspects of the case from you. 

“And what do you think now?” You said bitterly, refusing to look at him. 

He sighed, “I was wrong.”

Pulling the stuffed bunny from the pocket of your jacket, you set it in between the two of you and sighed. “Yeah,” you murmured ruefully, “You were.” 

Upon arrival at the mother’s new address, a rental that she’d moved into with money from an insurance settlement, Hotch met you and Spencer behind the police line. “You two can’t go in,” he insisted, despite the fact that everyone around you was currently preparing to enter the home. People that Annaliese wouldn’t know crowded the house while you and Spencer were effectively sidelined. 

Derek had positioned himself in front of the both of you, ready to pull you back should you decide to make a run for it, but you resigned yourself to the idea that it would all be over soon. You tried to ignore your racing heart while JJ tried to negotiate with the mother, “Abby Holmes, we know you’re in there.”

You grew more and more impatient as the time went on, and with no response from the UnSub, your hope started to dwindle. “Spence,” you whispered. 

He nodded, acknowledging that he was feeling the same way. “I know,” he muttered back, the stuffed rabbit gripped in his hands. 

Chewing anxiously on your bottom lip, you waited for something to happen, and your heart seized when you heard an alarm going off. From inside the house, a smoke alarm had started going off, and instinctively, you and Spencer both took off running. 

While Derek body blocked Spencer, his only option left was to grab you to pull you back, but all he got was a handful of your jacket. You left it behind, letting him pull it off while you ducked under the police tape, sprinting up the front yard while Spencer shouted your name from the street.

The front door was unlocked, and you swung it open before entering. You smelled the smoke emanating, and once you were in the house, you heard the wails of your daughter. Annie’s horrified cries signaled you to her location, with your weapon drawn, you walked to the back of the house. The UnSub was in the living room, the curtains set ablaze from behind her, but what you were really focused on was Annie.

Her face was bright red, likely from a combination of the heat and her endless screams. From what you could see, she looked free from any serious injuries, but you had to get her away from the fire. 

“You had the babysitter,” the UnSub said, though it wasn’t an observation—it was an accusation. She coughed through the quickly thickening smoke, “You had the babysitter.” 

You tried to wave the smoke away from your face, “Sydney was our nanny,” you told her, eyes burning. 

She shook her head, “She was the babysitter.” You nodded at her insistence, “She wouldn’t let me take him, so I did what I had to do. I had to get him to safety.”

“You’re right,” you cajoled her, though it comforted you to know that Sydney had died trying to protect your daughter. “You had to save him. Your baby’s name is Elijah, right?” Even though there was nothing more you wanted to do than get your baby back, you had to make sure you did so safely. “My daughter’s name is Annaliese,” you told her. “She’s four months old. Her dad and I call her Annie.” 

Your heart ached at the way your daughter responded to her name being called, her wails ebbing for just a moment when she finally noticed you. “He wasn’t safe with the babysitter,” Abby insisted again. 

You nodded, “I know. I know,” you coughed through the smoke, “but we aren’t safe here either, Abby. We need to get away from the fire.” 

“I should’ve been there,” she said mournfully, turning her head to look at the ever growing fire. Your chest ached as breathing became more and more of a chore. “I should’ve died with him,” she told you. 

Finally, everything made sense to you, in a way that only an UnSubs actions could make sense. She was trying to recreate the day her son died, except now she was trying to take another baby down with her. “Abby,” you said her name as gently as you could while still being audible over the wailing and alarms, “Elijah’s gone. I’m so sorry.” 

She shook her head, stepping backwards—closer to the fire—and muttering to herself, “no, no, no, no.”

“You can save her though,” you assured her, holding your hands out for Annaliese while wondering if you’d make it in time if you had to lunge for her. Her little legs kicked in protest, though you noticed she was losing steam, and you’d found yourself growing faint while the flames continued to grow. 

A pop came from the couch behind her, embers flying at her, and when she flinched from the burns, her grip slipped on Annie. You took your opportunity, crouching to grab the baby before she had the chance to hit the floor. 

For less than a split second, you watched Abby and considered helping her out, but the helpless baby on your hip had to take priority and you ran for the door. You had a much more sluggish pace when running outside than you had when you were on your way in. “Reid,” Someone shouted, and you slowed down slightly when you were almost at the edge of the property. 

You smiled despite yourself when JJ was the first to get to you, she was scolding you about running into a burning building while your head spun. 

Spencer got to you next, not far behind JJ. Together, the two of them led you to the ambulance, keeping you upright when adrenaline caused you to trip over your feet. Quietly, Spencer kept whispering the same words over and over again, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He repeated, kneeling in front of you once you sat down at the ambulance and the EMTs got you and Annie fitted with oxygen masks.

Frowning when Spencer tried to take the baby from you, your grip on her tightened protectively. 

“I know,” he murmured gently, knowing you’d just almost died trying to get her and didn’t want to give her up so easily. “You have a burn on your arm,” he let you know, “Let me take her for a little while so they can treat it. We’ll stay right next to you.” 

Reluctantly, your hold on Annie loosened while Spencer pulled her onto his lap, staying true to his word and taking a seat on the rig next to you. He cradled her, and you both sighed in relief when she finally stopped bawling.

Her little hands tugged at the mask on her face, but her father produced the small stuffed animal that you’d taken from the house, handing it to her to keep her tiny fingers occupied. Hearing shouting from the house, your hand that was holding your own oxygen mask to your face fell to your lap at the sight of Abby being carried out by the firefighters. Paramedics crowded her when they laid her on the grass, but by the looks of it, there was nothing to be done. 

Using his empty hand, Spencer lifted your hand back to your face, “Keep this on, honey.” His hands shook with residual fear, and you were sure yours weren’t performing better. 

You held the oxygen mask to your face, and tears fell from your smoke affected eyes while he looped the elastic bit around your head. “I thought…” your voice trailed off, garbled by the smoke inhalation and muffled by the mask. 

“I know,” Spencer responded, kissing the top of your head when you leaned onto his shoulder, looking down at Annie, who giggled at the sight of you with your oxygen mask on. 

“Here,” Spencer whispered, passing you the cup of water he’d gotten you when you arrived at the pediatric unit. The burn on your arm was freshly debrided and bandaged, and aside from a prescription you needed to pick up in the morning, you were fully treated. 

Because her lungs were considerably smaller than yours, the doctors at the hospital decided it would be best for her to stay overnight for observation. Though they were impressed with her condition, telling you that, of all things, her crying had likely protected her. The extended wails had prevented too much smoke from entering her lungs 

You sipped at the cold water gratefully, looking down at Annaliese while she slept in the hospital bassinet. You set it down next to you, glancing up at Spencer while he tapped his fingers. “What’s wrong?” 

He raised his eyebrows, stilling his fingers in acknowledgement that he had been caught. “I used to have this dream,” he murmured, keeping his voice down so he didn’t disturb your sleeping daughter. “It started around the time I had first joined the BAU,” he continued, “There was a baby girl in the middle of a fire, put there by an UnSub, and no matter what I try, I’ve never been able to get to her in time.” 

Taking a deep breath, you studied his expression carefully, “Well, you don’t believe in dream analysis…” 

“No,” he replied, “I don’t.” 

Shrugging, you rested your chin on the bassinet, “I mean. You couldn’t get to her, so I did.” He’d previously admitted to using from choice words toward Derek when he held Spencer back, but as far as you knew, all was well between the two of them. 

Spencer frowned, “By running into a burning building.” His tone was chiding, and you understood why. You wouldn’t have changed your actions, but you understood why it bothered him so much. “Without thinking first,” he added. 

You smiled shyly, “Yeah, it reminds me of this guy I knew who once ran into an anthrax lab without a mask. Although, he didn’t really run. His pace was pretty leisurely.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in response, “Yeah. That probably wasn’t the best decision, but we got a good result.” His hand reached into the bassinet, dragging a knuckle down your daughter’s cheek while she shifted slightly on the sterile mattress. 

“Yeah,” you hummed, reaching into the bassinet and taking his hand in yours, “I think we did.”

[sheabuttahwrites]

Tag Me In ( part one )

Modern!AU Smoke x Annie

- Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist - sounds // When You Touch Me - Brandy - warnings - smut, explicit language, there's filth in here - -

Annie was in a bad way today.

Her poor vibrator sat atop her blanket worn out, on its final bit of glint from the last try. She had turned to her side and moved on to watching one of her favorite youtube shows. In this episode, the group was discussing which appetizer was the worst, yet her pussy was leaking between her cheeks as if it were something much more salacious. Her legs squirmed beneath the covers, unable to keep still as she laughed at them joke on each other more than they discussed the actual topic. 

She fell back with a heavy, frustrated sigh, wondering why her hormones had to kick in while she was home alone. And, even more, what she was gonna do about it. Especially since she had already made herself cum three whole times with not an ounce of relief in sight. In the midst of near hysteria, she was notified that someone was coming into the garage. She squealed after looking at her phone. A few short seconds later, the remedy walked through their bedroom door. 

“What happened?”

“Stack canceled. His lazy ass wanna do it next week now.” 

“Oh, wow. Your brother’s a trip.”

“Yeah. I heard Sammie in the background, too, so I’m sure that’s what really changed his plans. They’ll be up to no good pretty soon.”

“You know, I always did like Sammie.”

He chuckled, disappearing into the bathroom. A few moments later, he came out in his undershirt and boxer briefs. “You wanted me home, huh?”

“Hell yeah. Come here.” 

The way her tongue ran softly over her lips while her eyes took in every bit of him, he already knew what type of time she was on. It was confirmed when he saw the toy lying behind her. 

“What you been in here doing?” He grinned slyly.

“Nothing.” She was grinning herself as she lied. 

“Don’t look like nothing.”

“Whatever I did, I still need you.”

He was immediately taken by the pretend innocence in those big, brown eyes. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. “Mhm.”

He came closer and picked the vibrator up, turning it on. He switched through every speed before stopping on the highest one. Internally, she was celebrating, as guaranteed satisfaction wasn't too far away. But then he switched it off, put it down in front of her, and, most concerning, backed away. “First, show me what you be doing when I’m not here.” 

Annie’s stomach dropped, taking her smile with it. Though he’d seen, touched, and tasted just about every part of her, this made her nervous for some reason. Maybe because she’d only ever done it by herself? She was on the way into her head when he grabbed her chin and made her look at him, lovingly brushing his fingers down her cheek. 

“Go ‘head, baby, don't be shy. I got you.”

Feeling just slightly reassured, she went over onto her elbow. The lump in her throat went down a lot easier than her hand did under the blanket. Then he pulled it back and took away her last bit of comfort, revealing her panties down beside her. But, before she could react, they were against his face getting a long, deep sniff. 

“Smoke! Oh my god.” She couldn't help but laugh at him groaning with closed eyes. Like her drawers were the most delicious scent he'd ever had the privilege of smelling. “You are so nasty.”

He winked at her and grinned, throwing them back onto the bed. 

Reminded that there was nothing for her to feel unsure about, that this was her man and it wasn’t possible for her to be any safer, she turned her body to face him head on and propped herself up on a pillow. If he wanted a show, she was gonna give him one. 

“Ok. That's what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” he rejoiced, rubbing his hands together and making her giggle even more. 

She unabashedly slid her fingers between her lips and closed her eyes. That was just her way of doing things. But he had different plans.

“Nah, mama. Eyes on me.”

She took a deep breath and gladly bent to his will, spreading her legs while her hand slipped around in her wetness. She gazed through her thighs at him and bit her lip. His sexy ass smolder always sent her over the edge, but watching him watch her was turning her on in a way she hadn't expected. She’d never considered voyeurism to be her cup of tea, but now that she was in it, she only had one complaint. Her fingers weren't going to be enough. 

She picked up the vibrator and started it on the lowest speed. The corner of his lips went up into a satisfied grin. As anticipated, her helper added a thrill that her hand just couldn't match as she pushed it over her clit. She brought one of her knees up to her chest, her breathing starting to quicken. She was in a groove. A moan spilled from her throat like a sultry melody. His favorite song.

“There you go.”

Smoke came closer, hungrily licking his lips, dimples deep enough to drown in. She liked the hell out of this. Any doubts she might've had before had since turned to titillation. He wouldn't have to tell her again to look at him, because she was locked in. Her hips rolled as she surrendered to the sparks igniting the fire between her thighs, her moans pouring out. He had a fire of his own rising as he witnessed her lose control with her eyes set on him. Overcome, she grabbed her titty and sucked it into her mouth. It was so hard for him not to touch her, but he could do this all day. Taking in the fullness of her body, her deep brown skin thoroughly moisturized, big titties falling from the top of her shirt. Beauty paled in comparison to what she was. And all she wanted was him.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, squeezing her soaked nipple between two fingers. “Mmmm.”

“Open up, fat cat. Let me see.”

She reached down and spread herself wide. He smiled and leaned in to get a better view, blowing delicately on her pussy before his ascent. She gasped. The breeze flowing against her slippery skin sent a chill through her entire body. She pushed the vibrator against her clit and held it there. She was done. His arms, his chest in that tank top, the thickness. The achingly sensual tone of his voice. The way his dick was running out of space in his underwear. All of it was driving her crazy. She needed to release. 

Her mouth fell open and, for the first time since they’d started, her eyes left him. As they rolled, her head followed, tipping back on the pillow she’d now sunken deeper into. Watching her fight—and fail—to keep enough composure to hold her head up, hearing her beg sweetly for him with almost every breath she took, was doing him in. Like her, he wasn't gonna last too much longer.

“Smoke,” she called, desperately.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please touch me.”

He didn't need to hear her say it again. He started at her knee and gently led his hand down to her inner thigh. Eye to eye with her once more, he gave the softness a light squeeze, then her hips went completely still. 

He smiled. “Oooh. This my part right here.”

A heavy crease hit her brow and he saw her pussy start to ripple. He swore he could feel it pulsing against his dick. Mesmerized, he leaned in just as a thick bead of her nectar dripped out, hanging on to the edge. 

“Goddamn. Make a mess for me, mama.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Her head slumped back and he grabbed her other thigh, kneading his fingers into them both. 

“Mhm. I wanna see that pretty pussy all over these sheets.”

