#stack Moore X OC

[novahreign]

Sinners

Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Lucinda “Lu/ Lil bit” Hawkins.

A/N: I wanted to give it a try. I’m a Smoke girlie. That’s my type of man.😜💙 I hope that you enjoy.

“Elijah. Please, don’t do this.” I begged gripping his bicep. “Please.” He gathered me in his arms.

I had been cheesing and humming all morning. Mama had gone into town and daddy was working, this was the only day that both of my parents would be gone and Elijah could come over. I finished my morning chores and freshened myself up from this hot Mississippi weather. I had been having sex with Elijah or Smoke, what most people called him, although I never taken a liken to it, for two full months and my folks were non the wiser. I smiled to myself, I just didn’t understand how something that was such a sin, felt so good. Elijah always knew how to me feel good, how to make me feel like a woman. He was always gentle too. Never harsh with me like he was to everyone else. My mother didn’t know what I saw in him, she just I didn’t understand, that’s all.

When Elijah came in, I was prepared to make love. He always did know how to work that thing between his legs to bring me so much pleasure, oh, and his tongue, sweet Mary, did he know how to use it on me, have me saying swear words that my mama would have my hind for, but instead of my sweet Elijah, I got the one with fear in his eyes. One I only saw a few times. He rushed inside and told me that he and his brother were leaving town. I could feel my heart bout to beat outta my chest. He gathered me in his arms, kissing the side of my head. “I gotta go Lu, don’t make this any harder for me.”

“Why are you doing this? Where are you going?!” I could feel my heart slowly crumbling as he worked to avoid my eyes. “Elijah, what did you do?”

His twin brother Elias “Stack” laid on the horn “Hurry nigga. We gots to go.” He seemed nervous as he scanned the dirt road. A man, I didn’t recognize sat in the drivers seat, kept his gaze straight ahead. “Smoke, let’s go!”

He looked at me with wary eyes “I gotta go baby.” He kissed me harder than he’d ever had before. I tried to savor every moment as I melted in his arm. “Promise me you’ll write.” I sensed his hesitation “You don’t have to say where you are, just let me know that you’re alright and that you’re thinking of me.”

He nodded his head “I’ll do that. I promise.” He kissed me one last time but before he made it to the end of the yard, I yelled out to him. “I love you Elijah.” He smirked “I love you too Lil bit.” I smiled faintly at the nickname that I hated, but would give anything to hear him say it forever. He hopped in the back of the car.

“Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t! I promise.”

The car sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dirt behind. I waved until I couldn’t see them anymore.

Sometime later, I learned that the twins killed their daddy or that’s Bessie’s grandmother was telling everybody. I know how cruel and evil his daddy could be and if that’s why he left then I could accept that. That was seven years ago. He never did write like he promised. I waited for years for a letter. Eventually I picked up the pieces of my heart and moved on as I best I could.

“Alright. Class is dismissed. You all go and make it home. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Bye, Ms. Hawkins.” The cute little brown faces of boys and girls exited the white painted barn that was used for schooling during the weekdays. I sighed as to face one little grumpy face child. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling but I put on my serious face.

“Lester Sims, You oughta be ashamed of the way that you carried on today.” His little frown loosened up some. “I expect better from you. You’re a smart boy and have a brain.” I tapped his head “Use it, because the next time you act like this, I’m liken to take a switch to you and I don’t want to have to do that, You hear me?”

He nodded his head and let out a gruff “Yes ma’am.”

“Alright now, gon and head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stomped his way out of the barn as I began tidying up. I unsnapped the button to my blouse, it was hot as Satans tail in this classroom. Hearing footsteps I turned around.

“Lester, you’re always forgetting something, I tell you ever-“ my words got caught as I looked up.

“You as hard on poor Lester as your mama was on me and Stack.How you doing, Lu?”

I gripped the chair, to keep myself from falling, it was like looking at ghost. Elijah Moore stood in front of me. Bigger and more put together than I’ve seen a colored folk before. He tipped his hat “Elijah.” I said, my voice coming out way softer than I wanted or needed it to. Hell, I was mad at him. Seven years you’ve been gone and got the nerve to come back looking like this?! I cross my legs at the ankles. Seven years wasn’t enough time for my body to forget the only man to ever touch me. Then anger boiled in my chest. I dropped the broom, brushed past him, stomping my way out of the school, like Lester did. I was almost far enough when I felt a grip on my arm. I turned so fast bumping into his rock hard chest.

“Can we talk?” Tears welled up in my eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I tried my best to keep myself together. “Just stay the hell away from me.” I jerked from his arm, headed down the road, not once looking back. I couldn’t, not yet.

[blackpantherismyish]

Tell Me You Missed It 💰

Modern!au Elias “Stack” Moore X Black!OC Harper Jones

Work Count : 4.3k

Authors Note: Sooo 😅 While I love Papa Smoke down, we know (s/o to @theethighpriestess) that Stack is Killmonger’s grandpappy. So yall might hate him just as much as the OC does. But I like me a slick mouthed southern nigga 🙂‍↕️🤭 I’m just saying. Warning, This is some smutty smut. So you might wanna check ya panties afterwards. Or just take them off all together, you do you. But enjoooy.

Setting: Downtown Los Angeles, a warehouse-turned-art gallery lit in warm gold and exposed brick. It’s First Fridays, and the place is buzzing with live music, neon cocktails, and art that screams sex and sorrow.

Harper feels it before she sees him.

That heat. That weight. That pull from somewhere low in her belly she thought she’d buried.

She turns, slowly. And there he is.

Stack.

Standing at the far end of the gallery in a black hoodie, gold chain catching the dim light, jaw set like he’d chewed through regret and didn’t care who bled for it. He looks good—too good—like time’s only made him sharper, thicker in the arms, and darker in the eyes. But it’s that look he gives her across the room that wrecks her. Like he’s not surprised to see her—like he knew she’d show up eventually.

Harper’s breath stutters.

It’s been a year and a half.

She’s had someone else. Someone safe. Predictable. Smelled like sandalwood and didn’t talk with his hands. But her body? Her body remembers Stack like recipe handed down through generations.

She adjusts the sleeve of her cream silk blouse and steels her spine. No weakness. Not tonight.

He moves through the crowd like it owes him space, people parting naturally. No words. Just a slow saunter until he’s standing in front of her, close enough to touch.

She says nothing.

Neither does he.

Then Stack leans in, slowly. Inhales. Right at the curve of her neck.

His voice comes low, gritty.

“You smell like someone else.”

Her stomach flips. “You’re bold.”

He doesn’t back off. “I’m pissed.”

A beat. Then..

“You been letting another man put his hands on you, Harper?”

“You been gone,” she shoots back, chin lifting. “What did you expect me to do, wait around?”

Stack doesn’t blink. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t soften.

“I expected you to remember who taught you how to melt like that. Who made you shake without even takin’ your clothes off.”

Her eyes flicker. Her throat tightens.

“Don’t do this,” she warns.

But he’s already stepping closer, chest brushing hers. One hand lifts—gentle, almost reverent—and tugs her bottom lip free from between her teeth with his thumb.

“I can still smell him on your skin,” he murmurs. “But underneath that? You still smell like mine.”

Her legs threaten to give, knees brushing his.

“I’m not yours,” she whispers, but even she can hear the lie.

Stack’s lips graze the shell of her ear. “Then why are you shaking?”

Harper closes her eyes. One year, six months, two days. That’s how long she’s been trying to forget what it felt like to unravel under him. How she swore she wouldn’t go back.

But Stack doesn’t give you space to forget.

He leaves a scent. A rhythm. A hunger.

He exhales slow. “You let him lay next to you. But he didn’t know you. Not like I did.”

And he’s right. Her new man never touched the places Stack touched. Never pulled tears from her eyes with just a look. Never made her feel like fire and glass at the same time.

Harper wants to be angry. Wants to shove him back and spit venom. But instead, she just whispers.

“Why are you here, Elias?”

His answer is soft. “To take back what’s mine.”

The music shifts behind them, but it might as well be silence. Her pulse is in her throat. She hates how good he smells. Like smoke and recklessness and the kind of sex that ruins lives.

“Say the word,” he says, palm finally resting low on her waist. “And I’ll remind your body who it really belongs to.”

And she does.

She says nothing.

Just lets her fingers curl into his shirt.

And Stack?

He leans in and kisses her like he’s starving—like he’s reclaiming every inch. Like no other man ever existed.

Because in his world?

No one else ever did.

They take the elevator in silence.

But the air between them?

Loud as hell.

Stack doesn’t touch her. Not yet. He’s got that look on his face again—calm, composed, but she can feel the heat rolling off him in waves. That dangerous kind of patience. The kind that waits ‘til you’re begging.

The elevator dings at the 9th floor, and Harper steps out first, trying to act like her legs aren’t trembling with every step. Her heels click against the hallway floor, and each sound feels like a countdown.

Her body is not being helpful.

Her heart’s doing the most.

Her breath’s shaky.

And worst of all?

Her nipples are hard.

What the hell, she thinks, crossing her arms.

We’re not doing this. We’re not folding. He doesn’t get to come back in like this and—

But her body doesn’t care.

Her body’s a traitor.

She’s wet. Dripping even.

She knows it.

It’s shameful how easy her body remembers him—how it lights up just being near him.

Behind her, Stack unlocks the door to his condo with a subtle twist of the wrist. That familiar click of the lock sounds like temptation cracking open.

She steps inside first—and there it is.

The scent.

Dark. Musky. Him.

That wood-smoke, bergamot, and something dirtier beneath it. Something hers. Like the sheets still know what they used to do to each other.

She stands in the middle of the living room and dares herself not to sit. Not to lean. Not to remember.

Stack sets his keys on the counter, shrugs out of his hoodie.

Black tee underneath, clinging to his chest and arms like a second skin. Veins like anger. Tattoos she used to trace with her tongue.

She clears her throat. “You gonna pour me a drink, or just keep undressing slowly?”

He smirks. “Didn’t think you needed liquor to make bad decisions.”

She glares, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

Don’t smile, Harper. He wins if you smile. Be strong. Say what you came to say and—

Then his voice slices right through her.

“I can still see it,” he says, slow. “How your body looked the first time you let go for me. Shaking. Soft. Stupid pretty.”

Her thighs clench. Reflex.

“Betrayal,” she hisses at her body. “You’re acting brand new.”

Her inner demon cackles.

“Oh baby, this ain’t new. This is home.”

“I’m not gonna sleep with you,” she repeats, more to herself than to him.

Stack leans against the counter, arms folded, eyes raking her slow.

“I know,” he says.

“Your mouth keeps saying that.”

She hates that her knees feel loose.

Hates that her body’s already angling slightly toward him, like gravity’s rigged in his favor.

“We are NOT doing this,” she whispers internally.

Her nipples: We did it already.

Her thighs: It’s already started, boo.

Her inner demon, reclining in a fur coat with a wine glass: “Tell me again how ‘safe’ was supposed to be better than this?”

Stack pushes off the counter and walks up behind her.

Doesn’t touch. Just stands there.

She can feel him. The heat of him against her back. Her breath quickens.

“You feel it?” he murmurs, lips ghosting the shell of her ear. “This thing between us never left. You tried to clean me off—but I’m still under your nails.”

A soft, involuntary gasp escapes her throat.

“I hate how good you are at this,” she whispers.

He finally touches her—just two fingers at her hip. Light. Teasing.

“You hate that I know your body better than he does.”

And then—like her body had just been waiting for permission—she melts. Shoulders sink. Chin dips. A low, shameful moan coils at the base of her throat.

He turns her to face him. Doesn’t kiss her.

Just speaks softly.

“Last chance. Walk away. Or let me make your whole body remember who the fuck you really belong to.”

And Harper?

Her mouth says nothing.

But her body?

That damn traitor leans in.

Stack doesn’t take her to the bedroom.

Not yet.

He backs her into the corner of the living room instead, low lights casting shadows across the hardwood floor. Every move is deliberate, every inch between them charged. He’s still got one hand grazing her hip—like he’s reading her pulse through the silk of her blouse.

Harper stands stiff, jaw set, arms crossed again like armor. But it’s useless. Her body’s already betrayed her, and he knows it.

He leans close, nose brushing her temple as he whispers, “So this who you replaced me with?”

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t.”

“Lemme guess,” he says, lips grazing her hairline. “Says nice shit. Calls you ‘babe.’ Sends ‘good morning’ texts. Fucks like he’s worried about messing up your makeup.”

She doesn’t respond.

He takes that as a yes.

Stack chuckles, low and smug. “That the kinda love you settled for?”

Harper’s spine snaps straight. She steps back.

“Settled?” she echoes, sharp. “You talk like you didn’t vanish. Like I had options.”

Stack’s eyes flicker, but he doesn’t flinch.

“I had to go,” he says, calm. “You know why.”

“No,” she bites. “I know what you said. And then I watched you disappear like I was just… noise.”

He’s quiet. But not guilty. Not apologetic. Just still.

“I didn’t leave ‘cause I stopped loving you,” he finally says. “I left ‘cause I didn’t know how to keep loving you without breaking everything around us. You included.”

“That’s real poetic,” she mutters. “But you still left me standing in the wreckage.”

He steps forward again. Slower this time. Hands now by his side like he’s trying to keep them off her.

“I didn’t come here to play therapist,” he murmurs. “I just know what I smelled on your skin tonight wasn’t love. It was… safe. Easy.”

“Why is that so bad?” she snaps.

“‘Cause you’re not easy, Harper,” he growls, stepping in close again. “You’re wild. You’re all sharp teeth and wet heat and fucked-up loyalty. And safe?” He scoffs. “Safe don’t know what to do with a woman like you.”

Her chest is rising and falling faster now. She’s furious.

And turned on.

“You don’t get to romanticize this now,” she hisses. “You broke me. And now you’re mad I let someone else hold the pieces?”

“I’m mad you gave those pieces to someone who ain’t built to hold you whole,” he snaps, voice dropping lower. “You let someone soft put his name on scars I carved.”

Silence. Thick as honey.

Her demon rises again, smug: “You gonna slap him or kiss him, mama?”

Her body? Already making room for him.

Stack softens, just a little. His hand lifts again—not greedy, not forceful—just a knuckle brushing the dip between her breasts. The whisper of contact sears her.

“I know you hate me,” he says, eyes locked to hers. “But I also know when you touch yourself, it’s still my name that slips out your mouth first.”

Her breath catches. Her mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

He leans in, nose barely brushing hers. Not kissing. Just feeling.

“You remember how I sound when I’m inside you?” he whispers. “The way I used to lose my mind when you grabbed my wrist, trying to hold me still even though you didn’t want me to stop?”

“Stop,” she breathes. It’s not convincing.

His lips hover over hers. “Say it like you mean it.”

Her voice cracks. “You’re so arrogant.”

He smiles, slow and sharp. “No. I’m just the only one who ever matched you.”

And there it is.

Her hands ball into fists at her sides.

Her voice is low, strained: “You’re a bastard.”

“And you,” he says, gently taking her hand and pressing it flat to his chest, “are still burning for me.”

Harper feels his heartbeat under her palm. Strong. Steady. Like a drum calling her back to a rhythm she swore she forgot.

Her head shakes, but she doesn’t pull away.

He leans in again, lips barely brushing her cheek now. Whispering heat.

“Tell me you don’t want me to lay you down on that couch and make you forget how to spell his name.”

She exhales like it hurts. Her thighs press together. Her body betraying her again. Skin flushed. Breath ragged.

But her pride? Still hanging on. Barely.

Harper stays quiet a long moment, hand still pressed to his chest like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Stack watches her with that steady, unreadable gaze—but there’s something in his eyes now. Something vulnerable beneath the usual swagger.

And maybe it’s that.

Maybe it’s the way his calm is cracked just enough.

Or maybe it’s the way her body’s been screaming for him since the moment he walked back in.

But her voice finally comes, low and bitter and beautiful.

“You don’t get to say my name like that and pretend you didn’t leave me starving.”

His brow lifts, but she’s not done.

“I begged for you. You remember that?” Her voice trembles. “Sat on that floor by your door like a fool, texting you for days. Weeks. Watching your read receipts pop up with no reply. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. I stopped wearing red lipstick because I couldn’t stand seeing it smudged without your mouth being the reason.”

Stack’s jaw tightens.

She steps in now, close enough to make him shift.

“I had to teach myself how to not ache at the sound of a Hellcat engine. Had to unfollow every playlist that reminded me of the way you used to fuck me through my own cries.”

A pause.

Her voice is a whisper now. “And then you show up smelling like memory and sex and say I settled?”

Stack doesn’t speak.

He just lowers to his knees.

Smooth. Silent.

Like he knows words won’t save him.

Like he knows what she really needs is not an apology from his mouth—

But a redemption sung between her thighs.

Her breath catches when his hands move up her calves, deliberate. Slow. He presses a kiss to her left knee, then the right. Soft. Reverent.

And still doesn’t say a word.

She watches him from above, chest heaving.

When he reaches for her waistband, she doesn’t stop him.

Just whispers, “You left me so fucking empty, Elias...”

He looks up at her, hands still at the hem of her pants.

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

And then he peels her out of them like something sacred.

Her legs are trembling already. Rage and arousal tangled like a noose in her stomach. She’s still mad. Still hurt.

But when his mouth settles between her thighs, God help her, all of it folds.

He starts slow. Tongue soft. Patient. He kisses the inside of her thigh like he missed it. Like he dreamt of it. Then another kiss, closer. Then a lick—flat, slow, upward—until her whole body arches like she’s trying to rise from her own skin.

Her hand flies to his hair, fingers tightening. Not to push him away.

To anchor.

Stack moans into her, low and deep, like he’s getting drunk off the taste of her. Like this is his confession.

He eats her like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

Like she’s a punishment and a prayer wrapped in silk and salt.

She wants to be stubborn. Wants to keep her pride tucked in her throat.

But her hips grind against his face, slow and filthy, on instinct.

“Stack,” she breathes, breath hitching. “Fucking hell…”

He sucks her clit just enough to make her legs shake—then pauses, pulling back an inch.

“I should’ve never left,” he says, voice rasping against her. “You hear me, Red? I fucked up.”

Her head falls back with a moan. She’s not ready to forgive him.

But she can’t deny the way his tongue carves apologies deeper than any words ever could.

“I waited for you,” she gasps, breath sharp as glass.

“I know,” he whispers, licking her slow, again. “I’m here now.”

And when he dives back in, hands gripping her thighs, tongue relentless and sin-slick and full of sorrow—Harper finally lets herself unravel.

Not for him.

But for her.

Because if she’s gonna burn, she might as well cum with the blaze.

Her thighs are still shaking when he lifts her into his arms.

Stack doesn’t rush.

He holds her like she’s breakable, but walks with the kind of purpose that says he’s far from done. Mouth grazing the crown of her head, beard brushing her forehead as he carries her to the bedroom they used to know like scripture.

The bed still has the same navy sheets.

The same creak when he drops her gently onto the mattress.

Harper blinks up at him, dazed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Her chest rises and falls with soft, ragged breaths, like her body’s still catching up to what just happened downstairs.

But he doesn’t give her time to come down.

He strips for her. Slow. Intentional.

Shirt first. Over his head, revealing skin she used to mark up like it was hers. Her eyes trace every line of him—shoulders, chest, those veins in his arms that always pulsed when he pinned her wrists. Then the jeans. Undone with one hand. Dropped low. His dick is hard, heavy, angry with need.

He catches her staring. His mouth quirks.

“You remember how good this felt?” he murmurs, crawling over her, settling between her thighs like a prayer that never really ended.

She glares through her arousal. “You’re really not gonna let me hate you in peace, huh?”

His laugh is low. Dark. “Nah, Red. I’m gonna fuck you in pieces.”

And then he sinks into her.

No tease this time.

Just a long, slow stretch of him filling her until her back arches, a sob slipping from her mouth as her body gives way. He feels impossibly big inside her—thick, deep, like he’s trying to reach the parts of her that moved on.

And maybe he is.

Stack groans against her throat, hips still for a moment as he drinks in the feeling of being back where he swore he wouldn’t return.

“You feel like heaven,” he growls. “Like I’ve been in hell without you.”

Harper grips his back, nails sinking in. “You put me in hell, Stack.”

His thrust rolls deep. Slow. Controlled.

“I know,” he pants. “I know, baby. I hate myself for it. I hate that I missed you… missin’ me.”

Another thrust.

Deeper.

She gasps, thighs squeezing his waist.

“I missed everything,” he breathes, forehead pressed to hers. “Missed your damn laugh in the morning. The way you tuck your leg under you when you talk shit. Missed those tears you try to swallow when you moan. God, Red…”

He fucks her through the guilt. Through the ache. Through every word he should’ve said a year and a half ago.

“I used to jack off just to the memory of your sounds,” he rasps. “Now I’m inside you, and I swear to God, I’m never—fuck—never leaving you empty again.”

Her moan is strangled, raw. She’s too close. He feels it.

She grabs his jaw, kisses him hard. Sloppy. Teeth and tongue and fury.

“You don’t get to promise me forever,” she gasps against his mouth.

He thrusts harder now. The pace filthy. Deep and punishing.

“I’m not promising you,” he growls, voice cracking. “I’m begging.”

She breaks.

Clenches around him, mouth wide in a silent scream, tears streaking down her cheeks as her orgasm rips through her like an exorcism.

And Stack watches her.

Takes her in like scripture he’s re-learning by heart.

Only when she’s trembling under him—boneless, dazed—does he let go, burying himself deep, moaning her name like a man saved and ruined all at once.

He spills into her with a raw, broken sound.

And stays there.

Inside her.

Like maybe if he stays deep enough, long enough, she won’t drift again.

Like maybe this time—

He’ll be enough.

Harper thinks she’s done.

She thinks her body’s wrung dry, trembling with aftershocks, spine melted into the sheets. Stack’s still buried inside her, breathing hard against her neck, weight grounding her like a storm finally passed.

But then—

He moves again.

Not to pull out.

But to stay in.

To grind.

Slow. Deep. Deeper.

She whimpers. A mix of overstimulation and don’t you dare stop.

Stack lifts his head, slick with sweat, his short fade becoming fuzzy around his temples. His gaze is wild now—darker, unhinged, like that first round was just the appetizer. His hand slides between them, and she already knows what he’s looking for.

“Stack… ‘Lias—” she warns.

But he just smirks, fingers finding her still-swollen clit with pinpoint accuracy.

“Baby,” he murmurs, dragging circles that make her hips jerk, “I waited over five hundred days to taste you again. You think I’m tapping out now?”

Her legs twitch, trying to close, but he shifts his weight and spreads her wider, deeper. One long, dragging thrust hits the spot that makes her eyes roll back, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

“No,” he growls, grabbing her wrist and pinning it to the bed. “Don’t hide from me.”

She’s panting now, helpless under him.

And he’s just getting started.

“You know how many nights I fucked my own hand thinking about this pussy?” he mutters, nipping her collarbone. “How many times I said your name and nearly bit through my damn tongue?”

“Stack—fuck—”

He fucks her through it. Through the whimpering. Through the heat climbing her spine like it’s trying to set her on fire from the inside.

“You think some new man could replace this?” he pants. “You think anybody else could have you like this?”

Harper cries out, her body folding up into him, and he lets her. Hooks her legs over his arms and pounds into her now, the bed frame knocking against the wall, no rhythm but desperation. No words but moans and filth.

Her nails drag down his back. He doesn’t care.

Her voice cracks on his name again. He grins through his groans.

“Say it again.”

She can’t even speak.

He slaps her thigh. “Say it.”

“Elias,” she sobs, eyes glassy. “God, I—”

“Louder,” he demands, fucking her harder. “Let the neighbors hear what a year and a half of missing me sounds like.”

She screams it this time.

And Stack loses his damn mind.

He flips her before she can even catch her breath, dragging her hips up and back onto his lap, sinking into her from behind. The mirror across the room shows her ruined—spine arched, hair messy, eyes half-lidded and mouth open. And him, behind her, looking like sin in motion.

He wraps her hair around his fist and tugs gently, leaning in.

“You see that?” he rasps against her ear. “That’s mine.”

She tries to push back against him, match his rhythm. But he’s relentless now—chasing another orgasm like it owes him rent. Her hands grip the headboard. Her body screams. And when she starts to come again, she doesn’t even recognize the sounds leaving her mouth.

He follows her over the edge again, but keeps going. Barely slowing. Just kissing her shoulder, still buried deep, voice husky and low.

“We’re not done,” he whispers.

“I want to break every man outta your system. One thrust at a time.”

Stack’s thrusts slow.

His hands ease up.

And the storm that’s been raging between them finally begins to quiet.

Harper’s hips tremble, lips parted, a soft whimper caught in her throat. She’s boneless, fucked raw, soaked in sweat, and still somehow… floating.

Stack stays inside her a moment longer. Just breathing. Forehead pressed to the curve of her shoulder, his hands cradling her hips like she’s something fragile now—like after all the mess and madness, he wants to worship what’s left of her.

He kisses her back.

Then again.

Then again, slower. Softer.

He pulls out carefully, groaning low as he settles them back onto the bed, tugging her into his chest like instinct. Like muscle memory. Like home.

Harper blinks through the haze, dazed and sore in all the right ways. Her head rests on his chest now, the steady beat of his heart drumming under her cheek. His hand strokes her spine—up and down, up and down—his other hand brushing her hair off her face with the kind of care that unravels her more than the sex ever did.

It’s quiet.

But not empty.

“Red,” he murmurs finally, voice scratchy and thick with sleep and something heavier, “I never stopped thinking about you. Not even for a day.”

She swallows hard.

“I was angry,” she admits, barely a whisper. “But I never stopped loving you either.”

Stack presses a kiss to her forehead. Long. Lingering.

“I can’t give you a perfect man,” he says softly, “but I can give you one who never forgets your name. Who knows your body like his own and your moods like weather. One who left, yeah… but never really stopped building a life around your ghost.”

She closes her eyes.

“Don’t say this unless you mean it.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, with his lips at her temple, he says it.

“Come home, Harper.”

Her chest catches.

That little ache she’s been nursing for a year and a half cracks wide open.

Because this is what she needed. Not just the sex. Not just the confessions. But this warmth. This peace.

This invitation back into belonging.

She nods, nuzzling into his skin. “Okay.”

Stack exhales, relief and something like wonder bleeding from his chest.

And like that—it settles.

They drift off tangled together. Her leg hooked over his hip. His hand on her ass, lazy and possessive even in sleep. Their breaths syncing. Bodies marked. Hearts a little bruised but beating in the same rhythm again.

The city hums outside.

But in that room, under those navy sheets,

Harper finally sleeps like she’s safe again.

And Stack?

Stack sleeps like he got his heart back.

——

Taglist: @bigjh @anniensmoke3 @hdfen2474 @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @killmongerdispussy @theogbadbitch @ccwpidsblog @princesskillmonger @blowmymbackout @blktinkerbell @theethighpriestess @steampunkprincess147 @diamondsinterlude @partylikemajima @mhhhhmmmmmmm @coolfoodrunworld-blog @lilchubbs @thebumblebeesworld @mastertia221b @brownskincheyenne @belleofthefloor @c0tt0ncandi @irefusetobeacasualty @cocoxciv-blog @melodyofmbaku @lb-xci

Divider: @cafekitsune

[starcrossedxwriter]

Coming Soon...

The Hunter's Heart (Modern Sinners AU)

Vampire Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black OC! x Vampire Elias "Stack" Moore

Anticipated Warnings: NSFW, violence, reverse harem

Summary:

All her life, Estelle Simmons indoctrinated one simple truth into her children:

Vampires are not mere myths in tales of horror or fodder in movies for lustful adults. They are as real as you and I but far more dangerous. And most importantly, they must be eradicated to save humankind. Where vampires dwelled, only death followed.

And given the harrowing history of her mother’s family, there was no other path for Estelle’s children to walk than in her footsteps as hunters of the Delta Keepers. And in Chicago, home to the Simmons and the largest population of vampires in the country, there were plenty to hunt. 

Years of training crafted her eldest, Evangeline "Evie" Simmons, into one of the most prolific hunters, only surpassing her mother's kills since her retirement. And that was how Evie spent her days: executive assistant and doting wife in the sunlight, a vampires’ worst nightmare come nightfall.

When Evie unexpectedly loses her day job, her search leads her to an executive assistant position at SmokeStack Holdings, the most elusive and wealthiest private equity firm in the country. After an extensive interview process and trial period, she discovers that SmokeStack Holdings is not all it appears to be. And the men she works for - twins Smoke and Stack Moore? They were nothing like what she expected them to be.

When the Keepers set their eyes on finally killing the man they believe to be the leader of the Vampires Underground, Evie embarks on a dangerous game, one that she knows likely only leads to one place: the grave. And for the first time in her life, Evie must choose: her family or the enemy. 

But what should be an easy choice is never quite that simple.

A/N: Honestly the title might change LOL cause I'm indecisive as fuck. But I'm looking forward to this one! Like all my stories, Evie is really low-key a reader insert but will also have a face claim so you can read it either way you'd like! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[diamadozen]

I’m accepting requests !! Send them innnnnn! 😝

[aviawrites]

wait for me (sinners)

!s: smoke x female!oc

summary: Rue has worked for years to forget Elijah Moore and what he left her with before he ran to Chicago. But when she sees his ambitious twin in the square, all of their history comes rushing back. (3.1k)

a/n: it has been so long, but Sinners is truly a movie in its own category. i also need to preface that i am black for this story. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: swearing, n word use (by smoke and stack), mentions of child loss, abortion, sex, racism

in this story, our characters name is: Rue

Elijah Moore and I never had a complicated relationship. Hell, Smoke might even say we had none at all. But for years after he ravaged me in that car outside of the bar, I thought about him every night. We were together, I’d say — Boyfriend and girlfriend for as long as his grief consumed him. But the moment Annie found out, Smoke disappeared from my arms and was at her feet, begging for forgiveness. I don’t blame her, not in the slightest — I can only imagine that those were some of their darkest times.

Elias, on the other hand, him and I had a complicated relationship. When I found out that Smoke left a piece of himself in me, there was no way I could tell him, not after what he’d just been through. So I went to the closest thing to him, Stack. And although what we had is never to be considered romantic, there was something there — Familial, even. He knew it, Mary knew it, and for that very reason I was never allowed within an 100 foot radius of the twins until the day they left, not if I wanted to feel welcome.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📍 Train Station || 12:00pm

The feelings from all those years ago bubble up inside me and form a twist in my gut when I see that all-too-recognizable burgundy top hat. My feet move before my mind can stop them, and in no time I’m approaching my old friend.

Stack flashes a gold toothed smile. “I’ll be damned.”

I return the nicety, pulling him in for a warm hug.

“Word spreads fast,” I nod. “Y’all still got the same appeal you had all them years ago.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, darling. I know it.” His cocky smile takes me back, the only thing differentiating him from his brother being his energy.

“Do I even want to know why you came back?”

“You heard it as good as I did." He gestures toward little Preacher Boy and the old man. “We’re opening a Juke Joint tonight, right there down at the old mill.”

“Y’all never could stay still. Chicago wasn’t change enough for you?”

He shrugs. “Figured we should deal with a devil we know. Besides, we miss the tricking.”

“Mmm,” I hum. “Well if Miss Pearline back there is singing, I might just pay this Joint a visit.”

Stack looks past me and at the polka dottted woman walking away from Preacher Boy. 

“Shit, if that’s what it takes for you to come, it’s done.”

Always so charming.

He ogles me, his eyes scanning up and down my exposed arms.

“What’s this?” Stack rubs his fingers over the dark ink lining my skin — Art ranging from numbers to symbols to simple symmetric images. 

“You know I’m an artist, boy.” I pull my arm back, scoffing. “Figured I’d get a few permanent ones to remember a few things.”

“And you talking about we couldn’t stay still. I’ll be visiting to get a look at those paintings of yours one of these days.” Stack’s grin begins to fade as he looks over my shoulder. 

Preacher Boy walks up and nears his cousin. “This white woman’s been staring at you—“

“Yea, I see her…”

He shoos Sammie away and tries to walk me off, but I’m already well aware of what shark is in the water — I can hear her heels clicking behind me.

“Now is this Smoke? Or is that Stack?”

I turn my head. “Hi, Mary.”

No response. Only a rough shoulder check as she stands in front of me and nears Stack.

He looks over her head and at me. “I’ll holler at you, Rue—“

Mary interrupts. “No, you’re not talking to fucking Rue right now. You’re talking to me.”