She shrieked and the waves began to ripple faster. The muscles in her thighs were flexing hard against his hands. He licked his lips, watching her leak onto their bed just as he’d asked. She looked up at him, chest heaving, her cries reaching an octave he didn’t have the strength to ignore. 

He let her go and started to jump up and down, stretching his neck from side to side like a fighter waiting for his chance in the ring. “Shit, that’s enough.” 

Annie drifted out of ecstacy and right into a laugh, where he had his palm out toward her, still jumping. “…You foolish.”

“Tag me in, girl. It's my turn.”

@blackerthings @judymfmoody @lyrarodriguez @fendionmyfeet @fadingbelieverexpert @chaneajoyyy @astoldbychae @hotgrlcece @daddiespamm @lovethecheri @xo-goldengirl @miyuhpapayuh @buttrflybby @jiminie-08 @queengodiva619 @soufcakmistress @shiania @motheroffae @savagemickey03 @infinity2 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @deepinmydaydream @queenofklonnie22 @irefusetobeacasualty @honestlyurslol @bigjh @katezy2x @brownskincheyenne @shamansha @championshipshade @summrsovrinterlude @freelandgoddess @margepimpson @orchidwonder @lizbehave @spicypiscesssss -taglist-

[anniflamma]

AnniFlamma, we all love your fanart and animatics of Epic: The Musical, please don't let a few shitty people demotivate when 100x those people love and adore the stuff you make, along with all other animators!

Stay safe and take care, we will always be here and I can't seem to repeat this enough but we love your art

Thank you and everyone for reaching out to me. I will be honest with you all that what happened did upset me a lot, but I am very lucky to have people to go to for support. I will even blame some of them for making me cry, my friends, I mean, because if I am upset and if someone asks me if I am okay, I just break down. 😅 But I used our little server as a ground to vent, and right now I feel much better now.

But I will still be honest that I meant what I said that my interest in making Epic fan content has reduced a lot. I still love Epic, and I still really want to do the whole Ithaca saga, but I have also realized that posting content about it has caused me to feel anxious.

An example is when I finished The Challenge animatic, I felt an extreme wave of anxiety when I was going to press the upload button. And the worst thing? My anxiety confirmed the fears. I have gotten tiktok comments saying that I am a freak for drawing Penelope nude despite it being in a non-sexual way. Apparently, I have to be constantly reminded that female bodies are icky and the world hates women. Aaaaaaand then to get hit by that TikTok video of thousands of people shitting on me, Duvetbox, Gigi, Mircy, Neal, and so many more…

If you have noticed, I have posted less, all types of content for Epic. I don’t do my headcanons anymore, I never wrote that full review of Epic, I feel less keen on drawing fanart, let alone joking about shipping here online. I remember when I made a joke about shipping Aphrodite and Athea because they were the only female characters interacting with each other (ignoring Hera), and then I took it as a critique that Epic failed the Bechdel test. After that, I got plenty of anonymous messages about how I am an evil person for shipping those two goddesses… Just say that you don’t know what the Bechdel test is and block me... 😑

I also hate how my first negative experience with the Epic fandom was pure homophobia toward my Bible animatics. Like, they used negative language toward gay people to tell me to make Epic content instead. There is this weird obsession where people expect me and other artists to only do one thing, which is Epic, and if we dare to do something else, we get punished or infantilized, like we didn’t have any say when Casper commissioned us for Stories of Styx. Don’t get me started on how fucking awful people were to Casper and Teagan….

I hate how people easily tell others things, only for them to unquestionably believe everything said about me. Like the amount of "Anni made Ody/Circe porn, uwaaaa!!" And then, the moment someone questions them and forces them to realize I never made such a thing, they double down and say that I shouldn't have made Circe nude in the original animatic "cuz female bodies are icky" or the classic "Well, I haven’t seen the porn video, but someone told me it existed, so I’m going to believe it exsits." Like, you could tell these people that the sky is green, and they would believe you.

Then there’s that whole "Anni supports rape" or "Anni felt bad for the suitors and wanted Penelope to get raped" insanity. Those quotes stems from ppl was crashing out when I made a post criticizing Epic’s way of addressing the topic of rape. In that post, I was suggesting that I would like the story better if Odysseus were actually morally ambiguous when killing the suitors. How could anyone even think Ody was in the wrong for killing the suitors because he wanted to protect Penelope? How can he be a monster after that? I don’t know, I support a husband protecting his wife from gang rapists, but I guess that was the worst thing for me to ever say, huh? Like, how dare I criticize their almighty Jorge…

It’s insane that I have an easier time handling hateful Christians compared to TikTok Epic fans. 😅

Oh well... I’ve had so many bad experiences with the TikTok Epic fandom over the past two years. And eventually, you just want to log off.

I’m thinking of stopping posting Epic content at all on TikTok as a first step. If TikTok Epic fans hate my fanart that much, then I’ll do them the favor of never seeing it from my account. I will, however, continue posting my Bible animatics there. And if I continue working on my Hold Them Down animatic and if I ever finish it… I will only be active here on Tumblr and on YouTube.

And so, at this moment, I will take a pause from Epic. It probably won’t be that long because, despite everything, I love that musical. But I also have to remind myself that, despite there being so many negative remarks toward not only me but the other artists, there is a lot of love from you actual fans. I have about 138K subscribers on YouTube. That’s 138K individuals who love my work so much that they want to see more of it. THAT IS TOTALY INSANE! And I will never forget that! And I am so thankful for all of you and your support. Thank you and I love you guys! 💕

I’m also planning on making a better-formulated post about this another day. All of this is just me ranting and want to take a short break, focusing on something else.... Maybe... Venice the musical? 😅

[fastasyoucant]

𐙚⋆.˚ tailor-made lovin’ | annie moore oneshot.

cw | suggestive. black fem!reader. wlw. MEN DNI. she’s not with smoke. tiny mention of homophobia. allusions to cunnilingus. lowk reader act like preacher boy @ the end oops :3 word count: 1.4K

The Mississippi sun had been tucked away in the thick clouds, and a hush rolled over the shop, creating a soft, illuminated look to the room. The familiar scent of sandalwood incense clung to the fabrics surrounding you. Business has been slow this week, ain’t no orders. Ain't a wandering eye in the windows. The scuff marks on the floor reminded you that it would get busy again; time just needed to stretch its legs.

And maybe it heard you.

Because just as you turned your back toward the counter, the bell chimed. “Welcome in.” You nodded, the once furrowed brow lifting with curiosity.

"You the seamstress that I'm always hearing good things about?" Her eyes stayed on yours, letting the calm energy speak words she didn't need to.

“I’m hopin’ I can be that seamstress fo' you! What you need?” A tingle ran through you, realizing your service was essential. You needed the money for sewing materials, food, and a roof over your own head.

“The chest area on this dress here, s’a little tight. I just need it to be expanded or somethin'. You think that could be done?”

“I don't see why not! That’ll be ten.”

“Ten?” The woman laughed, not cruel but knowing. “Naw baby, I ain’t rich.”

Usually, you don’t make deals with clients, but you understood the struggle. She looked like someone who worked hard for every dollar in her pocket— She knew labor.

“Alright, seven fifty?” You tried a lower number, but tried not to play yourself.

“I can make that work.”

A smile had been crafted on her face when you took the deal. The lady unfolded the item that needed altering, a well-sewn, orange, cotton-rayon dress.

"If you don't mind, I need to take a few measurements." You grabbed the measuring tape from the small coffee table that rested behind the register, placing it around your neck.

"I don't mind at all. You gon need me to put it on right? There's a zipper on here that I always tussle wit'. I'm gon' need a bit of help."

You took in a sharp breath, your body beginning to buzz, thinking about helping her slide on that beautiful dress. You remembered the old ladies in the church, whispering about women like you-- folk they said were sinful, unnatural. Folk they pretended didn't belong.

“That’s fine by me.” You nodded your head. “I just need you to sign your name here!” Your hands snatched the loose paper and pen, placing the notepaper facing her, handing the pen to her faithfully.

She leaned onto the counter to write her name. You hoped the gulp wasn't audible. Your eyes gazed down at her chest; you were no better than a man. "Thank you, ma'am." The once blank paper had a soft signature that read 'Annie'. That name sounded familiar, and now that you thought about it, so was her face. You had seen her before. When the mundane smell of incense had been introduced to your senses once again, that's when it clicked.

"You the one wit’ that Hoodoo shop? Down on Terrance Road?" When she heard you realized who she was, those big brown eyes found a sparkle in them.

"Mhm," Her head nodded with the syllables.

"I was waitin’ on you to notice, I ‘member you coming in and buyin’ that sandalwood not too long ago." That nostalgic feel to the way she spoke only made the memory clearer.

"That's right! Usually I’m good wit' rememberin' faces. Everythin’ going well down there?" You started up conversation.

“As well as it could.”

Her shoulders fell after shrugging, she most likely didn’t want to speak about work when she was off. So you didn’t impede. “I ain’t tryna rush you, Miss Annie, but whenever you’re ready, the dressing room is that white door.” You tilted your head in the direction of it.

When Annie turned to see where she needed to go, you stole sinful glances at her. Her frame was perfect, the plaid sundress complimented her complexion. “Alright then.” She nodded and made her way to the dressing room. She didn’t spare any time trying to get the dress on. You didn’t want to ask because quite frankly, you weren’t sure if you could hide the desire to see her undraped. Then you began to hear her grunt, shuffling herself around into the dress.

“Miss Annie, you need help now?”

“Yes please.”

Slowly dragging in air, you headed towards to room. You carefully opened the door. “Zipper always givin’ me sum trouble.”

“S’alright,” Your jaw clenched, that orange against her brown skin could make flowers bloom in the winter. You began to tug at the dress’s zipper. it was almost as if it was glued in place.

“Damn, this zipper ‘bout stubborn as hell.”

“Ain’t it.” Annie huffed as you yanked continuously until it zipped up.

“Okay, let’s hurry up and get your measurements so you won’t be uncomfortable for long.” You held the door open for her. “You can gon ‘head ‘n step on that platform fo' me.”

She got on the podium, standing in front of the mirror. You were too busy staring at her to notice her looking at you through the reflection. Her lips curled as she noticed that lingering look.

“Do you mind liftin’ your arms?”

Without a word she raised her arms, keeping her sight set on you to hold eye contact. You told her what to do but she was in control. The flimsy measuring tape had made a quiet flick as you quickly took it off your neck.

You wrapped it around her bust, and the tape gently stretched around her body. You met the ends of the tape and pulled it snug.

“Thirty-eight and a half.” You muttered under your breath as you went to write her bust measurement right next to her name. “You can go back and change! I got a hanger waitin’”

You tidied up the register, throwing away wrappers and old receipts. You hadn’t heard that much movement from Annie. “Ma’am, you can—”

She was turned to you, one hand perched on her hip.

“Don’t you think I’m gon need some help gettin’ it off?” With one raise of her brow, you were quick to your feet. You followed behind her, acting like the sinful shadow. No mojo bag could keep you from her.

She walked into the dressing room, waiting for you to get yourself situated. Another breath was taken from the atmosphere when your hands found the zipper again. “Lemme know if this hurt, Miss Annie.”

You made sure to not yank the zipper, keeping every moment more gentle than the last. You got it down to where she could pull it on her own, but she wanted you to do it. She led you to the water; she just needed you to drink.

And you did.

You swiftly unzipped the rest for her. “Um— Anythin’ else I can do for ya’?”

“Mm’, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, the sundress slung around her shoulders. Annie kept her modesty in check, holding it by a thread. “You always this sweet?” A chuckle left her lips, and she toyed with the beads on her necklace.

“Um… I dunno ma’am.”

She turned to face you, her stare seductive and dominant. “You’ve been staring at me like that the entire time I done been in here.”

Your throat went dry.

“Annie— I ain’t mean nothin’ by it.” Your eyes widened as she stated the obvious fact: you were staring. More than you should’ve. And if she slapped you across the face right now, you wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Ain’t nobody say I had a problem wit’ it.”

Annie’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your head so your eyes had nothing else to do but meet hers. "You gon' keep starin'," she hummed, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, "or you gon' do somethin' 'bout it?"

Your breath hitched. You leaned into her warmth. The kiss was careful, you were getting a feel of the shape of her lips, something that you would never forget. But when she kissed you back, she gave you all the permission you needed.

Soon enough, your hands were resting on her waist. Her mouth opened just slightly and you sighed into it, near dizzy from how sweet she tasted. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish now." Annie rushed her words in between the sentences, hungry to get her lips back onto yours.

"I know the way of a woman." You became bold in a blink, her presence was intoxicating. Then you lowered down onto your knees, you looked up at her through your eyelashes.

"Can I show you?"

[liyah-a]

Act up, Get Snatched Up <3

You almost didn’t go to the party.

Annie was blowin' up your phone talkin' bout,

"Girl come on, you been in the house for weeks.You not even sad no mo, you just bored." And Sasha? She said she wasn't takin' no for an answer. "You already know he gon' be there. So pop out and remind him what he fumbled."

And so you did. Hair laid. Cute fit.And the minute you stepped through the door, you felt eyes on you. He was in the back. Ony. Yo ex.

Six feet of silence and tension, leaned against the wall in all black. Same look in his eyes like the last time y'all argued - that mix of hurt and heat. His wrist still heavy with that same busted Rolex he swore was "real enough." And beside him? Eren and Armin, watching the room like it owed them something.

You looked away. You weren't here for him. You were here to remind yourself who you were before him.

Then you saw Connie. The same one Ony used to call his "lil bro." Not no more. Word on the street was he started sellin' out of the same trap house as Ony after they fell out. Real opp behavior.

So yeah... you walked over to Connie. Sasha and Annie behind you like backup dancers, hyping you up. "Damn, what you been on?" Connie said with that lil smirk, lookin u up and down.

You ain't say much. Just turned around slow and started dancing. Twerkin' light. Then heavy. Real casual, but real disrespectful. You could feel Ony's stare from across the room — it was burnin' into you.

Connie grabbed your waist, and for a second you let him. Just a second. Then Ony was there.

Not sayin' a word - just snatching your hand and pulling you away like the music wasn't loud, like people ain't see. "You must be feelin' bold tonight," he muttered low, eyes never leavin' yours.

"I must be," you said, pullin' your hand back.