Stack huffs, looking back down at the woman dressed in pink. I give him a ‘have fun dealing with that’ look before turning and catching my train. 

Of all the women wrapped around the twins’ fingers, Mary has got to be the most spiteful of them all. For no good reason, though. Contrary to her belief, I never once slept with Stack, never even thought of it. But as far as she knows, I kissed him all the way to where the sun don’t shine, and then some.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📍 Juke Joint || 10:00pm

This old mill has lit up under the construction of the twins. People hoot and holler as Pearline ignites the stage, turning into the musical beast I knew she would the minute she started singing. Having no dance partner, I simply clap along, moving my body to the beat alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the same damn burgundy hat that I saw only hours ago.

I can feel Annie’s eyes burning holes into my skull as I sit at the bar, Stack walking up to me.

“Now who the hell did y’all rob to afford this place? Ain’t this being sold from the Klan?” I shout across the bar, my voice being drowned out by Pearline’s Pale, Pale Moon.

Stack shakes his head. “Not Klan, just crackers. You know we got money, girl. Don’t do that.”

“Yea, well blood money don’t count. So how much you got now?”

He pulls his pockets inside out, amusing me.

I chuckle, placing my money on the bar. “Y’all have blackberry bourbon smash?”

“I don’t know if I can do that for you…” 

His fake frown quickly turns into a grin as he takes the money, relaying my order to Grace.

“Fancy motherfuckers,” I mumble.

“What was that?” Stack eggs me on.

My eyes scan the bar, but all I can focus on is that hateful scowl on Annie’s face.

“I said all these women hate me.” 

Stack scoffs. “Only those particular women.”

That’s more than enough for me I think.

He leans in, his lips grazing my ear.

“You know none of these girls got shit on you, Rue. They ain’t half as strong either.”

A small smile grows on my face, matching Stacks. He goes to hand me back my cash, but I slide it back to him.

“I don’t need it,” I front.

“Yea? Well me neither. So you gon’ fucking take it.”

I roll my eyes, pocketing the change and standing with my drink. I’ve barely made it away from the bar when cigarette smoke cascades from over my head. Instinctively looking up, I finally see him. 

Smoke stares down at me from the balcony with that hard expression he always wears. It’s so strange, seeing that rock solid glare. When we first met in a dingy bar on the side of a dirt Mississippi road, he hung his head low and seemed to always have glossy eyes. I didn’t believe him when he told me he was Smoke. When he fucked me that night, and many a nights after that, it was slowly — With passion, and often tears followed the act. But now his eyes are as dry as a dessert and they pierce a hole through mine. 

He takes another blow of his cigarette before turning his back to me, retreating into a room. I have no choice but to follow him, even if it’s just to get yelled at to go away as he did the last time we met. I take my time, downing my glass of bourbon as I walk up the stairs. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, but my heart thumps in my chest just before I open the door, all of the thoughts of what we could’ve had rushing back to my mind like they did eight years ago.

I enter the dimly lit room, closing the door behind me and leaning on it.

“Hi, Smoke,” I say lowly, unable to read his face.

“Why you here, Rue?” he grumbles, a roughness to his voice. “I’m already stressed the fuck out with this opening shit. Stack ain’t helping.”

“I don’t want no trouble. Just came for the music.”

“You being here is plenty trouble enough.” He scans my body the same as his brother, blowing his cigarette again. “You can’t find music no place else?”

“You want me to leave?” I ask honestly.

“Yea, I want you to leave. You think those women down there want you to leave too or are we acting stupid tonight?”

“They never even tried to like me, Smoke,” I sigh, my legs bringing me closer to him. I place my hand on his bicep, like I did all those years ago. “They got no idea what we had.”

He puts his hand on mine, pulling it off. “That was a moment of weakness, Rue. Whatever you think we had is gone now." 

I blink to avoid tears from forming. My first ever love, my first ever relationship being chalked up to a moment of weakness chips away at my heart. If it’s what he has to tell himself to dig out of the deep guilt he feels, so be it. But he won’t sit in front of me and act like what we had wasn’t real — Like it isn’t still there.

“So you're saying if the Juke was going good and Annie wasn't watching you like a hawk that you wouldn't entertain me? Wouldn’t consider us?"

Smoke shakes his head. “No, I really wouldn’t.” His brows furrow as he looks at me, seeming to remember a detail that he had previously forgotten. “And your cheating ass can take your business elsewhere.”

I can’t act surprised, not anymore. We allowed him to believe my infidelity as truth, Stack and I. Letting him think I went after his brother was easier than letting him know what Stack was really helping me do…At least it was in the moment. But as he stands in front of me now, I want nothing more than to ease his pain, calm his anger, and tell him the truth — Even if solely to stop him from loathing me so greatly.

“I didn’t cheat on you, Smoke.”

“Bullshit,” he stops me. 

“No, listen.” I step toward him. “I respected what you and Annie had, Smoke. I really did. And I understood that the loss of your baby caused you to make decisions that you might regret, even if that decision was being with me. So when you told me to leave you alone, I did. But I didn’t know if that still stood when I found out that we had a baby…”

The words feel odd coming out of my mouth. I tried so hard at the time to disconnect myself from it, calling the baby a thing inside my stomach rather than what it was: Mine and Smoke’s child.

His brows have smoothened out now and he’s actively listening, his eyes flashing from my face to my stomach and back to my face.

I continue. “I didn’t visit Stack all those nights to get at him. Smoke, I never wanted anybody but you. But God put it on my heart to give you and Annie peace, so we went at it alone. No one knew. He paid a few women to make the drink without telling them who it was for. It only took a few hours for the bleeding to start…”

My voice trails out. I’m unable to finish as flashbacks to that night replay in my head. My mama held me tighter that night than she ever had before…I hated Smoke that night more than I ever had before.

Tears line his eyes now.

He chokes on his words, his voice now much lower. “Don’t you lie to me, Rue…” 

“I wouldn’t lie, baby,” I assure him.

I hold my arm out for him, revealing the tiny footprint tattooed on my wrist, a small E underneath it. 

“We couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling it was a boy. Ezra, I was thinking. Stack hated the name but…” I shrug. 

Smoke runs his thumb over the tattoo, holding my hand in his. He attempts to discreetly wipe his tears, but I see them all the same. Looking up at him, his face can only be compared to the face he made when we spoke about his late baby, which wasn’t often at all. A mix of anger, sorrow, and fear. 

Perhaps he’s considering what could have been, just like I used to — Just like I still do. I used to curse God for putting me in such a position. A second chance for Smoke to be a father, but at the worst of times. I’d have dreams of talking to a clone of myself, telling her that she owed it to Smoke to tell him about the baby. It’s only now that I really see the consequences of my decision.

Smoke looks at me, and then at the door. It’s as if a switch has flipped and he’s forced all of those emotions to turn into one…anger. He reaches for the door, but I lean against it.

“Smoke, it’s already done,” I tell him, holding my hand against his chest. “I just couldn’t take you hating me no more.”

“Move out the way, Rue,” he says, not hearing a word I say.

“I don’t want to cause a scene. Please.”

“You think I give a fuck about causing a scene? Move out of the fucking way.”

“Smoke, it hurts enough as it is—“

“You’ve got one more time, woman.”

“There’s nothing we can do now!”

He wraps a hand around my arm, yanking me just enough to pull me away from the door and swinging it open. I run out behind him, but he’s already looking down the overlook.

“STACK!” he shouts down, the name echoing through the building. 

Everybody looks up, including Mary and Annie. Stack stares up at us, blowing smoke through his nose, before turning back to the crowd. He tells them to resume, nudging Sammie to keep playing. After a moment of silence and a few stray whispers, the music begins again and Pearline starts her singing. Mary holds Stack close, asking him not to go — But as always, the twins do what they want when they want. As Stack rounds the corner, I retreat back into the room, unprepared for what reaction he might have.

He’s barely entered before Smoke pins him against the wall, his forearm over Stack’s chest.

“The fuck?”

“Is it true?” Smoke demands, maintaning his cig in his pinning hand.

I close the door, shouting over the music. “Smoke, stop!”

He ignores me, continuing to press his brother. “Un-uh, I asked you a question, nigga. Did you know she had my baby?”

Stack’s eyes shoot from Smoke to me. I can only nod, giving him permission to tell the full truth as I just did. Stack relaxes, putting his hands up.

“I only did it to protect you, mane.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“You gon’ let me go so I can explain?” 

Smoke lingers before reluctantly letting his brother go with a shove. He puts a hand in his pocket, staring Stack down.

He gestures his cig at his brother. “Talk.” 

Stack smoothens his suit, lighting one of his own. “You know I don’t like that shit, Smoke—”

“Talk.”

He sighs, putting on a smile once more as he tries to explain calmly. 

“When y’all two broke shit off we didn't know we were even going to Chicago, Smoke. Shit, I still thought you and Annie were gonna get married and buy you a house. Rue said you told her to stay away to make that happen, so I helped her stay away. Now we both know she’d never forgive you if you had a baby with another woman.”

“But my baby is none of your fucking business.”

“I was trying to give you a life, nigga,” Stack urges. “Annie is where that life was at. Fuck I look like throwing Rue back at you when you didn’t want her?”

“My baby, Stack.”

Guilt boils inside of me. I never allowed myself to entertain the idea of keeping the baby. There was no way I’d bring him into this world without a father, and Smoke had Annie, so I thought I had no choice. But seeing him blink back his tears now makes me second guess every moment that the baby was inside of me.

Stack thinks carefully about his next words, his smile having faded as he sees how serious his brother is taking this.

“I’m sorry, man,” he shrugs, his tone softer now. “I did what I thought was safest for all y'all, you hear me?” 

Smoke is about to speak when a hard knock pounds the door. 

“Stack?” Mary’s familiar voice rings out from the other side.

“Now I gotta get back to the Joint.”

I hold my head low. “Bye, Stack.”

He heads toward the door, but not before turning to his brother one more time.

“We good?”

Smoke looks from me to Stack, giving him a small nod.

“Get out of here ‘fore I say no.”

Stack only smiles, swinging the door open. I stand beside him, greeting Mary.

“Oh my— Not this trifling bitch again, Stack.” She rolls her eyes.

“Come on. Lay off, Mary.”

“I think you owe her a goddamn apology,” Smoke intervenes, standing behind me.

I mumble, “it’s fine, Smoke.”

Mary scoffs. “For the fuck what?”

“For how you been treating her all these years.”

“How I’ve been treating her? You’re the one who fucked her for a month before running back to Annie.”

“You best watch your mouth, Mary.” He blows smoke toward her. “It’s not too late to pay one of them bitches downstairs to drag your ass out.”

“I’d like to see you try, Smoke—“

“Alright,” Stack interrupts. “Let’s go.” 

He pushes Mary away before closing the door behind him. I assume my previous position, leaning against the door — a much thicker tension in the air now.

“If you hate me even more after this, I understand.” I break the silence. “I don’t blame you. I just couldn’t let the truth belong to me and him alone anymore.”

Smoke stares at his feet, deep in thought. It’s become increasingly harder to tell what this man is thinking. He drops his cigarette, stepping on it.

“Now why would you do that on these new floors-“

His lips are on mine before I can finish, his hungry hands pulling up my dress. It’s automatic, the way my arm wraps around his neck, my hand nearing his crotch. He begins kissing down my neck, but I pull away. He stares at me, eyes wide.

“This isn’t a moment of weakness, is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need a moment of weakness to do what I’m about to do to you.”

I smile, bringing his lips to mine once more. 

Annie will hate me if she finds out, she might hate Smoke even more. But like I told him before, she has no idea what we have. And if I want to fuck my sinner one last time in this Juke Joint, that’s exactly what I’ll do. 

[innorality]

Imagine Stack or Smoke taking a shy thick girl’s virginity!

how about... smoke and stack? 😼

cw : oral sex, fingering, taking turns, unprotected (he pulled out), it's painfully obvious how much I need them both-, spit play (stack loves spit play its canon), not proofread, english isn't my first language

"so... how is this even going to work..?" you questioned. and honestly, reasonable. because seeing the two twins walk towards you on the bed, one loosening his tie while the other was already working on his belt, is something worth questioning.

smoke held an arm out to stop stack—who had been rushing to fasten his belt— in his tracks. "don't get ahead of yourself," smoke ordered and stack groaned, letting out a low, honey-coated laugh. "we're here to fuck her, yeah? why you stoppin' me?" "It's her first time. we can't rush it." you squeezed your thighs together at the interaction, whining.

their attention turned back to you as smoke made his way to you, finally kissing you into the pillow your head was resting on.

he leaned in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. his hand brushes your jaw, gentle at first, then firmer, anchoring you to the moment. your heart stumbles as his mouth meets yours—slow, searching, then deeper, urgent. his lips taste like heat and want, and when he presses closer, it's as if the rest of the world falls away.

you respond without thinking, your fingers clutching his shirt, needing him nearer. the kiss burns—soft and rough all at once—leaving you breathless, undone beneath his touch.

as if on cue, while smoke kissed you, stack made his way to between your legs that he peeled open softly while gripping the flesh of your thighs for underneath your skirt. he hiked it up and kissed his way up your inner thigh, the proximity to his goal arousing him.

smoke pulled away, his hand snaking to underneath your top as he massaged your breast, his hand following your chests up-and-down movement. before you knew it, stack had pulled your underwear to the side, and you jumped when you felt his tongue lick a long, teasing stripe up your slit.

"o-oh my- what are you-!?" your cheeks heated up when you felt him smile against your cunt. you could not see him, as he was underneath your skirt, but the sensation of his warm breath on your now exposed skin had you throbbing. "you better not be messin' around under there, stack." smoke warned, which earned him another chuckle from the twin. "you'd be surprised."

smoke went back to distracting you from the overwhelming sensation of stack eating you out, pulling top down your shoulder to expose your breasts more. he leaned in once more, "may I?" and you nodded, before his lips landed on your nipple while the other one was being rolled between his finger tips.

"oh lord- my gosh! shit-" you kept cutting yourself off with your own moans, each sensation one upping the other. the feeling of smoke's warm tongue against your nipple had your back arching, aching for more.

but what you really felt was stack's eager tongue on your cunt. he was licking up and down, the tip of his tongue bumping against your clit which had your hips bucking slightly. he kissed the bud softly before diving in completely, sucking on it harshly which had you whining. then, he angled his head lower, and his tongue penetrated you slowly. you gasped, not used to the feeling of penetration.

smoke took advantage of your opened mouth and plunged two rough fingers inside it, pressing against your tongue as you instinctively sucked on them. "you feel that? you feel him making you feel good, sweetheart?" he began and you clenched around stack's tongue, making him grin.

"look at you, baby. we just began and you're already whining." he leans in to kiss your cheek, "ain't you lucky that we're the ones taking care of a sweet girl like you? huh?" you nodded eagerly, moaning around his wet fingers when you felt stack's tongue curve onto itself, grazing a spongey spot with its tip that had your eyes rolling back.

"you got a finger in?" smoke turned to stack, who pulled away from your cunt to hike your skirt up higher, completely exposing your lower body. he was sweating, you noticed. "nah, just my tongue. I'm about to put one in, though." smoke nodded, turning back to you, only to see that your eyes have already rolled back again—stack put a long finger inside, and he was unforgiving. his pace was relentless, quick and easy, slamming his palm onto your clit.

"go easy on her, yeah?" smoke instructed as he took your top off completely, exposing your chest and tummy. "just what I wanted to see..."

"it's so good! oh my- fuck, I'm-" he did not slow down one bit, even slightly speeding up just to pull more of those pretty sounds from your mouth. he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers and nodded to smoke who kissed you again, distracting all your senses.

you felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, and it's the moment you realize that, that you feel your first orgasm washing over you. it's felt intense, every muscle in your body tensing up as your mouth went slack, barely having the spirit to kiss smoke back. "thats it baby, youre doing perfect." he egged you on as your velvety walls clenched around stack's digits, coating them with cream.

your thighs, trembling, clenched around his hips, caging him in.

he kept pumping, getting progressively slower, letting you ride out your orgasm, before stopping completely when you go limp. he didn't want to overestimate you on your first time... not yet.

he allowed you to catch your breath, using that time to take your skirt off completely. you were now completely bare in front of two men who looked at you like you were the first meal they had on their table for years.

"that wasn't so bad now, was it?" stack looked at you, chuckling. you nodded sheepishly, "y-yeah.."

suddenly, smoke left your side, quickly getting replaced by stack. "here it comes, sugar." he smirked while watching his brother undo his belt, letting his pants drop. he pulled his cock out, rubbing it along your slick folds making you jump slightly. "she's so fucking wet..." he commented also absentmindedly, which had you clenching.

"you ready?" smoke asked you, and you nodded. you felt embarrassed, flustered, but you couldn't take you eyes off of the man that was about to take your virginity.

the push of his cock against your entrance knocked the wind out of you, and before you could recover, you felt two moist fingers tap against your cheek. you looked up to stack, "wanna taste yourself, baby?" you furrowed your eyebrows, "huh?" your voice being barely above a whisper. his thumb landed on your bottom lip, pulling it open softly and your followed, opening your mouth as clear saliva dripped down his mouth into yours.

the moment the drop of spit landed on your tongue, smoke had bottomed out, his tip bumping into your cervix which made you cry out. "you fully in?" stack question and smoke, lost in bliss, nodded eagerly while closing his eyes, throwing his head back. "holy fuck-" he couldn't help the buck of his hips as he grabbed onto yours, using his knees to dig into the fat of your thighs and pry them slightly more open.

"p-please-" that was the only confirmation he needed to start moving. he went back and forth, relishing in the feeling of your warm untouched walls around him. stack walked up to him and set a hand on your tower tummy, pressing down to heighten the sensation of smoke's dick inside you. you cried both of their names out, your body squirming uncontrollably.

stack other hand landed on your pussy, fingers immediately looking for your clit, rubbing it quickly when he found it. "r-right there! yes-!" you whined, as smoke's tip bumped into that one spot again.

"there?" his voice, baritone, bubbled from his chest as his body ran on pure instinct, angling your hips in a way that made him ram into your g-spot with every other thrust. you nodded, your voice simply dying down as you ran out of breath with all the moaning and whining.

stack pressed down a bit harder on your tummy, his hand making a wave motion to even out the sensation. "you like that, sugar?" "fuck- yes! I'm- I'm close- gonna-" and you barely got the opportunity to warn them before you creamed on smoke's cock again, squeezing down on his so hard he had trouble moving again. the view and sensation of you orgasming had him nearing his own high.

you whine when he pulled out of you to fist his dick, stroking himself fast enough to cum all over your tummy with some of it landing on stack's hand, squeezing around the base to ride out his high with a hiss. he moaned your name before tumbling back and plopping down onto the bed.

"s-shit... that was-" "smoke are serious right now? learn how to aim, man." he peaked at stack who was shaking his hand in the air, "some of it got on my hand! fuck," he walked out the room to grab a tissue.

smoke's arm wrapped around you as you were still catching your breath, mind still hazy from the orgasm.

"that was... amazing..." you managed to admit between breaths and he smiled.

"I know, baby."

[gweelczz]

“Talking you through it”

Sinners men x their women

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: none

Summary: The men from sinners talk their women through it

Bo Chow: The room was dim, the only light spillin’ in from the window—gold and warm, just like the Delta sun had kissed its last goodbye for the day. The air was still, thick with heat and something unspoken. Rosetta lay back against the worn quilt, chest rising and falling slow, her golden eyes never leavin’ Bo.

He was above her, shirt long gone, his calloused hands cradlin’ her hips like they were something holy.

“You alright, baby?” he asked, voice low, Southern drawl slidin’ over her like silk.

Rosetta nodded, breath already catchin’. “Mhm.”

Bo leaned down, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then that soft skin below her jaw. “I got you. Just feel, alright? Don’t think. Let me take care of you.”

She let out a breathy hum, one hand slidin’ up to bury itself in his thick black hair.

He moved slow, patient—like he had all the time in the world and nothin’ else to worship but her. His lips brushed down her neck, over the curve of her chest, his voice steady in her ear.

“Look at you, Rose… so beautiful like this. Soft. Open. All mine.”

She whimpered, her hips liftin’ ever so slightly, beggin’ without words.

“I know, baby. I know what you need,” he murmured, hand slidin’ between her thighs, the other still holdin’ her hip firm, keepin’ her grounded.

Her breath hitched as his fingers moved slow, teasing, coaxin’ her open, coaxin’ her deeper into herself.

“Shh… that’s it,” he whispered. “You don’t gotta do nothin’. Just let go. Let me hear you.”

Rosetta’s head tipped back, her hand tightenin’ in his hair, body tremblin’ under his touch.

Bo kissed her collarbone, murmurin’ against her skin, “You feel how perfect you are? How good you are for me?”

“Bo… oh, God,” she gasped, her voice crackin’ as her thighs began to tremble.

“Nah, baby,” he said gently, smilin’ against her throat. “Ain’t no God right now but you.”

He stayed with her, movin’ in rhythm with her breath, her cries, the way her body writhed beneath his. Every sound she made, every broken whisper, only spurred him on—soothing her when it got too much, pushin’ her when she tried to hold back.

“That’s it, baby… you’re right there. Don’t fight it.”

Rosetta’s back arched, her mouth fallin’ open, and Bo caught her with his lips, kissin’ her deep as the wave crashed through her. Her whole body shook, her hands clingin’ to him like he was the only thing tetherin’ her to the earth.

He didn’t stop holdin’ her. Didn’t stop whisperin’ to her.

“You’re safe. I got you. I’m right here, Rose… always.”

She collapsed into his arms, heart poundin’, body limp, tears slidin’ from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away, murmurin’ love in every language he knew.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice barely a breath.

Bo kissed her again, deep and slow. “I know, baby. I love you more.”

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore: The night air curled lazy through the cracked window, warm and thick like molasses. The juke joint had long gone quiet, the world outside slowin’ to a hush. But in that little bedroom Sugar’s granddaddy left her, all was heat and breath and closeness.

Sammie hovered over her, his body flush with hers, their skin slick with sweat, their hearts beatin’ like drums caught in rhythm. He had her wrapped up in his arms like she was the most precious thing he ever held, his lips brushing her temple, his breath steady in her ear.

“Breathe, Sugar,” he murmured low, voice all velvet and gravel. “Don’t fight it now… just let it come. I got you.”

She whimpered beneath him, her fingers curlin’ in the sheets, back archin’ just so, and Sammie’s hand found hers — laced their fingers together like a prayer.

“There you go,” he whispered, kissin’ her cheek, her jaw, her throat. “That’s it, baby. You feel that? That’s me… That’s love, Sugar. That’s every bit of me I ever had to give.”

Her breath hitched, tremblin’ against his chest, and Sammie smiled, soft and reverent, like he was watchin’ a miracle unfold. His voice stayed with her, coaxin’, guidin’, groundin’ her.

“You doin’ so good, girl,” he hummed, voice thick and slow, like a hymn. “Ain’t nobody ever made me feel like you do. Ain’t never wanted to give myself to nobody but you.”

She gasped, her hands grippin’ his back, and Sammie held her through it, strong and gentle.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he breathed, kissin’ her again, firmer this time. “Come on now, ride it out, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You safe with me, always.”

By the time her body settled, all soft and spent and glowin’, Sammie was still holdin’ her like he never planned to let go.

And he didn’t.

He pressed his forehead to hers, thumb sweepin’ tender over her cheek, and whispered, “That’s the kind of love they write gospel songs about, Sugar. The kind I’ll spend my whole life praisin’.”

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore: The room was bathed in the soft gold of the bedside lamp, shadows dancing across the walls as the baby slept peacefully in the bassinet nearby. Smoke’s touch was slow, reverent—like every inch of Honey’s skin was something holy.

“You sure you alright, mama?” he asked low against her neck, his breath warm, hands steady as they slid up her thighs.

Honey nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I missed you…”

That was all he needed. He moved with care, not in any rush. It wasn’t just about the heat—it was about her. About making her feel like the goddess she was. Like the woman who gave him the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

“You just breathe for me,” Smoke murmured, kissing the soft swell of her belly, then moving higher. “Ain’t gotta do nothin’ but feel.”

His fingers found her slowly, easing in, coaxing her open like a prayer. Her body responded with a shiver, hips lifting instinctively.

“That’s it,” he whispered, watching her, voice thick with love and want. “Just like that, baby. You ain’t gotta hold nothin’ back.”

Honey whimpered, her hand grasping the sheet, eyes fluttering closed. Smoke pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I got you. Let go. You know I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

She trembled under his touch, her breath catching as he kept whispering to her, voice dark and sweet like molasses. “You feel that, Betty? That’s all you, baby. That’s your body rememberin’ how good it feel to be worshiped.”

Her breath hitched, thighs tensing. He slowed just enough to keep her on the edge, his lips brushing her ear.

“Let it happen, mama. You safe. I got you—always.”

When it finally washed over her, she melted into his chest with a soft cry, heart racing, body trembling. Smoke held her tight, brushing damp curls from her face, kissing her forehead.

“There she go,” he whispered, pride and love thick in his voice. “My beautiful girl.”

And in the quiet that followed, their baby still asleep beside them, Smoke just held her—like he always would.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore: Stack’s voice was low, rough with desire, and full of assurance. “Breathe, baby,” he murmured, his hands steady as they traced the curve of her body. “I got you. Let go.”

Honey’s breath quickened, the heat between them intensifying, every touch pulling her closer to the edge. She clenched around him, the pressure building, and she gasped.

“That’s it,” Stack encouraged, his grip tightening, guiding her movements. “Feel it, let it build.” His words were like a tether, pulling her deeper into the moment. “You’re mine now, Honey. Let me hear you.”

Her body trembled, the wave crashing over her in a flood of sensation. She cried out his name, her hands gripping him as she let herself go completely.

Stack leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s my sweet girl.”

[shockercoco]

Peas in a Pod

Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader

Warnings - swearing, fluff, reader’s nickname is Pea

Word count - 4814

a/n - this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago after I saw the film, but I couldn't figure out an ending lol. I'm currently out for the summer so hopefully more time for imagines, but no promises. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :) Part 2 out now!

Summary: After years have passed since the twins left town, you figured your feelings for one of them had dissipated and you had moved on, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

“I know that ain’t Pea I see,” you hear a voice say from behind. 

It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, but it sounds just as familiar. You’re looking at the selection of produce in front of you, but you freeze at the sound. It only takes you another moment to turn around to reveal Stack standing there before you. 

You had been a friend to the twins ever since you all were children. You spent most of your childhood ignoring the chores your mama had instructed and hanging out with the twins instead. 

As you all got older, the boys started making a reputation for themselves, and of course your mama would tell you to leave them alone, but you never stopped. The twins weren’t that bad. Well, at least not around you. 

You would be lying if you were to say you never had feelings for one of them. After spending the majority of your life with them, it became inevitable and you found yourself developing feelings for the more eccentric twin, Elias, but everyone called him Stack.

It wasn’t a secret that you were closer to Stack, though everyone just figured it was because of Smoke’s more quiet and laid back demeanor. You never told anyone about your crush except for Mary, one of your close friends, and of course she encouraged you to confess, but you never did.

When the twins left home after their father’s death, you weren’t mad at them. How could you be?  You were happy for them. You knew what they had to endure, and you were just glad they took the first chance they had to live out their dreams.

You also thought your feelings for Stack would fade over time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

“Stack? Is that really you?” You question, your eyebrows raised at the man in front of you. 

Stack’s hands are tucked in the pockets of his dress pants, which match the rest of his nicely tailored suit. A hat sits atop his head as he stares back at you with a handsome smirk on his face.

“Yes ma’am, it is,” he nods. He removes his hat as he takes a couple of steps closer towards you.

Stack was definitely in shape before he left town, but that doesn’t compare to how he looks now. You’re taken aback, but before you end up staring too long, you clear your throat to say something.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that giant bush sleeping on your lip,” you joke, referring to the thick, but neat mustache growing above his lip.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face as you hear him chuckle.

“That’s real funny. I should be the one surprised, though. I mean, look at you. You finally grew into that forehead of yours,” Stack smirks.

You scoff. “How dare you,” you playfully say as you fold your arms across your chest, your tone light.

“No, how dare you. The ladies happen to love how I look, especially the mustache,” he grins proudly, rubbing his fingers over the facial hair.

“What are you trying to say, that I'm not a lady?”

A loud laugh leaves Stack this time. 

“Well, if the boot fits,” Stack says, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows how much you hate him saying that. He watches with a smile as you roll your eyes and shake your head at him. “I’m just playin’, Pea, you know I’d never say such a thing.”

Pea was a nickname you had become stuck with after meeting twins. One day while the three of you were out playing as children do, an older woman that everyone knew from the church had pointed at how you all resembled peas in a pod. 

After that, Stack had decided to call you ‘Pea’ once as a joke to which you just brushed off. Somehow, though, the nickname stuck and ever since then everyone refers to you as Pea. 

Hearing that name come out of his mouth after these years makes your stomach flutter and your skin heat up, which only makes the hot summer sun feel worse. The sweat on your skin suddenly feels more prominent with Stack’s eyes on you.

You start using the hand fan you were holding to try and provide yourself with some relief.

“What brings you back in town, Stack? I know it isn’t just some friendly conversation.”

“And why can’t it be?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a look calling his bluff, and he easily quits the act. “You still know me well, I see.”

“Unfortunately,” you smile.

“Smoke and I are openin’ our own juke joint. We figured we split up so I can recruit some entertainment while he handles some other business. Tonight is the openin’ night. That is, if we get everything situated in time.”

Your expression contorts in confusion. “Juke joint? Where?”

“One of the abandoned barnhouses not too far from here,” Stack responds, motioning in what you assume is the direction of the barn house.

“Where the hell did you get the money to buy all of that, and who was dumb enough to take it?” You ask, lowering your voice as you look around you.

“You know how those folks are—all they care about is the cash. It wasn't a problem.”

“And they just took your money like that with no questions asked?”

“Oh, the man asked questions,” Stack nods, “he just didn’t get the answers he wanted.”

The two of you are quiet for another moment, both work for the other one to crack, before you both burst into laughter.

“Still the same after all this time, huh?” you ask once you both settle down, although, it’s not really a question.

“I’m not changin’ for just anyone,” Stack responds, shooting you a wink.

Before the two of you could continue catching up, someone else runs up behind Stack calling his name. You didn’t notice how much the two of you were stuck in your own world until Stack turns away from you, breaking you out of the trance.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” You hear Stack ask.

Your eyes widen as you move to look around Stack’s frame, but your confusion turns into surprise as you take in the young man standing in front of him with a guitar hanging from his neck. “Sammy? As in lil’ Sammy? As in Preacher boy?”

When Sammy finally notices your presence, he gives you a shy smile and a tip of his hat. “Oh, Pea, what are you doin’ out here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing? Does your mama know you’re all the way out here?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“She knows I’m with the twins, that’s all that matters,” Sammy says.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” you give him a look.

Sammy opens his mouth to say something else, but Stack hits the back of his head before he could continue. Sammy lets out a yelp as he looks up at Stack, while one of his hands rubs his head.

“You better have a damn good reason for comin’ over here and interruptin’ us.”

“Slim’s gettin’ tired of waitin’. He said to hurry up before he changes his mind because he’s getting older by the minute. He also said that there’ll be plenty of time to talk to pretty women t’night,” Sammy explains, glancing at you for the last part, but it goes over your head.

You follow Stack’s eyes when he looks over to Slim in the distance, a harmonica in one of his hands and a bottle in the other. Classic.

Stack mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, before telling Sammy to run off and that he’d be over in a second.

“I usually wouldn’t listen to a drunk, but he’s right. Daylight is wastin’ and I got some other things to take care of before tonight,” Stack admits. “You’ll be there, right?”

Oh.

“And what if I had plans?”

You don’t.

Stack laughs. “Oh, really? What plans?”

“You say it like you don’t believe me,” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no. I’m just curious about these plans.”

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t have to tell you anything,” you huff.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stack nods in agreement. When he realizes you aren’t going to say anything else, he continues. “C’mon, Pea, it’ll be worth it. There’ll be good food and drinks along with good entertainment.”

“I take it that Sammy and Slim are part of that entertainment?” You ask. 

You tear your eyes away from Stack and to the small crowd beginning to form around the musical pair. Even from a distance you can hear Sammy’s powerful voice accompanied by Slim’s skilled fingers playing his harmonica.

“You know I only like the best of the best,” Stack smirks. “So, what do you say, Pea? It’ll be just like old times.”

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s not safe for a lady at night,” you say.

Yes, you do want to go, but parties were never really your thing. You usually chose to stay home when someone asked you, especially when the twins would try to encourage you to sneak out when you were kids.

“And I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe, there’s nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, I know Smoke is bringin’ Annie, don’t make me be the only one without a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come, so you won’t be alone?” you give him a look.

“Of course, why else would I want you there?” he plays along, trying to keep a straight face, but fails.

“There’ll be plenty of other women without a date there to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but that don’t matter if I want you to be the one keepin’ me company,” Stack tells you.

And just like that all of those feelings that you thought were gone resurface, fluttering through your heart and stomach.

You hesitate for a moment, before finally giving him an answer. “I guess I could come. Besides, I want to be there to see if this juke joint of yours fails.”

“Now, that’s just wrong.”

~

Later that night as you’re getting ready, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. It’s just the twins—it’s just Stack. 

And it’s not like it’s a date anyways because why would it be? Or maybe it is? No, Stack just invited you so you could keep him company and so the two of you could catch up. But, why do you specifically need to keep him company?

You’re checking your appearance in the mirror, stuck in your thoughts as you turn from side to side,, when Mary walks into your room already dressed and ready to go.

“By the time we get there, the damn party will be over. What is the hold up?” Mary throws her hands up for dramatics.

“Would you relax? The party doesn’t start for, like, another 30 minutes, and we don’t want to be too early do we?” You tell her, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I just figured you’d want to be early in order to have as much time with Stack as possible.” Mary smirks at the glare you give her. “I mean, it’s been so long since he’s last been in town, aren’t you excited? I would be.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're nervous.”

Your silence is enough of an answer. You fiddle with your dress and adjust yourself in order to avoid looking over at Mary. Mary scoffs and walks over to stand next to you as you look in the mirror.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious. There’s no reason you should be nervous over that man. You guys have been friends since birth-“

“Not birth, it was more like-“

Mary raises a hand to cut you off and finally makes you face her. “You know what I’m trying to say. You guys have practically known each other since the beginning. Stack knows everything about you and you know everything about Stack—well, that is excludin’ whatever the hell the twins have been doing these past couple of years.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you throw your hands up before taking a step back and placing your hands on your hip. “I mean, yeah, we’ve written to each other while he’s been away, but it’s been a while since we’ve actually talked face to face. It seems like he’s still the same, but if he’s not? What if he actually has changed?”

You can feel your nerves picking up at the thought of talking to Stack tonight and all the possibilities of how tonight will go.

Mary knows you like the back of her hand, and your overthinking doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary rolls her eyes. “Please, that man is exactly the same as he was the day he left here. Besides, you saw him earlier today, were you nervous when you were talkin’ to him then?”

“Well, not really, but I didn’t exactly have time to be. He snuck up on me while I was shopping and we just started talking.”

“Exactly, the two of you are so close that you started talkin’ like nothin’ has changed. Believe me, everything’ll be fine, and when Stack sees you in this dress, he’ll fall to his knees to propose. If he doesn’t just come and find me so I can handle his ass.”

You snicker as you walk away from Mary to finish getting ready. She follows right behind you.

“Relax, Stack is not going to pick me to propose to out of all the beautiful women in this town. Not to mention all the women he’s probably encountered during his travels.”

“A girl can dream can’t she? Just suckin’ all the fun out of my night.”

-

The noise from the juke joint can be heard all the way down the road, the sounds only getting louder and more clear as you and Mary approach. Your heart speeds up in both anticipation and nervousness as you take in the scene. 

Dozens can be seen either arriving on foot or by car, their excitement obvious from miles away. The land outside the farmhouse is packed with vehicles and it’s obvious there will be many more given the constant flow of traffic.

Cornbread’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches from the entrance as you and Mary walk up. He greets you with a smile.

“You two look gorgeous, but I’ll be damned, Pea. What brings you here? I know this ain’t your kinda scene,” he points out.

You playfully point at Mary, “You’re looking right at the culprit. She convinced me to come.”

“I shoulda known,” Cornbread shakes his head in amusement, but then his expression shifts to confusion as he looks at Mary. “Wait a minute, ain’t you married? What are you doing out this late?”

Mary folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask you the same, don’t you have a family to take care of?” Mary asks while folding her arms across her chest.

Cornbread puts his hands up in surrender. “Stack offered me a good amount of cash to be here tonight, I’m not turnin’ that down.”

“And I don’t blame you. Now, are you going to let us come in or are you going to leave two ladies stranded outside all night?” Mary questions.

Cornbread lets out a laugh, but quickly moves aside to let you both in.

The dusty, rundown appearance of the barnhouse from the outside is a completely different vibe from the atmosphere on the inside. 

Slim is playing his heart out at the piano at the front of the room while people laugh and dance to the music. Lights are hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space as guests move around freely. The mouthwatering smell of freshly fried catfish fills the air along with the smell of sweat and alcohol.

“Wow, the twins definitely outdid themselves didn’t they?” Mary admits as the both of you take in everything.

“They really did,” you murmur mostly to yourself, your mind still stuck and amazed at how Smoke and Stack pulled this off.

“We can’t start dancing without a drink,” Mary smirks.

“Yeah, you can, it’s easy,” you say.

Mary gives you a look before saying, “Well, if you’re going to talk to Stack, you’re gonna need a little something in your system.”

You open your mouth to object, but you decide against it.. Alcohol does loosen you up, which would help you get through the night.

When Mary doesn’t hear a response, she pulls you towards the bar. After Mrs. Chow hands you both your drinks, the two of you decide to linger at the bar.

“Is that Lil Sammy over there flirtin’ with a girl?” Mary asks you. 

You turn to look in the direction of Mary’s eyes to, sure enough, see Sammy flirting with a woman—a woman who looks a little bit older than him.

“Isn’t she married?” Mary continues.

“Well so are you, but you’re still here tonight,” you say. 

This makes Mary whip her head back towards you and send you a glare, one you pretend to ignore as you take a sip of your drink and pretend to be really interested in the guests dancing to the music.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says after you don’t respond, before a smile grows on her face.

Suddenly you hear a gasp come from behind the bar, catching your attention and making you turn around. You see Smoke, Stack, and Annie come from a back room.

“Am I seein’ things or is that really Pea standin’ in front of me at a party?” Annie smiles, her hands on her hips.

You playfully roll your eyes. “No, you’re not seeing things.”

Annie makes her way from behind the bar to give you a hug, and after she pulls away, Smoke comes up to do the same. The way Stack looks you up and down as you hug Smoke goes unnoticed by you but not by Mary as she watches with a smirk. Stack notices Mary’s eyes on him and quickly clears his throat.

“I’m glad you came,” Stack says, smiling at you as he comes up to hug you last.

“Well I couldn’t miss the famous Moore twins’ big grand opening,” you beam, motioning to the large crowd that has formed. Smoke smiles at your compliment. “I don’t know how you guys pulled it off, but everything looks great. I’m impressed.”

“Nothin’ is too out of reach for us,” Smoke adds with a nod. Stack claps his brother on the back as a sign of his agreement.

“Alright, enough of this lovey dovey shit. Let’s get this place poppin’ like fish grease and get it started for real!” Stack exclaims with a smirk.

Stack walks over to Sammy, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to and motions to the stage. As Sammy joins Slim at the front, people begin to gather around to listen. 

Now, you knew Sammy was talented, but watching him sing his heart out and play the hell out of his guitar gave you goosebumps and made you emotional.

It was obvious that you weren’t the only one who felt this way as you notice everyone’s expressions change as they begin to cheer and clap while they move their bodies to the rhythm. Close friends, couples, and singles make their way about the room.

Much to your dismay, Mary pulls you into the dancing crowd. You’re uncertain of what to do with yourself at first, but after seeing everyone in their own world, the body movements just come naturally. 

You watch with admiration and a smile as Smoke grabs Annie to join him for a dance. Even after all of that time apart, Smoke and Annie still seem to be as in love with each other as the first day they met. The little bit of alcohol you have on your system does make a difference.

Your eyes wander just a little bit to the right and you see Stack dancing with two women. It’s no secret that the twins are attractive, but oh how you wish for just one night where women didn’t climb all over them—mainly Stack.

After a while, you become overheated and overstimulated with all the hot bodies surrounding you. Once you tell Mary that you’ll be back, you leave to find a place to take a breather.

You come across a set of stairs and somehow find yourself overlooking the inside of the entire building. 

You catch sight of Mary from your spot and laugh to yourself at how easily it is for her to find some stranger to dance with.

Eventually, someone else makes their way up the stairs and stands next to you. Your nostrils become aware of him before your eyes do.

“Too much goin’ on down there?” Stack asks as he leans on the railing and takes in the view.

“Just needed a little break,” you shrug, your eyes still on the crowd below you. “What about you, don’t you have some guests to entertain? This is your place after all.”

“As an owner, I have people to do the entertainin’ for me. I just make sure there are no problems,” Stack responds, the smirk evident in his tone.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that grows between the two of you. Earlier you were stressing on what would happen once you saw Stack, but here he is, and your heartbeat is still somewhat calm.  

“How’s everything, Pea?” Stack asks, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, you know, just getting through day by day and taking things slow,” you shrug.

“What are you up to these days?” 

“Helping my mama out with the shop most days. When I’m not working I’m running errands around town or helping others out.”

“How’s the shop and your mama doin’?”

“Mama’s great. Her happiness really comes from the shop and being able to have a safe place for people to come back to over and over again. We’re still getting plenty of customers, and we’ve recently renovated it.”

Stack nods along. “That’s good, that’s good. How are you doing though?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked that.”

“I phrased it differently this time, though. First time was more of a casual ask and this time I wanna know what’s really goin’ on with you.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his forwardness, until you remember that this is how Stack has always been.

Stack turns his body to face yours, keeping an elbow on the railing. “Come on now, Junebug. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and talked down and talked, y’know?”

“Is this really the time to be having a conversation like this?” you ask.

Stack is quick but genuine with his reply. “For you, there’s always time.”

The nerves the alcohol had been holding back, finally hit you with full force after hearing his words. Your heart rate begins to pick up, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the high temperature in the building. 

You wish you had brought a fan with you.

Stack’s eyes never leave yours as he waits for an answer, not even when you hear a glass bottle break somewhere in the crowd below you. 

You give him a shy smile, but you have to tear your eyes away from him.

“I’m fine, really Stack. You know, you never told me exactly how you got the money for all this.”

Stack scoffs. “I know you didn’t just try and change the conversation.”

“It worked didn’t it,” you laugh. Stack shakes his head in disappointment, but he can’t help the laugh that slips out.

“That’s alright, Pea. There’ll be plenty of time to talk since Smoke and I aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Your heart flutters.

“Really?” you ask, and you wish you would’ve been able to stop your voice from changing pitch. 

Damn.

“Just admit that you missed us,” Stack smirks.

“I don’t know, I mean, I feel like everyone’s life has been calm without you and Smoke being here to terrorize everyone.”

“That was one time! Plus, Jimmy had it comin’. I can’t let anyone steal from us and just walk away without a scratch,” Stack throws his head back as he laughs.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to chase him all over,” you join in, beginning to double over in laughter. 

“It was either me or Smoke, and that boy Smoke was fumin’ when he found out, so it was better that Jenkins dealt with me instead of him,” Stack snorts.

“Whew, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Y’all had the whole town confused with Jimmy running by screaming bloody murder.”

“And I hadn’t even done anything to him yet!”

You clutch your stomach as you try to collect yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes as you blow out a breath. Stack does the same alongside you. 

“I really did miss you, y’know,” Stack admits.

And there goes your breath.

“Of course you did, why wouldn’t you,”you say, causing Stack to smile, “but I’m sure you and Smoke had plenty of fun on your adventures with seeing new places and meeting all those new people. You didn’t meet any women after all this time?”

“There were a few women, but none of 'em kept me interested.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. No one is good enough to tie you down, right?”

Stack pretends to think to himself for a second, before speaking, “Well, there is one person that I’m thinkin’ about.”

Your heart drops so low it almost hits the first floor of the barnhouse.

You clear your throat and keep your eyes in front of you. “And does this woman know that you like her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that? I’m sure you’ve made your flirting pretty obvious.”

Stack has never been one to keep his feelings to himself. If he sees a lady he likes, he’ll pursue her and most likely succeed.

“She’s on the shy side, so I don’t think she realizes. She keeps to herself and thinks others don’t notice her.”

Who has he been hanging around with? Didn’t he just get back in town. 

“I’m sure she does.”

“Nah, I don’t think she does,” Stack shakes his head with a sly smile. “You wanna bet?”

“I don’t have anything to bet, but sure.”

“How about if I’m right and she doesn’t know, then you have to dance with me,” Stack smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And if I’m right?”

“What would you like in return?”

You contemplate for a moment. “For you to tell me in detail how you got the money to afford this barnhouse.”

Stack rolls his eyes. “You’re on.”

“So, who is it?”

Stack turns toward the railing once again, a teasing look on his face. “You sure you just don’t wanna know because you’re jealous?”

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Stack chuckles in response, before going quiet. Then, there’s a moment of silence where you give him a look as you wait for an answer.

“You.”

You.

You feel your heart stop. “Me?” you ask, not fully believing him yet. Stack gives you a nod, and you try to look for any sign of lying on his face, but you can’t find any. “Stack, be serious for a second.”

“I am, Pea.”

All of a sudden, the music being played in the background just sounds like noise. You feel nauseous, relieved, confused, and happy all at once. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now as you look up at him. 

Before Stack could give you an answer, he’s interrupted by a voice from down below.

“Yo, Stack, come on down he-!” Sammy shouts, but cuts himself with the look that Smoke shoots at him. 

Stack clenches his jaw and whips his head towards Sammy. “Sammy, I’m gonna come down there and beat your ass. You need to learn when to read the room. Matter o’fact, I should come down there and break that damn guitar.”

“But you gave it to me.”

“And now I’m about to come take it away,” Stack replies causally. He makes a move to turn and walk down the stairs, but stops himself to look at you. “We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise,” he tells you, before giving you a quick wink and continuing down the stairs.

Then you hear, “Don’t run now, Sammy.”

Mary’s eyes meet yours from below, giving you one of her signature smirks. 

Like what you see? Check out my masterlist :)

[woodle-isbae]

"Don't run from me now."

He pull you back by the waist, chuckling at how you whined from the fill he gave you. Stack had you bent over in a deep arch, screaming his name into the sheets of your bed.

"Oh c'mon now, ain't you the one that said–shit– you can take it?"

He groaned, slowing down his thrusts to get a better view of him dissapearing inside you, the thick ring of your juices rimmed around his base, some of it running down your shaking thighs.

"Mmm-fuck! Stack–waitt.!"

You tried grabbing at his hand to slow him down, only for him to grip at your wrist and use it as an anchor, pulling you slightly back to get a deeper arch and deeper range inside you.

"Allat' talk, look where that big mouth got you!"

He hissed out, grinding his hips oh so painfully against yours, managing to wrap his other hand right under you and rub at your clit, drunk on the way you clenched around him.

"Mnghf–fuuck! I'm gon' cum, Stack pleaseee!"

You cried out, body pushing right back against his in pursuit of your orgasm, the man above you only pressing his fingers down as he drew faster circles while drilling himself into you.

"I ain't stack 'round here baby, you know my name pretty."

It's cruel the way he had you right on edge, holding back from letting you burst–oh but you loved it, drooling into the pillow beneath your head from this.

"Mm..Elias—please, Elias!"

He groaned out, satisfied with the way his name was sung from your swollen lips, eyes rolling back as he gave a few weak thrusts. Your breathe caught in your throat before you broke out in curses and moans.

He had pulled out and layed next to your numb body, thumb rubbing at your shoulder after he presses delicate kisses.

Savoring the moment of his skin on yours and the intimacy of his embrace.

[chromehoney]

plug!smoke x nerdy!black!fem!reader

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose for the fifth time, heart jackhammering like it always did when he came through the door. Elijah “Smoke” Moore — with the thick chains, the matching attitude, the scent of tobacco and Dior — moved through her tidy little apartment like he owned the place.

Hell, he probably did — rent was always mysteriously “taken care of” before the first.

She sat cross-legged on the couch, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, highlighter-pink fuzzy socks peeking out. A textbook lay open in her lap, filled with notes so neat they could be printed. She looked like the embodiment of academic anxiety and innocent routines.

And he… didn’t.

Gold teeth flashed when he smirked at her, shutting the door behind him with his usual casual weight. Gun still tucked in his waistband, designer jacket draped off one shoulder, cigar pressed between his lips. She didn’t understand it — him. Not really.

“I just… I mean, I don’t get it,” she blurted, looking up at him from behind thick glasses. Her voice came out small, nervous. “Why are you even here, Smoke? You could be with— I don’t know, someone cooler. I’m just… me.”

He raised a brow, pulling the cigar from his mouth and letting the smoke curl lazy through the air. “What, ‘cause you like comic books and color-code your flashcards?” he said, voice a low drawl as he moved to stand over her. “That’s why I’m here, mama.”

She blinked, confused.

“‘Cause you soft. You sweet. You mine.”

He kneeled down, bringing his rough, ring-clad fingers to her calf, brushing those pink socks like they were silk. “All them girls out there wanna be seen. Loud. All that extra. But you? You don’t even know how pretty you are. That shit drive me crazy.”

Her face burned.

“You come in here smellin’ like books and vanilla lotion, mouth runnin’ ‘bout your midterms—meanwhile I just came from movin’ weight, and all I can think about is gettin’ back to you.” He tapped her textbook, voice softer now. “You don’t gotta understand it. Just let it happen.”

And she did. She soaked it in like sunlight on skin — the way he kissed her temple before kissing her mouth, the way he picked her up like nothing and sat her in his lap even when she squirmed shyly. The way he called her his princess when he tucked a stack of bills into her pencil case without a word.

She was still soft-spoken. Still unsure. Still didn’t feel like she fit in his world.

But when he curled his arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her throat, whispering “my lil genius,”

She didn’t question it anymore.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers.

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Lines blur on a hot summer day when Juicy finds herself caught between what feels good, what feels right, and the one man she hasn’t figured out how to let go of—yet.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!!! Suggestive content, intense romantic tension, strong language, heavy makeout, handjob, spit, slightly emotionally vulnerable conversations

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 😛, also, this was originally going to be one chapter but I had to split it up into two, so the next chapter shouldn’t take this long. Okay, I’ve been going to multiple graduations, sorry! I hope you guys enjoy this, I love hearing from all of you and appreciate your feedback greatly. Thank you for reading and leave a comment PLEASE!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 11,854+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢

Juicy sat still as stone beneath the blazing sun, her gold-rimmed shades shielding her eyes—but not her thoughts. They were loud. Loud enough to drown out Mary’s chattering, the splashes from the pool, and whatever song was thumping low through somebody’s boombox across the yard. Her arms were folded across her chest, pushing her breasts up in a way she didn’t even realize, her glossed lips set in a tight pout, eyes glued—though she pretended not to be—to the mess unfolding across the pool. Smoke was still entertaining Anika like he had no home training and no memory of the things he said just last night. The nerve of him.

And though Juicy would never let him—or anyone else—see her bothered, she was. That same little ache was blooming in her chest again, heavy and sour, until she heard a voice smooth as satin, dipped in just enough trouble to make her heart skip.

“Well, well, well.’ Stack drawled, his skin catching the sun as he walked up, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he locked eyes with her. “And what could possibly be wrong with the princess on this fine-ass day?”

His voice was teasing, but warm and low enough to cut through all the noise clouding her mind. Juicy turned her head slightly but didn’t lift her shades. Not yet. Her lips curved into a slow, reluctant smile, the first real one she’d cracked since that little display Smoke put on. She had an idea.

“Nothing.” She said, voice soft, nearly sweet.

Stack grinned, pleased by the answer even though he knew better. He lowered himself onto the end of her lounge chair and she didn’t stop him. In fact, she sat up slowly and scooted down just enough to close the space between them. One of her legs curled behind him on the chair, the other planted on the ground beside his, practically cocooning him in her presence. Her warm cheek rested on his shoulder like a pillow, the glitter on her skin catching in the sunlight and dusting across his skin like fairy dust.

Stack blinked.

Damn. He wasn’t sure what spell she was casting, but he was more than willing to fall under it. His hand drifted to her knee, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over her skin as he tried to play it cool. “And what’s got you all touchy-feely today?” He asked, dipping his head slightly to try and catch a better view of her face. But with her shades on, she was still unreadable.

“Nothing.” She said again, but there was a softness to it this time. A little breath behind the word. Then came the quiet sigh.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, turning it just enough to rest her chin there instead, her lips mere inches from his ear. She tilted her face toward him slowly, until their eyes met through her tinted lenses. When she slid the shades up from the bridge of her nose, those big brown eyes blinked up at him, glossy and deep and full of something he hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

Longing. Need.

“It’s just that…” She whispered, trailing off before she gathered the nerve to ask, “Are we not gonna talk about last night?”

Stack’s stomach dropped at that, but in the best way.

That mouth of hers. Those eyes. The way she said it so damn softly, like he was the only person in the world who knew her secrets. The same girl who used to clown on him in front of the crew was now cuddled up next to him with her lip gloss shining like diamonds and her perfume all sweet and floral. He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t go right back to the night before. Her on top of him on her couch. Her hands on his chest. The way she looked at him when she said his name.

Stack cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the lounge chair, eyes darting to the side to make sure nobody caught on to the sudden rise in his shorts. The last thing he needed was someone’s auntie at the pool giving him the side-eye while sipping her wine cooler.

“Damn, girl.” He muttered under his breath, lips curving into a lopsided grin as he shook his head. “You tryna make a man lose all his composure in public?” He asked.

Juicy giggled, low and sweet, hiding her smile behind her fingers like she hadn’t just turned his whole damn world upside down with that soft pout on her lips. She smelled like vanilla and coconut.

“So?” She asked again, her voice lower now, just for him. “We not gonna talk about it?”

Stack tilted his head, brushing his fingers up and down her thigh in slow, lazy strokes, his touch deliberate, his eyes half-lidded. He watched the way her skin pebbled under his fingertips, goosebumps rising despite the summer heat.

“I mean…” He drawled, voice thick as honey. ‘What you wanna say? You wanna talk about how you kissed me? Or what was finna happen on the couch if Sinclair didn’t walk in?”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but her smile deepened, her cheek pressing to his shoulder again a magnet attracted to metal. She wasn’t tryna revisit Sinclair or what stopped them—she was focused on what happened before that. What almost was. “You kissed me first, Stack.” Her voice was soft but certain, like she wanted that part on record.

He chuckled, his thumb stroking circles against her skin. “Okay, but you kissed back.”

Her heart thudded loud and deep in her chest, an echo in her ears. But she didn’t shy away. “I did.” She admitted, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers now tracing slow, absentminded patterns across the muscles of his back. Her nails grazed over his skin, light as air. “And…I’d do it again.” She mumbled softly.

And she meant it.

What had started as a petty distraction—a way to keep her eyes off Smoke across the pool with that raggedy little pick-me Anika—had quickly turned into something else. She wasn’t thinking about them now. Not when she was wrapped around Stack like this, not when his scent—the heavy musk of his cologne and cocoa butter—was messing with her head.

Stack looked down at her, eyes heavy with something deeper. Her words lingered in the air between them like the humidity. His flirting made him swallow hard, caught off guard by her honesty, but he was not about to let the moment slip through his fingers. “We can do that whenever and wherever you want, darling.” He charmed, his country drawl deepening, slow and rich like molasses.

Juicy grinned at that, humming low and sweet, rubbing her hand against his bare back again, taking her time now. She liked the way he said ‘darling’, like the way he talked to her. She liked that she brought it out of him. “Okay…but first.” She teased, shifting forward until her chest pressed lightly against his thigh. “You have to let me apply this sunscreen to you.” She said as she leaned across him, her arm stretching toward her oversized straw beach bag with the bamboo handles. Her body curved against him perfectly, warm and soft. Her plump chest brushed his leg, sending a jolt of awareness through his core.

Stack groaned lightly, trying to distract himself from the feeling of her. “Baby, I’m Black, I don’t need no sunscreen.”

“Everyone needs sunscreen, Stack.” She said, pulling the bottle from her bag with a triumphant grin. “Don’t believe everything that you hear.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I can say the same for what you’re sayin’.” He stated, causing Juicy to let out a small laugh. She sat up straighter now, her glasses pushed high on her slick, honey-colored bun as she gave him a pointed look, brows arched. The glare had bite, but it only made him grin. “You just wanna rub all on me.” He accused playfully.

Juicy laughed, cracking the cap on the sunscreen bottle. “I don’t need an excuse to rub up on you.” She said, voice sliding into something velvet and slow, a little seductive. She squirted a dollop into her palm, rubbing her hands together as Stack watched, captivated. “Do I?” She asked, cocking her head as if he didn’t already know. She paused, her hands outstretched and coated in lotion, sunlight bouncing off her golden-brown skin. “You already said it.” He replied smoothly, smirking.

Stack licked his lips and leaned forward a bit, ready as she began rubbing the lotion into his back. Her touch was firm but tender, working the sunscreen in slow, deliberate circles. The heat of her hands, the closeness of her body—it was intimate in a way that felt almost too much for public, but neither of them cared. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the feel of her fingers trailing over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath her touch.

Juicy took her time, fingers sliding over his shoulders and down his spine. She didn’t miss the way he sighed quietly, or the way his body leaned into her just a little more. She was pouring all the affection she wasn’t sure how to say into her hands.

And across the pool, Smoke saw it all.

Anika had left moments ago, said something about needing another drink, or fixing her lipstick, he didn’t know. He didn’t even care, but now she was gone, and he had a clear view of Juicy and Stack.

His brother. His girl.

He didn’t feel jealous. Not exactly. This wasn’t the kind of thing that stirred that in him. But still—he couldn’t look away.

There was something about the way Juicy was taking care of Stack that got to him. The soft looks, the lingering touches, the genuine laughter. It wasn’t just flirtation—it was something deeper that he could see lingering between them. And she looked good doing it all.

Her skin shimmered under the sun, glinting with flecks of glitter from that perfume Mary had gifted her for Christmas—the one he remembered because she always saved it for days she wanted to feel extra pretty. She had her legs wrapped around Stack’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Stack looked…happy. Soft, even.

Smoke stared for a moment longer, his drink halfway to his lips, then slowly turned his attention away.

Whatever that was between them, it was unfolding whether he liked it or not.

And Juicy didn’t even notice Smoke looking. Not anymore. She was too busy rubbing lotion into the warm skin of the man holding her.

The sun hung in the sky, golden and sticky like honey, casting a soft white sheen on everything it touched. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine, grilled ribs, and the unmistakable sweetness of Juicy’s perfume that still clung to her skin like dew. Her fingers were slick with sunscreen, the coolness of the lotion stark against the warm curve of Stack’s back as she rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles. “Damn,” Stack murmured, his voice lower now, raspier. “You gon’ take your time or you tryna get me worked up on purpose?”

Juicy smiled, her lip gloss catching the sun as she leaned in closer, her lips a breath away from his ear. “What if I am?” She whispered, rubbing her palms over the dip in his spine, down to the V of his waist before gliding back up again, her movements just slow enough to make his jaw clench. “Is it working?”

Stack exhaled, his hand flexing against his thigh. “You playin’ a dangerous game, baby.”

“I’m not playin’.” She said, moving to his arms now, turning slightly so she could kneel on the chair beside him. She lifted one of his arms by the wrist and began coating his bicep in smooth strokes, fingers gliding over muscle like she was memorizing the shape of him. “You the one who wanted me to do this, remember?”

“Correction.” Stack said, watching her through hooded eyes. “You insisted. Said it was medically necessary.”

“It is.” She grinned, biting her lip as she moved to the other arm. “Skin cancer don’t give a damn about how fine you are.”

He chuckled at that, low and amused. “So I’m fine now?”

“You been fine.” She replied with a shrug, smoothing the lotion over his forearm, teasingly running her thumb along his wrist. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

Stack was already halfway gone, trying his best to sit still while her fingers trailed over his skin like a slow-burning fuse. And Juicy—Lord, Juicy was taking her time with it. When she shifted in the lounge chair in front of him, her knees brushing the outside of his thighs, he damn near forgot where he was. Her touch was slow, circular, and she moved with deliberate care because she didn’t want to rush. She wasn’t sure when she started enjoying this more than she should’ve. It was just sunscreen, she told herself. Just sunscreen. Nothing more.

But by the time she made it to his arms—one thick and relaxed against his thigh, the other resting behind him—Stack had turned his head slightly, catching her in profile. She was focused, biting her bottom lip as she rubbed the lotion into his bicep, her long nails grazing him lightly.

“Let me take you out.” He said, not even leaving room for disagreement within his demand.

Juicy’s fingers froze for a half-second, her eyes snapping up to his. “Huh?”

“Let me take you out on a date, Journee.” He said, his voice smooth and firm, calling her by her real name.

Her laugh came out soft, breathy, almost involuntary. It caught her by surprise, because everything hit her at once. The use of her real name, which felt like something sacred now, something intimate. The weight of his words. The idea of a date, like this—whatever this was between them—was turning into something real. Something intentional. All while her hands were gliding over his warm, tattooed arms, trailing over words and symbols inked into his skin. Her fingers didn’t stop moving, almost like she was trying to distract herself from what he just said. Or the way he was staring at her like she was all he could see.

She reached for more sunscreen, rubbing her palms together, readying to press them onto his chest when he caught her wrist gently.

“You not gon’ answer me?” Stack asked, low and soft, his thumb brushing slow against the inside of her wrist. Juicy stilled as the air between them thickened. She looked at him fully now, the shimmer of her body mist glinting in the sun as her lip gloss caught the light. Her voice came quieter this time, more careful. “Wait… what?” She asked. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.” He said without pause, his eyes locked on hers. They flickered between her brown eyes and her full lips, searching her, but not pushing. Juicy looked at him for a long second, trying to find a tell of some joke, some smirk, some sort of game, but there was none. His face was relaxed, his expression soft. His eyes were the kind of gentle she wasn’t used to. The kind that made you feel seen and touched without even laying a hand.

“Stack, are you serious?” She asked, her voice rising just slightly with disbelief.

“Yes.” He said again, slower this time.

“Stack.”

“What?”

“Stack?!”

“What?!”

“Oh my goodness.” Juicy giggled, her grin finally breaking wide. “Yes! Yes, I’ll go on a date with you!”

“Good.” Stack said with a quiet smirk, his grip on her wrist still light but possessive. Like he’d been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn’t want to let it pass.

Juicy’s first instinct was to hug him—throw her arms around his neck and squeal into his ear like a high school girl in love. But then she remembered the lotion. Her hands were still slick with it. “Oh.” She mumbled with a laugh, shifting back and placing her hands finally on his chest. She swallowed, biting her lip again, this time to keep from gasping, because her hands were now gliding over his pecs, smooth and warm and strong beneath her fingertips. She rubbed slowly, deeply, letting her fingers wander along the defined ridges of his abs. His tattoos stretched beneath her palms, and she traced them subconsciously as she worked the cream in, taking her sweet time now. More than necessary.

Stack leaned back on his hands, chest bare to her, letting her explore with her touch. Juicy was on her knees in the chair, leaning over him slightly, and neither of them noticed the rare glances being thrown their way across the patio—the tension between them was its own kind of gravity. It pulled every glance, every passing whisper, into silence.

But Stack only had eyes for her.

He watched her like he was studying sunlight through stained glass. Tracing her every movement, cataloging every little breath and blink. Her cheeks glowed under the heat, her curls pulled back with just a few tendrils stuck to her neck. And her lips—sticky, glossed, and irresistible—kept pulling his eyes back again and again.

She looked up once, catching him staring, and her breath caught. “What?” She whispered.

“Nothing.” He said, lips curling. “Just tryna remember this.”

“Remember what?” She asked, laughing nervously.

He tilted his head. “The moment you said yes.” He smirked. Juicy’s smile faltered into something softer, and she pressed her palm flat against his chest, her thumb brushing just under his collarbone. “You’re so smooth.” She quipped, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m serious.” He said, not smiling this time.

“I know.” She whispered.

Stack didn’t say anything after that. He just kept looking at her, the muscle in his jaw flexing slightly as her palm lingered against his chest. Her fingers, still slightly slick with sunscreen, stayed pressed against his warm skin like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. Maybe she didn’t want to. Juicy’s lips parted, and she tilted her head, her eyes skimming over his face, then down his chest again, and then back up to those low-lidded eyes watching her like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

Her heart was thudding against her ribs so loud she was sure he could hear it. The sun had started to dip a little lower now, casting soft amber light across his skin, making the edges of his tattoos glow like they were lit from within. She’d never seen a man look like that—like a damn dream, golden and real all at once.