"You let me go, remember?" Ony scoffed. "You really let that nigga touch you? Quit playin' wit me y/n."

"And you played wit me. We even." His jaw tightened. You knew that look. He wasn't mad you danced with Connie - he was mad he couldn't stand the thought of it.

Armin popped up tryna calm the storm. "Bro, just chill. It's not even that deep." But Ony. wasn't hearin' none of it. "Nah. She tryna make me look dumb."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "If the shoe fits."

He stared for a second, like he was tryna decide whether to cuss you out or kiss you. Then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the hallway upstairs. You didn't even hesitate to follow.

Bathroom door clicked shut behind you. He ain't say a word. Just grabbed you by the neck, lifted you onto the counter, lips crashing into yours. It wasn't sweet - it was desperate. Frustrated.

Like the time apart had done nothin' but make it worse.

"You really got me fucked up," he breathed between kisses.

"You been had me fucked up," you snapped back.

You knew it was your fault you were in this situation now. His grip tight on your neck, body flush against yours, low groans in your ear like he was tryna ruin you.

"I told you," he growled, deep inside you, "you still mine. One of his hands pinned your hands against the mirror while the other was between spread thighs rubbing your clit.

"Ony 'm sor-sorry... please I can't"

" Nahh, you can, you wasn't twerking out there like you couldn't so you gone take this dick." Moaning his name as he fucked you harder, and between the hard slaps of his hips against yours, you were losing your mind. You came twice feeling the third approaching. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out faster than you thought. Your lust filled sobs were shaking your body, but that only made him want to fuck you harder.

"Ony! Ony! Oouuu fuck I'm sorry m-sorry pleaseee slow down." Next thing you know, one hand gripping on the counter the head on his head. You were seeing stars. You felt his tatted fingers slide in and out of you, while his tongue licked your clit. You tried closing your legs but that only resulted in your thigh getting smacked.

"Keep dat shi open, or imma stop." He stopped but continued lapping his tongue up and down y/n. Your legs shook as Ony got a better angle.

"R-Right there," you cried out, tilting your head back. Ony hummed not moving nor slowing down. " Fuck!" Your voice grew hoarse from all the whining from before. Ony chuckled from the sight, seeing how you were a crying mess. He rubbed vour clit a lil more before a gushing liquid covered his fingers.

"Your mine remember dat." He states after he starts cleaning you up so yall can go. As yall are leaving Annie and Sasha sees you and comes up to yall. Annie just smirking.

"Y/n you gotta learn how to be more quiet" says Sasha as she "whispered". Which causes Ony to laugh and for you to hide your face.

Safe to say you got your man back.

[lowkeyerror]

Basically My Boyfriend

Jennifer Check x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Reuqested, friends to lovers, smut, fingering, cunnulingus, virgin!reader

Summary: It’s a Friday night and Y/n and Needy are spending it bored in Jennifer’s room. When Needy mentions she passed on date night for it, Jennifer and Y/n push her to go. This leaves Jennifer and Y/n alone for the night, and something that started as a joke between the two quickly transforms into something more.

An: First request in forever hope its alright 🫣

Etc. Masterlist | More Jennifer Check

For being a girl as popular as she was, it was assumed that Jennifer Check would have more friends than she would know what to do with. Even despite her bitchy attitude, the attention she garnered from her looks alone was good enough reason to want to be around her. The thing is that Jennifer wasn’t stupid she knew that people would use her to gain social standing. It’s part of the reason that Jennifer didn’t really “do” friends.

The people that were close to her had been close to her for as long as anyone could remember. Needy and Y/n were the only real friends that Jennifer had. She liked it that way.

Jennifer didn’t need to explain herself to the pair, she didn’t need to dumb herself down, and she didn’t have to pretend to be nice. She could just be herself, which was seeming like more of a luxury these days.

“Jen, hello? Earth to Jennifer Check, where’d you go? I think we lost her Annie,” Y/n was waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, while talking to the blonde at her side.

The three of them were piled into Jennifer’s room, on a Friday night.

Jennifer’s back hit the bed, “I’m so bored, we should’ve went to the bar tonight, I heard Low Shoulder was going to be there.”

“Not a chance. Annie and I would’ve been miserable while we watched you go play groupie to those losers,” Y/n follows suit lying flat on the bed.

“Needy knows how to party, besides she could’ve brought her boy toy.”

Needy rolls her eyes, but lays on the bed too, “You know I don’t like it when you call him that.”

“Precisely why I do it Anita,” Jennifer comments.

Needy lets out a sigh, “You know I canceled a date for this and he was really cool about it.”

Jen and Y/n sit up at the same time and say, “You what?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s only 8, you have time. Tell him to come pick you up,” Y/n says looking at the blonde.

“But I already told my mom I was sleeping over,” Needy whines.

Jennifer gives the girl some words of encouragement, “You are going to sleep over… just at Chip’s. Now call your boy toy, first tell him to thank us, and then tell him that you should see a movie tonight.”

Just as the pair instructed Needy calls her boyfriend and he says that he's on his way.

“Are you guys sure you’re ok with me bailing?”

Y/n nods, “Go get laid, Annie. One of us deserves to tonight.”

She shoves your shoulder, “ Shut up you’re starting to sound too much like Jen.”

The dark-haired girl laughed, “Well you didn’t say she was wrong.”

Whatever snarky remark Needy was going to say dies as her phone rings. Chip is outside waiting for her.

“Remember, if he doesn’t give head, he’s better off dead,” Jennifer says as she pushes Needy out of the house.

“Meet us for breakfast tomorrow, the usual spot?” Y/n suggests and Needy nods.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

Jennifer and Y/n wave to her as Chip drives off in the direction of the movie theater.

“And then there were two,” Y/n says.

“You’re such a predictable nerd, I knew you would say that,” now it’s Jennifer rolling her eyes at you.

“Hey, need I remind you that you picked this predictable nerd to be one of your two friends. The other which is almost the same predictable nerd,” Y/n says as they walk back up the stairs.

Jen scoffs, “You’re nothing like Needy. For starters she’s with her boyfriend tonight, while you’re here with me.”

Y/n is quick to counter, “You’re basically my boyfriend anyway.”

“Oh am I?”

Y/n nods as they re-enter Jennifer’s room, “Yup.”

“And what could have possibly led you to this conclusion?”

Y/n jumps into Jen’s bed, “Well it’s Friday night and you have me in your bed.”

“You haven't heard of a hookup?”

Y/n closes her eyes briefly, “You like me too much for it just to be a hookup.”

Jen doesn't respond, instead she lets her eyes roam Y/n's figure. She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice. Y/n was in a way, exactly her type. Maybe a little more dorky than She'd usually go for, but Jen thought Y/n’s loser tendencies were endearing.

So, as she found herself alone with girl on a Friday night, no Needy, and no parents; she thought she'd try something.

Jennifer climbs onto the bed and straddles Y/n’s waist. The weight on her, made the girl open her eyes. She was slightly startled as she looked up at Jennifer.

“Maybe you’re right, definitely wouldn't call you a random hookup,” Jennifer’s face took on a look that Y/n had only seen her give other people.

Particularly boys that Jennifer would spend random nights with.

“What’re you doing ?”

Jennifer flips her head to the side, “We’ve known each other a long time, right Y/n?”

“Right,” the girl beneath her speaks breathlessly

“Have I ever told you how hot I think you are?”

Her hands reach for Y/n’s, guiding then to sit first on her thighs before sliding them up to her hips.

“Jen,” Y/n audibly gulps.

The dark-haired girl, giggles before rolling her hips down on Y/n. The dorky girl’s hands tighten their grip on Jennifer’s waist.

“Fuck Y/n, don't you want me?”

“Jennifer,” Y/n says more firmly this time.

Jennifer rolls her hips again, “You’re really going to make spell it out for you, aren’t you? You know, I like you right dingus, I've wanted you for a while now. You’re a dork, but I want you to be my dork.”

“This can't be real?” Y/n’s confusion peaks through.

“Let me show you how real it is, Y/n,” Jennifer’s look becomes less predatory and more desperate.

Y/n’s face began to heat up, “Jen I haven’t-”

“I can teach you,” she speaks gently, her hand caressing Y/n’s face.

“Promise me this isn’t just a hookup or some fucked up game you’re playing with me,” Y/n’s insecurities poke at her.

Jennifer leans down, so she is mere inches away from the other girl. Her hair falls, tickling Y/n’s face. Her eyes are softer than Y/n had ever seen as their breath mingles together.

“I like you, genuinely; no bullshit. We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want-”

Y/n kisses her in the middle of speaking. It’s delicate and airy. A type of kiss that Jennifer isn’t used too. It takes the wind out of her.

“Be gentle with me Jen,” Y/n whispers against her lips.

She nods, “I’m going to worship you.”

Y/n feels her face heat even more. Jennifer connects their lips again. She holds back on the ferocity, but let’s the passion shining through the kiss. The sound of their lips colliding with each other and their shallow breaths made the room feel ten times hotter.

Y/n’s hand subconsciously left Jennifer’s waist to slink up and under her shirt. The skin there was cooler than she expected. Her touch was light but became even lighter as her hands skimmed over Jennifer’s bra.

Jennifer sits up breaking the kiss causing the girl beneath her to whine. Jen laughs at the sound before pulling her shirt over her head. Y/n’s eyes dilate at the sight of her abdomen. A small smirk tugs at Jennifer’s lips upon seeing Y/n’s reaction.

Her bra comes off next. Y/n’s eyes scale up Jennifer’s figure , lingering at her now exposed chest. As if she’s testing the waters the Y/n sits up. She keeps eye contact with Jennifer as she takes one of the more experienced girl’s nipples in her mouth.

She sucks lightly, closing her eyes as she runs her tongue across the stiff peak. Jen moans at the sensation nearly cradling the girl’s head further into her chest.

“Can I see you baby?” Jennifer says through her teeth, her free hand gripping the waistband of Y/n’s pants.

Y/n doesn’t answer her immediately, needing to give the other nipple the same attention as the first. She then trails hot open mouth kisses from Jennifer’s breast up to her neck stopping to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Take it off.”

Jennifer doesn’t need to be told twice as she carefully removes Y/n’s shirt and pants as well. She pushes the girl to lay flat against the bed again. This time instead of straddling her waist, Jen stays near the foot of the bed, spreading Y/n’s legs open.

“You’re so wet for me already,” Jennifer sees the dampness through the other girl’s underwear.

She kisses up Y/n’s thighs, tentatively. She keeps eye contact as she gets closer and close to the Y/n’s cunt. Jennifer places some teasing kisses on Y/n’s clothed pussy, causing the girl to squirm.

“Can I-"

“Please,” Y/n begs before Jennifer even finished the sentence.

Her hip lift, encouraging Jennifer to take them off. Jennifer obliges sliding the soaked panties down Y/n’s legs.

“Fuck.”

The sight alone was enough to cause Jennifer to lose her composure. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't hesitate to dive her face into Y/n’s pussy.

“Holy shit,” Y/n almost sits up as Jennifer’s tongue swirls around her clit.

Jennifer’s tongues moves fluidly through Y/n’s folds. Playfully going back and forth between teasing the entrance and sucking on the clit.

Jennifer vibrates with pleasure as your taste coats her mouth making her dizzy.

“You taste so good baby, can I put a finger in? I promise you’ll like it.”

Sweat covers Y/n’s forehead as she nods, “Fuck me.”

Jennifer slinks up Y/n’s body to connect their lips. Y/n almost cums as she tastes herself on Jennifer’s lips. This kiss is sloppier than the rest they shared but neither girl cared. The feeling was intoxicating.

While they kiss Jennifer slips her middle finger inside of Y/n. The girl mewls into Jennifer’s mouth. The dark-haired girl groans at how tight Y/n is around her finger. She could already feel the walls pulsating trying to pull her finger deeper inside.

“You’re so tight Y/n, have you even fingered yourself? Feels like I’m the first thing in here, fuck. I can’t wait to stretch you out, fill you up with a fat plastic cock. Have you moaning my name.”

“I haven’t Jen, I haven’t had anything but your finger inside of me. Fuck, add another, stretch me. I want to be good for you, Jennifer,” Y/n whines trying to gain for friction.

Jennifer listens to the girl and slowly pushes in another finger, she can feel Y/n twitching around her.

“Be a good girl and cum on my fingers,” Jennifer ‘s thumb begins to rub circles on Y/n’s clit.

Y/n falls over the edge, nails digging into Jennifer’s back as the only thing she could say was Jennifer’s name, over and over again.

Jennifer is carefully to bring Y/n down from her climax, not wishing to overstimulate her now. When she feels enough time has last, she removes her fingers from inside the girl.

She holds Y/n’s tired stare as she sucks the juices off of her fingers.

“Kiss me,” Y/n reaches for Jennifer, pulling her bavk down into a kiss.

“Addicting, isn’t it?” Jennifer pecks your lips again.

“Let me return the favor,” Y/n mumbles.

Jennifer can tell the girl is exhausted from her own orgasm. Though she would love nothing more than to have Y/n please her, she feels like it would be taken advantage of the girl.

Jennifer shakes her head, “Maybe later, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Y/n goes to protest, but Jennifer’s soft gaze on her, stopped any rebuttal.

After a quick shower both girls were back in the bed this time clean. They laid facing each other, their hands interlocked. It was Y/n who ended up pulling Jennifer into her grasp.

“I didn’t know you could be so… sweet,” you tell her truthfully.

Jennifer rolls her eyes, trying to distract Y/n from the blush that was building on her face, “You’re such a dork.”

“I think we already established that already. What we haven’t established is when you’re taking me out?”

Jennifer scoffs, “Why do I have to take you out? You could ask me out you know.”

Y/n shakes her head, “Nope, you’re the boyfriend. So you’ve got to ask me out.”

Jennifer huffs in faux-annoyance, “Fine, I’ll ask you out, but you’re explaining it to Needy.”

Y/n pecks her lips again, “Deal.”

[melodyofmbaku]

What You Spit, I Swallowed (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Ya'll gon' feel some things.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N - I realized I could only edit this for so long and I actually had to post it 🤪 I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘

My Masterlist ___

Smoke watched from the living room as Annie bustled around the house making sure everything was just right. The kitchen. The powder room. The cellar which nobody would see. Everything needed to be just right. 

The roast was in the oven. Table set. Wine poured. Annie stood at the counter, smoothing her hands down the front of her apron, then across the napkins again, though they didn’t need fixing.

“Can y’all just be civil? Please?” she said without turning. “For me. I just want to have  a nice dinner tonight. As a family.”

She used that word a lot. Family. Said it like a prayer, a promise. Like saying it out loud might turn it true.

The boys knew better.

Stack was leaning against the archway, a little too relaxed, wine already heavy in his hand.

“I’m always civil,” he grinned. “I’m a delight.”

Smoke didn’t say anything at first. Just sat back at the table, stiff as iron, nursing a glass of whisky like medicine. He’d need it tonight. They both would.

“I ain’t lying to nobody,” he muttered, low.

Annie sighed. Not because she disagreed — but because she understood.

They weren’t happy about this. Never had been. Melody had a way of turning Annie into someone else — smaller, unsure. And the boys hated that. Hated watching the bold, beautiful woman they loved contort herself to keep the peace. To keep her peace.

So when Annie told them that Melody was gonna be in town and wanted to visit, the news wasn’t met with enthusiasm.  When they protested she had shut them down, said that special word — family — and the boys knew they didn’t have a chance at dissuading her. 

She laid down the final plate and crossed the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel that didn’t need cleaning. Her shoulders were tight. Her smile too practiced.

Melody was Annie’s half-sister. Same father, different everything else. Product of an affair that tore Annie’s whole world sideways and maybe even took her mother to the grave.

She was pretty, and soft-spoken when it served her. But she had a way of reaching back into Annie’s life like she had a claim to it. Like their shared blood gave her a right to rewrite things. Rewrite her.

Melody said things like they’d grown up hand-in-hand. Like Annie hadn’t spent her real childhood alone, and Melody hadn’t moved in only after her world fell apart. 

She touched too casually. Said too much. Knew too little.

And yet… Annie kept trying. Trying to stitch something together out of all the scraps they’d been handed. Trying to make a family out of splinters.

There was a knock at the door.

The roast was carved. Greens passed. Biscuits buttered and cooling fast.

On the surface, everything looked like a proper supper. But Smoke hadn’t touched much of his food, and Stack had started drinking like the only way through the night was to float on top of it.

Melody leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass like she had something wise to say. Her gaze landed on the cornbread.

“Reminds me of when Mama used to burn the bottoms,” she said with a giggle. “She’d scrape off the black parts with a knife and pretend it was on purpose. Said it ‘kept you humble.’”

Annie’s fork paused mid-air.

Stack didn’t look up, but his mouth twitched.

“You remember that, don’t you?” Melody added, too quick. “That little yellow-handled knife she used for everything?”

Annie swallowed. Set her fork down quiet.

“She wasn’t my mama.”

Melody blinked, like she hadn’t expected that to sting.

“Well—no, obviously,” she said, waving a hand like it was silly to be so exact. “I just meant… your most recent mama. I mean, she was in the house.”

“She was in the house,” Annie said evenly. 

Melody laughed, high and a little breathless, like she could laugh her way out of what just happened.

“Well,” she said, putting her glass down, “family’s funny like that, huh?” She added before placing a hand on Annie’s forearm.

Smoke’s eyes followed the movement with precision.

“So,” Melody said brightly, trying to start a conversation “y’all ever thought about kids?”

The question hung there, syrupy sweet with expectation.

Annie blinked. “We— We’ll know when we’re ready.”

Melody’s husband Frank leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show.

The man chuckled, low and grating. “Ain’t it about time though? Clock don’t wait forever. ‘Specially for women.”

Smoke’s knuckles tightened around his fork.

“I gotta admit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest, “I didn’t know what to expect, comin’ out here. Lotta stories floatin’ ‘round town.”

Stack’s eyes flicked up from his plate. Smoke didn’t move.

“Oh yeah?” Annie said, keeping her voice polite. “And what kinda stories are those?”

The man shrugged, like he was being reasonable.

“Just… folks wondering how something like this works. Three people under one roof. Two men sharin’ a woman —brothers at that. Sounds more like trouble than a marriage.”

Smoke still didn’t look up. But Annie could feel the shift. Like pressure building under floorboards.

“I mean, hell. Where I’m from, we call that a love triangle, not a household.”

Annie opened her mouth, but Stack beat her to it — voice easy, even playful.

“Well lucky for us, you ain’t from here.”

Melody gave her husband a look — the kind that meant you’re doin’ too much — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I just think kids need structure,” he said, “Two fathers under one roof? That’s confusion, not discipline.”

Now Smoke looked up. Real slow.

“You do a lot of childrearing yourself?” he asked.

The man blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“You talkin’ like you got a full house somewhere. How many you got?” the man had a menacing smile plastered on his face.

“…None yet.”

“Then hush.”

The man frowned. Then Frank reached across the table — not for the biscuits, not for the salt. For the gravy boat.

But instead of asking, he leaned in close, placing a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder as he reached.

His thumb brushed against the strap of her dress.

Too familiar. Too firm.

“’Scuse me, darlin’,” he said, casual like he did it all the time.

It wasn’t the touch — it was the way he didn’t rush to remove it.

Smoke saw it. So did Stack.

And Annie flinched — just slightly — but enough to be noticed.

That should’ve been enough. But Melody’s hand went out — again — brushing Annie’s arm like they were girls sharing secrets instead of strangers dressed in matching last names.

"Mama used to say, ‘Ain’t no shame in wantin’ a real man.’ Guess you took that to heart, huh, sis? You went and got yourself two!"

Annie winced once more. It was soft, but Smoke saw it. And that was the last straw.

Smoke set his glass down. Quiet. Too quiet.

“You need to stop touchin’ her so casually.” he said pointing at the woman.

Melody’s hand stilled against Annie’s arm. Her smile wavered.

“Excuse me?”

“Smoke,” Annie said quickly, trying to smile, trying to control the room. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t blink. “It ain’t.”

Stack leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed but not joking anymore. “He’s right. You don’t know her like that. You ain’t earned the right.”

Melody’s brows arched, scandalized.

Annie stepped in faster this time, voice low but firm.

“Enough.”

She turned toward Smoke, hand light on his shoulder. His muscles were rigid beneath her palm.

“She’s family,” she said softly. “Let’s not do this right now.”

Stack leaned back, sucked his teeth, clearly biting something back. Smoke didn’t move at all.

“She ain’t family to me,” Smoke muttered.

“She is to me,” Annie snapped. “And that should be enough.”

That silenced the table — just long enough for Melody’s husband to break it again.

“Well,” he said, with a smirk, “nice to see someone wearing the pants in this house.”

Stack’s jaw tightened.

“Stack,” Annie warned, before he could speak.

He didn’t. But the damage was done.

Melody giggled, smoothing her napkin on her lap like nothing had happened.

Annie went to gather the plates.

“Dinner’s done,” she said. “Why don’t we move to the sitting room? I’ll bring coffee.”

She didn’t look at Smoke. Didn’t look at Stack either. She just carried the dishes to the kitchen, heart pounding, wishing it all felt less like a lie.

_

The front door clicked shut.

Silence.

Not the quiet kind, but the loaded kind. The kind that rattled inside your chest and made your ears ring.

Annie stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight, like she was bracing for impact.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack didn’t move.

For a beat, nobody breathed.

Annie exhaled, hard. “Don’t start.”

“I ain’t startin’. I’m finishin’. The hell was that?” Smoke’s voice cut through the kitchen.

She turned, dish towel clenched tight in her hands. “What was what, Smoke?”

“You told me to stand down. You just about told Stack to shut up. While they sat at our table, runnin’ they mouths and touchin’ you like they know you.”

“They’re family.”

“No,” he snapped. “They’re not. That man disrespected you. And her? She touched you like she’s the one that tucks you in at night.”

“Stop it.”

Stack stepped in carefully, voice low. “She made you flinch, baby. We saw it. You don’t flinch with us.”

Annie bit her lip. Hard.

“I just wanted one peaceful night. I didn’t want a scene.”

“You wanted peace—so you offered us up like sacrificial lambs,” Smoke said, voice growing sharp.

“That ain’t fair.”

“No? You let her talk like y’all shared a childhood. Let that man spit on our marriage with a smile. Then told me to hush?”

“You think I don’t know who she is?” Annie’s voice cracked “I lived with her. She slept in my mama’s bed two weeks after she was buried. She was Daddy’s second chance and my reminder that I’d already lost.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry.

“I was just trying to keep the damn evening from fallin’ apart. You think I liked it? You think I didn’t hear every little dig, every look, every word?”

“Then why the hell ain’t you say somethin’?” Stack asked. 

“Because I’m tired!” she shouted. “Tired of everything bein’ a fight. Tired of defendin’ my choices, my house, my men. I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

Smoke’s voice dropped cold. “Then don’t invite people who only show up to remind you that you alone.”

Annie’s shoulders pulled back like he’d struck her. 

“Alone?”

“You got us. But when they’re here, you act like you don’t.”

The room felt smaller. Angrier. Like the walls were listening.

“I ain’t the one you should be mad at, Annie,” Smoke said.

“No. You’re just the one who wants to be mad for me.” Annie didn’t look at him.

He leaned back. Only slightly. But Stack caught it. Smoke prided himself on taking care of his family. He’d be the bad guy if it meant that they were ok. So for Annie to throw that in his face? It was low. 

Annie turned on him. “What? Go on then. Call me out my name. You been waitin’ all night.”

“I been waitin’ for you to stop pretendin’ you owe that woman somethin’. Stop shrinkin’ yourself so she can feel taller.”

“And I been waitin’ for you to realize the world don’t revolve around your damn temper!”

“Y’all—” Stack tried.

“Elias, stay out of it.” She pointed at him.

That did it. Stack’s hands dropped. He stepped back, mouth flat.

Smoke’s voice turned dangerously soft. “You tellin’ him to stay out, but you let them strangers walk right in and put hands on what’s mine?”

Annie’s nostrils flared. She stepped in close.

“Don’t talk to me about ownership. I’m not some bitch you can pull by the leash when I embarrass you.”

Stacks head whipped around. Shock coloured his face. 

“Annie. Don’t,” Stack warned softly — they didn’t talk like this to each other. 

Smoke’s voice dropped low and clipped. “You gon’ wanna be real careful with me right now, woman.”

“Or what?” Annie challenged. “You gon’ bark louder? Show me why everybody outside scared of you?”

He stepped forward. Stack moved fast, blocking him.

“Enough.” Stack said. “We don’t do this shit. This ain’t us.”

“No,” Annie said. “This is exactly who we are. Pretendin’ this ain’t built on shaky ground.”

Looked like Frank’s words had planted a seed. 

Stack moved like she’d slapped him.

“You think it’s shaky?” Smoke’s voice shook. “You think we ain’t holdin’ you up every day? Lovin’ you, buildin’ you back from the goddamn inside?”

His voice cracked — just slightly.

“I would burn this house down to protect you,” he said, softer now. “And you out here handin’ matches to people who never cared whether you froze.”

“She disrespected you, Annie,” Stack said, voice stiff. “Right to your face. And you smiled through it. Made us smile through it too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Annie laughed bitterly. “Was I supposed to let y’all growl and swing your dicks like dogs markin’ a tree?”

“Watch your mouth,” Smoke said slowly.

“No—you watch yours. I let you bark, posture. The minute I asked you to sit like a man, you sulked like a whipped boy.”

There it was. The heat. The disrespect.

“Annie…” Stack said, quiet, alarmed. 

“I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

“Elijah—they’re family.” she tried to plead.

“So you gotta put up with disrespect?”

Annie threw her hands up, all syrup and sass. “The Moores got morals tonight!”

Stack cursed under his breath. Smoke went still as death.

“Fix them lips to say somethin’ crazy again, Annie,” Smoke warned. “See if I don’t remind you why you call me daddy.”

She tilted her head. “You sassin’?”

“C’mon now y’all…” Stack said half-terrified.

Smoke stepped closer, his voice dropping into something dark and dangerous. “It’s gon’ be real hard to take you serious if you got my seed drippin’ from your hole. Test me.”

Annie’s throat bobbed. She was gonna take that bait.

“Do not,” Stack said, sharp and urgent.

Too late.

“Annie’s sorry — ain’t ya, baby?” he tried, reaching for a lifeline.

“The hell I am,” she snapped.

“Don’t be a hero,” Stack warned, tension threading through his voice. “He gon’ turn you out, and I’ma join him.”

Annie looked at him, eyes glittering. Daring them both.

Smoke started up once more, “We’ll paint your insides white just how you like it. Remind you you the property of the Moores — no one else’s.”

“Property? That’s what I am to you?” she shot back. “A place to plant your damn flag?”

He shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“I ain’t land. You don’t own me.”

“You act like disrespectin’ us is rent you pay,” he shot back, voice cold. 

That line came from somewhere deep — deeper than Smoke usually let show.

“If I’m so damn disrespectful,” Annie stepped in close, venom curling her words, “why you still crawlin’ back to this disrespectful pussy every night?”

Stack looked away. Smoke didn’t blink.

“That’s right,” she pressed. “You talk all this mine mine mine shit, but you only feel like a man when I’m on my knees, beggin’ for it.”

“Fix them lips, woman,” he said, low and mean.

“What? You don’t like it when I talk back? Only like me with your dick down my throat?”

“It make a fine picture.” Stack muttered from the side. 

“I like it when you remember who’s keepin’ you safe. Lovin’ you every goddamn day while you spit in our faces.” Smoke reasoned.

“I’m done talking to you.” she spoke lowly. 

“C’mon now,” Smoke said, voice soft and twisted. “Say somethin’ real filthy. You good at that when your jaw’s slack and your legs spread.”

“Smoke,” Stack snapped. “You know what you doin’. Stop provokin’ her.”

“Nah,” Smoke said without even looking at him. “She a big girl. She can take whatever daddy dish out, right?”

Stack stepped in. “It ain’t fair, Smoke. You know it ain’t fair.”

Smoke paused. Just a second. There were two of them. One of her. It was unbalanced. Always would be.

He sighed, started to lift a hand — maybe to apologize.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Annie spat in his face.

It hit his cheek and stuck.

For one sharp breath, nobody moved.