She looked down again, hand dragging slowly across his chest, brushing over his left pec with more care than she even realized. Her thumb traced the edge of one of his tattoos like she was memorizing it by feel alone. She didn’t know when it had turned into something so intimate, but here they were, breathing in each other’s space, heartbeats lined up and unspoken things passing between them like static.

Stack’s hand moved up and caught the curve of her waist. His fingers didn’t grip, they just rested there, his thumb brushing lazily over the bare skin just above the waistband of her low-rise shorts.

Juicy swallowed as her eyes met his again.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She asked, voice soft, flirtatious but a little breathless.

“’Cause you’re beautiful.” He said easily. “’Cause I been tryna look at you like this since I met you. And now I can.”

Juicy had no words for that. Not at first.

She just blinked, eyes lingering on his, her breath catching somewhere in her throat. A slow smile tugged at her lips, different from the giddy one earlier. This one was heavier, like she couldn’t believe how soft she felt in that moment. How seen she felt. “You gon’ kiss me or something’?” She asked with a playful tilt of her head, her voice low and thick.

Stack leaned in just a fraction, close enough that his lips were a whisper away from hers. “I told you I was takin’ you out first, didn’t I?”

Juicy laughed softly, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she leaned back slightly. “Boy, you so corny.”

“You still like it though.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes with a grin, her hand still resting against his chest, now feeling the steady thump of his heart underneath. “Yeah… I do.” She mumbled.

Stack’s thumb brushed slow over her waist again, his eyes on her lips for a beat too long. They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in that sweet, sticky tension of summer, wrapped in heat and hope and everything new. Juicy let her fingers drag down the center of his chest before finally pulling away, smirking as she reached for the sunscreen bottle again—partly to reset the moment, partly because she needed to do something with her hands before she gave in and climbed into his lap.

“I missed a spot.” She murmured.

Stack smiled, leaned back again, and let her hands find him once more. The air between them was humid and heavy, buzzing like the heat that shimmered off the concrete in waves. The lotion was nearly gone, but Juicy’s hands hadn’t stopped. They moved slow, deliberate, her fingers tracing across Stack’s skin like she was learning him by heart. Stack sat there stiff as stone, his posture and his pants, trying not to let the way she touched him show on his face, but it was no use. His jaw was tight, his breathing was low, and his eyes were glued to her like she was the last sweet thing earth had to offer.

Then, just when he thought she might keep going—maybe slide her hands even lower, maybe straddle his lap, maybe finish what she started—Juicy leaned forward, close enough for him to smell the peach gloss on her lips and the cocoa butter from her palms. She bit her bottom lip and dragged her eyes over his face like she was pulling something from him. Slowly and thoroughly, as if this was all a game and she was five moves ahead.

“I have to use the bathroom.” She said softly.

But it wasn’t the words. It was how she said it. Her gaze bounced between his lips and his eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, and Stack just… froze. Caught in the way her voice melted into the sticky summer air. Like he was under some kinda spell. She slid off the lounge chair, slow and smooth, her thighs brushing his as she stood. Then the sunglasses, those big, dark brown shades she slid on with practiced ease. She slipped her feet into her gold-and-white Baby Phat wedge flip flops and started walking, hips swaying in that hypnotic rhythm she was famous for.

Stack didn’t even register she was gone until she looked back at him, over her shoulder, over the rim of those shades. Her lips parted just enough to catch a glimmer of sun on the gloss, and her fingers flexed outward, an unspoken invitation dangling in the thick summer air.

That’s all it took.

He stood up fast, heart thudding somewhere near his throat. His long strides caught up to her quick, and when her hand reached back for his, he took it without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers like it was second nature. His eyes dropped as she led him toward the community center. He couldn’t help it. All legs and hips and that little sway she had that made his thoughts scatter.

He didn’t care where they were headed. Wherever Juicy was taking him, he was going. Happily.

But as they crossed the pavement, just a few feet from the double doors of the center, Juicy’s eyes caught someone.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the corner of the building, half in shadow, half in sunlight. A cloud of smoke curled up from his lips, the blunt burning low between his fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but sharpened the second they landed on her.

And time seemed to slow.

Stack didn’t see it. Didn’t feel the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his hand. Didn’t notice the way her spine straightened or the quick rub of her lips together like she was steadying herself. But Smoke noticed. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t double take or anything. He just watched them, his expression unreadable beneath the haze of weed and heat.

His eyes slid from Juicy’s face to her hand in Stack’s…and then back up again.

And for a split second, there was a flicker of something. It wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t anger. It was just acknowledgment that he saw her. That he saw them. And maybe he understood exactly what was happening without needing to hear a single word.

Juicy held his gaze briefly, long enough for the silence to say what neither of them would. But she continued, pulling Stack inside with her.

Whatever guilt she should’ve felt—it didn’t exist. Maybe it was because she didn’t care, at least that what she tried to tell herself. Or maybe it was because Smoke didn’t look hurt at what he saw. He didn’t have a look of shock or betrayal on his features.

He just looked… hungry.

Like maybe, if Stack hadn’t been the one she reached for, he would’ve been. And that thought sent a thrill through her chest, pooling hot and dangerous in her belly.

Stack, still unaware of the exchanged glance, followed close behind, admiring the curve of her backside, the sway of her hips, the way her skin glowed in the fluorescent hallway light. He didn’t care where she was taking him.

Juicy smiled to herself as they disappeared into the building. She didn’t stop pulling him until they reached the narrow hallway just before the bathrooms, the area cooler and quieter, nothing but the bass of the cookout music thumping faintly through the walls behind them. The air smelled like deodorant and faint traces of perfume.

Stack barely had time to blink before Juicy spun around and pushed him—hard—against the wall. His back hit the smooth brick plaster with a soft thud, knocking the wind out of him just enough for surprise to flash across his face.

“Damn, girl—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Juicy pounced like she’d been holding herself back for too long, and her mouth crashed into his with a hungry kind of urgency that made his whole system stutter. Her lips were soft but firm, glossed but not sticky, and she kissed like she meant to take something from him—like she was claiming it.

Stack’s brain stalled, but his body didn’t. Instinct took over.

His hands slid to her waist, strong palms gripping the soft and plush curve of her sides to steady her. Mostly because she was coming at him so wild and fierce, he needed to hold her close just to keep up. She moaned softly against his lips, and something about the sound shot straight through him.

He groaned low in response, right into her mouth.

That’s when he lifted her. His strong arms slid beneath her thighs, hoisting her like she weighed nothing. He never broke the kiss, not once, as he turned and walked her backwards, careful but eager, until her back hit a different stretch of wall, tucked away near the bathroom doors. Secluded enough.

Juicy clung to him, her hands buried in the back of his cornrows, fingertips rubbing at the base of his neck like she could soothe the fire she was feeding. Their kisses grew louder, messier, the wet sounds echoing softly down the hall. But they couldn’t hear it. They couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

They were completely wrapped up in the feel of each other.

She whimpered when he ground her into his crotch—his bulge pressing against the thinnest part of her bathing suit skort, right where she throbbed for him. He swallowed the sound, capturing it with his mouth, deepening the kiss as her legs tightened around his waist.

Stack’s hand slid to her ass, gave it a firm squeeze that made her center clench and her toes curl. If they weren’t careful, they were gonna cross a line. Hell, they already had. The heat between them was boiling, and the way she rocked her hips into his made it damn near impossible to stop.

But then—a pinch.

A building pressure.

Beneath the haze of lust and adrenaline, reality tapped on Juicy’s shoulder with increasing urgency. Her eyes fluttered open, lips still locked to his, but her body was waving a red flag.

She had to pee.

She broke the kiss, panting against his lips, her head falling back just enough to catch her breath. Stack, still caught in the moment, leaned forward to follow her, trailing kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“Stack…” She sighed, voice breathless, trying to gather herself.

He hummed low in response, mouth still busy at her neck, hips still grinding like he couldn’t help it. Like it was second nature that moment they got like this.

“Stack, wait.” She said, firmer this time. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to push him back a bit.

His lips paused. His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned back, eyes dazed and lips swollen from kissing. “Huh?”

“I have to pee.” Juicy said, squeezing her thighs together instinctively around his torso, her voice half serious and half laughing at the ridiculous timing of her own body.

Stack blinked, clearly trying to process through the fog of hormones. His eyes scanned her face, took in the smudged gloss, the flushed cheeks, the slightly wild look in her eyes. She looked wrecked—and it was all him.

A crooked smile curled at his lips.

“Oh, baby…” He murmured, tilting his head. “That’s not pee.”He smirked devilishly, leaning in close. “I’ll show you how to do that later, just let me—”

“No, Stack, for real!” Juicy laughed, smacking his chest, her voice breathless but serious this time. “Move! I gotta piss!”

Stack groaned like the universe was out to get him. “Damn.” He muttered, reluctantly easing her back down to the floor, hands lingering longer than they needed to.

As soon as her feet hit the tile, she was already stepping away, adjusting her skirt and heading for the girl’s room just a few feet down.

But just as she reached for the bathroom door—

Smack!

His hand connected with her ass in a sharp, playful hit that made her squeak and spin around, eyes wide.“Stack!” She hissed, glaring at him. But he just gave her that damn grin, the one that had to have the girls in Chicago ruin their lives for just a moment with him. “Damn, Juicy.” He said, eyes trailing from her backside up to her smirking mouth like he had every right to look. “You know I hate to watch you go, but I’ll gladly watch you leave.”

He backed away, slow and easy, like he had all day. And just before ducking into the men’s room, she caught a glimpse of his trunks, the clear outline of his problem straining hard and proud.

She rolled her eyes with a sift scoff but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips.

Juicy rushed into the bathroom, her knees nearly buckling as she slammed the stall door shut. Her heart was still racing, but for a whole new reason now—and not just from the way Stack had her melting into that hallway wall mere seconds before. She could barely breathe from the intensity of his kisses, his body, the way his hands gripped her thighs like he couldn’t stand to let her go. But now… she really had to pee. And it was killing the vibe.

When she was done, she took a moment at the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lip gloss was smudged, her curls slightly tousled from where Stack’s fingers had gripped the back of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes still blown from the heat of their moment. She exhaled, straightened her halter top, and smoothed down her mini skirt. With a soft laugh at herself, she pushed out the bathroom door, still warm from Stack’s touch.

But she didn’t make it far.

The hallway was quiet now, almost too quiet. As she rounded the door, the air seemed to shift into something heavy and tense.

There he was, the man himself.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the wall like he had been waiting.

Her steps slowed. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze on her when she exited the bathroom, the way it crawled up her skin like wildfire. He said nothing, but everything about him was loud and demanding. His posture, his presence, his silence. She didn’t look at him for long. After she let out a small breath at seeing him, she felt the heat rise in her throat, her arms folding defensively over her chest as she turned her face slightly, staring at the far wall like it held the answers as to why he was suddenly in her space.

He didn’t move at first, just kept looking at her. His tall frame blocked the hallway, his shadow swallowing the corner whole. Juicy could feel the way his eyes raked over her, from her lips to her legs, and the same skirt Stack had bunched around her hips not even five minutes ago.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she raised her head and met his eyes for a second, her voice dry but biting. “Can I help you?”

Smoke’s voice rolled out low and rough, like gravel over velvet. “What’s up with you, huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh, annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as he stepped forward. She didn’t flinch, but her jaw tightened. The heat of his nearness pulled at her like gravity. “Your games won’t work, Juicy.” He said.

She scoffed. “Oh, now I definitely don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned on her heel to brush past him, the tension crackling between them like static. Smoke didn’t stop her. Not physically. But his voice followed her like a shadow.

“You flirting with Stack.” He began, causing Juicy freeze mid-step, her back to him “All up on him, rubbing on him, whispering to him.“ He continued. “It’s not doing what you think it is.”

Her fist clenched, nails biting into her palm as she turned around slowly, her face sharp with fury. “And neither is you talking to Anika.”

That made him pause.

He stared at her for a long moment before a smirk curled across his lips. He laughed softly through his nose, like she was amusing. “Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Smoke.”

He stepped forward, his eyes cutting into her. “You’re jealous that I spoke to Anika.”

“I’m not jealous of a damn thing.” She snapped.

But he ignored her as he kept stepping until the distance between them was nearly gone, the scent of his cologne mixing with the sweat on her skin and whatever was left of Stack on her lips.

“You know, I didn’t even know her name before you said it.” He murmured. “I don’t give a damn about that girl. And you’d know that if you stopped reacting for two seconds and just calmed the hell down.”He snapped. Juicy opened her mouth to argue, but Smoke cut her off, voice sharper now, eyes burning into hers. “You trying to make me feel some type of way with Stack was a waste of your time. ’Cause I know how you feel about me. I see how you feel about me. And you kissing on Stack doesn’t change that. Doesn’t change how I feel about you either.” He shrugged.

Juicy’s heart thundered in her chest. He stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching as his voice dropped to a husk. “Seeing you up on my brother didn’t do nothing to me… ’cept give me a front row seat to how hot you get when you’re trying to prove a point.”

Juicy’s lips parted, her breath shaky.

“So go ahead.” He said, eyes dark and sure. “Just ‘cause you’re with him don’t mean you’re not mine. And just ‘cause you’re with me don’t mean you’re not his.”

She could only blinked, stunned.

“It’s been this way for a while, Juicy. And it’ll keep being this way. Until one of us figures out how to stop loving you.” His eyes softened, just a little. “And that ain’t happening. For a long time, not for me.”

Juicy didn’t know what to say. Her anger had drained, replaced by a strange ache in her chest. Smoke had always been intense, but this was something else. This was… raw. Emotions she’d never had to deal with, things she’d never thought he would ever say.

She was still trying to gather her thoughts when the sound of a sink shutting off echoed from behind the bathroom door. Then it creaked open, and Stack stepped out, wiping his hands on his trunks.

He stopped cold at the sight of them—Juicy cornered, Smoke towering, both of them staring at each other like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Stack’s voice cut through. “Hell goin’ on here?”

Juicy blinked fast and turned away, suddenly breathless. Her feet moved before her brain did, her wedges clicking quick down the hallway as both men watched her retreat.

Stack’s eyes followed her for a second, then turned back to his twin. “The hell did you say?”

Smoke leaned against the wall again, calm, like the storm hadn’t just passed through his chest. “Nothin’ she ain’t already know.” He said. “She just finally admitted it to herself.”

Juicy rushed out of the building, heart still pounding in her chest from whatever that moment had been. She didn’t stop to check if anyone noticed, didn’t pause to let the warm summer air cool her down. Her sandals slapped against the pavement as she beelined back to her lounge chair, a sigh slipping through her lips the moment she dropped into it, like a weight being let go.

Mary sat in the chair next to hers, legs crossed and a glossy magazine propped in her lap, the same one Juicy had been reading earlier. She looked up, immediately catching the faraway glaze in Juicy’s eyes.

“Aye, what’s up with you?” Mary asked, folding the magazine shut and turning in her chair with concern laced under her playful tone.

“Nothing.” Juicy responded flatly, sliding her gold rimmed sunglasses back down onto the bridge of her nose before lying back, her head tilted toward the bright sky. The air was thick with chlorine along with a faint scent of grilled meat floating over the pool area. But Juicy didn’t notice any of it. Not now.

Mary furrowed her brows, watching her for a second, but didn’t press. She knew Juicy well enough to know that if she didn’t wanna talk, she wouldn’t. So she turned her focus back to her magazine, flipping a page with an acrylic click.

A few minutes passed, a soft summer breeze blew through the trees, rustling the umbrellas and pool floaties. The sun had shifted slightly, casting a golden sheen over everything. From the corner of her eye, Juicy noticed two familiar shapes emerging from the building. Smoke and Stack.

They weren’t being subtle either—eyes trained directly across the pool, right at her.

Still, she kept her gaze upward, acting like she hadn’t noticed. Her whole body was tensed like a live wire though, her chest tight, lips pursed and hand fidgeting with the thin strap of her bikini top. Their area had gotten more crowded, people swarming around the life guard chair, someone trying to flirt with Megan, others leaning over the fence and their bags strewn around. It was noisy and chaotic—but not enough to drown out the presence of the twins as they made their way over.

Smoke dropped himself casually at the end of Juicy’s lounge chair, while Stack took his time, leaning coolly against the tall lifeguard chair like a king surveying his court. Juicy’s lips tightened but she didn’t say anything. She just stayed laid out, arms crossed over her chest, legs stretched long and golden in the sun, pretending the sky was more interesting than the weight of their gazes.

It wasn’t until Mary broke the silence that Juicy finally stirred. “Oh, girl, I almost forgot!” She said suddenly, closing her magazine and shifting closer. “I overheard Shante talking, and turns out, Donavan and Anika broke up because he supposedly got another girl pregnant, right?”

Juicy tilted her head slightly toward her friend, lips still tight. “Right…” She said, low and distracted.

Smoke shifted, placing her legs into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Juicy glanced down at the feeling of his palms on her skin. Warm and familiar. She didn’t say anything, but her jaw flexed. Mary noticed it too but powered on, already locked into her gossip.

“Well come to find out, that was a lie. Anika cheated on him. But guess with who.”

“Who?” Juicy and Stack asked in unison, a beat of accidental harmony. The chubby girl looked up at him, be he seemed just as engrossed as her.

Mary leaned in, voice dropping like she had government secrets. “Antwon.”

Juicy’s shades shot up as she gasped, leaning up on her elbows. “Our Antwon?” She asked, disbelief written across her face.

Mary nodded eagerly. “Yup.”

Juicy gasped again, hand to chest like her pearls had just been clutched. The twins on either side exchanged looks before focusing in on her. “What do you mean, your Antwon?” Stack asked, narrowing his eyes. His gold chain glinted in the sun as he looked down at her.

Juicy rolled onto her back again, meeting his stare with a smirk. “Not like that. Y’all know Antwon. Everybody knows Antwon. He got me and Mary into clubs, concerts, we even went on a road trip to Florida with him once. Mary, you remember that?”

Mary grinned wide, eyes sparkling with memory. “Hell yeah. That was fun as hell too. Ooo, do you remember that white boy who ate—”

“No! I don’t!” Juicy hissed, cutting her off sharply. Her eyes widened slightly as she darted them between the two men. Mary caught on to the hint and fell quiet.“Oh, yeah… me neither.” She mumbled, flipping a page in her magazine like nothing happened. “Can’t believe she cheated with Antwon.” She mumbled, bring the conversation back.

“Wait—what were you about to say?” Smoke asked, tone lighter, but his curiosity clear.

“Yeah, me either.” Juicy said quickly, waving off the moment like it didn’t matter. “I mean, I thought he was too square for her. She sort of has a type.” Her eyes drifted toward Smoke deliberately. “No offense to you or anything.” She snarked with an upturned lip in disgust. Smoke didn’t respond with words, he just smirked and tapped her leg.

“What white boy?” Stack pressed, not letting it go and he was a bit annoyed that he was begging ignored.

Mary spoke again, trying to pivot back. “I heard she only did it ‘cause Donavan cheated first. I guess this was her way of getting even. That, and for always flirting with you.”

Juicy’s head snapped toward her. “Excuse me?”

Mary blinked innocently. “Flirting with you all the time.” She repeated. “He does it right in the girl’s face. Remember when you worked at Waffle House last year? He’d be in there every damn day.”

“That’s because the auto shop was right next door. You know that’s where his brother used to hang. And you were in there every day too.”Juicy countered.

“I was there for free food. He was there to see that ass in them True Religion jeans.” Mary grinned.

“Oh, so you weren’t there for me? And is my ass my defining quality now?”

“It’s one of your best.” Mary said with a wink.

Stack chimed in at the same time, “It’s the most prominent.”

Juicy turned and gave him a full glare, but he just grinned at her, his gold tooth glinting, completely unbothered. She flipped him off with a lazy hand and turned back to Mary. “Don’t say it like that. I worked there for two weeks.”

“And you apparently couldn’t survive without me.”

“Anyways!” Mary said loudly, cutting them off. “Those two weeks you did work there, he was up in there with Anika trying to get at you.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”Juicy muttered, sliding her shades back down.

“That’s ‘cause you’re oblivious unless somebody pours it on thick. That’s why you flirt so boldly.” Mary said, eyebrow raised with precision.

Juicy turned to look at the two men next to her. Smoke was already watching her from behind her glasses while Stack raised a brow thoughtfully, then nodded in agreement.

Juicy scoffed in disbelief, dragging a hand over her face.

“I just hope Antwon knows what he signed up for,” Mary added. “I would hate to defend my good friend by laying hands upon that New York City street rat.” She hissed the insult with venom, casting a sharp glance across the pool toward Anika, who was laid out on her stomach, ass perched like a billboard ad.

Juicy followed her gaze, lips curling in disdain. The memory of Anika talking to Smoke earlier flashed across her mind like lightning. Without a word, she pulled her legs from Smoke’s lap and gently pushed him away with her feet. He let it happen, grinning like he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Before he could say anything, Stack broke the tension.

“Juicy.” He said, voice low and slow, syrup-thick and sweet as a ‘issippi drawl.

She looked at him, her head turning lazily, curiosity flickering behind her glasses. Her lips stayed in that soft pout she always had when she was trying to decide if she was irritated or not.

“Can you go get my shirt outta my car?” He asked, almost too casually. Her gaze narrowed a bit, searching his face. “Back seat, behind the passenger.” He added, eyes holding hers with a bit of challenge. “You’ll know which one.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t just a request. It was a demand with a flirtatious flair. Like an invitation wrapped in something silky but toxic.

Juicy let out a slow sigh, already halfway annoyed, halfway entertained. She pushed herself up from the cool edge of the lounge chair, brushing imaginary dust from her thighs, the hem of her skirt rising with the motion.

“You got two working legs, Stack.” She muttered.

“Yeah.” He said with a grin, eyes never leaving hers, “But I got you, too.”

Smoke let out a low chuckle, deep and rich like the rumbling of a distant engine. Mary popped her gum, watching the exchange with raised brows, eyes bouncing between them like it was her favorite TV show. Juicy didn’t say anything for a beat, just stood there, hand on her hip like she was giving him one last out before she really got mad. When Stack simply smirked, smug and warm and cocky, she huffed, holding out her hand.

Stack reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to her in one smooth motion, letting them land in her palm.

She stared at him for a moment longer, lips twitching like she might smile if she weren’t so annoyed, then turned on her heel with that signature switch in her hips—the one she didn’t even know she had.

She walked across the gravel and out the gate toward the car parked a bit out of plain sight. Only the folks at the cars could see her now, not the ones chilling by the water.

The summer heat kissed her shoulders as she reached the familiar beeper keychain, unlocking the car with a soft chirp. She opened the door and leaned into the back seat, immediately spotting the black wife pleaser folded messily behind the passenger seat. Reaching for it, her fingers brushed the fabric—cool against her warm skin.

That’s when she felt it. A hand on her lower back.

She gasped, whipping around fast and swinging without thinking. Her palm connected with someone’s chest, and a familiar laugh followed.

“Damn!” Stack chuckled, wincing a bit but still grinning like the mischievous man he is.

“What the hell, Stack!” Juicy snapped, swatting him again, this time on the arm.

“I’m sorry!” He said, still laughing, holding up both hands like he was surrendering. “Relax, girl, damn. You got a bit of a much on you”

“You had me come all the way out here just to follow me?”She asked, her voice tight with disbelief.

“Yeah.” He grinned, leaning his back against the car with his arms folded and that same soft, unreadable look in his eyes.

“For what, Stack?” She asked, arms folded now, the heat and tension settling into her bones. “To get me alone or some?”

He tilted his head slightly, dark braided curls brushing the male of his neck. “Yeah.” He repeated, the word quieter this time.

Her breath was caught at that one word. “For what, Stack?” She asked again, softer now.

“I wanna know what Smoke said to you earlier.” He said plainly.

That threw her then, and she only blinked before her eyes fell to the shirt in her hand. She sighed, voice dipping low. “It’s… complicated.” She muttered:

Stack shifted, facing her fully now. “Try me.”

She looked up at him, really looked at him. The way his eyes softened when they were just the two of them. The brightness behind them, always shining a little extra when he looked at her. It did something to her—something she wasn’t sure she had words for yet.

She let out another sigh and moved to sit on the foot panel of the car door, body half-twisted toward him, the metal hot beneath her.

Stack slid into the back seat, legs dangling out, watching her with a kind of focus that made her fingers tremble as she picked at the gems on her nails. She hesitated, her mouth opening to speak but no words coming out as her bear beat increased. Then she decided to just finally come out and say it.

“I like you, Elias.” She said, eyes moving up from her fidgeting hands to search his. Her voice was small but steady.

Stack blinked at her before a slow grin spread across his face. “Okay.”

She bit her lip, starting at him before she pressed on. “Like, a lot.” She blinked at him, her heart banging behind her ribs. “Like… I wanna be with you.” She admitted.

Stack didn’t move for a beat. Then, his large hands reached out and covered hers, stilling her fidgeting. His skin was warm, grounding. “That sounds like music to my ears, mama.” He said, voice low and smooth, like velvet to her skin. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ma have to show you a few things.” He grumbled as he leaned in. Juicy laughed softly, shy and breathless, even as his lips met hers. He kissed her slowly. Pocketed kisses that were quick but tender, like he was tasting each one before giving her the next. And in between each one, he pulled back just enough to look at her. Really look at her with her long lashes flush against her cheeks.

Juicy kissed him back, nerves fluttering in her stomach like summer fireflies. But the next part—the next part tangled her up. “I also feel the same way for Elijah.” She mumbled, barely audible.

Stack blinked. His face didn’t fall, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He just sat there, quiet.

“I’d understand if you don’t—”

“I don’t care.” He cut in.

She looked up, startled. “What?” She asked, brows furrowing.

“I said I don’t care.” He repeated. “I mean… I don’t mind that you feel the way you do about Smoke. As long as you feel how you do about me like you said. That’s what matters to me.”His voice was steady. But instead of relief, Juicy felt the ache in her chest grow.

“I thought that would help.” She whispered, “but it only makes things worse.” She whined, placing her hands over her face.

Stack leaned forward, amusement clear on his face as his hand slid along her back, fingers trailing over skin exposed by her halter top. “Aw, and why’s that, mama?” He murmured, lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

“Because now I gotta choose.” She said softly, eyes glossy. “And that’s something I never wanted to do.”She said as she leaned forward and placed her cheek against his thigh, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a hug.

Stack stroked her back in long, gentle circles, quiet for a moment.

“You don’t have to choose.” He said finally.

Juicy lifted her head slowly, eyes full of question.

“What?”

He smiled down at her, soft and unguarded. “I mean it. I ain’t askin’ you to pick. I’m askin’ you to be real. With me. With him. With yourself.” He stated.

She stared at him, heart thudding hard.

“I already know how I feel about you. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Juicy’s throat tightened, her fingers curling in his lap. The world around them faded into the hum of summer—the distant pool splashes, the low drone of 112’s “Cupid” playing from someone’s speaker. But in that moment, all she could hear was her heart and his voice, intertwining like a melody she never wanted to end.

She lifted her head from Stack’s lap slowly, brown eyes glimmering with uncertainty, the same way they always did when she tried to guard her heart but didn’t really want to. “What?”

Stack smiled down at her, easy and entirely unbothered. It wasn’t the cocky kind of smile he usually wore. It was soft and honest. Vulnerable, even.“I mean it.” He said, his voice low and steady, like it had been rehearsed in his chest for weeks. “I ain’t askin’ you to pick when I already know I got you.”

Juicy’s heart thudded so loud in her chest, she swore Stack could hear it. She just stared at him, her lips parted like she wanted to say something but forgot how to speak. His words hit somewhere deep—somewhere behind her ribcage, tucked under all that sassy-girl bravado she wore.

“I already know how I feel about you.” He continued, brushing a knuckle down her jawline. “And I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby. So, if you don’t mind it… I sure as hell don’t.”

That last part melted something in her. Something tight and tangled in her chest. Her fingers curled in his lap, picking at the edge of her acrylics like she could fidget the feelings away. The moment thickened around them, time slowing to a crawl. The world outside—Smoke, Mary, the pool, the music, all of it—faded into a muffled hush.

“Really?” She whispered.

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed over the curve of her cheekbone, soft as breath. “I meant what I said. I don’t care about the rest. I care about you.”

“You don’t mind?” She asked again, still trying to wrap her head around it. Her voice was higher now, tinged with disbelief. As if love that easy—love that open—was too good to be true.

Stack chuckled, and it was low and warm, wrapping around her like a hug. “No, baby, I don’t.”

And something in her broke open.

“Oh, Stack.” She breathed, her whole body softening as she looked at him like he’d just handed her the moon. And before she could talk herself out of it, she moved. Pounced on him again like she had earlier in the hallway—only this time it wasn’t playful. This time, it was desperate.

Her lips crashed onto his with heat, hunger, and the kind of reckless passion that made her forget they were in the back of his car and not in some steamy and searing dream. She pushed him into the leather seat cushions, and the car creaked softly beneath their bodies.

Stack let out a surprised grunt, caught off guard for all of two seconds before instinct kicked in. His hands gripped her like he’d been waiting to, one large palm immediately claiming her bottom while the other slid up her spine, pulling her closer. Juicy kissed him like she was starving, like he was the only thing that could satisfy her craving, and Stack responded by letting his mouth part just enough for her tongue to taste him.

When she finally pulled back, both of them panting lightly, her hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Her eyes were wild and soft all at once, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. She looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was real. “I could just eat you.” She groaned hungrily, breathless, before diving back in, lips finding his again like she was scared they’d disappear if she stopped.

Stack moaned into her mouth, a deep, possessive sound as his hands roamed, mapping every curve of her like he already knew them by heart. Her thighs straddled his lap fully now, riding the heat between them as his fingertips slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the small of her back. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“I been wantin’ this.” He muttered between kisses, his voice husky. “You don’t even know, baby. Every time you walk past me with those damn hips swingin’, or when you laugh with that hand over your mouth like you shy—”

“I am shy.”She whispered against his lips, smiling, her hips slowly rocking against his lap.

“Not with me.” He grinned, dragging his mouth along her jaw to kiss at her neck. “Never with me, baby.”

She whimpered at that, fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth worked a slow, open kiss beneath her ear. Her body arched against him, her back curving like she was offering herself up, and Lord, if Stack didn’t look like he was about to pass out from how sweet she felt on top of him.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” She whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, breath shaky. “I’m tryna be good but you make it so damn hard, Elias.” She whined.

Stack smirked, dragging her lip between his teeth before letting go. “Don’t be good then.”

That broke her.

She kissed him again—messier this time, much needier. Her arms looped around his shoulders as if holding him tighter could erase the confusion, the guilt, the ache in her chest about Elijah. But for now, there was only this. Only him.

Stack's mouth was a trail of fire on her skin, his lips and tongue leaving a path of goosebumps as they explored her collarbone, her neck, her shoulders. Juicy's breath hitched, her pulse racing like a wild animal as she arched into him, her body crying out for more. The heat between them was a living thing, an inferno that licked at their nerves and made their limbs tingle with anticipation.

She rolled her hips against him, feeling his hardness press against her center, and a soft moan escaped her lips, a sound that was part plea, part invitation.

"You feel too good to be real, baby…" Stack growled against her throat, his voice a gravelly rumble that sent shockwaves through her as his hands gripped the flesh of her ass.

Juicy's nails dragged lightly across the nape of his neck, eliciting another groan from him, a sound that was pure, unadulterated longing as his hips bucked into her, his hard never pressing against her clothed clit, inciting a sharp moan from her. He was her tormentor and her savior all in one, and she was utterly at his mercy.

As his hand dipped further beneath the waistband of her shorts, she froze, her breath catching in her throat like a bird trapped in a cage. She placed a soft but firm hand on his chest, stilling his movements, her heart pounding wildly.

"Wait.” She whispered. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw the surprise flicker in his gaze, but no annoyance, only a hint of curiosity and a world of unspoken questions. Stack blinked, pulling back slightly, his lips still grazing her collarbone, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. "What is it, Juicy?" He asked, his voice a low, concerned murmur, laced with a hint of confusion. "You okay?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "I—I don’t wanna go all the way yet.” She admitted, her voice soft but certain. "Not till we’ve had our first date. I want it to mean something. Not just the heat of the moment and hormones. I want it to be real, Stack. I want you to want me for more than just this."