Annie stood perfectly still, chest rising hard. Her jaw clenched, eyes shining—not with tears, but with fury. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

Then Smoke cracked.

Stack caught him hard at the chest, shoving him back.

“Don’t.”

Smoke went still.

The spit clung to his cheek, hot and humiliating. He didn’t wipe it. Just stared — right at her.

Annie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her spine was stiff, posture defiant. But there was something flickering in her eyes now. 

“I wanna fuck that disrespect right outta her,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

He stepped toward her — not to strike, but to claim, to punish her with the only kind of control he knew wouldn’t break her.

Annie’s breath caught. Just barely.

Stack stepped in fast — arm out, body angled between them.

“And we don’t do things that way,” he snapped, sharp and firm.

Their eyes locked. For a long, brittle second, it felt like something might break.

“You want her like that? Broken?” Stack asked his brother. 

The picture he painted with that statement stung. 

He didn’t want her like that. Giving in because she didn’t have a choice. Because he “bested” her. 

He wanted it offered to him, because she felt like he deserved it. He didn’t wanna take it. 

“You keep pushin’, you gon’ scare her,” Stack said, quieter now. “And she don’t deserve that from you.”

That stopped him.

Smoke’s jaw ticked hard, and he deflated. 

Behind Stack, Annie was still frozen in place—arms locked at her sides, as if afraid any movement might shatter the silence.

“Take a walk,” Stack added. “Right now. Before you say somethin’ you can’t unsay.”

Smoke didn’t move.

“I got her,” Stack said, gentler now. “You… go cool off.”

Finally, Smoke blinked. Swallowed. His eyes never left Annie.

“You make sure she’s okay,” he said, hoarse.

“I got her.”

Then he turned and walked out — quiet, controlled, like a storm bottled in a man.

Annie stood frozen.

Then sat — slow and stiff — like someone letting herself fall without a net.

Stack stayed standing, chest heaving like he’d just run a race.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer.

He dropped to a knee beside her.

“He lost his temper. He shouldn’t’ve. You know that.”

She nodded — barely.

“I made him,” she said.

“No,” Stack replied. “You matched him. That’s different.”

A beat passed. He reached for her hand.

“You still ours,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ shifted in that.”

She squeezed once. 

“He didn’t even flinch,” she whispered. “But his eyes… they changed.”

Stack squeezed her hand. “He was mad. That don’t mean he stopped carin’.”

“He’s scared. Same as you,” Stack said. “That’s what it is—fear dressed up as fire.”

She exhaled hard, like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You meant it,” he cut in gently but firm. “Don’t lie to me.”

That shut her up. Her mouth pressed into a hard line.

“You meant it,” Stack said again, softer this time, “and that’s what’s eatin’ him up.”

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Thick with things they couldn’t take back.

She looked toward the door, then back at Stack.

“You mad at me too?”

He sighed. “Don’t matter what I’m feelin’. You’re my wife. My family. I stand with you—even when I don’t like how it went down.”

“I’m sorry, Stack,” she whispered.

He gave a small shrug. “Don’t be sorry. Be sure.”

Then he stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

“I'm gon’ fix my plate again,” he murmured. “If I don’t eat, I get mean.”

That earned him the smallest laugh. But it was what he needed to hear. Enough to know she was still with him.

“I set aside your favourite,” she murmured, voice rough but soft. “Kept it warm in the oven… in that little dish with the blue trim. Knew you’d want a snack later.”

He paused, and his eyes flicked to hers — just for a second. That did something to him.

“Always lookin’ out,” he said, almost to himself.

Then, quieter: “Love you, baby.”

One more kiss to her head. Then he turned for the kitchen, shoulders squared a little taller than before.

__

The door creaked open.

Smoke stood in the threshold like he wasn’t sure he had the right to come back in. Smoke looked different. Not unraveled — not quite. But quieted. Like whatever storm had rolled through him had lost its bite, leaving behind a man instead of a tempest.

Annie didn’t turn. She sat curled on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, her hand still in Stack’s. The fire had burned low, its glow casting soft shadows across the room. Silence pressed in like fog.

Smoke stepped inside, slow and cautious, like a man testing floorboards for landmines. His eyes found her first. She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t look up, either.

“I scared you,” he said, voice low.

No one answered.

He stood there a beat longer, hat in hand, shoulders heavy.

“I talked about ownin’ you. Fuckin’ the disrespect outta you,” he went on, his voice thick. “That ain’t love talk. That’s not somethin’ you say to the woman you love.”

Annie shifted slightly. Stack’s thumb moved gently over her knuckles.

“I ain’t proud of it,” Smoke murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Still, neither of them spoke.

Smoke let out a breath through his nose, rough around the edges.

“I was mad you shut us down,” he said. “Mad you didn’t let us defend you. But I didn’t come at you like a husband. I came at you like a man who forgot what kind of woman he had.”

That made her look up.

Her eyes were still red, but she met his gaze steady.

“You did scare me,” she said softly.

Stack’s jaw ticked, but Annie gave his hand a squeeze—like she was okay.

“And I hurt y’all too,” she added. “Shut you down in your own home. Made you feel unheard. That wasn’t right.”

She stood, slow and deliberate. Smoke didn’t move.

“You and Stack… you’re my peace,” she said. “My anchor. And tonight I treated you like a storm. All ‘cause I let my past talk louder than the two men who actually built something with me.”

She stepped toward Smoke now, close enough her chest brushed his.

“I’m sorry I spit,” she said, quieter still. “That was… uncalled for. And beneath me.”

Smoke’s brow furrowed, something soft and pained flickering in his eyes. His hand came up, cradling her jaw.

“You still ours?” he asked.

She nodded once.

“Yours. Always.”

Behind them, Stack smiled to himself. 

Then Annie turned to Stack.

The man looked caught off guard—his brows lifted, lips parting like he wasn’t expecting the spotlight.

“I’m sorry I made you feel secondary today, baby,” she said. “Like your opinion didn’t matter. Like you were less than.”

“Whoa, now—I ain’t say all that,” Stack replied, lifting a hand.

“You didn’t have to,” she murmured. “I see now what I was doing. And it was wrong. You’re every bit a part of this, and I treated you like a bystander. I’m sorry, Elias. Truly.”

Stack blinked. For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

Smoke chimed in, voice low. “And thank you.”

Stack looked over.

“I was losin’ my head in here,” Smoke said. “And you got me right. You always do.”

“Well,” Stack drawled, clearing his throat and smoothing down his collar. “Now that y’all mention it… you right. I am the star of today’s show. Glad that’s been properly acknowledged.”

That earned him a chuckle from both Annie and Smoke.

He folded his arms and leaned back, cocky as ever. He thrusted his chin at Annie “You can show me your gratitude in peach cobbler.”

Annie arched a brow. “Peach cobbler?”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t cheap out it either. I need hella peaches in there.” he said dead serious. 

“And you—” he looked at Smoke, “you can take stock at the juke for the next week.”

“Three days,” Smoke countered.

“Five.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, solemn as preachers. 

Annie laughed—quiet, but real—and turned to glance over her shoulder.

“Well,” Stack said, breaking the lingering tension with a dry drawl, “now that everyone’s sorry… can we go back to actin’ like Melody’s husband don’t eat with his damn mouth open and ask questions like ‘what y’all do for money’ like he ain’t got food crumbs in his mustache?”

Annie barked a laugh. Smoke cracked a grin despite himself.

“Mm,” Annie said, eyes dancing, “maybe I’ll go spit on him next time.”

Smoke raised a brow. “You better not. I’m the only one gettin’ that kind of disrespect.”

She smirked. “So… the ‘fuckin’ the disrespect outta me’ thing… that still on the table, or?”

Stack groaned, loud and dramatic, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m leavin’ the room.”

“No, no,” Annie said quickly, reaching out to stop him. Her voice softened. “I want all my boys,” she murmured. “My family. With me tonight.”

Stack froze.

Smoke looked up at her—really looked.

Smoke’s lips brushed her temple. Stack kissed her shoulder.

The house, so loud just an hour ago, fell to hush.

Just heartbeats.

Just them.

And the slow, quiet burn of still belonging to one another.

__

A/N Thought I'd give ya'll a variation of some angst for the trio but I'd actually end it off so I don't leave you in perpetual pain like I did in Touch of a Woman 🤪 For those curious about what fic in this AU would come after this... you'd enjoy Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash 💰

Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think 🥰

____

My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

___

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[remmicks-bloodbag]

Umbra || Remmick

Part one

Authors note: don’t come here and start getting on me in the comments you don’t want to read this shit then don’t read it bitch (wrote to much so I’m turning it into a mini fic)

Warnings: blood(period), stalking, 1930s setting, reader is sammie’s sister (of age of course older), cursing, use of y/n, Remmick having a filthy mouth, part two?

Night in the Mississippi delta was a totally different thing. Gotta be on the lookout for klan at night by yourself, the humidity, and not to mention the darkness. Humming a tune as you walked the dark dirt road. Eyes darting from left to right as the sounds of crickets chirping and the leaves rustling in the breeze maki mad you stop in your tracks.

Looking back over your shoulder nothing was there. The pale moon that hung in the sky made every shadow seem longer as they twisted into grotesque shapes. The branches of the trees swayed and the air turned colder as you neared the house. The hair on your neck stood on end.

The reminder of Annie’s words wrung in your head. ‘Haints, vampires, and other spirits. Watch out now girl.’ Picking the pace i passed the church nearing our home. The feeling of eyes on you sent a shiver down your spine.

That’s when you saw him. Emerging from the shadows of the tree line. Mentally cursing yourself for not walking home earlier before the sun went down. But it felt like he was almost waiting. The air blew a little harsher as he made eye contact with you. All the signs of danger were there and made you want to run to the nearest house.

But his features they were quelling your desperate need to run. The way the moon hit his brown hair that sat against his forehead like he’s been running a marathon, a perfect smile with a glimpse of sharp teeth that made you nervous, and his eyes…did they just look red?

Something ain’t right with this white man as you itched to run. “Ain’t it late for a pretty thing like you to be out here darlin’.” You watched his as he walked closer to you. “Yes sir just making my way home.” You hesitated as you started walking again.

“Beautiful tune you were humming. Practicing for church on Sunday?” You shifted and looked back at him over your shoulder. All of a sudden it felt like your heart dropped to your ass. “How you know I gotta sing on Sunday?”

Your eyes looking from him to the church in the distance. Your brain screaming for you to run. “I’ve been watching you lass.” He walked around you in circles making your chances in running a little slim. “You have the voice of an angel.”

The man chuckled and looked making eye contact with you. You caught it again his eyes were red. “Nah what the fuck” you backed up from him. “Oh you figured it out you right smart there girl.”

Turning and running around him you made your break for the closet place. The church. Heart pounding the sound beating in your eyes and the wind blowing felt harsh on your skin.

It felt like your lungs were burning. Vision getting blurry as you tripped on something. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Trying to scramble up to your feet only to be feel what you know to be his large hand wrap around your ankle and drag you back to him.

Nails scratching the dirt hoping to grip something to stop him from dragging you. “Now now lil’ hare I don’t wanna hurt you ya hear.”

He turned you over slowly hands sliding up your leg to your hips keeping you still on the ground as he straddled you.

“What do you want from me?” There was no point in fighting him. It was already to late and he was obviously stronger than you. “Been watching you for a while like I said lass. But I couldn’t help myself I could smell you from miles away.” Red eyes peering down at you as he now sat on his haunches.

“You mean to kill me.” A groan left the vampire above you. “No no silly girl. I mean to feed off you and make you feel like heaven is on earth darlin’.” His hands started moving again. Bunching up your dress and slip just above your hips.

This was sin wrapped in sin with the devil himself.

Taglist: @jjggdfvvy @rainedroplets @somnolenthour

[brownlyfe]

Love A Woman: What About Us?

A Three-Part Modern Day Au

Part 1, Part 3, Bonus

pairing: elijah “smoke" moore x annie x elias "stack" moore

cw: modern!au, slightly ooc

word count: 5,443

summary: annie is caught between two brothers who show their love for her in two different ways. one quiet and soft beneath her control, the other? unapolegtically rough and playful. weekdays are a slow burn of passion and promise, but the weekends are chaos and surrender personified. but when blurred lines, missed promises, and real feelings start to surface, the balance shifts. loyalty gets tested. and annie has to decide what kind of love she really needs, and who’s strong enough to hold all of her.

notes: wanted to start this part off by saying thank you for all the love that was shown on the first part. next, this was originally a three part series, and technically it is. but with the direction this is going i have decided that i want to include a "bonus" part, which you guys will be able to vote on once part three is released. anyways enjoy this part.

Annie rarely took days like this. Days when she had no schedule, no clients, and no ringing phones. It was just her, her best friend, and a mission of no stress, no men, and no bullshit.

The city felt different when you weren't rushing through it. The sun hung low and golden over the sidewalks, music spilled out from open boutique doors, and the shopping district buzzed with the kind of energy that made everything feel lighter.

The two had wandered inside after Mia, Annie’s best friend since freshman year of college, saw a dress hanging in the window. The boutique was exactly Mia’s style and the complete opposite of anything that Annie would wear. 

"Okay, this is cute," Mia said, holding up a burgundy bodycon dress that was so sheer she might as well be naked.

Annie raised an eyebrow. “For who?”

Mia snorted. “You, babes.”

“No way in hell.”

“C’mon, it’s girls' night. Let me live my Barbie dream through you for one damn night.”

Annie crossed her arms, standing in stark contrast to her loud, shorts and crop-top-wearing best friend. Where Mia always came out of the house dressed like a fashionable Instagram baddie, Annie was all soft neutrals, understated jewelry, and calm energy, fitting perfectly in the corporate fashion section on Pinterest.

They were total opposites. Yet somehow they worked well together. It’s been like that since their college days when Mia would drag Annie out of her dorm room to go to parties, campus events, or weekend nights out at the clubs.

“This dress would show my entire ass,” Annie muttered, but her lips were already curling into a reluctant smile.

“That’s the point.” She flung the dress over Annie’s arm and kept pulling pieces off the racks, leather pants, a glittering halter top, a miniskirt so short Annie had to do a double-take.

“Mia.”

“Barbie doll, remember? Go try it on."

Annie sighed dramatically, letting herself be pushed toward the fitting rooms, arms full of things she would never wear in public. But deep down, a spark of something warm flickered in her chest. Was it excitement, maybe? A little fear? Sure.

Ten minutes later, Annie stepped out of the dressing room, and Mia’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.

“Oh my God. Bitch, you need to let me dress you more often.”

Annie tugged down the shorts that kept riding up, cheeks flushed. “I feel so exposed.”

“Ugh, your ass is just so beautiful. How do they handle all this?”

Mia shook her head with her face scrunched up as she gripped her best friend’s large bottom with both hands. Annie had on a dress that was short enough to stop right below her cheeks. The fabric clung to every curve of her body. It was unapologetically bold and not Annie at all. She didn’t look like herself. And maybe that was the point.

“Why did you make me do this?” Annie muttered.

Mia laughed. “You look good, baby. It reminds me of all those times I made you squeeze into my dresses in college so we could get in for free.”

“You always treat me like a damn Barbie doll.”

“Barbie wished she was built like this, actually,” Mia said, her eyebrows raising as she gave Annie another once-over.

The club line was long. People were buzzing to get into the hottest club in the city. Waiting in a line this long was nothing for them to get the experience they were begging for.

Annie stood in the back with her friends, Mia, Natasha, Amber, and Kim. They were all dressed like the problems they were. Annie had on a high-neck, sleeveless black romper, slicked-back ponytail grazing her spine, thigh-high fur boots, and red-tinted shades even though it was nighttime. 

And even though she knew she could, Annie didn’t cut the line. At least not yet. She wanted the word to get out that she was here, especially since she never told the twins that she was coming. So, she sent a simple text to Marcus, the club manager.

Inside the club, bass thumped through the walls like a heartbeat. The dancefloor was already packed, but it was a regular night for the twins. In their private section, cigars lit, the lights low, and glasses full of dark liquor. Smoke leaned back, quiet, watching the crowd. Stack sat with one arm stretched across the back of the booth, grinning lazily, and sipping a glass of bourbon with mischief in his eyes.

Their section was on the private vip level that overlooked the main floor. They stayed up there so they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Well, they thought they wouldn’t be disturbed. They could see Marcus’s hair flapping as he speedwalked up the stairs in their direction. Stack couldn’t stop the chuckle from coming out of his mouth. 

Marcus breathed out a huff. He knew he was going to sound slightly winded. “Annie’s here, she’s outside.”

Smoke and Stack sat up in unison. They looked at each other before looking at the manager.

“What you mean Annie here?” Stack set his glass of bourbon on the table.

“With who?” Smoke said, voice already darkening.

“I don’t know, she didn’t say,”

“Go get her and put her in the booth right across from us.” 

The manager nodded and turned to leave, already moving.

They exchanged one look, and without a word, Stack snapped his fingers at one of the bottle girls lingering nearby. “Make sure this shit is clean, and tell Kira to come up here.”

The girl nodded and checked the area before running off to find the head server. Less than a minute later, a tall woman with deep skin and honey blonde hair came up to them. She eyed them with a questioning glance.

“Take care of V3 personally. Anything they want, they get,” Stack added. “Just bring the bill here. Got it?”

 Kira nodded and disappeared back down the stairs and into the crowd.

-

The line hadn’t moved much, but Annie didn’t quite care. It wasn’t like they had been out there for a while, nor were they going to continue to stand in line for much longer. 

The club’s front doors opened, and Marcus stepped out. He walked down the line until his eyes met Annie’s.

“Annie, it’s good to see you. Y’all can follow me inside.”

A few people around them murmured, as all five ladies removed themselves from the line and followed the overly energetic man to the front. 

When they reached the front, the bouncer perked up immediately. “Annie,” he said with a grin. “Ain’t seen you in a minute.”

She smiled lightly. “I’ve been busy.”

He stepped aside with a respectful nod, pulling the rope back without hesitation. Marcus led the ladies inside.

The energy in the club felt like magic. It was then that all the ladies knew that tonight was going to be pure fun. 

Annie was at the front, leading her line of bad bitches through the packed crowd. They all climbed their way up the stairs and into the VIP area. Annie immediately recognized the woman who was standing in front of an empty booth. 

“Welcome back, Annie,” she said with a knowing smile. “I’ll be taking care of you ladies tonight.”

The girls dropped into the booth–Mia and Natasha were already taking videos of themselves singing to the music, Amber was looking out at the dance floor trying to find her next boo, and Kim was just all over the place. 

Annie didn’t bother sitting down yet. Not when she could feel two sets of eyes staring into her body with an intensity that only her favorite twins could bring. She knew the attention she was getting tonight would be next level. It was simple, she looked nothing like the Annie that lived in oversized sweaters and work stress.

Tonight, she looked like danger. Like luxury. Like someone who could step on your neck and make you thank her. And the twins just watched it all unfold.

“She don’t even go out like this,” Stack muttered, mouth tight around his blunt.

“And she damn sure don’t dress like that without help,” Smoke replied, leaning forward now, brows drawn.

Their eyes scanned the group, trying to find the one person they knew could convince Annie to get out of her comfort zone. And there she was…Mia. Wearing a short skirt, sky-high heels, and confident as ever. She was all curves and chaos, and she’d been a certified instigator since college.

“Mia.” They both said to each other as they watched her get up and stand next to Annie with a giddy look on her face.

Smoke said nothing, but his jaw flexed as he watched Annie get comfortable in her new booth. She hadn’t looked at them yet. She was too busy smiling and laughing. Kira had pulled out her tablet to put in their drink and food orders.

“You know she’s doing this to blow off steam,” Smoke said eventually.

“She’s doing this to drive me crazy,” Stack muttered, shifting in his seat. “She know what she look like right now?”

“Yeah,” Smoke replied, lips twitching. “That’s the problem.”

Stack shook his head slowly. “She always did like dressing Annie up. Back in school, remember?”

“Yeah. Thought it was cute then.”

“Not cute now.”

Smoke didn’t say anything, just watched as Annie finally pulled her sunglasses down and looked right at them. She didn’t flinch, smile, or wave. She just held their gaze for a second, then turned back to her girls.

Stack leaned back, drumming his fingers once against the glass in his hand. And Smoke? His eyes never left hers.

“Nah,” he muttered. “That shit’s not sliding.”

-

The girls had officially taken over their section. Shots were lined up, and music vibrated through the walls. Mia was two drinks past tipsy and climbing into the booth to dance, one hand in the air, the other slapping the back of Annie’s thigh.

Annie was in that sweet space between tipsy and drunk. That floaty, confident place where everything felt like it sparkled. Her legs were warm. Her lips tingled. She couldn’t stop laughing. She wasn’t thinking about anything. Not work, deadlines, or even—

Her eyes flicked up across the club. The twins. That’s when she saw them.

A group of women had just walked past the velvet rope, dressed to kill. Long legs with confidence and cleavage. They walked straight into the twins’ section as if they were invited. Annie stopped mid-laugh, tongue tucked behind her teeth, watching.

The girls greeted Smoke and Stack like old flings. They were touchy, flirty, and all too familiar. One with a blunt bob leaned into Smoke’s space, resting her hand on his thigh like it belonged there. Another was already pouring herself a drink in front of Stack, laughing a little too hard, pressing in a little too close.

Then she watched as a woman who seemed to appear out of thin air strutted her way right in front of Stack. Annie blinked, confused. She could make out the way the woman leaned forward, both hands on either of Stack’s knees. She whispered something in his ear and stood back up, straightening out her low-cut dress. The woman walked off like nothing had happened, but in Annie’s eyes, something had. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Stack was always the more social one. His eyes subtly followed the women’s exit as he passed the girls shots from one of their unopened bottles.

Then, feeling as if the energy was going in that direction, one of the women, the boldest of the bunch, came and draped herself right across Stack’s lap. Another tried the same thing with Smoke, and that’s when everything shifted.

Smoke didn’t hesitate. He shoved the woman off his lap with zero gentleness. Stack moved differently. He didn’t push, just slid his arm between him and the woman, lifted her gently, and guided her off him like he was correcting a child. It was smooth with barely even a frown.

But Annie felt her blood run hot anyway. Because she saw it all. And she knew they saw her seeing it.

She didn’t say anything. She just turned back to her girls, mouth pressed into a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

“Mia,” she said calmly. “Let’s get another drink.”

Mia caught the look her friend gave her and called out for Kira. She ordered a round of the club’s special cocktails. Minutes later, the drinks landed on their table, cold and glistening.

Her friend, Amber, grabbed the almost empty bottle of 1942 and tipped it straight into Annie’s mouth, holding her chin. Annie didn’t fight it. She opened wide and swallowed it down clean, wiping the corner of her mouth with her manicured thumb as the bass in the club dropped.

And that was the moment something in her clicked. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t check to see if they were still looking. She knew they were. So she started dancing.

They all did. Grinding against each other, hands in the air, hips catching the beat with slow, heavy rolls. But Annie stole the show. Her romper barely covered the top of her thighs. And Mia was doing her usual, instigating Annie’s behavior.

The booth was filled with energy. Annie laughed, but kept her eyes up. And she could still feel it. The heat of two stares burning holes into her from across the room. 

Stack’s jaw was tight. Smoke wasn’t blinking. Neither of them looked amused.

Annie smiled as she stepped away from her friends and yelled about needing to use the bathroom. She didn’t have to actually use it, but they didn’t need to know that. Mia screamed back about coming with her, but Annie dismissed her, saying she would be fine.

Instead, she walked in the direction of where her true target went. The upper floor bathroom that only a few had real access to. And Annie was more confident in her walk than ever as she strutted past watchful eyes.

She entered the richly decorated room and headed straight for the sinks. She set her purse down and began to dig through, looking for items to touch herself up with.

Just as she found her lipgloss, the sound of a toilet flushing and heels clicking on the ground. The woman exited the stall, not making eye contact with Annie.

She strolled right up to the sink and began to wash her hands. Annie eyed her through the mirror, noting the way she was so careful with rubbing her hands, and how she flipped her hair with a slight headshake. It was almost like she was trying to tell Annie something without actually saying it. So, Annie decided to light the fire.

“Cute dress,” Annie stated as she slowly applied her lip gloss.

The woman’s eyes briefly flickered over to her. Something was passing through them that made Annie smirk. The tension between them was thick.

“Thank you,” despite her body language, the woman sounded as confident and as sharp as ever.

“Mhm.” Annie hummed after smacking her lips together.

Annie ran her hands down her ponytail and flicked it as she turned away and walked out of the bathroom. Her hips having a little more extra sway to them than normal.

-

It was getting later in the night, and the girls were still in their section, barely hanging on. Drinks kept coming, bodies still swaying, but the energy was winding down.

Mia, especially, was gone. She’d been slurring for the last thirty minutes, asking for water and then sipping tequila like it was water. At some point, she took her heels off, but it didn’t matter.

Annie leaned over to check on her. “You good?”

Mia squinted, blinking slowly. “My wife’s coming. I already called her. I’m too drunk.”

Annie laughed, slouching further into the booth. “Of course you did.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mia’s wife arrived, looking put together like she hadn’t just been called out of bed. Black leather trench, braided bun, silver hoops, and eyes that immediately scanned for her wife. She found Mia in the booth, halfway laid across two of her friends. 

And Annie? She was with them now. Somehow, at some point, she’d made her way over to their booth and plopped down right between them like it was hers.

Annie shakily stood to help, but Mia’s wife was already moving, lifting her up like muscle memory. She stopped by the twins’ section on the way out. She saw the way Annie looked, sunglasses covering her eyes to hide the drunkenness.

“Yours too, huh?” Mia’s wife said with a tired smile.

“Full-time job,” Stack replied.

“She’s worse when she’s drunk,” she added, readjusting Mia’s weight in her arms.

“Same,” Smoke said.

The woman chuckled and walked away with Mia’s arms wrapped tight around her neck and legs swinging. As soon as she left, Smoke’s eyes drifted over to Annie

She had her legs crossed and her head tilted back. One of her hands was on each of their thighs. She was swaying gently in her seat, hips rocking to the beat, rubbing circles into both of their legs like it was the most casual thing in the world. Completely drunk.

Stack looked down at her, then at Smoke. “She done.”

Smoke nodded.  “She ain’t gonna remember none of this.”

They both leaned in as Annie shifted, pressing her thigh into Smoke and laying her head lightly on Stack’s shoulder.

“Y’all smell good,” she mumbled.

Stack smirked. “Yeah, it’s time to go.”

Smoke was already texting, trying to get a car to take Annie’s friends home.

“I got a car for the girls, and ours will be outside in five,” he said to Stack.

Annie reached up and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked at both of them. She just giggled. Not having anything to say.

Stack leaned back, arms resting behind her, and Smoke just watched her, unreadable, jaw set tight. Neither of them touched her.

-

Getting out of the club was chaos.

The floor was packed, people shoulder to shoulder, music still going hard even though it was well past two. Everyone wanted to get one last drink, one last dance, one last picture. But the moment Annie stood up, dazed, off-balance, giggling at nothing, the twins moved like clockwork.

Smoke stepped in front of her, threading his fingers through hers. “Stay close.”

Stack dropped a hand to her lower back. “Don’t let go.”

They guided her through the crowd with Smoke leading, Stack pressed behind, keeping her centered between them. People tried to move in, but bouncers cleared the path before any of them had to raise their voices.

Annie stumbled once, and Smoke caught her.

Stack muttered behind her, “Be careful, baby.”

Annie just nodded her head and let herself be guided out of the club.

The car was already waiting out front, a tinted SUV with the back door open. Stack helped her in, making sure to grip her waist as she drunkenly clambered inside.

“I’m fine.” Annie slurred as she settled down.

“No, you’re not,” Smoke said, pulling her seatbelt across her body.

“I’m sexy.”

Stack snorted. “Facts. But you still not fine.”

Smoke shut the door before Annie could respond, and the two men got in the front of the car. 

The ride wasn’t long, but her energy had shifted to something slower now. The drunk was settling deep into her bones. They rode in semi-silence. The only sound was Annie humming while staring out the window.

When they pulled up in front of her building, she didn’t move.

Smoke tried first. “Come on. Time to go in.”

Annie turned her head away from them. “No.”

Stack raised an eyebrow. “No?”