He sat up more, the tension in the car shifting as he processed her words, his eyes never leaving hers.

A slow, boyish grin spread across his face, a grin that held a thousand promises and a touch of mischief. "You mean to tell me this ain’t real?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something more profound, something that made her stomach do a series of flips. Juicy narrowed her eyes playfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "Stack, you know what I mean.” She said, brushing a stray curl out of her face, her hand trembling slightly. "I just... I want to take our time. I want to build something real." She admitted.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, his eyes never leaving hers. "Alright, I get it. You're killing me, though, ma. First the couch yesterday, then the hallway, and now this. You're killing me, you know that?" He said, his grin never wavering, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, something that looked a lot like affection.

Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. "Well, said I wanted to wait on sex.” She whispered. “Didn’t say I couldn’t help you in other ways.” She says, her voice a sultry promise, a tantalizing tease. Stack went still, his eyes darkening with surprise and interest, his breath hitching slightly. "Didn’t you just say wait?" He asked, his voice creeping on amusement.

"I did.” She confirmed, her smile innocent but her tone anything but. "But not for everything."

He blinked slowly, licking his lips as if he needed a moment to process the weight of her words. The look he gave her was intense, a look that promised a world of pleasure and one that made her heart race and her body ache with longing. "You sure about this, Juicy?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire and need.

She nodded, her eyes smoldering with want. "If you’re okay with it.” She said, her voice a soft.

A tense pause lingered between them, thick with desire and anticipation. The air was electric, charged with a tension that was almost painful, almost unbearable. Stack exhaled deeply.

"Damn right I’m okay with it.”He muttered, his voice low and reverent.

Juicy just smiled. She took her time, savoring the moment and the look in his eyes. The feel of his body beneath hers and the sound of his ragged breaths. Her fingers danced along the waistband of his sweats, a teasing, tantalizing promise of things to come. The music outside shifted to something even slower and more sensual, another old-school groove made for moments like this.

She could feel the anticipation building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his sweats, feeling him spring free, hard and ready, a testament to his desire and his longing for her. Her mouth practically watered at the sight of him, hushed dick thick throbbing in need. She took in a sharp breath as a rush of liquid dotted the center of her bikini, she could feel it. Just the sight of him set things off in him.

Stack's breath hitched, a sharp sound. His eyes never left hers, even when hers moved. He never wavered, never broke contact, as if he was afraid she would disappear. That this was all a dream, a fantasy, a figment of his imagination. "Juicy.” He whispered, her name a prayer on his lips, a plea.

She leaned forward a bit as her eyes made their way back to his, looking up at him through her lashes with her head still angled down. And he watched as her mouth opened slightly and a trial of clear saliva dribbled out.

He took in another breath, closing his eyes briefly at the feeling of her spit hitting his dick. He opened them again, just in time to see Juicy lick her lips, her eyes still trained on his face. She took his member in to hand, her grip firm, and she began to move her hand slowly, a torturously slow pace that was designed to drive him wild as she worked her slick around him. A smirk played on her lips as she felt him respond to her touch, as she felt his body tense and watched his muscles coil under his bare chest.

She was in control, and she loved it. This dynamic and sense of power was new to her and she loved it. The look in his eyes, loved the feel of him in her hand, loved the way he reacted to her touch.

"Like that?" She whispered, her voice low and sultry as she tightened her grip on him a bit. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of innocence and mischief, a dangerous combination that was guaranteed to drive him wild.

Stack could only nod, his throat tight with anticipation and need as his adman apple bobbed. "Yeah, just like that.” He managed to rasp out, his voice a low in a desperate sound. His hips lifted slightly to meet her strokes, a silent plea for more, for something faster, something harder. He hummed as the feeling of release built up in his core, and Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin and her voice a low, sultry murmur. "I want you to feel good.” She said, her words a declaration of her intentions, of her desires and needs. "I to make you feel good. Want you to know how much I want you, even if we're taking this slow. I want you to know that I care about you." She continued.

Stack's hand found her other one, his fingers lacing through hers on his lap, his grip tight, almost desperate. His other one found her wrist and he guided her, showed her exactly what he liked, exactly what he needed, exactly what he wanted. He clearly just wanted to hold onto her, to ground himself as he felt his pleasure build. Their combined touch in a symphony of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

The increasing pace, the ragged breaths, the desperate moans, the world outside fading away, the car becoming a place of pleasure and ecstasy.

"Juicy," Stack groaned, his voice a low, desperate sound as he struggled for control of his desperate need for release. "You're driving me crazy. You feel so good, baby. Mmm, fuck, I can't get enough.” He groaned.

Juicy smiled against his neck, her lips soft and warm as she placed gentle, reverent kisses on his skin, her hand never stopping its delicious torture, never wavering, never slowing, never stopping. She could feel his pleasure building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps and his heart pounding wildly against her hand, his body begging for release.

Stack's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, his body tensing. "I'm close.” He warned, his voice hoarse with need. "I’m so close, baby. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop." He pleaded desperately in between the wet kisses he placed upon her lips.

Juicy increased her pace, not taking her mouth away from his as she hummed in pleasure, her strokes sure and steady. "Let go, baby.” She whispered, pulling back to place her forehead against his. “Let go for me.” Her voice a soft, commanding but pleading, as she held his eyes, their face mere inches apart.

With a final, shuddering groan, Stack did just that. His back arched off the seat, his muscles tensing and his mouth open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Juicy held him tightly, her hand never stopping, while her other hand gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh.

She felt it, the hot, pulsing release, the evidence of his pleasure spilling into her hand, coating her fingers. It was a testament to his ecstasy, a symbol of their connection. She slowed her movements, gentling her touch and soothing him as he came down from his high, her eyes never leaving his. Her gaze was soft, her expression tender and her heart full.

Stack's chest heaved, his body slick with a thin sheen of sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at her, his eyes still blown and dark with pleasure. He then smiled, a slow, lazy, satisfied smile that made her heart flutter.

"Oh, Juicy.” He murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. "That was... incredible, baby.” He sighed. “You are... incredible."

She smiled back at him, her heart swelling with content, though there was an air of mischief still there in her smirk. She held his eyes as she brought her hand up to her lips, and slowly licked her fingers clean, tasting his essence. Savoring him and committing the moment to memory.

Stack's eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he watched her, his body responding to the erotic sight as he dick twitched against his stomach and a soft groan escaped his lips. "Fuck, Juicy.” He whispered, her name a reverent of his admiration.

She smiled, a slow and seductive before she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a soft, gentle, tender kiss. Stack kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his release, his heart pounding, his soul soaring.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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[araybiaaa]

❝ temptation.❞  ‎ elias ‘stack’ moore x black!fem oc

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… modern!au, tension, flirting, cunnilingus (cause every man in this movie is a muncher!) black!fem oc, explicit sexual content.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where a good girl falls into temptation after she meets elias ‘stack’ moore.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… soooo i wanted to try something different and do a modern!au with stack. (smoke’s still my favorite twin. the real girlies get it!) but i wanted to challenge myself a bit here.. this idea honestly came out of nowhere. i opened a03 and just started typing and somewhere down the line it became a one shot with 5k+ words?? 😭 also just wanted to say tysm for all of the love on my other fics. smoke and annie are near and dear to my heart and i’m glad you guys enjoyed my interpretations/writings for them. just a fair warning, the girl in this is very unserious but who wouldn’t be if you saw a vampire that looked like mbj! requests are open so send in something if you’d like — just keep in mind of my rules. anyway. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

“he’s dangerous. if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him.” their words seemed portent at first; a precautionary warning that had her wary of him. she didn’t know him but she’s heard enough stories about him to know that he was feared by everyone. his reputation was something akin of their town’s own boogeyman or freddy kreuger — he was dangerous, menacing and someone to be fearful of.

cleo hadn’t been in town long enough to know if his reputation superseded him or if the rumor’s held some weight of validity in them but her curiosity was piqued to meet the guy that had people hurriedly locking their doors when the sun went down and removing the welcome mats off of their front porches.

at first, she wondered if everyone in town had collectively decided to pull a prank on her as some sort of initiation or simply for their own amusement. because to her elias moore seemed more like a ghost than a vampire. she lurked outside after hours, even against their warnings — completely foolish and naive, but she never saw him around.

she doesn’t know why she wants to see him so bad, maybe it’s because everyone else has and she feels strangely left out. or maybe it’s because she needs to see for herself if there was a world where mythical creatures existed outside of the cheesy television shows she used to watch and the books that she read. but much to her dismayed defeat, time continued on with her being the only one who had yet to meet the feared elias moore.

“what does he look like?” she asked, feigning innocence behind her curiosity that her best friend, naomi easily sees through and narrows a pointed glare at her. “what? i just want to know in case i see him around somewhere!” she murmurs with a halfhearted shrug. it didn’t seem like an actual possibility with how she hadn’t so far, but she didn’t want naomi to know that she was willingly seeking him out.

naomi sighs, pursing her lips as she tapped her manicured fingers against her thigh. after a moment’s contemplation, she reveals: “i’ve only seen him around a few times. he doesn’t look like any of those sick looking vampire that you see on tv. he’s actually…fine.” at this, cleo’s eyebrows raise in amusement at her friend’s description. “he has this look about him that makes you weak in the knees whenever he smiles at you. it’s effortlessly sexy and his eyes — just don’t look in them too long cause you’re gonna find yourself wanting him to turn you into a vampire too just so you can spend the rest of eternity with him. i’m only telling you this because you asked, but don’t go around asking anyone else about him. you don’t want your daddy finding out about it.”

cleo nodded in agreement, but still found her mind wandering about him. she knows that naomi’s right, her overly religious father would have an aneurysm if he’d found out that she was asking questions about the town’s social pariah. but that didn’t stop her from visualizing him through naomi’s description.

she’s only ever heard of naomi speaking negatively about elias so for her to refer to him as fine despite her disliking of him had intrigued cleo. “yeah, you’re right. i was just curious but now i know.”

naomi’s pointed glare deepens, like she doesn’t fully believe cleo. “girl…stay away from him for your own good. trust me. i know another girl who was curious about him just like you are and she got turned.” cleo wonders if she’s just saying that to scare her away, but surprisingly it doesn’t.

“i hear you,” naomi hums in acknowledgment but thankfully doesn’t reprimand her any further about her curiosity.

…

sometimes cleo makes smart decisions.

when it came to school and her grades, everything was always calculated in her mind for her to choose the best possible outcome. she was annoying obsessive like that — always planning ahead, analyzing and assessing even the most mundane things that infiltrated her life. but other times, on seldom occasions, she makes not-so-smart decisions; one’s that has her acting impulsively and deviating from her normally pristine behavior.

she was supposed to be going back to her dorm room to get ready for a party that she was planning on going to with naomi. it was twelve o’clock and she had just finished an exasperating nine hour bartending shift with annoying alcoholics flirting with her and their heady, glossed over eyes staring at her ass in the tight fitted jeans that she was wearing.

her dad was less than pleased about her place of employment, but he knew that she needed extra money to pay for her clothes, shoes, hair and other miscellaneous items so he refrained from making any comments anytime she she complained about a customer or the minimal pay that she was getting.

cleo was closing the bar; wiping down the sticky counters, recounting the money in the register and overturning the chairs when she looks up and sees him. he’s standing across the street but even with the distance set between them she can feel the smolder of his gaze as he looked at her. cleo stands there for a brief moment just staring back at him until she mustered enough courage to make her way to the front door.

the overhead bell rings in a soft bellow as she pushes the door open. the humidity of the mississippi air sticks against her skin as soon as she steps outside. but even with its scorching temperatures, elias’ stare pierces deeper and has her skin burning. when she steps outside, she sees him making his way towards her — his gait was stealth and calculated.

she feels goosebumps prickle along her skin, air catches in her lungs and warmth curls around her neck as he sauntered closer. the first thing that she noticed was that although naomi had been right in her description of him, she had greatly undermined it. he wasn’t just fine; he was handsome and she could already feel her knees buckling weakly beneath her just at the sight of him. the second thing she notices is his eyes and the phosphorescent glow of red in his pupils. when he finally reaches her, he stands athwart from her and slowly drags his eyes over her body. his eyes find hers again and for a moment she wonders if she could hear the hastened beating of her heart.

“it’s kinda late for you to be out here ain’t it?” he posits and the deepened drawl of his southern accent somehow makes him more attractive.

cleo swallows a shaky breath, nodding. “i’m closing up the bar. we just closed about ten minutes ago,”

he raises his brows, trailing his eyes somewhere offside. “and they just left you to do it by yourself? don’t they know it’s dangerous people out here? vampires walkin’ about like they’re humans.” he says with sarcasm lilting in his voice and clicks his tongue against his teeth with a reprimanding tsk that follows.

cleo juts her chin outwardly. “i’m more than capable of handling myself.” she rebuttals, her hand perched on her hip as she looked at him.

his eyes find hers again and he smirks impishly, nodding his head. “i’m sure.” he says; and it’s something hidden in the way that he says it that has her cheeks warming again. a moment passes between them as he stares at her with an intrigued expression worn on his face. “you ain’t scared of me,” it’s more of a statement than a question, though she knows it’s intended to be the latter.

he sounds and looks surprised by this, that he’d finally encountered someone that didn’t run away when they saw him. “am i supposed to be?” she was more attracted to him than anything, unable to stop looking at his lips and his bared fangs that peeked out from his mouth.

he shrugs, “everyone else is.”

“well i’m not everyone else,” at that he doesn’t respond, only smirks at her again making the butterflies she feels in her stomach somersault deeper. cleo bites her lip as she looks over her shoulder towards the bar. ‘don’t ever invite him in anywhere, that’s how he gets you.’ she ignores her father’s words, pushing them to the back of her mind. “you wanna come in?”

he raises another brow, “you want me to come inside?” this time it’s her that shrugs and he only gives her a brief dubious look of contemplation before he’s following her inside of the bar at her open invitation. she could feel his eyes honed in on her ass and unlike with the drunken middle aged men from before, she isn’t repulsed at the realization.

“you know, at first i thought people were lying about who you are. it seemed like everyone knew what you looked like except for me.” she says, folding her arms against her chest and watching his eyes lower to her perked breast. she bites on her lip, intrigued.

“you were lookin’ for me?”

she nods briefly, “i wanted to know what you looked like.”

he walks towards her until he’s standing directly in front of her; way closer than he was when they were standing outside and it catches her slightly off guard. “well now that you have…whatchu think?” the remark is undeniably coquettish — the soft murmur of it accompanied by the lascivious look that he’s giving her has her pinned beneath his gaze.

“i think you’re not as scary as people make you out to be,” she responds; avoiding the answer that she knows he was truly searching for. but he settles for this one too, indulging in her retreat.

“you think you can make that assumption from a five minute conversation? what if i am like everyone says?” the air between them shifts into this palpable tension; hot and undeniable. he takes a few more steps forward until he’s hovering his heightened figure over her. she cranes her neck to look up at him, “i could bite you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it”

“if you wanted to you would’ve done it outside,” she rebuttals, seeing the twitch of his curled upper lip.

“maybe i like playin’ with my food before i eat it.” and the innuendo behind his words has her breath hitching.

her skin pricks with goosebumps again at his teasing words. elias takes immediate notice of it; his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply with his heightened senses. and it takes a moment for her to realize that he must smell something radiating off of her body — arousal? excitement? — because he’s chuckling and licking his lips as he reached his hand out and brushed it over her hip. she shivers, not out of fear but of arousal. “and you sure as hell look and smell good enough to eat.”

cleo’s mouth gapes the only audible sound that comes out is a soft gasp. it’s the sound of her phone ringing that suddenly clefts through the tension hanging in the air. she jumps, startled, looking at elias whose eyes narrow at her phone like he’s inwardly cursing it for its intrusion. she reluctantly moves out of his grasp and walks over to pick up her phone that was sat at the edge of the counter.

picking up the phone she sees that it’s a text from naomi asking where she’s at. she’d gotten so distracted with elias that she forgot that she was supposed to meet naomi at their dorm room half an hour ago. she types a quick message in response, telling her that closing up took longer than expected and that she should go ahead to the party without her and that she would just meet her there instead.

she looks up from her phone at the same time elias is already walking out of the door, the sound of the bell ringing announces his departure as cleo stands there with her mind replaying their interaction.

…

a week passes before she sees him again. he’s standing outside of the door; staring, watching, waiting. she walks towards the entrance and holds the door open, beckoning him forward. “come in,” he walks inside as she closes the door behind him.

“you weren’t here the other night.” he says, catching her slightly by surprise. had he been looking for her this time instead of the other way around?

“oh, yeah. i was off. i don’t work on tuesdays and thursdays,” she explains watching as he nodded before looking away with a sheepish expression. after their last encounter, she spent the entire week thinking about him — how he looked at her, how his hand felt against her bare skin. cleo didn’t understand how she developed such a quick attraction for him, especially when she didn’t even give human boys any time of the day, but something about him was different.

naomi was right, all it took was one look from him and cleo found herself a fallen victim to his charm. “why aren’t you scared of me?”

she’s taken aback again, even more so than the first time. “why do you want me to be?” she challenges, noticing the pull of his jaw as he clenches it shut.

“your daddy’s a preacher ain’t he?” she furrows her brow, curious to know how he’d figured that out without her telling him. “how you think he’d react if he knew you were stayin’ behind after work to talk to me?”

ah, so that’s what this is about.

“well aside from me being grown and fully capable of making my own decisions, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” and she would definitely keep this secret from him for his sake and hers. “elias—”

“stack.” he interrupts to correct her.

“elias,” she says, unmoored by his correction. he gives her a look but listens as she continued. “i’m not talking to you because i’m trying to prove something to my dad or anyone else here.”

“then why are you?”

“because i want to.” she exasperates, frowning slightly. “why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“because you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” elias retorts through a forewarning tone that sounded all too familiar of her family and friends who initially warned her away from him. he was right, aside from the fictionalized information that she got through old cw shows she used to frequently watch, she didn’t understand the depth and complications that came along with being a vampire. but her interest in elias made her want to know more — she wanted the truth and all its ugliness.

“then show me.”

…

elias stack moore had a tarnished reputation way before he got bit and transformed into a vampire. albeit he was the more level headed of the two, the smoke-stack twins were well known for their violent behavior and short fused tempers. their involvement with the notorious al capone and then stack becoming involved in a near ritualistic slaughter hadn’t done anything to ease anyone’s perception of him. his reputation expanded over the near century with people reciting tales of his life; often times dramatizing it completely.

but regardless of the half-truths or stack’s solemn search for penance — he still remained feared to the point where people would refrain from staying outside at night too long just to avoid him. he kept mostly to himself, only indulging in his sexual needs with a few other vampires that lived amongst the town. if he did leave his house, he made sure it was brief just to avoid any inadvertent run in’s.

he knew he was feared and had stories told about him that would give kids nightmares. but she was surprisingly the only one that didn’t tremble in fear when she saw him or tightly clutch her cross necklace and recite scripture from the bible in hopes it would protect them and keep him away like everyone else did. instead of running she gravitated towards him; accepting and intrigued by him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

he was wary at first of getting close to her.

she had a reputation as the preacher’s sweet and innocent daughter. he could only imagine the outcry that would erupt if anyone were to find out that she had been talking to him. but cleo insisted that she didn’t care and expressed interest in wanting to see/know him — all of him. so he invited her to his house.

she came over at work — still dressed in those tight jeans and that cropped shirt that accentuated her lithe physique — all wide eyed and innocent and fucking gorgeous.

as soon as she stepped over the threshold and inside, he felt something shift in the air as he realized that she was the first girl he’d ever invited into his house. he watches her as she looks around spectatingly, crouching over a bit with her hands on her knees to look at the display of photos that he had. “your brother?” she asks rhetorically as she looked at the candid black-and-white photograph that he had of him and smoke taken years back during the time of their youth.

stack nods tersely, pursing his lips in a moue.

and he’s grateful that she notices his reluctance and doesn’t prod any further because even though it’s been over a century since his brother’s death, it was still hurt carrying him around in his memories.

it’s stack who segues the conversation, now turning the spotlight on her. “you said you wanted me to show you, so what do you wanna know?”

cleo bites her lip in thought. stack’s mind is briefly distracted with how sexy she looks that he doesn’t initially hear her question until she asks it again.

“it took me a while to learn how to do it. i taught myself most of what i know, the guy who turned my ex that turned me didn’t teach me much. but it’s the first thing i taught myself.”

she nods, biting on her lip again as she lowered her eyes in a shy chagrin. “so that night at the bar…when you sniffed me what did you smell?”

“you really wanna know?” she looks up, almost contemplative, but nods. “lust. your hormones were all over the place.” her expression’s caught somewhere between mortification and a grimace. “my hearin’ is heightened too…i can hear your heart beatin’ fast as hell. you nervous?”

at her nod, he posits. “cause of me? why do i make you nervous?” he takes a preemptive step towards her, closing the distance between them. he hears her pulse quicken. smells the saltiness of sweat underneath the floral saccharine of her perfume.

she doesn’t respond, only looks at him underneath her lashes. “what else do want me to show you, cleo?” her breath hitches, eyes flit from his lips back up to his eyes in a quick maneuver. her heart beats louder and the smell of her arousal is so thick that he can almost taste it on his tongue. he inhales her scent; feeling his own arousal mix with hers.

he sees her throat stretch as she swallows.

…

it’s almost feral how he bares an arm around her waist and tugged her body closer to his. she gasps a bit at his onslaught — startled by the abruptness of his movements, but she’s immediately relaxing into his embrace the moment he brushes his mouth against hers. he kisses her with a ravenous vigor, sliding his tongue over the cupping of her lower lip as a terse plea for entry. she whimpers before she succumbs to his prowess, slacking her jaw wider as he intertwined their tongues.

his kisses are bruising and greedy to the point where he steals all the air that was in her lungs. it’s a slip of tongues and a crash of teeth messily colliding, through guttural groans and breathy whimpers. stack’s arms tighten their hold around her before lowering to her ass. he squeezes her through her jeans before giving it a firm smack; smirking at the way it ricocheted. he gives it another hard squeeze as his mouth nipped at the exposed flesh of her neck. “tell me what you want,” he rasps; gruff and throaty, his breath hot against her skin.

his lips pucker as he nipped at her skin; sucking deep, purple love-bites all over. (and it feels so good that she doesn’t even care that she’ll have to cover up the evidence of his markings with makeup to hide from her father and naomi.) she grips the back of his head, holding him against her as she fluttered her lashes and indulged in the pleasure.

“this,” she whispered, voice shaky, body trembling with an intense want. he groans against her neck; alternating between nipping and sucking. and he gets too into it because she hears a low sound that mimics a growl and feels the sharpness of his fangs grazing her clavicle. she gasps, taken back and he’s immediately recoiling — looking up at her with his swollen lips and lidded eyes.

“fuck. i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—sometimes when i get too excited it happens. but i wasn’t trying to…” he’s panicking, careening apologies to her. but she’s sliding her mouth over his and kissing him deeply with fervor.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, still pecking at his lips.

stack furrows his brow, “yeah?”

“just don’t bite too hard.”

he nods, lightly grazing his teeth into the softness of her flesh. he nibbles at her neck with the tip of his bared fangs biting deliciously into her skin. the pain is sharp but still pleasurable enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head. his hands make their way to the front of her body, sliding over her abdomen and hovering at the waistband of her jeans. she breathes softly through her parted lips, emanating a whimper when he bites into her lower lip. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, reaching his hands between the crux of her thighs and sliding his thumb over her slit — passing the pleasure over the seam of her jeans.

her underwear suddenly becomes sticky with her arousal and knowing that he could smell it on her was sending her over the edge. she feels this incessant pleasure building; coiling in her stomach and spreading through the heat of the place where she desired him the most. “can i taste you?” at her consenting nod, he maneuvers them towards the couch and eases her down onto the cushion.

he pries their wet lips apart with a ‘smack’, a string of saliva draws at their disconnection. she holds the smother head of his gaze, watching as he lowers to his knees. “lift your hips up for me,” he murmurs, already working at the buttons and zippers of her pants that loosen around her hips.

she concedes, arching her hips off of the couch just enough so that stack’s hands are able to tug the tight fitted fabric over her hips and down her thighs. “look at you,” he says; marveling at the sight of her arousal. the dark spot is visible against her pink underwear — soddening through the fabric. “already so wet and ready for me.” he kisses the inside of her thighs, nudging the bridge of his nose against her cunt.

she shivers through a moan, it’s just the barest of contact but she’s hypersensitive to his touch. his deft fingers pull at her ruined underwear, sliding them down her legs and absentmindedly throwing them aside so that she’s sat completely bare in front of him.

her cheeks warm at her vulnerability.

stack’s hand brushes against her calf as he gripped her leg and hefted it easily over his left shoulder. his eyes hone in on her cunt as she spreads open; staring in awe at the slick that’s gathered between her folds. he grabs at her other leg, barring it around his right shoulder until he’s got a perfect position of her cunt displayed in front of him.

cleo arches her hips slightly, holding herself upright as she rests the palms of her hand against the cushions. her heartbeat quickens at the desire that grows, palpable and thick in its emerging, sending another jolting throb directly into her cunt. she could feel the wisps of his breath as he leaned in. he brushes a teasing kiss against her thigh, humming softly at the way she shivers in response.

he nudged himself closer towards her cunt; pressing soft kisses against her skin in passing before he finally reaches the place where he could smell the the evidence of her want. he presses a kiss against it and she shudders, feeling the tension roll down her spine and curl into her toes. she doesn’t even have a moment to gather her bearings, because then he’s flattening his tongue and licking her up from the back of her perineum to her clitoris. “oh—fuck. s-stack,” she bellows a soft cry of pleasure, her hands grip into the couch to seek purchase.

and when he reaches the over sensitive bud, he puckers his swollen lips and sucks her into his mouth; skillfully using his tongue to massage her clit. she feels the texture of his tongue stimulating her clit, sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure burning through the crevices of her body. her breath catches in her throat and she’s shivering so hard that stack has to pull his mouth away to remind her to breathe.

she nods numbly, blinking through the fogginess of her vision. she parts her lips and exhaled shakily; attempting to lull her breathing. “grind your hips against my face,” she whimpers, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck to anchor herself as she slowly rolled her hips against his face.

“ohmygo—” the added pressure of his nose and tongue assaulting her clit has her dizzy. his hands grip her hips, fingers dig into the meat of her thighs holding her against him.

he makes his way up her vulva; pausing right before he reached her clit and increased the pressure so that the base of his tongue was forced slightly under her clit. he slows his movements, unrelentingly in his ravenous feat as he holds the pressure there. she grinds against him again, shaky, still trembling through her movements as she buried his face deeper into her cunt.

she could hear the lewd stickiness of her slick as he licked up her pussy; could see it glistening over his face — a messy mixture of her arousal and his saliva dripping down his chin. she’s already shaking towards her release but then he grazes his fangs softly against her clit and she’s suddenly bellowing out cries of pleasure as she cums.

she pulsates around his tongue, the tension tugs in her lower belly. he slides his thumb through her slickness, watching as she haphazardly falls backwards against the couch cowering away from the overstimulation. stack pulls away, lapping his tongue around his mouth as he licked up the remnants of her slick. “you okay?” he asked through a rasped breath, watching as she laid there in a dazed stupor.

she nods, just barely, feeling the heaviness of her breathing begin to lull. cleo never thought that someone as smart as her would be drawn into the temptation from a vampire, but here she was — with her cunt still throbbing around nothing, legs and body completely spent, eyes looking at his face that’s covered in her juices, and it entices her.

and it’s then that she realizes that she was totally and completely fucked. he’d warned her that she didn’t know what she would be getting herself into if she became involved with him but with the way he ate her pussy out so good and had her wanting more, cleo realized that she was willing to test the boundaries of her restraint.

…

cleo didn’t like lying, she’s always prided herself about being a truthful person regardless of the repercussions that could follow. she didn’t like people lying to her so in return, she treated everyone with the same decency of respect and remained truthful about everything. it’s not until she starts dating stack that lying easily becomes integrated into her life.

she goes to church with her father every sunday, sits in the front pew and listens as he recites sermons and scriptures about demons and evils that plagued the world. it guilted her knowing that he was wistfully unaware of the fact that she was bedding with someone he referred to as one of the demons that walked amongst them, but the way he made her feel was better than anything she’s ever experienced before.

so she keeps the secret buried deeply, and listens halfheartedly at his preachings as she finds her mind wandering on stack again. it’s easier to hide behind her fib with her father, but naomi’s naturally pestering curiosity always gets the better of her and a simple response of “i already have something planned.” does not offer enough of a rational explanation for her.

“you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks…” she acknowledges with a skeptical brow and pursed lips. she narrows her gaze in on cleo who desperately hopes that she doesn’t look too hard enough to see the hickies stack sucked on her shoulder and breast the other night. “you’re here during the day, but always sneak out to go somewhere at night like you’re meeting someone,” she accents, her perception’s dangerously close to discovering cleo’s secret.

“i’m not.” the lie falls disbelieving to both of their ears. naomi gives her a narrowed look, tilting her head. she bites on her lip in contemplation, sighing softly as she concedes. “okay! but you can’t say anything to anyone especially not my dad.”

naomi gives her a bemused look but nods.

“i might be seeing someone,” cleo murmurs, averting her eyes to naomi to see her eyebrows raise. “i am seeing someone. but don’t ask who! because i’m not going to tell you who it is. i’m only telling you this because i know you wouldn’t stop hounding me if i didn’t.”

naomi stands there quiet, considering her words. “is he married?”

“what!?” cleo beseeches, frowning at her friend’s absurd accusation. “girl, no! i am not a fucking homewrecker!”

“hey, it’s a fair assumption!” naomi rebuttals, raising her hands in the air at her defense. “you’re being sneaky and sleeping over at his place at night… it made me think that you only go over there because that’s the only time that you’re allowed to.”

“no. i’m not fucking a married man.” cleo states. she continued to stuff her clothes in her overnight bag, avid to get to stack’s place. she could feel naomi’s he eyes still piercing through her, curiosity sits on her tongue wanting to inquire further about the guy’s identity. but she thankfully relents, only giving cleo a hum of acknowledgment when she grabs her bag and clamors a parting bye as she walks out.

when she arrives at his house, she’s greeted with a smile and kiss, his arm wraps around her waist as she melts softly into the embrace. he maneuvers her bag from her hands, allowing to to fall absentmindedly to the floor with a loud thud. his hands are groping her everywhere; sliding over her ass, squeezing her titties, palming her cunt through the flimsy pair of leggings that she wore. it’s almost feral how both of their bodies aligned with the same wanton desire.

she loves how the outside world becomes a distant memory for them as they remain secluded in the privacy of his house with no worries of interruption or ridicule waiting. “if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him,” had been a warning, but she found herself gravitating towards him despite their attempts of deterrence. and she had no intentions of letting go of this feeling or him.

[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 Four

Marylin Jenkins climbed the short, rickety steps leading into Annie’s Apothecary. The pussy willow’s were in rare form that day, leaving white pedals everywhere, some of it even leading into Annie’s shop. The wind chimes swayed creating whimsical, meditating sounds.

Marylin removed her straw hat, smoothing down her coarse hair that she wore in four plaits. Annie and Marylin used to hang around a lot before she married her husband, Deacon, at the tender age of eighteen. Five children later and one on the way, she didn’t have time to go out and enjoy herself.

Marylin’s tawny skin glistened like she’d been slathered in fish grease. Her light brown eyes fell upon a woven basket with a label attached to it that read: FREE FANS FOR THE HEAT.

She helped herself to one, waving it all over her face. It cooled her a little, but The Delta fought hard to smother you in its oppressively humid conditions. Almost suffocating you with the thick, blazing air. Marylin helped herself to looking around, wondering what she needed to buy while she was on her way back home to her children.

Bam–Bam needed his hair cut.

Sonya scuffed her knees playing in the yard the other day.

Baby Tina was almost fresh out of milk.

Beatrice and Belle had a habit of getting into things they shouldn’t.

Marylin halted her footsteps in front of a bundle of sage. As she picked up one to buy, footsteps leading out of a closet behind her caught her ear. Marylin turned to find Annie’s helper, Ameila, exiting the walk in closet, fixing a checkered half-apron around her hourglass waistline. She wore a cotton field dress in a pastel yellow color, the ruffled straps hanging from her slender shoulders.

Behind her came a man. A man identical to Annie’s husband.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore.