She mumbled something they couldn’t hear.

Smoke pushed the door open wider to give her more room to step out. “Alright. Let’s go.”

She swung her leg out, then immediately cursed. “My feet hurt.”

“Shouldn’t’ve worn those damn boots,” Stack said, crouching in front of her. “Come here.”

She hesitated, then gave him her foot with a dramatic sigh like she was doing him a favor.

He slid one boot off, then the other, setting them aside. “Dramatic.”

“Mean,” she mumbled.

Stack smirked, standing up with her boots in one hand, her small purse now dangling from his wrist. “Brat.”

“I’m not a brat,” she said with her head leaning against the door.

“You’re acting like one.”

She swatted at him and missed.

Stack stood up. “I got your stuff. Come on, baby girl.”

Annie sat barefoot in the car, arms crossed. “I don’t wanna walk.”

“Then don’t,” Smoke said simply.

He turned, dropped to one knee at the curb, and looked over his shoulder. “Get on.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Annie.”

She hesitated for all of three seconds before climbing on, arms around his neck, chest pressed to his back. He lifted her easily, like he’d done it a hundred times.

Stack followed, heels in one hand, her purse slung over the other shoulder. They didn’t speak until they were inside her building, heading for the elevator.

Smoke adjusted her legs on his back. “She sleep yet?”

“Nah, but she will be,” Stack muttered.

“I can hear y’all,” Annie mumbled into Smoke’s neck.

Stack smiled while Smoke shook his head.

Things seemed to shift after that night at the club, and Annie didn’t know what it was. Things with Stack had been a little rocky. And at first they were small, but they only seemed to get bigger as time passed. 

It started on a Friday night. Annie had gotten Smoke to drop her off at Stack’s after she had a wonderful off-day from work, exploring the city.

So here she was, sitting on his couch in a hoodie and too-short shorts. She had ordered his favorite takeout from the little Japanese spot around the corner. A playlist they had made after they found the perfect set of songs to make out to was playing throughout the apartment. 

Stack walked in forty minutes later, with no prior text or phone call. He didn’t have an explanation upon his entry. He simply kissed her on the cheek and walked into the back room. 

“Babe?” she called gently.

He came back out, rubbing his neck. “Long day.”

“Can we still watch something?”

“Not tonight. I’m tired, baby.”

That night, he didn’t even touch the food.

The next Monday, they were supposed to go out for the evening. It was an apology date for the weekend prior. He had it all set up for the whole week: dinner and maybe a walk if the weather held up.

Annie was fully prepared. She had on that soft, wine-colored dress she knew he liked. She even did her makeup, despite being tired from work. She had gotten her hair braided back so she didn’t have to worry about that. 

She was fully dressed and ready a little earlier than planned, so she waited. But as she waited, an hour passed, then another. And there was still no call nor text, not even a damn pigeon message. And after the restaurant had been closed for twenty minutes, and she had started to take off her clothes and makeup, she received a text. He didn’t even have the decency to call her.

Sorry baby. I got caught up in some work stuff. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

And yet, he didn’t keep his word.

 A week later, they went shopping. It wasn’t planned. Annie had mentioned needing a new dress, and Stack said he’d take her. Maybe make a day out of it.

And for a minute, it was nice. But then something shifted.

They stopped in front of a high-end boutique, and Stack’s attention drifted. He pointed at a pair of leopard print heeled boots that look like they come up to the calf. 

“You’d look good in those.”

Annie blinked. “When have I ever worn something like that?”

He didn’t answer, just nodded, brows still knit like he hadn’t really heard her.

Inside the store, he eyed a ruched hot-pink mini-dress that was way more Mia’s speed than Annie’s.

“That’s cute,” he said.

Annie cocked her head. “For who?”

Stack looked at her, then back at the rack.

“…Never mind.”

She didn’t say anything else, but she saw it. She felt the space between them moving them even further apart.

And it only continued to grow further. It continued on a Thursday night. Annie had told him she had a “small surprise” waiting. Nothing serious. “Just come hungry,” she’d said.

Stack had texted at 6:12 PM:

Be there around 7.

By 8:15, the candles on the dining table had burned halfway down. The food she’d cooked, chili honey salmon, roasted garlic asparagus, and jasmine rice, had gone from hot to warm under foil.

And Annie? She’d changed out of her cooking clothes and into the dark red lace set Mia picked out for her. The one with the strappy sides and matching robe that barely covered her ass. And she waited. Laid out on her couch, checking her phone periodically.

At 10:03 PM, she gave up. Blew out the candles, packed up the food, took off the lingerie, and slipped into a hoodie. She didn’t even turn off the lights, just crawled into bed in silence.

When Stack finally walked in close to midnight, he was quiet. Tired. Head full of other things. He turned into the kitchen and saw the table. The setup was supposed to be an indication of romance. The foil-covered plates, the half-burned candles, and a single wine glass sat on the table.

And then, he walked into the bedroom and saw her curled up, makeup still on. He cursed under his breath. He saw her bare legs tangled in the sheets. Then he looked at the lingerie tossed half-forgotten over the edge of the bed.

He sat down hard in the chair beside her dresser and ran both hands over his face. “What the fuck am I doing...”

-

Fridays usually felt like a breath. But not today.

Annie sat on the bench outside her office building, arms crossed, one heel tapping slow against the concrete. Her phone sat screen-up beside her, untouched, though she’d checked it five times in the last fifteen minutes. Then ten more times before that.

The sun had dipped below the skyline. Office lights clicked off around her one by one. Traffic had started thinning out, and the air was cooling.

Stack was supposed to pick her up an hour and a half ago. She hadn’t heard a word until ten minutes ago, just a vague “on my way” text that didn’t say much and meant less.

Now she wasn’t even looking at her phone. She was just sitting, cold, quiet, and pissed.

The blacked-out Charger finally pulled up. Stack hopped out before it even came to a stop, hands up, voice soft and careful.

“I know, I know, I’m late. I’m sorry, shit got tied up. I tried, baby, I really did.”

Annie didn’t move. She didn’t stand and didn’t look at him.

He slowed as he got close. “You mad?”

She tilted her head and looked at him flatly. “What gave it away?”

Stack sighed. “Annie–”

“I sat out here for almost two hours. In heels and these hot ass clothes. While the cleaning staff left before me.”

“I know. I’m not tryna make excuses–”

“But you’re about to make some, right?”

His jaw flexed. “No. I just…I didn’t mean to keep you waiting like that. I should’ve said something.”

“You think?”

She finally stood up slowly, with a stiffness in her legs from sitting too long, and looked him dead in the face.

“I don’t need much from you. But I do need you to show up when you say you’re going to. That’s bare minimum shit, Elias.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her, eyes softer than usual, hands in his pockets, like he was trying not to fuck it up worse.

“You’re right,” he said. “I messed up.”

“And I’m not doing that thing,” she added, stepping closer, voice lower, “where I pretend like it’s no big deal just because you look good and call me baby when I get in the car. That shit doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“I don’t want it to,” he said, quiet and honest. “I want to do better.”

Annie stared at him for a beat, then finally walked past him and got into the car without a word. Stack let out a slow breath and followed.

The silence in the car was heavy. But for once, Stack didn’t try to fill it with jokes, or charm, or bullshit. He just drove. And for the first time in a long time, Annie let him sit in the weight of what he’d caused. Because this wasn’t about one missed ride. No, this was about her time, trust, and worth. And it seems like all of it was being taken for granted. 

If Stack wanted to keep her, he was going to have to learn how to carry that right.

-

The room was dim. The TV was on low, and the sheets were still warm. Stack was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, humming something under his breath, like he didn’t have Annie’s frustration from earlier still sitting thick in the air.

Annie lay in his bed, face bare, bonnet on, oversized tee hugging her curves. She was finally settled. Or trying to be. That’s when her phone lit up with a FaceTime call. It would be Mia

She rolled her eyes but answered anyway. “Girl.”

The screen opened up to Mia in the passenger seat of a car, hair pulled up, oversized sunglasses, even though it was dark. Her wife was in the driver's seat, hands on the wheel, chewing gum, vibing to something low on the radio.

“Hey, babes, you look comfortable. Am I interrupting something?”

Annie exhaled. “Nope, I just laid down. He’s in the bathroom.”

Mia grinned. “Perfect. I gotta say something, and I don’t want background noise.”

“So Kennedy took me to the mall earlier today,” Mia continued, flipping the camera around to show a shiny red-bottom shoebox on her lap. “Got me some new So Kates, right?”

Annie smiled, still slow and tired. “She spoils you.”

“Like I deserve,” Mia said with a smirk. “But anyway, while we were at the mall, guess who I saw?”

Annie blinked. “Please don’t say somebody stupid.”

“Stack…” Mia paused before continuing. “With some girl.”

That made Annie sit up a little. “Where?”

“They were in Gucci. He had his arm around her waist and everything. Then they walked into La Perla.”

Annie’s eyebrows furrowed as she was trying to put the pieces together.

Mia leaned in closer to the camera. “They looked real comfortable with each other. And she kind of looked like that girl you pointed out at the club a while back. This was like…I wanna say an hour, maybe before you texted me saying he was late.”

Annie’s chest tightened. She glanced toward the bathroom. The sound of running water still going.

“You sure it was him?”

“Annie,” Mia said flatly. “I’ve known that man as long as I’ve known you. That was definitely him.”

“Maybe it was a cousin or something–”

“Baby, let’s not do that. He had his hand on her waist. Ain’t no cousin getting Gucci bags with his arm around her in broad daylight. And don’t tell me he was buying you lingerie either, ‘cause you’d already been waiting on that damn bench for over an hour when I called.”

Annie didn’t respond.

Mia’s tone softened slightly. “I’m not saying this to hurt you. You know I love you. And yeah, I’ve known the twins just as long as you. But my loyalty ain’t to them.”

“I know.”

“I’m telling you because I don’t like how he left you sitting out there. And now this? I’m just saying you need to put it together.”

The camera jostled as Mia’s wife pulled into their neighborhood.

“We just got home, so call me tomorrow.”

Annie ended the call without saying goodbye.

The bathroom door opened. Stack stepped out in just his sweats, wiping his face with a towel.

He glanced over, casually. “You good?”

Annie’s face was unreadable. But on the inside? Her stomach was tight. Mind racing. That feeling of something not adding up gripped the back of her neck like a warning.

“Yeah,” she said.

She lied.

-

-

-

Taglist: @stormynovashambler @coolfoodrunworld-blog @katezy2x

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Glimpse of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

masterlist. | next part

Prologue.

Everything was perfect that day. Finnick was home for more than a week, something so rare that he cherished. It meant he didn’t have to endure the cold touches of Capitol citizens on his body, it meant he didn’t have to fake a smile, it meant he didn’t act like a show pony, it meant that he could relax, it meant he could be his true self. Most importantly, it meant he could spend time with you.

He spent his mornings swimming in the ocean with you, afternoons in the market with you, and nights cuddled up next to you as you read, a simple domestic routine.

You decided to sleep in that day. Finnick, still wanting to go swim, decided to go alone. While he felt the cool waves against his skin, he thought about what you two would do that day, what you guys would have for lunch and dinner, what you guys would buy at the market, what book you would read, simple thoughts.

Simple thoughts that he should’ve cherished for longer.

He returned from the beach around noon, he expected to find you in the living room baking, or on the back porch reading.

Instead, he found you in the living room, a look of shock and horror on your face.

"As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.”

“Finnick.” you whispered to him.

He saw red. How could they do this? How could they take his and yours normalcy away? “They can’t do that.”

“Finnick…”

He leaps from the couch and shuts off the TV, “They can’t do that!” he shouts.

“Finnick please!” you say, your voice raised slightly.

“They can’t- they can’t make us go back there. They can’t. They already put us through so much- They can’t do this!” he says, shaking his head. “Finnick please sit back down.”

He paces the room, “He’s doing this to get rid of her. Because of her, we’re all going back to hell.”

He was referring to Katniss Everdeen. He knew you knew that, you both were in the Capitol when she and Peeta Mellark won. You both knew that stunt she pulled would cause trouble. But neither of you expected this.

“Finny…it’s not her fault. She’s one of us. It’s Snow, it’s his fault” you say as you cup his face.

He closes his eyes and puts his hands on yours. “I won’t let them take you away from me angel. I won’t.” “I know Finny…I know.”

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

It had been ten years since his name was in the mix to be reaped, only six since yours. There weren’t that many female victors for four, so chances of you being picked were high.

Finnick prayed that the odds would be slim to none.

As you both approached the town square, Finnick squeezed your hand and kissed your forehead.

“I love you angel. No matter what happens, remember that.”

“I love you too Finnick, always.”

He then reluctantly let go of your hand, dreading the fact that that exchange of love may have been your last.

You both stood on separate sides, Finnick in his white tunic, you in a simple baby blue dress.

“The male tribute for District Four….”

“Finnick Odair.”

Finnick held back his emotions and flashed a cocky grin for the cameras. He knew he would be reaped. He knew it from the beginning.

“And for the female tribute…”

“Annie Crest-“

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Finnick’s heart felt like stopped. He hoped he was hearing things. You couldn’t have volunteered. You couldn’t.

He slowly looked over and saw you whispering something to Annie before walking to the front.

No.

No no.

No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to go in.

“The male and female tributes of District Four ladies and gentlemen!”

Finnick quickly walked over to you and wrapped you in his arms, placing a kiss atop your head. “Angel…why…you weren’t supposed to..”

“We’re in this together Finny. You and me.”

He gazes into your eyes, your soft, loving eyes, pressing his forehead against yours and whispering ‘I love you’ to you as the cameras shuttered.

“You and me angel. Always.”

A/N: RAHHHH ITS OUT!!! omg i hope u guys liked this, be prepared for LOTS of angst and some cute moments between finnick and reader >:) ANYWAYSSSS again i hope u guys liked this and very special announcment

🥁🥁🥁🥁

WE ARE ALMOST AT 100 FOLLOWS!!! YAYYY

tysm for all the recent love u guys, actually. im so grateful for all of you <333 have an amazing day/afternoon/night

love u guys <3

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Summary: FUTUREDAD!ANAKIN x PREGNANT!READER

TW: none, fluff :3 Reminding everyone that today's the last day where you can send a request for BUNNYCEMBER

ANAKIN SKYWALKER was muttering under his breath, frustration evident on his face as he fought with the cake batter that just wouldn't stick. His brows furrowed, and his tongue poked out slightly as he concentrated, clearly on the verge of giving up. But he didn't, not for you.