Marylin’s features were pinched with resentment. She’d heard talk about the Smoke Stack Twins returning to the Delta from the Windy City, and the thought of seeing Stack again brought back suppressed memories of how she used to be his lover until he dropped her like a bad habit.

And then she ran into Deacon’s arms after he’d confessed to her drunk over corn liquor how much he had a big ol’ crush on her. A robust, man with sable skin and a kind smile. Memories of Stack having his way with her wherever and whenever he could, even with his crew hanging around, stirred something in her. Something akin to wanting that old thing back.

Ameila smoothed down her curly hair before tightening the black bow that held all that dense hair together and down her back. She flashed Marylin a kind smile, sweat sheening the junction between her throat and collar bones. Stack occupied himself with studying a conjure jar filled with whatever Annie put together. A label on it read: ESSENCE OF BEND-OVER.

Marylin could see from the corner of her eye Stack closing the fly to his pinstriped pants, adjusting his erection, tucking it in a way where it wouldn’t be noticeable. He cut his eyes at her and did a double take, recognizing her straight away. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, cursing under his breath. Marylin gave Ameila a practiced smile, but in the back of her mind, she was judging her. Judging because she knew exactly what Stack and her had been doing in that closet.

“How can I help ya’ today, Marylin?” Ameila inquired, a hospitable smile on her lips.

Lips that were snug around Stack’s log she was sure.

“I’ll take a bundle of sage. Annie got some more of that Sachet Powder I like?”

“Of course, right over here,” Ameila guided Marylin over to a section of the store where she could help herself, “Sure that’s all ya’ need?”

Stack perched himself on top of a wooden stool, rolling a cigarette. A black fedora with a red feather sat lazily on his head, tipped to the side, revealing a crisp fade. He had on a snug, white T-shirt and two–toned Oxford shoes on his feet in white and black.

Marylin gave Ameila a curt nod, “That’s all…where’s Annie anyway?”

“At the house. She’s preparing lunch. Asked me to look over the store.” Ameila revealed.

“Alright,” Marylin’s nosy eyes danced between the both of them, “I’ll take this and be on my way.”

The sound of Stack lighting a match hit Marylin’s ears. Ameila tallied the till.

“That’ll be two dollars.”

Marylin paid her money and accepted a brown paper bag with the things she needed. She tucked it beneath her arm before turning to leave.

“Marylin? How you be…”

Marylin paused on her pursuit. She gave Stack a tight smile. He flashed his characteristic smile, Mr. Dimples successfully pulling her in. But Marylin despised him.

“All’s well, Elias. You back for good?” Marylin asked with a condescending smile.

“I am. Gotta deal with the devil we know. How them kids?”

Marylin gave a faint shrug, “Being kids. Hope you stay on the straight path this time around, Elias.”

“I’ll take your advice…”

“Will you?” Marylin sassed.

Stack frowned, “Depends on what mood I’m in.”

Amelia busied herself with stocking empty jars in a cupboard for later use. She glanced between Marylin and Stack, noticing straight away that there was tension between them. She rolled her eyes with a sigh .

“Have a good rest of your day now,” Stack said as Marylin walked away. It held a mischievous edge to it.

Marylin glanced at him with uneasy eyes, “You do the same.”

“Tell Deacon I said quit hidin’. been a minute since he been ‘round.”

Marylin paused within the doorway, a look of disdain crossing her face.

“He’s busy being a father to his children and working the fields. Ain’t got time to be runnin’ around.”

Stack threw his hands up with faux surrender, a pout of his lips and an exaggerated lift of his brows.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know ‘bout that.” Stack replied.

Marylin glared at him before descending the stairs. She made her way to her car, mumbling something Stack was sure to be a string of insults.

“Bitter bitch,” Stack took a hit of his cigarette, “Ain’t my fault your man got side pussy. Maybe if ya’ shit wasn’t so lose he’d stay happy.”

“Stack!”

Ameila threw a pen at him that Stack tried to dodge but it hit him in the face. He picked it up from the floor and tossed it back, watching it bounce off of Ameila’s hip.

“That was so mean.” Ameila said.

“You think I shoulda stayed in the closet?”

“Yes,” Ameila argued, “Now she gonna run and tell her friends what a hussy I am.”

“Like you care what people think, Princess.”

Ameila smiled sheepishly.

“The sooner ya’ find out how real I keep it the better.” Stack replied with a smug smile.

Ameila put the money away and let down her hair. She fluffed it out before wrapping it around in a bun. Stack watched her with attentive eyes.

Before Marylin showed up, they were getting busy in the closet. Stack had Ameila propped up on a stack of wooden crates while his dick slow stroked her. They didn’t want to make too much noise so they could listen out for customers. Stack also wanted to hear the gushy sound her pussy makes. He wanted to savor the sensation of being enveloped in her warmth. He pulled out with a groan of frustration while Ameila left him with a cream–coated dick.

“C’mon…”

Ameila followed the suggestive tilt of Stack’s head, motioning for them to get back in the closet to finish where they left off.

“What if somebody else comes in? I have to keep an eye on things, Stack.”

“Ain’t like we wouldn’t know it, Princess.”

“Stack,” Ameila rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, “What if them little girls show up?”

“You think Annie and Smoke give a fuck when they be up in here all nasty?”

Stack stood up, opened his fly, and whipped out his long dick. Ameila froze, eyes following the back and forth sway of that thick pleasure stick.

“You saying no to this? I was just starting to make it cream, baby.”

Ameila’s eyes flicked left and right.

How could she say no?

“We gotta hurry, Stack.”

Ameila ran into the closet, Stack popping her on the rump, causing her to giggle and slap his hand away. They left the closet door cracked so they could hear better.

“Back on up there…”

Stack picked Ameila up at the waist and flopped her down on the wooden crates. It was positioned in a way for her to lean back against the shelf, giving her room to bring her knees up and tilt her hips. Stack settled between her thighs, one hand keeping a leg up and the other on the base of his dick. He slapped her clit with the tip, watching the way her fat pussy lips jiggled from the impact.

Her clit seemed to grow before his eyes.

“I like you like this…I can see your pretty face and watch how I fuck you.”

Stack’s big dick slipped back into her warmth and he immediately started stroking her. One hand positioned on his lower back, Stack bent at the knee, dick curving down and down up and up.

Ameila braced herself against the shelf, tiny gasps and faint whispers of “ooo, dick so good” “got me so wet” escaping her pouty lips.

“Tryna fight the feelin’ I know ya’ ass wanted. Talkin’ ‘bout, what if them little girls show up? Like you care…”

Creek.

Stack peeked around the door, stilling his hips for a second. He thought he’d heard something. Ameila could feel Stack’s dick pulsating against her walls.

“Look who’s talking.” Amelia teased.

“Shut up and take this dick.” Stack threw back at her.

He sat deep in her to shut her up. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth dropped open.

“Daddy…” she moaned.

“That’s right…”

Stack looked down at Ameila. He leaned forward, his full, lips that felt like a cloud pecking Ameila’s pouty lips softly. Stack started moving his hips again, the sound of the wooden crates rocking back against the shelf.

“Stack…fuck me…”

“Fuck this pussy?” Stack whispered.

“Yes…”

He hooked both arms around her legs and pumped faster. A creamy ring settled at the base of his dick each time he filled her to the brim. Ameila watched with surprise, eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears.

“Stack why you fuck me so good? You make my pussy so tingly, daddy…”

Her whiny voice and soft moans increased as Stack locked her legs in a strong hold, raising her lower half from the wooden crates. He bottomed out, bottom lip between his teeth and brows knitted together.

“Let sum other people show up, don’t give a fuck,” Stack shit–talked with a deep tremble in his voice, “I’m in my pussy, this my pussy, my shit, don’t care who comin’ in, fuck that…”

Ameila was loud and clear with her cries of pleasure. She couldn’t hold back.

“Stack, I think I’m leaking!” Ameila panicked.

Stack widened his stance. He folded Ameila, the hard wood of the crate digging into her lower back. He grabbed a hold of the shelf and fucked her hard. Like a leaky faucet, Ameila drenched Stack’s lower abs. She buried her face against his chest, squeals of pleasure muffled.

“Cum all on this big dick…all over it…” Stack ordered through clenched teeth.

They locked eyes, a frozen look of ecstasy written all over her beautiful face. Her body jerked beneath him with her release.

Stack was right behind her.

He pulled out and covered her little patch of pubic hair with cum. They fought to catch their breaths, the sweltering heat and humid wind making it hard to capture a lungful. Stack’s face dripped sweat onto Ameila’s cleavage. Moist strands of her hair lay flat against her forehead.

Ameila tapped Stack’s chest. Her thighs were burning and cramping up. Stack gently lowered her legs before taking a step back to adjust himself. His throat was bathed with sweat, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed spit. Amelia fixed her dress, taking her time getting off the wooden crates. She made her way towards the closet door, opening it fully.

“Ya’ll finish in there?”

Ameila jerked back with surprise.

Smoke was standing in the entryway of the back door to Annie’s shack. He wore a flannel buttoned shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of faded coveralls with the straps hanging loose. On his feet were work boots. Ameila caught a glimpse of his mojo bag resting between his pecs through the opening of his shirt. His arms were thick and muscled, slathered in sweat. A toasty brown.

Stack peeked his head around the door with a guilty smile.

“Annie got lunch ready. Tamales.”

Smoke lit a cigarette with practiced precision, eyes hard and unwavering on Amelia, completely ignoring his little brother.

“Make sure you ain’t leave no mess in there,” Smoke pointed his cigarette towards the scandalous closet, cigarette ash falling to the floor, “Wipe ya’ cum up and get it orderly for my woman.”

Stack appeared, hands in his pockets and a dandy gait.

“Now hold on, Smoke,” He gestured with his toothpick between his fingers, “How much mess you and Annie make in there and not clean up?”

Ameila giggled behind her hand.

“Nigga do what I said.”

Smoke caught her laughing and Ameila went silent.

“Come on down to the house and help Annie set the table. Me and Stack gon’ lock up for now.”

“Yes, Smoke.”

Ameila folded her hands behind her back and swept past Smoke in the door. He didn’t move out of the way immediately. Ameila’s eyes flicked between his and Stack’s.

Her heart raced.

Smoke finally stepped to the side.

“Go on,” he tipped his head, eyes blazing.

Ameila made her way down the steps and followed the trail to the house without a backward glance.

Smoke took a hit of his cigarette. Stack tucked his T-shirt in his pants and went to grab some cleaning supplies for the mess Ameila made. Smoke walked with heavy footsteps towards the front, grabbing a brass ring with keys hanging from it to lock up.

Stack was crouched down, scrubbing the floorboards.

Smoke watched his brother closely.

“I’m a need a favor from you, little bro’.”

Stack smirked up at Smoke.

“What I gotta do now, Serg?” Stack joked.

“Take Annie, Amelia, and myself to the train station tomorrow morning. We going to Mound Bayou for a day to do some shopping for the Juke opening.”

“And you need me to stay behind to check on things?”

“That’s right. Think you can handle that while I’m gone?”

“I got it, Smoke. Just make sure you look after Princess.”

Smoke tilted his head.

“You givin’ her pet names now?”

“When she giving me good pussy I sure am.”

Smoke curled his top lip faintly before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah, well, Annie want her to come.”

“Why? So she can stick her tongue in her cooze?”

Stack cracked up at his own joke. He stood, dusting his hands off. Smoke’s silence at Stack’s disrespectful remark made him pause.

“Hold on…why you ain’t jack me up?”

Smoke simply stared at Stack.

That’s when it dawned on him.

“She did?” Stack questioned with astonishment, “Well I’ll be! That girl got sugar walls! Annie really got a taste of that?”

“Caught ‘em on the back porch that night. Annie was on her hands and knees, moving her head in it.”

“Gahleee…”

Stack chuckled. He blew air out his mouth, eyes crinkled with astonishment. He looked at Smoke with a deep smile.

“You okay wit’ your wife doin’ that?”

“As long as she happy.”

“That ain’t answer my question…”

Stack left the closet. He tapped Smoke on the chest before leaving the shack.

“I’d do anything for Annie.” Smoke finally spoke as they approached the house.

Stack turned to face him, he tipped his hat a little lower over his eyes to shield himself from the sun. Smoke squinted at him from where he stood, unable to hide away from the suns rays.

“Anything? That comes with an open mind…so you okay with her seeing other people? That don’t make you angry? As possessive as you are over that woman. Hell, you was ready to kill me for fessing up ‘bout the crush I had on her.”

“I ain’t angry, fool. You see how happy she is? I’m happy she get to smile. I left her for seven years, Stack. If that gal can keep my woman happy while I’m gone handlin’ business wit’ yo ass what I look like taking that away from her?”

Stack folded his arms, nodding his head at his brother’s response.

“I get ya’ Smoke. Annie a good woman. Ameila a good woman too.” Stack said.

“She seem good,” Smoke replied, placing a fresh cigarette behind his ear.

Stack rocked back and forth on his feet, oxfords tapping along the dirt. A slow, mischievous smile crept through his lips.

“If it was me, I’d fuck ‘em both. Get a taste of that happiness. You need it grump.”

Smoke’s eyes narrowed at Stack.

“She good…”

Stack drew closer to whisper.

“Nice and tight…a squirter…”

Smoke walked around Stack with a faint grin. Something unheard of with him. Stack was one of the few to pull it out of him.

“Let’s go get these tamales while they hot.” Smoke said.

“Don’t change the subject, Smoke!” Stack shouted after his brother.

“Then I got this one right here…”

Stack pointed to a tattoo of his military numbers on his left shoulder blade. His second tattoo was his social security number on his ankle. He lifted his foot up on the dining table, pulled his sock down, and revealed it.

Ameila stroked the tattoo on his back. Annie entered from the back door, wiping her hands on a towel hanging from her shoulder. She spotted Stack with his foot on the table and before she could rip him a new one, Smoke knocked his foot off with a hard hand.

Ameila allowed her gaze to drift over Annie.

It’s been more than three days since they’d had a taste of each other. Annie seemed to be thinking the same, because when her eyes locked with Amelia’s a look of absolute lust crossed her features.

Annie was glowing.

She wore her favorite color; green. A green maxi skirt with a matching top that hung from her shoulders. She wore a kinky fro with the tips swirled into tiny bantus. Her favorite chandelier earrings with tiny emeralds in her ears. Annie mentioned how Smoke bought her those when he got his first taste of real money.

Earlier in the shack, against Annie’s alter, their bodies pressed together heatedly, smoke from her incense billowing around them. They breathed heavily as their lips pressed together hungrily. Amelia could taste their shared breath, feel the thud of their combined heartbeat as they fumbled to take off one another’s clothes. Unfortunately, the sound of footsteps approaching broke them apart.

“…Smoke got the same tattoos,” Stack continued.

Amelia broke Annie’s gaze with reluctance. Stack’s foot beneath the table stroked her ankle. Ameila hid her face, smiling.

“Smoke, can you pick up my golds from that jeweler? I went down about a week ago and they should be ready by now.”

Smoke took a seat at the table.

“More golds? Nigga, you don’t have enough?”

“Never can have enough, Smoke. Ask Jack Johnson. That nigga got a mouthful and they permanent.”

Annie positioned herself behind Smoke. She massaged his shoulders, then she leaned forward to plant a kiss to his forehead. Stack cut his eyes away when they started tongue kissing. Smoke almost dropped his cigarette. Stack caught it, taking a hit. Ameila watched them, thighs tightly clenched in her seat.

Annie broke the kiss first before dragging her fingers over Smoke’s hair.

“I like you like this, all scruffy,” Annie whispered seductively.

“He need that shit done,” Stack said, “let me hook you up before you leave tomorrow.”

Smoke kissed his teeth, “Aight…let me up, baby…”

Annie stepped to the side with both of her hands on her hips. Stack waved for Smoke to follow him out the house.

“We be back. About a hour.” Smoke said.

“I’ll finish packing up. You got more packing to do, Ameila?” Annie asked.

Amelia stood, “I’ll double check.”

Stack and Amelia locked eyes.

“…why don’t both of ya’ll tag along? I can show you how the place lookin’ Annie. I’m closer to the train station on my end anyway. Ya’ll can sleep in Smoke room.”

Stack wrapped a hand around Amelia’s waist, leading her to her room.

“Stack!—”

“It do make sense, baby.” Smoke interrupted, “Plus…we ain’t been in my other room since I got you pregnant…remember?”

Annie melted into Smoke’s arms.

How could she forget.

Smoke delivered soft kisses to Annie’s lips, “C’mon, Annie…I need you all over that room. Break that bed in again…”

Annie inhaled deeply, eyelids shuttering.

“Aight, Smoke. We gotta make sure everything is packed up.” Annie said.

“It will be. Got us a nice room in Mound Bayou too. Double beds…”

Ameila.

“Kay…”

Smoke pecked her forehead. He let Annie go and watched her walk away towards the room before he joined her. Meanwhile, Stack sat at Amelia’s vanity while she took care of last minute tasks.

“Books…I need my blush—can’t forget my hair supplies—”

“Ya’ only staying one damn night, Ameila.” Stack fussed.

“As a woman, we gotta make sure we don’t forget anything! One pair of draws ain’t enough, Stack!”

Stack flashed Amelia a defensive look, “Who said I pack one pair of draws?”

“I’m just saying. It could be two hours, I gotta be prepared.”

Stack played around with his lighter, watching the embers grow the more he flicked his thumb against the roller. Amelia secured her luggage, snapping the leather straps in place. She slipped on her ballerina slippers in a satin beige color with a tiny bow at the top.

Stack dragged his eyes over Ameila as she walked up to him, standing between his legs and stroking his cheeks. Stack dragged his hands up and down Amelia’s ass over her dress.

“You know what I was thinking?” Stack whispered.

Ameila removed his hat, placing it on her vanity. She stroked her hands down his slicked hair.

“What’s that?” Amelia replied with a hushed tone.

“Who you feel like…outta me and Annie…eat ya’ pussy better?”

Amelia leaned back to stare at Stack with a bewildered look. He continued to stroke her backside, thick fingers kneading her cheeks like dough. Amelia was stuck.

“Why you ain’t tell me about Annie…”

Ameila stilled her hands. She locked eyes with Stack, caught off guard by those unexpected words.

“Smoke told you?” Amelia finally spoke.

“He ain’t have to. I figured it out.” Stack replied with a cunning smile littered with gold.

Amelia backed away. Stack rose from her vanity. She tried to occupy herself with making her bed, but Stack was pressed up on her nice and firm. Hot all over, Amelia’s breath hitched when Stack reached around to cup her sex. He made crude gestures with his tongue against her ear, Amelia wiggling as best as she could but she was trapped between the bed and a big dick tomcat.

“She eat it better than me?” Stack spoke with a hushed tone, full lips tickling her earlobe, “Huh?”

“You so disrespectful, Elias,” Amelia nudged him back with her elbow, “That’s Smoke’s wife! Your Sister–in–Law!”

Stack caught her arm, pinning it behind her back. Amelia winced.

“Ya’ wasn’t worried ‘bout that throwing your cat in her mouth.”

“Fuck. You.” Amelia hissed.

“We did that earlier, remember? Now, answer my question, Princess…”

“Mm–mm…”

Stack hiked her dress up from behind.

“Don’t tell me no mm–mm…”

Ameila didn’t have time to prepare for Stack shoving her forward and positioning her on all fours. He disappeared behind and wiggled his tongue all in her pussy cat with gusto. Amelia arched her back, throwing her sugar walls back on Stack’s eager tongue.

Ameila gathered the bottom of her dress in a shaky fist, giving Stack a better advantage. He slurped from her ever flowing twat with those thick fingers pinching her plump cheeks, reminding him of a glazed donut from a mixture of sweat and her sticky arousal. It was between her thighs too.

“Stack, ooo, fuck…ahhhh…”

Stack pulled his tongue from between her coochie and licked his lips.

“Who eat it better?”

“Both of ya’ll…” Ameila replied weakly.

“I eat ya’ like an ice cream cone and don’t ever get tired. Annie ain’t got shit on me…”

Stack put his whole face in it and moved his mouth in a way that had Ameila seeing stars beyond the deep, southern sky. She felt her body seize up, unable to move as her orgasm reached its plateau.

Amelia squealed, throat raw as she buried her face in the sheets. Stack reappeared, fixing her dress and chuckling when Amelia fell flat against the bed. Stack licked his lips and wiped his chin as best as he could, but it was obvious what he’d just got finished doing.

Amelia peered up at him with a death gaze. Stack blew her a kiss.

“Still think it’s both?”

Ameila sat up on her knees, pussy dripping, “Yes I do. Both of ya’ll are eaters.”

Stack smirked at her with his deep dimples.

“What?” Ameila asked.

“You an undercover freak, princess. All that doe–eyed, cute shit a cover up. Let me find out ya’ been getting down in the Big Easy.”

“Believe it or not, no.”

She flashed him a coquette smile.

“Liar.”

“I ain’t lying!”

Ameila tossed a pillow at Stack.

“No sex tonight. You wore me out,” Amelia climbed off of her bed.

Stack twisted his lips in disbelief. He grabbed Amelia’s luggage for her. She fixed herself in her mirror, turning to give Stack a quick kiss before he left the room.

Outside, Smoke and Annie were loading up Stack’s car.

“When you getting your own automobile?” Stack asked his twin.

“Gimme two weeks. This juke joint shit taking my money.” Smoke replied.

Amelia descended the stairs, inner thighs rubbing together from her cum. Annie caught up with her linking her arm with hers.

“Smoke got us a room together,” Annie whispered, “Remember that lingerie shop I told ya’ about? My friend, Frankie, owns it. She also got some other things there I plan to take a look at…”

Amelia caught Annie’s eye, a suggestive wink and a sly smirk on her face.

“What things?” Ameila asked with a soft spoken voice.

“You’ll see.”

Annie released Amelia to join Smoke in the passenger seat. Stack helped Ameila inside with a hand in his. He jogged around and hopped in. Stack pulled Amelia into him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He sat his fedora on his head, tipping it down a little. Amelia put on a pair of sunglasses.

Smoke took off, the rumble of the car growing fainter as they disappeared down the road.

They missed the crows call. It was the day they were set to depart Clarksdale and head to Mound Bayou by train. Smoke sat up in bed, extending a hand to snatch his gold pocket patch from a side table in his old room. He read the time, cognac eyes wide with realization.

They only had an hour to spare.

Smoke kicked the sheets off and almost tripped when his ankle got tangled. He cursed something menacing, searching for his pants, tank top, and pastel blue button down shirt. Annie awoke from the commotion, watching her husband trek back and forth with a deep scowl.

“We overslept?!”

Annie quickly got out of bed, naked, voluptuous body on display. Titties swaying, belly jiggling, and ass shaking as she quickly got dressed herself. She already had an outfit laid out to wear, a coral pink lapel dress with a deep, plunging cross over neckline. It gathers under her bust to create a flattering line into a slimming fit around her waist through the fitted waistband. She paired it with stockings and T–straps with leather soles and a well-balanced, not-too-high heel. She worked to smooth down her frizzy hair that she’d styled in a side–swept bun last night but Smoke fucked her out of her scarf.

Smoke shot his wife a look, “Throw a hat on and let’s get to gettin’, Annie!”

“I still gotta brush my teeth! Got morning breath and your dick been in my mouth all night! No wonder we overslept!” Annie argued.

“Shit,” Smoke grumbled, “Let me go wake ‘em up. Bags in the car?”

“Yes, Elijah.”

Smoke left Annie to finish up. He buttoned his cufflinks, walking with long strides towards where Stack slept. He gripped the doorknob firm, twisting it to test if it were unlocked.

“Wake ya’ll asses up we finna be late!—”

Smoke halted, heels rocking backwards.

Stack popped up out of bed, soft dick swaying as he frantically got dressed. Amelia stretched her limbs like a feline before sitting up gracefully. His eyes studied her body like he was disassembling his Glock. Unwavering and deeply focused. He’d seen her body in the evening glow, but she was presented before him so beautifully and vibrant.

Smoke had to quickly pick his lip up and remember where he was and what they should be doing.

But that body…

No wonder Stack can’t keep his dick to himself. No wonder Annie got acquainted with every inch of her. After taking his press cap off, Stack stood before his mirror, doing a quick job at buttoning his shirt. Amelia slipped out of bed, quickly shielding her nudity as she rushed to grab her outfit she’d had prepared.

Smoke cleared his throat, “Shoulda asked ya’ll to get decent,” He checked his pocket watch again, “We got forty five minutes before that train leave.”

Amelia and Smoke locked eyes. She had a sleepy look in her gaze, that wild hair all over her head. She dropped the sheet from around her body, looking away, unable to hold his intimidating gaze. Smoke dragged his eyes down her body, stopping at the junction between her thighs.

He’d never seen a groom job like that on a beaver, but it was interesting. Pussy lips clean shaved but the top was covered with hair. Neatly trimmed. Stack slipped past Amelia, giving her a quick kiss to the neck. He entered his closet to grab a hat. Amelia put on a pair of bloomers and a bra before slipping on a plum–colored tea dress with a flattering cut. Cute cap sleeves hugged her shoulders and created an elegant silhouette. Her rump swayed mouthwateringly beneath her dress, the fabric brushing over every curve.

She focused on brushing her hair and then she pulled it into an elegant French roll, opening a little hand bag to grab some hair pins.

Smoke pulled himself away as Stack walked towards the door. Annie was situated at the front, ready to go. They went to brush their teeth, and Amelia did the same. They had only thirty minutes left. Outside, they each got into the car, not a word spoken between them. Stack took off with Smoke in the passenger seat and Annie and Amelia in the back.

The train station was a bustling hub of activity, playing a vital role in transportation and community life. Locomotives whistled, people scurried with bags in hand, musicians played tunes for money, tin cans and guitar cases open for you to toss coins and bills in. Train conductors shouted for people to board, booming voices breaking through the other passengers and their conversations.

Smoke had Annie by the hand, and Stack had Amelia. Stack was ready to knock a nigga unconscious for stepping on his good shoes. They stopped the trolly with their luggage before a ‘Colored’s Only’ ticket window. Smoke presented the tickets and what the young man standing before him revealed created a wave of relief.

“Train is ten minutes late.”

Stack clapped his palms together loudly, “Well alright! See?”

Annie squeezed Smoke’s bicep to ease him. Amelia beamed. They made their way over to the ‘Negros Only’ waiting area. Amelia’s eyes drifted left and right, as if she were on edge. Annie touched her forearm gently, bringing Amelia’s attention to her.

“You okay, Lia?”

Smoke and Stack focused on her as well.

“I’m fine,” Ameila half shrugged with a soft grin, “Just not too fond of train stations. Too busy.”

Smoke pulled his eyes away to look at the trains. Stack tapped him on the chest before handing him a metal cigarette box filled with pre–rolls. Smoke accepted it, placing it within the inside pocket of his tweed suit jacket.

“Make sure the house straight. If any nigga go sniffing ‘round the truck…bump ‘em off.” Smoke spoke closely to Stack, “Make sure Sammie helping out too.”

“You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ ! Relax, Smoke. Annie, make sure he kick his feet up for a day. Nigga don’t know how to relax.”

Smoke pointed a finger at Stack, “And you play too gahdamn much. Errythang a hoot wit’ ya’ fool ass.”

Annie and Amelia laughed at the banter between the twins.

“AAAAAALLLLLL AAAABOARRRRRDDDDDD!”

Smoke fixed his eyes on a train approaching. It was their ride to Mound Bayou. The terminal started to feel claustrophobic when everyone drew closer to board. Stack helped push the trolly, weaving through the people with skill. Annie and Amelia were hand–in–hand, dashing to the door.

Smoke and Stack gave their tickets to the train conductor and their luggage was loaded. They had to wait for the white folk to board first. As soon as the coast was clear, they got in line.

Stack grabbed a hold of Amelia’s hand. He practically swallowed her mouth with his much fuller lips. He squeezed on her ass, lifting her from the ground. Ameila swatted his arm with her hand bag a little too aggressively. Stack let her down, rubbing the spot where she struck. He shook his head at her before reaching into his pocket, coming up with some cash neatly folded and held together by a clip. He counted out some money and slipped it into her bra.

“For you to get sum’ real nice. Treat yourself, Princess.”

“Stack, I can’t take this—”

“You can and you will,” Stack glanced over her shoulder to make sure they still had some time. He got closer, speaking to her with a hushed tone, “When was the last time you been spoiled, huh? Now, go and buy a sexy little number for me to see ya’ in at the Juke. Make these hating ass birds talk.”

Ameila beamed. She pulled Stack into a tight hug with her arms over his shoulders. She kissed his cheeks before Smoke pulled her off with his arm circling her waist. Stack tipped his hat at her before watching all three of them board the train. Amelia sprinted to a window to wave goodbye with her gloved hand to Stack, blowing him a kiss.

“Show me a lil’ sum’ !” Stack mouthed.

Amelia looked both ways before hiking her dress up, revealing a garter. A pretty lace one.

“OWWWW!” Stack shouted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Smoke gave his little brother a salute before they all made their way towards an empty compartment. Smoke led the way, scoping out the train closely and with skepticism. Always on high alert.

“Here,” He shoved open a door to a privacy compartment, “Let’s go.”

Annie and Amelia made their way inside.

Smoke pulled the shades and loaded their luggage on the racks above the seats. Annie took a seat across from Amelia, cooling herself off with one of her fans. Amelia cracked a window to get some fresh air in. Smoke removed his suit jacket and sat it next to Amelia before settling beside his wife. He sat with his legs spread and an arm draped behind Annie.

“Not a long ride, ‘bout thirty minutes with one stop.” Smoke said.

Amelia popped open a book. A fairytale about a Prince Charming finding his wife. She smirked as her eyes scanned the pages, feeling herself consumed by the imaginary kingdom before her.

Smoke snuck a flask from his breast pocket. He unscrewed the cap, taking a swig. He flexed his jaw and grit his teeth from the strong hooch. Annie motioned for it, wanting to try some.

“Slow down now,” Smoke reached for the flask, “careful wit’ that there…”

“I got it, Daddy.”

Amelia peeked up at Annie through her lashes with a smile.

“Don’t go saying that we in public.” Smoke warned.

“Like we ain’t never get busy on a train before.”

Amelia’s interest was peeked. She eyed both of them, her book not so fascinating anymore.

“Annie,” Smoke looked over at Amelia, “We got company.”

“Don’t we always?” Annie cooed, “ou konnen ou renmen li, wi?”

Ameila and Annie giggled.

“Whatchu saying, woman?” Smoke squinted between the both of them.

“I’ll be back, I need to use the restroom,” Amelia placed her book down and exited the compartment, sliding the door shut slowly with a sly grin.

“You should’ve gotten a single bed instead, Elijah.”

Smoke cut his eyes at Annie before taking another swig of his liquor. Annie played with his ear, knowing damn well that’s Smoke’s spot.

“Whatever games you planning…”

Smoke was cut short when Annie’s hand grabbed him by the dick. Smoke tipped his head back and growled.

“You been fighting the urge to give into her…we gon’ have us a good time, Daddy…”

“Fuck, woman….”

Smoke felt Annie free his heavy dick and equally heavy balls. His pipe sat in her warm palm, fingers stretched around him with a firm grip. One hand wasn’t enough, Annie two–hand stroked him. Smoke dropped his head, staring down at Annie work his dick into a stiffness that had his thighs jerking.

“What you do to her, Smoke? You touch her?” Annie whispered.

His dick jumped in her hands.

“Mhm…yes…” Annie chuckled softly, “No wonder you been acting like that…”

His fingers felt good sinking into Amelia’s pussy from the back. Ever since that rainy day, Amelia had been eager to get another chance. Whenever her and Smoke crossed paths, she’d be right there, asking if he needed anything, like a good little helper.

“Need your pipe cleaned out again, Smoke?”

“Are you hungry? Annie’s busy at the shop, I can whip you up something.”

“Smoke, can you help me? My wardrobe’s stuck.”

Bending over in front of him.

Walking in from a bath with her towel on knowing he was around.

Lighting his cigarettes.

His thick fingers glided in and out of her tight puss so good he almost fucked her right there.

But he refused to touch her again without Annie being present. Because he wanted them both. At the same fucking time. And Annie wanted it too.

Smoke’s eyes snapped down at his wife sucking his dick. She used that trick tongue to lick and those succulent lips to slurp him up good. Smoke sank his fingers around her thick bun and guided her head, his hips thrusting up to meet her mouth.

“Mmmm…I love your fuckin’ mouth…feels so fuckin’ good.”

Smoke was an absolute wreck with Annie. Big, strong, mean man a submissive to his wife’s mouth and pussy. She get to talking that Creole and throwing it back Smoke gonna bust. She suck it and look in his eyes Smoke gonna drop a load in her until he can’t.

The door slid open.

Smoke tried to pull Annie off but it was too late.

Ameila slipped in and her eyes grew wide when she spotted what Annie was doing. Smoke had a tight clench of his jaw with his lips sealed but Annie throated him and tickled his sack with her tongue. Smoke released a loud moan. Amelia took a seat across from them, her eyes shining with lust and yearning.

Smoke’s brows drew tighter, his full lips moist from biting and licking them. His eyes met Amelia’s and he watched her bring her legs up. She slid her dress past her knees and opened her thighs. Her pliant thighs shot up as she removed her bloomers. She tossed them aside and didn’t hold back giving Smoke a full frontal of her pussy.

Annie looked over at Amelia while still bobbing her head and sucking her husband off.

Annie popped her lips off Smoke’s dick, “You see that pussy, Smoke? That’s the pussy you want so bad…”

Ameila used both hands to spread herself wide.

Smoke licked his lips.

“That’s the pussy I stuck my tongue in that night…” Annie taunted with a whisper so sensual Smoke’s toes curled in his oxfords, “Show him that clit, Lia…”

Amelia pulled the hood back on her clit and Smoke grunted. Her eyes fell to his dick, tracking a dribble of pre cum.

“Smoke…your dick…it’s so big…”

Smoke’s eyes rolled shut.

Thump.

He opened his eyes and right on her knees was Amelia.

Smoke watched her tuck a strand of her hair that escaped her French roll behind her ear. Lips painted a rosey red, she bat her lashes at him while stroking his thigh with her dainty hands covered in lacy gloves. The texture of the gloves made the hairs on his legs stand on end and his dick pulsate in Annie’s jaws.

Annie popped her lips off, “Here, Lia. I know you’ve been waitin’ to have some.”

Ameila gasped faintly, “Thank you, Annie…Thank you, Smoke…”

Smoke felt Annie stroke his other thigh, giving him a reassuring smile. She dragged her other hand down his torso until it rested beneath his shirt. Smoke’s chest rose and fell, anticipating the moment Amelia’s lips were wrapped around his dick.

When she opened wide and captured his dick between her lips, Smoke brought a fist to his mouth, biting down on it hard. He didn’t want to get kicked off of the train, but fuck.

Annie cupped his balls, “She feels good, Big Daddy?”

Smoke’s calloused hands stroked Amelia’s soft hair. He fell in love with the way her strands felt. Amelia looked up into his eyes while sucking.

“So eager, couldn’t wait,” Smoke shoved her head down lower, “Get more in there…you want it so bad…suck this dick…”

Annie kissed and licked his balls while Amelia sucked to her heart’s delight.

“Fucking slut.” Smoke said through clenched teeth.

Annie joined Amelia. They took turns popping their lips off Smoke’s tip, feeding each other some dick, slapping it on their tongues. Smoke had both of them by the hair.

“Both ya’ll use your tongues and lick this stick.”

“Like this?” Annie poked her tongue out as far as it could go, showing Smoke just how good her tongue can lick.

“This how you like it, Smoke?”

Ameila twirled her tongue around his leaky tip before slithering down his shaft, painting the trail of veins with her saliva.

Annie and Amelia licked Smoke up and down like he was a popsicle on a hot Mississippi summer day. He couldn’t believe how hard he was. His shit was standing straight up, balls tight, tip ready to implode like a grenade and shower both of them in cum.

Moans and whimpers echoed around the compartment. Smoke felt hot tears prick his eyes. He felt his release creep up on him so fast he didn’t have time to prepare. His hips shot up off of the seat and his cum sprung from his slit in heavy droplets. He was sweaty and spent, watching with a weak expression as both women cleaned him up.

“Ahhh….uhnnnnnnn…”

He balled his fists and another release came.

Annie had one thigh and Amelia had the other.

“You thought you had control over her, huh? Huh, Big Smoke?” Annie taunted.

Amelia giggled between flicks of her greedy tongue.

“I’m a wear both of ya’ll asses out when we get to that hotel.” Smoke threatened.

“We know.” Annie quipped.

Mound Bayou, Mississippi, served as a haven for African Americans during the 1920s to 30s due to its status as an all-black town founded in 1887 by Isaiah T. Montgomery. It offered a space for self-help, race pride, economic opportunity, and social justice in a self-segregated community, providing a refuge from Jim Crow’s oppressive racial discrimination and segregation. Mound Bayou also boasted numerous black-owned businesses, schools, a library, and other infrastructure, making it a thriving community.

They left the train which wasn’t far from where they planned to stay. The Riverside Hotel provided lodging in the Delta for traveling musicians and like-minded folk. Blues music softly played as they entered the front lobby to check in. Smoke positioned himself at the desk, cigarette sitting between his lips. He adjusted his dick, still hard from the sucking Amelia and Annie gave him.

He had a tremor in his hands. Always had since being in the German trenches with Stack. But this time, his hands shook with anticipation. Excitement. He was about to have one hell of a stay at The Riverside Hotel. Two women sitting pretty fanning themselves off with their legs crossed were to show for it. Clearly, they had a few tricks up their sleeves. Smoke caught them whispering in the backseat on the way to the train station earlier.

“Checking in, handsome?”

A kind, elderly woman recognized him and she threw her arms out for a big hug.

“Oh! Elijah! Elijah!”

“Miss Mabel,” Smoke pulled the frail woman with silver hair into his embrace, “You lookin’ good there! Missed ya’!”

Smoke smiled faintly.

“Missed you! Welcome back to the Delta! How Stack doin’ ? Still acting like a gahdamn fool?!”

“You know it. Nigga ain’t got a serious bone in his body.”

“Is that my Annie?!”

Annie’s pearly whites were on display as she gleamed. She approached Miss Mabel, avoiding kissing her temple after what she got finished doing on the train. Amelia made her way over, giving Miss Mabel a shy wave.

“This Amelia, Annie and I guest for our stay. She from New Orleans.”

“Oooh! How are you, beautiful?”

“I’m doing great, Miss Mabel. Thanks for having me.”

“Any folk of their’s is welcome. Now,” Miss Mabel slipped on her glasses so she could look at her heavy check–in book, “Let’s see…Ah!…oh…”

Smoke arched a brow, “…Errythang alright there?”

Ameila and Annie share a look.

“It’s no fuss…Robby made a mistake…he put ya’ down for a single bed room. A king sized single bed.”

All three of them locked eyes.

“If you wait around I can see what we got left. This weekend is pretty busy with the races goin’ on.”

Miss Mabel appeared stressed. She couldn’t wait to chew Robby, her grandson, out for mixing their rooms up.

“Miss Mabel, it’s alright. We’ll take the room.”

Miss Mabel peered up at him with a sorry expression, “You sure, Smoke? Ya’ know I can get ya’ another room, baby. Just–just hold ya’ horses.”

“Honest, Mama Mabel,” Smoke pressed a hand to his chest sincerely, “We be aight. As long as we got a place to stay under your roof that’s all that matters.”

Annie nodded in agreement, “Smoke’s right. We got all we need, Miss Mabel. Don’t go worrying yourself.”

“Oh,” Miss Mabel relaxed, “Ya’ll always been some good peoples. Here’s ya’ keys,” she dropped one in Smoke’s hand and one in Annie’s, “Enjoy ya’ stay!”

“Thank you,” Smoke pulled out some cash, “This should cover the room and it’s enough in there for you.”

Miss Mabel accepted the crisp bills and pat Smoke on the hand affectionately. He gripped her hand gently, giving it a little squeeze before making his way to the steps leading up to their room. Smoke sat their luggage at the bottom, clearing the way for Amelia and Annie to go up.

“Wait, Elijah—ROBBY! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

“What I do?!”

Robby Perkins, standing at six feet, seven inches, as big as Cornbread but brawny with shiny waves slicked back. Skin the color of burnt umber, his clothes from the denim coveralls he wore to the white shirt clung to his body. He stomped out from the back with a groan.

“Big Robby.”

Robby brought a fist to his mouth with his eyes bugged out in surprise.

“OH SHIT! SMOKE!”

They dabbed each other up, Robby thrilled to see his old friend he used to run around with.

Annie and Amelia said their hello’s, Robby happy to see Annie.

“Boy, help them with their things to the room!”

“Hush up, mama,” Robby grabbed two, “Let’s head on up. Smoke! How was Chicago, man? I know it was a sight to see!”

“Amazing how the brain come up with shit. Skyscrapers and busy streets. People stacked on top of each other…make you appreciate the south more.”

“More than the big city?” Robby asked with a disbelieving laugh.

They made it to the second floor.

“Ain’t nothin’ like the soil and marsh, Robby.”

Smoke flicked out a few tens for Robby.

“‘Ppreciate ya’ Smoke! Annie, Amelia…”

“Bye bye, Robby. Don’t stress Miss Mabel out now.” Annie said.

“She stress me out!”

Smoke opened the door.

It was indeed a room with a king sized bed. They walked into the rectangular room with double doors that led out to a balcony that had a tiny, wooden stool on it. There was a rounded archway that lead to a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, a sink, and a toilet. A gramophone sat in the corner on top of a little table that held old records. It smelled clean, elbow grease and all.

Annie and Amelia tested the bed. It was comfortable.

“Should be big enough for the three of us,” Annie smoothed her hands over the duvet, “Plenty of pillows.”

“It’s cozy. I like it.” Amelia said.

Smoke took a seat at the end. He bounced a little, testing the springs.

“Sturdy…”

He turned to look at both women. They were resting against the pillows, content smiles on their faces.

“I gotta make a couple stops. Here,” Smoke gave Annie some money, “I know you don’t like it, but I want ya’ to splurge. Go get cuter.”

Annie accepted the money with a roll of her eyes and a slight smile.

“Both of ya’ll. I’ll see you a lil’ later.”

“Be safe, Smoke.” Annie said.

Smoke stood, facing his woman before opening his suit jacket, revealing his pistols.

“Always.”

Smoke dipped his head and Annie slipped him some tongue. Ameila watched, twirling a strand of her hair. Smoke broke the kiss, and then he looked at Amelia. She shuddered. He didn’t take his eyes off of her as he made his way over to her. Annie sat up and watched with a bite of her lip Smoke give Amelia tongue.

Her lips were soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. Smoke could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath his nose, fingers tangling in her hair as they breathed each other in. Their tongues would appear, swiping over the other, before disappearing. Smoke slipped his tongue from her mouth and Amelia thumbed away spit from his bottom lip.

“Guess you better hurry up so we can get back to this room,” Annie told Smoke with a penetrating gaze.

“I will, baby. Here…”

Smoke sat one of his pistols against the bed.

“You can handle that. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

Smoke made sure he was decent before leaving the room.

Meanwhile, Annie and Amelia decided to take a short nap before going out shopping. They slept for a few hours, waking up to a knock on the door. Annie went to see who it was, and it was someone bringing ice and two bottles of wine.

“Thank you,” Annie accepted the tray and shut the door.

She sat the tray down, and Amelia excused herself to the bathroom. Annie changed her shoes to a more comfy pair. Amelia braided her hair and pinned it up in a halo. They double checked everything before leaving the room to hit the streets of Mound Bayou.

Hand–in–hand, they pointed out a beauty salon, a nail shop, and a restaurant with a speakeasy attached they planned to dine at for the evening. They could smell the good ol’ southern cooking as they walked by. They stopped at the nail shop first, Amelia picking a bright red while Annie chose a neutral shade; soft pink.

Out on the busy street again, Annie mentioned a spot that she planned to visit to see a friend and pick up an order. They made their way to a beautifully displayed boutique with a fancy, cursive sign that read: FRANCESCA’S

Annie held the door open for Amelia.

A sophisticated blend of rich, natural ingredients like amber, patchouli, and sandalwood, with a hint of leather. Warm, resinous, and slightly sweet, evoking a sense of indulgence and exclusivity. They were surrounded by glitz and glamour with an underlying sensuality the deeper you delved. Many garments and accessories and dresses. Lingerie you’d wear for your man or woman. It was a woman’s dream.

Romantic French jazz played, taking them on a voyage across the sea, to cobblestone streets and a view of the Eiffel Tower.

C'est moi qui suis sa petite

Son Anana, son Anana, son Anammite

Je suis vive, je suis charmante

Comme un p'tit oiseau qui chante

Il m'appelle sa p'tite bourgeoise…

Josephine Baker–La Petite Tonkinoise.

Wheels from a sliding ladder paused abruptly in front of them. A graceful woman wearing a billowing, royal blue silk dress and finger–waves in her hair appeared before them. She had the eyes of a woman who was down for a good time. A smile so bright and captivating it made you bend at her will.

“Annie! ma chérie!”

Skin like antique brass, she looked radiant. Slender, tall, and goddess–like. A woman in her early forties.

“Frankie!”

They leaned in and hugged followed by a la bise. Two kisses each.

“Comment vas-tu ? Waouh ! Magnifique!”

“All’s great, Frankie. This is Amelia.”

“Bonjour, Amélia! So happy you made it Annie. I have a dress for you! And we can find a sexy little number for your friend. Follow me, mesdames!”

Amelia and Annie walked between racks of clothing, the different textures and colors exciting them. They made it to a circular room with mirrored walls and mannequins.

Francesca launched liberating slit skirts and low necklines, popularized less restrictive corsets, and promoted alluring, pared-down lingerie in the Delta. She drew inspiration from France, London, Spain, Chicago, and New York. She was born in the French colony Guadeloupe to a wealthy, white plantation owner and a Creole mother. She lived in France until the age of eighteen and then reunited with her mother in Baton Rouge where she taught herself how to sew. She took that opportunity to learn all things fashion.

She’d been friends with Annie for years, someone she could truly confide in. She’d been there for her when Smoke left those seven years ago.

“Here, Here! I saw this beautiful, sea green silk fabric during my stay in France and immediately thought of you, Annie!”

Annie covered her mouth but her eyes said it all.

Amelia was equally as stunned.

Dazzling, demure and divine.

“This is a part of my siren collection. Isn’t she lovely, darling? It embodies the essence of sophistication and allure, ensuring you not only turn heads but also command every room you enter. You have the body, the courbes,” Frankie kisses her fingers, “tu seras une vision! Come, come! Try it on!”

Frankie ushered Annie into a changing room. She turned her attention towards Amelia.

“Let’s see what we can do for you!”

Frankie disappeared, but Amelia could hear her rummaging. Amelia noticed a back room and wondered what was behind that door.

“I’ll show you and Annie that room after this. What do you think?”

“It’s…it’s beautiful…”

The color of champagne. Seductive silk.

“Step into the limelight and embrace your most radiant self with this show-stopping piece! Cuts in the sleeves…diamente clasp…look at the slit!”

It was sexy indeed. Amelia accepted the gown, Frankie leading her to a dressing room. Amelia undressed and quickly pulled on the gown Frankie gave her. Amelia stepped out, and she gasped at her reflection.

Annie appeared and Amelia almost fainted.

“Annie…”

She wore the HELL out of that gown. The sexiest thing Amelia had ever seen her wear. Annie swayed her hips as she posed, stroking her curves and smiling from ear–to–ear.

Annie noticed Amelia and her mouth dropped open.

“Lia, my goodness…”

Amelia twirled, “You like?”

“I LOVE.” Annie said.

“Both of you look breathtaking!” Frankie said.

They didn’t want to take the dresses off, but they needed to preserve it for the opening of the Juke. They got dressed and Frankie boxed their things. She showed them some lingerie pieces, some of which Amelia couldn’t resist buying. She’d never seen anything like it. So bold and daring. She bought as many sheer pieces as she could.

After they did a bit of shopping, they sat down in the circular room, sipping from glasses of champagne. Frankie had one more thing to show them. Something she’d been experimenting with to sell.

“So, I’ve been trying to expand my brand, cater to women’s needs…I’ve done some digging and this is what I found…”

Frankie scurried over to the door to the hidden room excitedly. She motioned for Ameila and Annie to follow her. Frankie unlocked the door and when she opened it, there were shelves full of boxes they couldn’t quite make out. Frankie stepped inside first, the dim lighting casting shadows over her face. Annie studied the boxes, understanding slowly creeping up her face.

“Vibrators?” Ameila questioned with perplexity, “These are…are these for…”

“Sex toys. Hidden in plain sight! Marketed to look like something else! Isn’t that wild? These were invented in 1928. I got my hands on one in New York and fell in love! Figured I’d start selling them. We gotta have a little fun for ourselves while our men away, right?”

Frankie opened a box, pulling one of them out for a closer look, “Since women ain’t owning up to using vibrators on their vaginas or breasts, it's impossible to know how many purchased this as a beauty aid versus its...other uses. I plan to host toy parties! First of its kind! Here, in my shop!”

Frankie handed the vibrator off to Annie first. It uses electricity, which was fascinating enough. Hurray for no more hand cramps — and boasts a textured knob to provide different pleasurable sensations. It was attractive packaging with a pretty green handle. Annie past it on to Amelia, watching her stroke it with mystified eyes.

“One for the each of you. On the house, mes chéries!”

“We can pay for these, Frankie,” Annie said with a meek smile.

What would Smoke think? Would he be willing to use it on Annie?

“Annie, no! These are gifts!”

“Thank you, Frankie, I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this,” Amelia’s eyes glowed with excitement.

“Je vous en prie! Of course! Any time! Now, before you leave, Annie, I have another gift. I was away in Paris and got my hands on this Josephine Baker record! A French record! Come, come!”

They returned to the front of the store, Amelia noticed lace masks. She picked up one, a pretty lavender color, securing it over her eyes. Amelia found a mirror to see how it looked.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on this! Thanks, Frankie….”

“I see you’ve found the masks!”

Amelia removed it, placing it back where she’d found it.

“They’re sexy, yes? Take one. You too, Annie. Give Smoke a welcome home treat.” Frankie said with a wink.

Once they were loaded, they left the store, Annie still leaving Frankie some money despite her protests. They headed back to the hotel to freshen up and relax.

Annie sat in an armchair across from the bed, removing her stockings and shoes. Amelia sat in the center of the bed, the vibrator plugged in. She turned it on, gliding the little knobs across her arm. Annie opened a bottle of wine and helped herself to some. Amelia sat up on her knees, lifted the side of her dress, and ran the vibrator along her thigh. She gasped when the sensation increased.

“This is fun…I can just imagine how it feels down there…”

Annie joined Amelia.

“Try it on me,” Annie extended her arm.

Amelia moved in closer, testing it out on Annie. Annie’s breath halted and her body shivered.

“Feels good, right?” Ameila whispered.

“Yes…you wanna?”

Amelia’s eyes trailed from Annie’s lips to the device in her hand.

“Yes…yes!”

They rushed to remove their clothes, the breeze past the open balcony doors perking their nipples. Amelia reached for the vibrator again and explored further, stroking her pert nipples with it in a circular motion. Annie helped herself to Amelia’s other nipple, flicking her tongue and wrapping her lips around it to suck.

“Let me see it,” Annie grabbed the vibrator from Amelia’s hand, “Lay back a little, Lia.”

Amelia propped herself up on her elbows and spread her legs. Annie trailed the vibrations down her stomach until she was stroking her patch of pubic hair with it.

“You open up so beautifully, Lia…I can’t wait for Smoke to finally taste you…you’re so sweet and wet…”

Amelia tugged on her nipples, breaths uneven with anticipation. She tilted her pelvis upward, trying to capture that sensation on her bundle of nerves.

“You have to be patient, Lia…”

“It feels too good I can’t,” Amelia cried.

“Patience…”

“Oh, Annie…please…”

Annie smiled, “I love it when you beg.”

Amelia pleaded and begged, hips circling to get that feeling where she wanted it. Annie outlined the shape of her fat pussy, avoiding her clit. She had the knobs of the vibrator sticky from her arousal. A slippery glide.

“Annie…my button…please!”

“You’re being such a good girl, Lia…”

Annie finally gave her what she deserved.

The minute that vibrator came in contact with her clit, Amelia was climaxing. Annie teased her so much. Teased her to the point of release the second the vibration touched her clit. Amelia threw her head back and moaned so loud it could be heard for blocks.

Annie played with her clit, focusing that vibrator right there, causing Amelia to cum again. When Annie finally gave her a chance to relax, Amelia rolled over and curled into a ball.

“You okay, Lia?” Annie asked, stroking her back.

Amelia turned onto her back, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That was amazing,” She looked up at Annie, “You have to try it.”

Annie settled onto her back. Amelia climbed onto in reverse, her pussy in Annie’s mouth while she spread her legs. Annie split Amelia’s folds open, her clit just hanging there for the taking. Annie took turns sucking and licking and probing her hole with her tongue.

Amelia used one hand to spread open Annie’s hairy pussy lips and right there was her clit.

“Put it on my button, Lia. Crank it up.” Annie begged with wet lips from Amelia’s folds.

Amelia put the vibrator on the highest setting. She did what she was told, placing it over the hood of Annie’s clit. Annie immediately writhed, causing Amelia to bounce with glee.

“SHIT!” Annie shouted.

“Got ya’ creaming already, Annie!”

Annie munched on Amelia’s pussy and kept her legs back, welcoming the intensity of the vibrations. Amelia tracked a single trail of creamy white seeping from Annie’s entrance.

Annie hummed against Amelia’s pussy, clit caught between her lips. She was immediately addicted to the way that vibrator felt. And just before she could reach climax, the door to their hotel room opened.

“The fuck?”

Smoke’s hard eyes dropped to the contraption in Amelia’s hand. He cocked his head to the side before shutting the door and locking it up. He dropped his bags off at the door and as he approached them, he removed his suit jacket, unbuttoned his cufflinks, and did the same for his shirt.

He tossed everything to the floor.

“The fuck is this?”

“SMOKE!”

Annie couldn’t hold it in. Amelia giggled, enjoying the way Annie’s breasts collided with her ass from their position. Amelia shut the vibrator off and placed it on the bed so she could climb off of Annie.

Smoke picked up the vibrator by its handle.

“It’s a vibrator. We got it from Frankie.” Annie revealed.

Smoke turned it on, studying it. Amelia and Annie shared a look before their eyes glued onto Smoke’s erection creating a bulge.

Silence.

You could never tell with Smoke, but the wheels in his head were turning.

He finally looked down at them.

“Use it again.”

He handed it to Annie and they watched him settle in a chair across from them. Smoke wasted no time undoing his pants and bringing big boy out again. He stroked himself while lighting a cigarette.

“Go on,” Smoke sat his cigarette between his lips so he could roll his nut sack, “Get to it.”

Annie turned to face Smoke with her head down and her wide backside up. Amelia helped her get the vibrator into position.

“The highest again, Lia…”

The loud rumble of the vibrator filled the room. Smoke watched beyond the fog the cigarette created, eyes zeroed in on his wife with those big cheeks spread and that pink pussy with that hair he loved all open.

“Shiiiit…”

Smoke pumped his dick into his hand with his hips. He stroked it with a backhand and a front hand, making sure to give every inch of that big dick some pleasure. Last time he played with his stick was in Chicago.

Annie’s moans were deep and guttural. That vibrator must feel real good if she making all that noise.

“I’m cumming…”

Smoke poked his bottom lip out, eyes wide and fixated on the way Annie’s pussy fit over the knobs of the vibrator. He peeked between Amelia’s legs and could see the mess she’d made before he walked in.

“Switch.” He barked out.

Smoke watched Amelia get onto her back. Annie grabbed her by the neck and pulled her in for a kiss while her other hand worked the vibrator over her button. Smoke grunted when Amelia started leaking to the bed, like a running faucet.

“You leaking all over the place…that pussy wet as motherfucka…”

Smoke could feel his pre cum coat his fingers.

They were too caught up in the taste of each other’s mouths. Smoke dragged his eyes over Annie and how her breasts hung over her belly. He took in the sight of Amelia with her legs spread wide for him to see just how gushy she is.

He needed to taste her.

Annie seemed to sense his needs.

“Come, Elijah…”

Smoke put his cigarette out. He stood slowly, making his way over to them. Annie still had a hand around Amelia’s throat.

“Get down there and taste.” Annie commanded, “Regarde comme elle a bon goût…”

Smoke was hit in the face with the smell he remembered when snooping in her room. He felt his balls tighten up like he was about to cum all over himself. Smoke groaned, running his calloused hands all over the back of Amelia’s thighs.

Amelia looked down at him with those doe eyes and a slow blink. That pouty bottom lip was between her teeth. Smoke licked a long, deliberately slow trail up her slit. Annie placed a hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to enjoy. To savor.

“That’s it…that’s it, Elijah…you see it now, don’t ya’?”

“Oui…” Ameila moaned.

Smoke’s tongue curled around Amelia’s clit in a circular motion, at a snails pace, learning the taste and feel of her.

“Wrap your lips around it, Elijah…do it slow…”

Smoke followed the command of his wife and his full lips were secure around Amelia’s clit. He sucked softly, drawing back gently, savoring and taking his time. Amelia made a mess in his beard.

“Gahdamn,” Smoke spoke with a hushed tone as he took a second to admire her pussy, “taste so fuckin’ good…”

“Smoke…yes…I’ve been waiting…I needed you…”

They locked eyes. Annie spoke Creole in Amelia’s ear. Smoke went lower, slurping up her mess. His hands on her thighs tightened. Amelia moaned angelically, watching Smoke delve deeper, becoming hungrier, more ferocious with it.

“Mhm…mmm,” He moaned with his eyes closed and his mouth unable to control the way his tongue and lips worked, “hmmm….”

“She’s gonna cum, Elijah. Keep going.” Annie urged with a faint whisper.

Loud slurping came from between her legs. He did this thing with his mouth where he sucked and licked at the same time and Amelia trapped his head with her thighs.

“Don’t stop, Elijah…”

“SMOKE!”

Amelia fell apart. She pressed her hand against his forehead and Smoke smacked it away. He opened her up far and didn’t stop until he was ready. Annie played with her titties, watching with her seductive eyes.

“Oh, shit, Smoke, pleaseeeee.”

Amelia erupted. She covered her face with her arm, practically weeping.

Smoke didn’t stop.

“Give her a break, Elijah,” Annie grabbed him by his dick, tugging him, “Elijah…”

That’s when Annie realized he was punishing her. Smoke’s intimidating biceps locked Amelia in place. She looked from Annie to Smoke, tears rolling down her cheeks. Smoke sucked on her button and didn’t let off. Amelia groaned, her entire body shaking.

She was squirting in his mouth. Annie’s jaw dropped open.

Smoke released her clit and peppered soft kisses there before popping up from between her legs. Amelia was speechless. Smoke climbed over her and kissed her lips, delving his tongue deep in her mouth.

“Taste some, baby…”

Smoke shared his tongue and Amelia’s juices with his wife.

“She’s tasty.” Annie said.

“She is…can’t wait to have more.”

Amelia sat up and watched Annie and Smoke share a sloppy kiss. Annie reached for Amelia’s hand, bringing her into the session as well. All three of their tongues collided in a lustrous tango.

The bright voiced piano with its higher sound, creating that lively, clear, and pleasant sound occupied one part of the stage, shrill to some ears. The Piano that’s bass-heavy with its dark voice and booming, rich sound was on the other side.

The horns blaring and drums thumping created a ring–a–ding sound that had people grooving. Round tables and a lengthy bar made up the speakeasy. Thugs and gangsters moved back and forth, all of them recognizing Smoke. Annie and Amelia enjoyed glasses of wine while Smoke sipped on a smoked old fashioned. They had a hearty meal and delicious pie beforehand. Amelia shook her hips in her seat while Annie snapped her fingers.

“Meant to ask what you go do earlier?!” Annie asked Smoke.

“Met up with a man about selling some liquor. He wanna buy a couple crates off me. Then I had to pick up Stack’s golds. Made a pit stop to my gun man. He hooked me up with a new pistol!”

Amelia drank the rest of her wine down.

The band kicked up and Amelia stood, popping her backside. Smoke eyed her up and down with a quirk of his brow and a smirk. Annie cheered her on.

“Let me go relieve myself,” Annie leaned over to whisper something in Smoke’s ear before she got up, “Be back!”

When she left, Amelia reached for more wine but Smoke filled her glass himself.

“Thank you, Smoke.”

She gave him a bashful smile. She didn’t understand why she felt so timid with him after he was eating her pussy out multiple times earlier. She even had his dick seated in the back of her throat.

Maybe Annie’s presence gave her more confidence. Amelia could deal with Stack’s playful archetype, but Smoke is the strong, silent type. It left her unable to hold his gaze for longer than five seconds.

“Come here…”

Smoke pat the seat beside him where Annie had occupied. Ameila scooted over. She could smell his cologne. He smelled like vanilla and bourbon.

Smoke’s eyes connected with hers.

“Annie and myself want you to relax. Now, I’m speaking to ya’ because I know how I make ya’ feel. We past all that, understand? We done tasted each other more than once. It’s best you breathe…”

Amelia exhaled. Her shoulders were bunched up and she didn’t even realize it.

“Better?” Smoke asked.

“Yes.” Amelia replied with a slow nod and a smile.

“I ain’t gotta tell ya’ again do I?”

“No, Sir.”

Smoke sat his hand on Amelia’s thigh. She was wearing a shorter dress, an all black one that cinched at the waist and flared at the hips. She wore her hair in an updo with the top swirled and the back tucked under. She took a chance and wore thigh high, black stockings with a lace trim.

His finger tips stroked her inner thigh, tickling her. He inched higher, Amelia planting her hands against the table. Her back stiffened when Smoke thumbed her clit. No underwear.

Annie returned and sat in Amelia’s seat. A waiter came over, a young girl with high energy. Annie ordered another bottle of wine and another old fashioned for her husband. Annie waited until the waiter was gone before peaking beneath the table. She reached under and secured Amelia’s knee, keeping her leg open.

“Thank ya’, wifey.” Smoke said

“Welcome, husband.” Annie replied with a smile.

Smoke sank two fingers deep. He grunted, sharing a look with Annie.

“You always this messy, Amelia?” Smoke asked.

He finger–fucked her and watched the crowd. Annie accepted the wine, helping herself to some more.

“When we get back to the hotel, Lia, Me and Smoke gonna have our way with ya’…”

Amelia’s hips angled so that Smoke could have a deeper descent. She brought a handkerchief to her mouth, stifling her moans. Despite the band’s loud performance, she could hear her pussy talking.

“I know Stack opened this pussy up, but when I get up in it, you gon’ see why they call me Smoke…”

Amelia’s walls gripped Smoke’s thick fingers.

“It’s okay, Lia,” Annie soothed, “Took me a while to get used to how big he is when we first met. Once you get past the ache, it’ll feel like heaven…told ya’ that’s what comes wit’ fucking a Moore man…”

“I can feel myself—”

“Go head and rain, baby girl…”

Amelia squirted in her seat. Her head landed on Annie’s shoulder. Annie rocked her back and forth while Smoke thumbed her clit. He eased his fingers out of her gently before fixing her dress back.

It was time to go.

Smoke waved the waiter down. He paid the bill and all three of them left the table. Smoke holding Ameila and Annie by the waist as they made it out on the street. Onlookers watched with envy, wishing they had two pretty gals on their arm. They entered The Riverside Hotel, Robby perched at the front desk. He stood from his seat when he noticed them.

Bring up some warm towels and rags, plenty of ‘em. You gon’ be here if I need a change of sheets?”

Robby couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Y–yeah, Smoke. When ya’ want the towels and rags?”

“You got a cart to leave ‘em on? Just knock.”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Smoke opened the door to their room. Annie entered first, grabbing the Josephine Baker record to play. Smoke started to undress.

On dit qu'au-delà des mers

Là-bas sous le ciel clair

Il existe une cité

Au séjour enchanté

Et sous les grands arbres noirs

Chaque soir

Vers elle s'en va tout mon espoir…

Annie gyrated her hips and felt herself up. Cupping her titties, feeling on her rump. Ameila kicked off her black, velvet T-straps and unbuttoned her dress, revealing only a bra and her knee high stockings. Bra off, she helped Annie undress while they danced to the music. Smoke was fully naked.

Dick poked out.

Balls heavy.

Arms flexed.

He was ready.

Annie spun Amelia around and then she let go of her hand, Amelia twirling. They giggled and smiled, tipsy from the wine. Smoke had a little buzz himself from the two old fashioned glasses he had. Amelia went over to a decorative box and opened it, revealing lace masks. She handed Annie one, and helped her secure it. Amelia tied her own on.