You were everything to him—everything. And since he found out you were pregnant, he'd gone into full-on protective, spoiling, I-need-to-make-her-happy mode. Because you deserved all of it. So, he found himself baking a cake (with questionable results), trying to make mochi (disastrous), and even stirring noodles for your favorite Chinese dish. Whatever you craved, he’d try his best to fulfill it, even if it meant his cooking was... less than stellar.

Now he was cursing quietly at himself and the cake that refused to stick together with the ice cream. His brows furrowed in frustration, yet his focus never wavered. He was putting everything into it. For you.

"Shit, shit, shit... what the hell is that?" Anakin muttered under his breath, watching a tutorial on his phone. The woman on screen clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job, in his opinion.

Meanwhile, you, still a little hazy from your nap, sniffed the air. Something burned—something... off.

You blinked, disoriented, but the scent was enough to bring you to your feet. Stumbling down the stairs, you wondered if maybe you’d left something on the stove? No, that didn’t make sense. The last time you had cooked was weeks ago, thanks to Anakin’s insistence that you take it easy. So, what was going on?

You rounded the corner into the kitchen and, to your surprise, saw Anakin’s back, his strong frame clad in an apron. An apron. An apron, which was a rarity in your home, especially given his feelings toward cooking.

As you rounded the corner into the living room, you caught sight of Anakin’s back, clad in an apron. “Annie?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, still sweet but laced with confusion. “What are you doing?”

He turned around at the sound of your voice, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, I—” He paused, glancing at the tutorial still playing on his phone, then at the cloud of smoke escaping through the open windows. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

He let out a heavy sigh. “...making you happy.”

Your eyes scanned the kitchen. The burnt cake, flour scattered across the floor, and the flour that now decorated his cheek.

“...Oh.”

Anakin scratched the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Yeah, so, uh, I kinda.. sorta.. tried to bake you a cake, make that Chinese dish you’ve been craving so much, and I tried to make some mochi, but...” He trailed off, visibly embarrassed by the chaos he’d created.

You glanced at the mess once more—burnt cake, flour everywhere, a trail of noodles... it was chaotic, but it was also so-him-coded

You smiled, stepping forward, your tired eyes softening as you took in the sight of your husband standing there, all pouty and disheveled, like a lost puppy, trying so hard to make you happy. It made you adore him even more.

Raising yourself on your toes, you grabbed his shirt for balance and placed a gentle, loving kiss on his lips. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, your smile wide, meaning it with all your heart.

"You always say that," he murmured, his eyes flickering over the mess in the kitchen, then back to you. "I just... I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to do something nice."

You wiped the flour off his cheek “Well, you did surprise me, Ani.” your voice full of love "You do it every day."

"Not like this," He grumbled, running his fingers through his messy hair. “I was trying to be sweet for you. To make you happy and satisfied. Not to make you ‘aww’ because I suck at doing some things right.”

You cupped his face, bringing him closer. "Ani, most guys wouldn’t even help their pregnant wives. And you? You’re doing far more than just helping. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me."

Anakin’s face softened at your words - brows coming back to it's place, eyes flickering to reflect this sweet, sweet side of his. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before nuzzling into your neck - the favorite activity this man ever had. "Love you..." he murmured, voice muffled against your skin.

"Love you too," you whispered, your heart full of warmth as you held him close.

But then—

“A-Ani... the noodles!”

Anakin’s eyes widened, and in a flash, he rushed to the stove where the pot bubbled dangerously. “Shit!” He quickly turned off the burner. “How the hell did I forget about those...”

In his rush to save food, he grabbed the pot with his bare hands, immediately regretting his decision. He yelped as the hot metal seared against his skin. “Agh! F-fuck... shit...” His voice cracked with the pain as he quickly placed the pot in the sink, his palms stinging.

“God, are you okay?” concern lacing your voice.

“I’m fi-fine! Fucking fine...” He bit back another curse, holding his hands under the cold water, hissing at the burn. “Hhhgh... fuuuuck...”

After minutes of putting his hand in the cold water and bandaging the burn, you two stood in silence, calculating all the mess before he mumbled shortly "I’ll get better at this, I swear" which only brought a small smile on your lips

You shook your head gently "Oh, ani.."

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[moth2flamewriting]

Jealousy

This will be a series of one shots. First time so bare with me. AHHHHH IM NERVOUS!! 😁

Annie x Smoke

Warning: Sexual content. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex.

ENJOY.

"Smoke you fucking me like a dog," Annie managed to muster enough strength to say.

"I have to remind you who you belong to, cause you must've forgot", he grunted out through quick but precise strokes.

As her eyes rolled back in her head she knew she'd asked for this. She wanted this. Her plan worked.

Earlier that day..

"FUCK YOU SMOKE! YOU COME BACK HERE AFTER 7 YEARS? DOING WHO KNOWS THE FUCK WHAT IN CHICAGO AND THINK WHAT? I'm gon' open my legs to you cause you love and miss me?" Annie raged.

He didn't know what to say.. he wasn't expecting full out rejection. He was always her weakness the same way she was his.

"I shouldn't have expected that from you, I just needed to have you but I see you not gon' make this easy on me", he sighs. "Can you just come to the juke tonight? Fry up some fish fo' me? I'll pay you real good?"

"Your money means nothing to me," she spat.

"Annie, I'm begging you. Its real potential and longevity for this juke, and I need your help." She wanted to stand firm in how she felt, which is simply fuck Elijah "Smoke" Moore, but she wanted to help. Reluctantly she agreed.

"Don't you try no funny shit with me Smoke, I don't want to fuck you and I don't want to be with you". She spoke those words but she lied them.

She longed for him. Her pussy was hungry for him. She felt him as soon as he arrived in the Delta. But she gotta stay strong. You don't get to leave and come back in and out as you please.

Many nights she longed for the touch of her husband. His hands caressing her soft, plump titties. His tongue lapping up her juices as they ran out of her. His dick pumping in and out of her, so deep she couldn't see. BUT IT HAD TO BE FUCK HIM.

Arriving at the Juke..

Greeted by Stack as soon as she arrived, it was always good to see him. Always been a brother to her and looked out for her.

"Annie, you looked more beautiful than the last time I saw you," Stack says through a huge grin. They hug and she goes into the juke to begin prepping for the night.

She can feel him watching her. His eyes burning holes into her.

"Smoke, what'chu with me? I'm doing what you asked? What else you-" she rants but he cuts her off.

"I want you. I want my wife. I want you to act like you know who you belong to. You're mine and if you think I won't have you, you got another thing coming", he snarls at her.

Anger. Rage. AUDACITY? This nigga gon feel me.

"I'm yours? I belong to you? Nigga, I'm not one of them bitches from Chicago! I don't belong to you. You think i didn't move on?" She didn't. "You don't think I got fucked? You don't think these men out here know what they got the first time? You not the only motherfucker on this Earth that wants me", she had him right where she wanted. Seething. Jealous. Raging.

"You gon regret giving my shit up", hehissed and walked out

Sweat dripped down Annie's forehead. She didn't know how far she could push him until he snapped. But she wanted more from him. She wanted him angry. She wanted him to feel it. She wanted him. She wanted him to take it. She wanted him.. jealous. And she knew just how to get it.

Opening Night..

It was hot in this motherfucker. People were dancing and drinking and eating. Having a good time.

He was still watching her no doubt. She was walking around the room trying to catch her breath from the cooking. She found a nice spot to sit next to a cracked window letting in cool air.

In walked a man she knew wanted her all too well, Joshua Macon. He glanced around the room until his eyes fell on her. But no doubt Smoke was watching too.

He walked up to her as said, "Annie, you're look especially delicious tonight, may this be the night you give me a chance?"

Perfect. He did exactly what she needed. No notes.

"I don't know about a chance but how about a dance?" she cooed.

Hand out he led her to the dance floor.

Smoke still watching. Hot. Steam coming out of his ears. PERFECT. Now it was time to turn up the heat.

Joshua was so polite, hands around her waste but that wasn't enough.

Annie turns putting her ass on his crotch directly. Grinding hard. Sliding her body up and down against his.

His hands are roaming now, passing over her breast. Pulling her close so that she can feel his dick hard.

It does nothing for her. She knows who she wants and he was making his way over to her right now.

"I'm gon' give you a fair chance to get your hands off my woman," he barked.

Joshua was not moved. "HA! NIGGA YOU AINT GON DO SHIT," he continues to rub Annie all over.

She's getting hot in the best way seeing Elijah angry. She silences a moan when he pulls a gun on Joshua. He's just so sexy when he's angry. I know he's at his wit's end. Exactly where she wanted him.

"So what? You gon shoot em? Just like you to come over here thinking you run something" she smirks egging him on, begging him to do something.

POP. Shoots him right in his leg.

"Cornbread come get this nigga out the muhfuckin' spot." He's in charge and she knows what's coming.

He grabs her arms pulling her into the nearest closet. Both panting and glaring at eachother. So much tension that needs to be released. So much anger. Some much sadness. But even more jealousy.

"I got half the mind to go back and kill that nigga cause you wanna be playing mind games," he seethed. "Fuck do you think this is? Fuck do you think I am?" He's gave her no room to respond. "You think I won't kill ever nigga that talks to you? You think I want beat the fuck outta any and everybody? Cmon baby, you know me better.. so what the fuck you boutta do?"

"Elijah let me out this room right the fuck now, I don't have time for this I have to see if Joshua is okay.. being as though you just shot him" she says with no urgency or even care in her voice. She's excited. Because she knows that was his last straw.

Smoke grabs her by her neck and pulls her close. Hovering his mouth over hers before he sticks his tongue in her mouth nice and slow. "You're mine," he barks. She smirks, "I am not."

He turns her around, pressing her body up against the nearest wall. Hurriedly he gathers her skirt so he can get under it. He waves his fingers over hers mouth. She knows what he wants. She opens her mouth slow as he inserts two girthy fingers into it. Swirling her tongue around them as he gags her to create more spit.

She's dizzy. Her pussy is a river and she can't wait til he puts his fingers in her.

"You're such a good girl for me baby, I'm gon' slip my fingers in you and feel that pussy stretch for me.. I just have a few questions and if you can't answer than I'll stop" he breathes in her ear.

He's digging inside her like he lost something. She's dripping down his hand trying her best to contain her moans.

"Who's pussy is this?"

"Yours daddy."

"Did you fuck anyone while I was gone? You gave my pussy up?"

"No daddy, I would never."

His fingers are so deep she's seeing stars. She fucking back to create more friction. She needs to finish.

"You wanna cum baby? Then do it. Let me feel you finish all over my fingers the way I like it."

"Elijah.. I.. Ughn" she barely can get a word out.

"Elijah, you making my pussy cum so hard I can't take it nomore," he's pumping his fingers in and out of her at lightening speed. "This aint even half of what Im finna do to you."

"I'm cumming! Oh my god it's so good, thank you oh my godd yessss." She's panting and writhing all over the fingers he has yet to pull out of her gushy, wet pussy.

He backs away from her and all she can hear is the clinking of his belt coming undone. She scared to turn around and see the monster coming out of his pants.

A girthy, long, black dick. Her mouth was watering. She wanted it in her mouth. But he knew that.

He grabbed her by her hair forcing her onto her knees. His dick swinging back and forth before her lips.

"Open that fucking mouth." Her mouth dropped open. Sucking his dick felt so good. Lapping her tongue around the head and taking it as far into her mouth as she could.

"Oh fuck Annie, you sucking my dick so good" he grunts out. He's pumping into her mouth so fast, dick hitting the back of her throat.

She puts two fingers into her panties and pleasures her self spreading the wetness on her clit. Moaning around his dick as she makes herself leak down her legs.

"On your back." FINALLY EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S BEEN WAITING FOR.

On her back, she spreads her legs so that he has a full view of her pussy. Glistening under the dim light. All for him.

He teases her entrance. Rubbing the head of his dick back and forth on her pussy. Teasing her.

Annie squirms under him, trying to inch closer to get the head in at least.

He enters her in one swift move and waits for her to adjust to him.

"Oh my god baby you stretching me out again, my pussy is so tight please," Annies cries out.

"Fuck, you gon make me fill this pussy up. You feel so good." Smoke moans trying to control himself inside her. She was so tight she was squeezing the nut out of him.

A couple seconds go by and he finally starts to move. Moans fill the space between them as they are finally back one. He's fucking her so good. Sucking on her nipples and neck. She's getting fucked so good she can't even think.

Her pussy is squirting with every thrust.

"Oooo shit this dick is so good, please keep fucking me Smoke, dont ever stop fucking me Smoke," she's crying now. The dick is bringing her to tears.

She's egging him on. He starts pounding into her so hard, her juices are running down both of their legs.

"Smoke you fucking me like a dog," Annie managed to muster enough strength to say.

"I have to remind you who you belong to, cause you must've forgot", he grunted out through quick but precise strokes.

As her eyes rolled back in her head she knew she'd asked for this. She wanted this. Her plan worked.

"Daddy please cum in me, give me another baby.. Make me yours," it stung but she meant it. She wanted his seed. She wanted to bare his children.

"Keep fucking talking like that, I'll give it all to you baby. I'm so sorry, please forgive me," he slips his tongue in her mouth as he pumps in and out of her. Deep in her. Looking for release.

"Elijah, I'm about to cum on this dick. Make me cum," she squealed.

Her words were getting him close. He thrusted faster, holding on to her neck to keep him steady as he fucked the life out of her. 3 strokes and he emptied his seed inside of her. Filling her up to the brim, he watched his cum leak out of her pussy.

"I lied earlier," she says through pants.

"I want you. Seven years and I never even looked another mans way, cause I belong to you. I love you. I miss you."

Brown eyes starting back at her, "Annie, youre my stars and moon. It hurts to come back here. But I'm back for good. I love ya, and I missed ya. Please have me back."

Her intentions were to always have him back. She just wanted him...

jealous.

I hope you enjoyed this fanfic. My first one so be kind but I would love feedback! ❤️