Whatever this was, Smoke liked it.

But he was ready to get down to business.

He picked Amelia up, one arm around her waist, her hands on his shoulders. He placed her on her back and Annie joined his side.

“Damn, look at ya’…”

Smoke juggled her tits in his hand. He used her breasts like earmuffs and rubbed his face in between. One of his hands reached between her legs, pushing two fingers up in her. Annie bucked her hips, bringing one foot up to the bed. Smoke was digging in Annie’s walls deep.

Her eyes glistened past the lace of her mask, staring into her husband’s eyes weakly. His dick bounced each time Annie nibbled on his ear. Ameila brought her knees up and stroked herself. One finger sinking in.

Smoke and Annie heard the sounds her pussy made. They pulled apart, climbing up onto the bed. Both of them went on their stomachs and with each of Amelia’s legs out of the way, Smoke and Annie started licking her pussy at the same time.

“Eat this pussy up…mmmm…”

Both of their tongues fought for dominance, gliding against each other, attacking her clit from each side. Smoke gave Annie a chance to enjoy Amelia’s clit while he tongue fucked her.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, mhm,” was Smoke’s response to Amelia’s pleas of “don’t stop, right there, feels so good, eat me up.”

Annie was on that clit, sucking softly, delivering delicate kisses with her puckered lips. Amelia sat up on her elbows, hair in her face, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t know who to focus on, both of them working hard to make her cum.

“She’s close…” Annie says between licks.

Smoke simply groaned and joined Annie with his tongue while his fingers sank inside of her again. To see both of them between her legs like this overwhelmed Amelia in the best way. Smoke’s handsome face and that thick tongue. Annie’s beautiful lips and soft tongue. Amelia had both hands on the back of their heads.

“Give us what we want…”Annie commanded.

“Cum in our mouth…” Smoke said with a husky tone.

Amelia shook beneath their tongues. Smoke could feel her walls clamping down on his fingers.

Husband and wife flicked tongues. Amelia gathered some of her wetness between her legs, sampling it for herself. While she sucked on her fingers, Smoke got on his knees between her legs, aiming his dick at her pussy like a bullseye. Annie spit on his tip before sucking with a greedy mouth.

“You love sucking this dick, ain’t gotta ask you…”

Annie sure did. She hummed in agreement.

Her lips popped off his tip and she grabbed him by the balls while Smoke pointed his dick for entry. Amelia’s lower lip quivered when Smoke only put the tip in.

“Ooo—”

“Didn’t I tell you to relax, gal?”

Smoke popped Amelia on her thigh rough.

“Don’t you move again.”

Smoke started from the top. Annie helped herself to Amelia’s nipples. Smoke pushed in again, feeding her pussy cat more dick than before. Amelia moaned to the ceiling, inner thighs shaking. That curve was a different sensation. Stack’s curved down, Smoke’s curved to the side. He was hitting areas she ain’t never felt with a dick.

“Oh, my goodness,” Amelia inhaled sharply when Smoke plunged deeper, “SIR!”

“Puss, so tight, look at this shit, Annie.”

Annie peered between her legs. She could see her walls tugging on Smoke in a vice grip.

“Open her up, Smoke. She need more dick in her.” Annie said.

Smoke propped himself up and dropped dick off in her wet, tight, slit. Amelia had no where to run. Annie could hear Smoke’s balls slapping Amelia’s ass and he wasn’t even stroking fast. It was a torturous game. He would delve deep, hold, then draw back to the tip, and then deep again in one fluid motion. He wanted her to feel all of him. Amelia couldn’t see past the tears welling up in her orbs.

She was stuttering, mumbling, crying.

“Smoke, my pussy, it’s so open, I feel it–I feel it stretching m–me…”

Smoke didn’t care, he increased the pace of his hips, his groin knocking against her. The bed bounced, whoever stayed beneath them were afraid they’d come through the ceiling for certain.

The sudden sensation of plunging into the wettest vessel crept over Smoke, prickly and twisting his stomach into butterflies. She was creaming on him. And they could all hear it. He had to slow down or else his dick will slip out. Smoke folded Amelia in half and put all his weight on the back of her knees. Annie had to stop sucking on her nipples to see what all that commotion was about.

“Lia…girl…ya’ making a big mess!”

Smoke slammed into her with his toes planted.

“YES!!!!!!”

He buried himself to the hilt to feel her walls convulse with her orgasm. Annie peppered kisses all over Amelia’s face.

Smoke withdrew his hips, dick swinging and dripping, “Aight ass in the air.”

Amelia’s knees wobbled beneath her as she arched her back.

“Let me see…”

Smoke stood behind her, and Annie cleaned her up and did the same for Smoke’s dick. Annie grabbed Smoke at the base and pushed him inside.

“Ahhhhhh, shiiit,” Smoke frowned his face.

He secured Amelia by her hips and pumped her from behind. Her ass ricocheted, cheeks clapping each time Smoke entered her. A wet, slippery sound mixed with skin slapping filled the hotel room. Smoke put a hand between Annie’s legs and stroked her clit, looking her in the eyes. 

Amelia’s hands flailed, and she tried to push Smoke off but he secured her elbows with both of his hands and drilled into her.

“You ain’t goin’ no where, take this dick!”

Annie settled in front of Amelia. Smoke slowed down some so Amelia could eat on Annie’s cat while he fucked her from behind.

“All this ass…”

Smoke slapped her cheeks around.

Amelia tongued Annie’s clit. Annie kept her mouth where it belonged—full of pussy—with a fist full of her hair. Like a good little bitch.

Amelia’s hips shook out of control and she couldn’t utter a sound with her face buried between Annie’s thighs. Smoke didn’t care that she was cumming he fucked that pussy until she was squirting again.

Smoke had Amelia all over that bed. He was gonna get his no matter what.

Annie sat on his mouth, bouncing her pussy on his tongue while he gripped Amelia at the waist to keep her stationary over his dick while he thrusted up into her. Annie leaked down his chin and Smoke whacked her on the rump hard—left cheek, right cheek—until she came for him. All that big beauty glistening with sweat.

Annie climbed off and switched places with Amelia. Amelia sat on Smoke’s face reverse so she could kiss and suck on Annie’s titties while she rode Smoke’s big dick.

Smoke splayed his arms out while Annie did her thing, bouncing on it from base to tip, titties smacking against Amelia’s. They kissed deeply, Amelia smearing her pussy cat all over Smoke’s face.

“Yes, mhm, Daddy this big dick, uhhh, love this dick, Smoke, I love you, I love the way you make love to me, AHHH!”

Amelia could have cried from how beautiful Annie looked. She was right behind Annie, ready to flood Smoke’s mouth. Annie hopped off and Amelia leaned over to suck Smoke’s dick clean. Amelia jerked him while humping Smoke’s face.

“Annie, look how your husband eatin’ this pussy!”

Amelia squeezed Smoke’s dick with both hands and bowed her back, releasing into his mouth. She lifted to give Smoke some fresh air. Smoke was on his knees, Annie and Amelia arched over and sucking his dick in turn. Smoke had both of them by the hair, controlling their movements. He would tug on Annie to let go of his dick with her lips so Amelia could have a turn.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“I’m a bust…”

He whacked them on the ass and fell back against the bed, his dick jumping and jerking with each swipe of their tongues and suction of their lips. His eyes rolled shut and then came the spasm of his hips. His abs flexed, body pushing to release a load so thick and creamy, Annie and Amelia had a hard time getting it all down. They had to let some of it drip over their breasts and down their chins.

Knock knock knock

“Warm towels and rags, Smoke!”

All three of them laughed, drunk off of sex. Smoke peeled himself from under both women, each of them practically clawing at him to stay in bed.

It was gonna be a long night.

“Ya’ll gotta give me a break…”

Smoke pulled on his pants and opened the door.

Robby tried to peek past him, but Smoke shut the door behind him further.

“Good lookin’ out, Robby…”

“Uh…need some help in there?” Robby asked, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips.

Smoke curled his top lip, mugging Robby down.

“Nah, nigga. I got this.”

Smoke shut the door in Robby’s face.

“Stingy,” Robby whispered spitefully as he walked off.

@blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[writerofautumnnights]

A Dance with the Devil

*No spoilers. It takes place before the brothers return to Mississippi

pairing: Elias “Stack” Moore x Black!OC

sumary: Lena Pearl, a waitress in Al Capone's world, confronts Elias "Stack" Moore, a man caught in the same violent life she tries to escape. As tensions rise, they both face the uncomfortable truth about their shared darkness. Their connection is undeniable, but will it be their salvation—or their undoing?

warmings: angust, mention of death, internal conflicts, survival and violence. English is not my first language.

word count: 4,7K

-

The Green Mill - Chicago, 1929

The cutting Chicago wind was no match for the heat emanating from the basement beneath the old barbershop. Lena Pearl adjusted her string of fake pearls as she descended the wooden stairs that creaked under her careful steps. Her emerald-green dress – simple enough not to draw attention on the streets, yet elegant enough for the job – reflected the yellowish glow of the strategically placed lamps around the lounge.

"The princess has arrived," murmured Big Joe, the security guard stationed at the inner door. He was one of the few men Lena allowed to speak to her that way.

"Mr. Capone asked for you three times today."

Lena just nodded, without revealing the weight those words carried. Working for Al Capone was like dancing constantly on the edge of a cliff – dangerous, but impossible to walk away from. There was a strange vertigo in that routine, as if she lived suspended between the urge to disappear and the need to keep being seen.

The Green Mill was buzzing despite it being only Tuesday.

The economic crisis that ravaged the country seemed only to intensify people’s thirst. The saxophone wept on the small improvised stage while white men in expensive suits mingled with South Side workers – all equal in their pursuit of the oblivion only forbidden alcohol could provide. It was ironic – the deeper the country sank, the more vibrant that basement became as a refuge for broken lives.

"Bourbon for table three and a double whiskey for the man with the hat in the corner," said Gina, another waitress, hurrying by. "Oh, and watch out for that new guy. Stack, I think. He’s been watching you since you walked in."

Lena discreetly lifted her gaze toward the indicated direction. In the shadows, partially hidden by the haze of cigarette smoke, a Black man in a dark gray suit stared at her without disguising it. There was something in his eyes – not the usual lust or curiosity Lena was used to ignoring. It was as if he recognized her from somewhere impossible, from a life she had never lived.

She looked back. For the first time in a long while, Lena allowed herself to hold someone’s gaze. There was a restlessness sneaking under her skin – recognition, maybe? Or just loneliness? Elias “Stack” Moore wasn’t just a new man at the bar. He was a living question mark, a reminder that she could still be moved by something other than fear or cynicism.

As she served the tables, she felt the weight of that gaze on her back.

For the first time in ages, Lena felt the loneliness she carried like a second skin. Among so many, she was always alone – it was what kept her safe, what kept her alive in a world where women like her served only temporary, limited purposes. And now, there was a man who seemed to see beyond the role she performed every night.

"Miss Pearl." The deep, controlled voice surprised her as she turned from a freshly attended table. Elias was there, too close, too real. "Allow me to introduce myself, Stack."

"I know who you are," she replied, offering neither a hand nor a welcome. "And I’m working, Jack."

"Stack," he corrected, with a restrained smile. "Just wanted to say Mr. Capone speaks very highly of you. Says you’re the only honest person in the entire place."

Lena couldn’t suppress a half-laugh. “Mr. Capone has an interesting concept of honesty.”

“Maybe,” Stack stepped aside, allowing her to pass – a rare gesture of respect in that place. “But I’ve learned to trust his judgment when it comes to people.”

Before Lena could reply, the back door burst open violently. Two men in overcoats entered, followed by a blast of cold wind. One of them – short, round-faced, and wearing a dangerous smile – was unmistakable. Al Capone removed his hat, revealing his scarred face, and his eyes immediately found Lena.

“Pearl!” he called out, ignoring the bows and greetings around him. “Bring me my whiskey. The special one.”

Stack watched the subtle transformation in Lena, how her shoulders adjusted, how her expression closed off even more, how she became both more present and more absent at once. To him, it was like watching a butterfly retreat into its cocoon at the first sign of threat.

As she walked away, Stack felt a strange pang. Who was that woman, really? Why did she seem so profoundly alone, even in a crowded room? And why was he, a man used to staring death in the eyes – so unsettled by a simple waitress?

“Always on time, Mr. Capone,” she replied with rehearsed formality, already heading to the bar to fetch the bottle kept especially for the boss.

Elias watched her go, realizing in that instant what Big Joe had hinted at earlier. There was something about Lena Pearl that set her apart, not just her undeniable beauty or the dignified posture she maintained in a world that constantly tried to shrink her. It was something deeper, a quiet resistance that seemed to say:

“I’m here, but I don’t belong to this place. I never will.”

Lena returned with the special bottle of Scotch whisky – smuggled in recently from Canada, on a shipment that had cost three men their lives the week before, though no one spoke of it. She carried it on a silver tray, along with a single crystal glass. At Capone’s table, the men fell silent as she approached.

“Here it is, sir,” she said, placing the tray on the table and pouring the first drink with the precision of someone who knew exactly how much pleased him.

“Thank you, Pearl.” Capone looked up, his eyes lingering on her face for just a little too long. “I missed you last night.”

In the background, the piano began a melancholic melody, blues notes weaving through muffled conversations and thick smoke. The saxophonist – a middle-aged Black man with eyes that looked like they’d seen hell – joined in with a wail that made the hairs on the back of Lena’s neck stand on end.

“I wasn’t feeling well, sir. My apologies.”

Capone nodded slowly, not believing her, but willing to accept the lie – for now. He looked at her like a man who believes he owns everything he sees. And Stack saw it. He also saw the pride in Lena as she masked her contempt behind flawless professionalism. That was resistance in its purest form. And beauty. And pain.

Capone’s gaze drifted past her shoulder, noticing Stack watching the scene quietly.

“Stack!” Capone called, his voice shifting suddenly to a louder, more expansive tone. “Come meet the Green Mill’s crown jewel.”

Elias hesitated for just a second before approaching the table – but that brief pause seemed to stretch, as if he were deciding whether to dive or retreat from the edge of a cliff. His eyes met Lena’s, and in that brief exchange, there wasn’t just tension – there was memory. Not real, but instinctive. As if they recognized in each other something long forgotten, a shared pain disguised as strength.

“Mr. Capone,” Stack greeted with a nod. “We’ve already met.”

Capone raised his eyebrows, a smile with more teeth than joy. It was the kind of smile that served as a warning.

“Have you?” he asked. “My Pearl’s charmed you too? She has that effect on men.” He laughed, but the sound held no warmth – it was just noise, like ice cracking. “But she’s different. Not like the other girls around here.”

Lena remained still, like a painting of herself. Her face was neutral, expressionless, but her clenched jaw betrayed the tension underneath. Stack noticed and understood. Capone’s words, though wrapped in charm, were fences. A territorial warning.

“I can see that,” Stack replied, his voice even, but not his eyes. His eyes said something else. They said he truly saw Lena. “Some people carry their own light. Even in the dark.”

The saxophone, almost as if conspiring with the moment, let out a sharp note – nearly a wail. The music captured what words couldn’t: That something there was on the verge of breaking.

Capone took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes following Stack with measured interest. “Stack did us a big favor last night,” he said, his tone taking on a more performative flair.

“That issue with the Irish on the North Side? Taken care of.”

Lena’s stomach tightened at the violence in the memory. That morning’s newspaper headline returned like a punch:

Two bodies floating in the river,

Enough bullets to erase names, stories, families.

Now reduced to mere statistics – and silence.

“Stack has a steady hand,” Capone continued, his pride laced with provocation. “Not like those amateurs who make a lot of noise and do little else.”

Elias kept his expression unreadable, but his eyes sought Lena’s – for just a second too long. And she saw it. There was something there – a tremor, perhaps regret, or the shadow of doubt. Not something that could be said out loud. But it was there.

“I just did what needed to be done,” Stack replied. There was weight in his words and emptiness too. Like a man used to digging holes inside himself.

Capone laughed loudly, slapping the table with delight. “Modest! I like that in a man. Makes doing business easier.”

Then he turned to Lena with that look – the one that always reminded her of her place.

“Pearl, bring us another bottle. I want to properly celebrate Mr. Moore’s success.”

"Yes, sir," she repeated. But her thoughts remained tangled in the truth she couldn’t ignore.

Stack was like the others. A killer. A man who took lives for money, for loyalty to Capone, or for any excuse that helped him sleep through the night. And still… he had looked at her as if she were whole – as if both of them might find some kind of salvation in each other’s eyes. That hurt more than any lie. Because Lena didn’t want to feel that. She couldn’t afford to.

The music seemed to change, as if the room itself could hear her thoughts. It grew heavier, more oppressive.The bass throbbed like a broken heart, while the saxophone cried notes that clawed through the air, sharp with regret.

“Pearl?” Capone’s voice pulled her back. “The bottle?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

Lena turned toward the storeroom where the special bottles were kept, suddenly suffocated by the heat and smoke in the room. She needed air, space to think. To process the disappointment she wasn’t supposed to feel – Because what had she expected? That in this nest of vipers, one man might be different?

“Stack, go with her,” Capone ordered, voice casual, but his eyes calculating. “Show her which bottles we brought back from the Jefferson Park stash.”

Stack nodded and followed Lena, keeping a respectful distance as they moved through the crowded room. The singer had taken the stage now, her husky voice rising above the instruments, singing a blues made famous by Ma Rainey:

“Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… Trust no man, no further than your eyes can see… For a man’s got a heart full of jealousy...”

The lyrics hit like a warning, a painful truth that echoed in Lena’s ears as she walked, hyper-aware of Stack’s footsteps behind her. Every syllable a sting. Every note a reminder.

When they finally reached the hallway that led to the storeroom – away from Capone’s watchful eyes and his men – Lena stopped abruptly and turned to face Stack. There was fire in her eyes. But it wasn’t just anger. It was fear too. Of him. Of herself. Of all of it.

“The Irish,” she said, her voice low but laced with something trembling between disgust and necessity. “Was it you?”

Stack glanced around, making sure they were alone before answering. His eyes returned to her with the same intensity as before but now, there was a thread of exhaustion in them.

“Is that what matters to you?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. “Or is it just something to help you keep your distance?”

“Don’t answer a question with another question,” Lena snapped, anger rising in her like a rising tide. “Two families lost their sons yesterday. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Stack stepped closer – still composed, but his eyes betrayed a storm beneath. “Those men tried to kill three of ours last week. They were planning to raid this place tomorrow night.”

“Ours?” Lena let out a bitter laugh, but it came out like a blade. “So you're one of them now.”

“I don’t consider myself anything but what I am,” Stack replied, voice quieter now, as if speaking from the bottom of a well.“A man trying to survive in a city that only gives people like us certain paths.”

The music from the club reached them like a whisper, the blues seeping through the walls like the heartbeat of a wounded creature. It echoed everything they weren’t ready to say.

“And what path is that?” Lena asked, barely breathing.

“Killing for money? Doing the dirty work for men like Capone?”

“And what’s your path, Lena?” Stack shot back, eyes burning. “Pouring drinks for men who look at you like you’re for sale? Smiling while dying a little more inside every night? Pretending you don’t see the bodies being dragged out the back?”

Lena blinked, as if his words were wind throwing dust into open wounds. He was right and that hurt more than any lie.

"At least I don’t pull the trigger," she said, steady on the outside, but wavering within. Because she knew – even without blood on her hands, she was still part of that theater of horror.

"No," Stack murmured, his tone now more sorrowful than accusatory. "You just serve the drink that celebrates after the trigger’s been pulled."

The silence that settled between them was thicker than the stifling air of the corridor. It wasn’t just silence – it was the weight of everything they felt, and everything they wanted to deny.

The music outside seemed to swell, as if the saxophone understood the gravity of that moment. A melodic lament, like a warning that what was being said couldn’t be taken back.

"We need to get that bottle," Lena said finally, her voice slipping back into a practical tone. "Capone’s waiting."

"Capone’s always waiting," Stack muttered, more to himself than to her. "The question is: how long are we going to keep doing what he expects?"

Lena didn’t respond. The question echoed inside her like a prophecy. Then she turned and continued down the hall toward the storage room, her footsteps blending with the muffled rhythm of the blues that followed them like a ghost through the dimly lit corridor.

When they reached the door, Stack reached out and gently took her arm. It wasn’t force – it was an anchor.

"Lena," he said, a vulnerability trembling beneath the surface of his voice, "we’re not as different as you want to believe."

She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. And what she saw there – honesty, doubt, fear – scared her more than any threat ever could. Because it was real. Because she was on the verge of believing it, too.

"That’s what scares me," she whispered, almost regretfully. And then she opened the door.

Stack followed her inside. He closed the door slowly, like someone closing a confessional. The sound of music became even more muffled.

The pantry was a narrow cubicle, barely larger than a closet. Shelves of worm-eaten wood supported rows of carefully organized bottles–some with legitimate labels, others with homemade seals, all containing the forbidden elixir that kept Chicago running like a drunken clock. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, casting dancing shadows on the exposed brick walls.

Stack adjusted the red handkerchief in the breast pocket of his pinstripe suit–a touch of color in a man who seemed made of shadows and restraint. His presence there, in the tight space, was like an eclipse; he occupied no more physical space than necessary, but his aura filled the environment. He was the type of man who had learned to make the minimum seem impossible to ignore.

“Third shelf, second row,” he murmured, approaching Lena from behind. It was strange how he seemed to know the place better than she did, each word measured like expensive whiskey–warm, direct, impossible to forget. “The whiskey came from a shipment we received yesterday. Legitimate Scotch. A man died for it.”

“Just one?” Lena asked bitterly, stretching to reach the bottle. The movement drew attention to the scar on her right wrist, a thin, whitish line that extended across her exposed skin. Her sleeveless dress left her arms completely bare, revealing not only the scar but also the delicate strength of her shoulders.

Stack noticed, but didn’t comment. In his world, every scar had a story someone preferred to forget. He knew that kind of silence well.

“I like to know who I’m dealing with,” he said, his voice low like a confessional. “And so do you, right? That’s why you asked about the Irish.”

Lena reached for the bottle, her slender fingers closing around the amber glass. The liquid inside shimmered under the precarious light like melted gold. Gold with the taste of blood.

“I just want to know what kind of man I’m trapped in a pantry with,” she replied, without turning. “Self-preservation.”

Stack almost smiled. There was something in her calculated coldness that fascinated him–perhaps because it sounded exactly like the lies he told himself every morning when he woke up.

“You asked me if I pulled the trigger,” he said, advancing a step. The space was so tight that the heat from his body reached her back. “You want to know if I’m a killer or a man with principles?”

“Is there a difference in this place?” She finally turned, the bottle between them like a fragile barrier.

The proximity was dangerous. There, in the yellowish light, Lena could see the golden grillz that adorned his teeth, gleaming discreetly when he spoke, the way a vein pulsed almost imperceptibly at his temple, the texture of skin marked by years under the merciless sun. Too many human details for a man who should be just another customer, just another danger to avoid.

“In 1917, I enlisted in the 369th Infantry Regiment,” Stack said, his voice suddenly distant, as if he were reciting facts about someone else. “Harlem’s ‘Hellfighters,’ that’s what they called us. I spent 191 days on the front, without rest, without replacement. More than any other American unit.”

Lena wasn’t expecting a confession. Not there, not now. The entire Green Mill was waiting for them to return with a bottle of whiskey, not with war secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with uncomfortable intensity. “I wasn’t a violent man before the war. Afterward… afterward, violence began to make sense. Something about surviving changes the way you see the world.”

The smell of old wood mixed with the subtle aroma of whiskey filled the air between them. Outside, muffled by the thick walls, the piano melody continued, an ironic soundtrack for that confession no one had asked for.

“The Irish were armed,” he continued, something trembling beneath the surface of his words. “They were going to kill everyone at the Miller’s Club on 35th Street. There were women there. Children in the back. Employees’ children.”

Lena felt a shiver run down her spine. Stack wasn’t justifying himself. He was sharing a burden with someone he sensed might understand. The burden of impossible choices.

“I’m no better than you, Lena. I’m no worse. We’re just two survivors caught in Capone’s web, trying not to be devoured.”

The light flickered for a moment, as if the building’s electricity felt the weight of that conversation. In the brief moment of dimness, both their faces seemed more vulnerable, stripped of the masks they wore in the hall.

“Your eyes recognized me when I entered that room,” Stack murmured, his voice now almost a caress. “Why?”

The question caught her off guard. It was true–something about him had awakened an instinctive recognition, like an echo from another life. Was it the way he carried his own pain without ostentation? Or perhaps it was just the loneliness she recognized, so similar to her own?

“I know your type,” Lena replied, trying to rebuild the wall he was, without realizing, tearing down. “Men who think they can save the world, or at least themselves, by working for the devil.”

Stack’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile–that rare smile Gina had mentioned, like the sun breaking through at the end of a cloudy day. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to completely transform his austere face, revealing the man behind the legend that Chicago was already building around him.

“And you?” he asked, leaning slightly. The space between them diminished with each breath. The perfectly adjusted tie at his neck seemed a contradiction to the controlled intensity in his eyes. “What do you think you’re saving by working here?”

She could feel the warmth of his breath–whiskey and cigarettes, but also something cleaner, like mint. A man who arrived without making noise, who made entire rooms fall silent by instinct, but who cared about insignificant details like his own breath, even in a world of chaos. This disturbed her more than any threat.

“I’m saving the only thing I have left,” she answered with a honesty that surprised her. “The illusion that I still have a choice.”

Stack raised his hand, hesitant. For an instant, Lena thought he would touch her face – a gesture she wouldn’t know how to receive. But he only adjusted a lock of hair that had escaped her careful hairdo, his finger lightly brushing the skin of her temple.

“We all have choices, Lena,” he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. “They’re just not the choices we’d like to have.”

The distant sound of breaking glass in the hall brought them back to reality. The world outside continued its course, indifferent to the secrets exchanged in the small pantry.

“Capone is waiting,” said Lena, resuming her professional posture like someone putting on armor.

Stack nodded, taking a step back. The space between them expanded again, but something had changed in the air. An invisible bridge had been built–fragile, perhaps temporary, but undeniably real.

“You know what the hardest part of the war was?” he asked, as she turned to leave. “It wasn’t the combat, the bodies, not even the constant fear. It was coming home and discovering there was no more home. That the place we return to is never the same as the one we left.”

Lena stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Her back was to him, but Stack could see the tension in her shoulders, the rigidity that betrayed that his words had reached some deep place.

“You know that feeling, don’t you?” he insisted. “Of belonging to a place that no longer exists.”

Lena closed her eyes for a brief moment. Images of a simple house in New Orleans, the smell of jambalaya on the stove, laughter of children playing in the yard. A world that had collapsed so long ago that sometimes it seemed to have been only a particularly vivid dream.

“We’re taking too long,” she said, her firm voice contradicting the tremor in her hands. “And that’s dangerous for both of us.”

When she turned, bottle in hand, her eyes avoided his. Stack understood the retreat. He knew that dance too well–the cautious approach, the mutual recognition, and then the strategic withdrawal. It was the only way to survive when you carried more scars inside than out.

“What do you think Capone is really celebrating with this whiskey?” he asked, deliberately changing the tone of the conversation, offering her the exit she silently requested.

“Something none of us wants to know,” replied Lena, grateful for the change. “Ignorance is sometimes the only protection we have.”

Stack held the door for her – an anachronistic gesture of chivalry that seemed almost comical in that setting of criminality and survival. But Lena noticed how he positioned himself strategically, so that he would be the first to enter the dark corridor. Protection, not courtesy. The difference mattered.

As they walked back through the corridor, the sound of jazz grew progressively, like a tide rising to engulf them. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume mixed with tobacco announced their return to the real world– a world of masks and well-rehearsed roles.

“I know you don’t trust me,” murmured Stack, leaning slightly so that only she could hear. “And you’re right. But if you ever need help…”

“I won’t,” Lena cut in, but without the coldness from before. There was something almost like gratitude in her tone.

When they were about to emerge back into the hall, Stack stopped abruptly. Lena almost collided with his broad back.

“What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

“I saw something in the back of the storage room,” he replied, his voice suddenly tense. “Boxes that shouldn’t be there. With military markings.”

Lena felt a chill. Weapons. They could only be weapons. Capone was planning something bigger than the usual territorial disputes.

“Forget what you saw,” she whispered urgently. “For your own good.”

Stack stared at her, the dim light of the corridor creating shadows on his angular face. “Is that what you do? Forget what you see?”

The question hit Lena like a slap. For a moment, the air between them seemed too heavy to breathe.

“I survive,” she finally responded. “It’s what we all do.”

The music in the hall changed to something more lively, as if mocking the tension between them. A loud, fake laugh from Capone crossed the stuffy air, a timely reminder of what awaited them.

Stack held her arm gently, his warm fingers against her cold skin. “There’s a difference between surviving and living, Lena. At some point, we’ll have to choose.”

Before she could respond, he released her and went ahead, emerging into the golden light of the hall like a man without weight on his shoulders, his face already wearing the mask of efficiency that Capone appreciated.

Lena breathed deeply and followed him, the bottle of whiskey in her hands weighing like lead. As she approached Capone’s table, where Stack had already resumed his place, she realized something disturbing–for the first time in years, she felt fear. Not the familiar fear of Capone, of violence or poverty.

It was the fear of possibilities. The fear that perhaps, just perhaps, there were more paths than she had allowed herself to see.

When she placed the bottle before Capone, her eyes briefly crossed with Stack’s. In that silent look, there was an unspoken promise–or perhaps a warning. His eyes, which normally seemed always distant, trapped in a past he never talked about, were now firmly anchored in the present. In Lena. In possibilities too dangerous to name.

“Stack!” Capone’s voice cut through the air. “Where’s your brother tonight? We need the best for tomorrow’s job.”

“Smoke is taking care of that business in the South Side,” Stack replied, his voice returning to its usual formality. “He’ll be here early tomorrow.”

Lena noticed how Stack transformed near Capone–every movement calculated, every expression a perfect mask. It was as if he stacked layers of protection between his true self and the world. Stack. The man who always had something stacked: money, marked cards, too many secrets.

The future was as uncertain as Chicago on a foggy night. But one thing was certain: that meeting in the pantry had planted a seed of doubt that, like the weeds in the city’s abandoned lots, would be difficult to eradicate.

And as Capone raised his glass in a toast, celebrating some bloody victory, Lena knew that something had changed inside her–something silent, dangerous, and irreversible like the tick-tock of a time bomb hidden in the city’s basements.

Nobody knew for sure where Stack had come from, only that he appeared in Chicago–along with his brother–on a night of heavy rain, with a worn suitcase and a look that said he had left more than memories behind. Now, Lena wondered what else he hid behind that gaze which, for a brief moment in the pantry, had lowered its guard only for her.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

-

Heyyyyyyyy,

There's no tag list, I just had to launch something that was burning in my mind as soon as I left the cinema. Feel free to show your love. Until next time 🥹❤️

~

[afroslacks]

So Good Part 2/?

(I need better gifs smh)

Sugar Daddy! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

I open my eyes to sunlight blinding my vision.

“Rise and shine, beautiful,” Elijah says in a playful tone, knowing I’m not much of a morning person but enjoying my suffering nonetheless.

“It’s too early,” I groan, turning my head into the pillow, dreading getting out of bed.

“Girl, it’s nine o’clock in the morning,” Elijah replies as he watches me complain from his standing position, still in his pajamas from the previous night. The man has always been an early bird and a night owl at the same time. It doesn't make any sense. I know it's mainly due to his job and how proactive he is. Smoke is the type to wake up early to get a workout in, and I know this because I’ve seen him do it multiple times in the months I’ve known him.

As I continue to wallow in bed at the thought of getting up, I suddenly feel a harsh slap on my ass, jolting me upright. I slowly turn to glare in annoyance at my sugar daddy as the blanket slides down my figure and pools at my waist.

“What the hell was that for? I’m awake, just like you wanted,” I say, feeling betrayed.

“You ain’t moving fast enough for me,” he replies as he leans down over my body in bed, a smirk on his handsome face. Placing a hand under my chin to tilt my head, he says, “Don’t look so mad—you’re too pretty for that,” then pecks my lips. “Also, go downstairs. Breakfast is ready. I’m gonna work out, and then I’m all yours, baby girl.”

Walking away, he gives me a chance to stare at his muscular back—the same one I’ve had the pleasure of scratching up every time I gave him some of my cookie.

Moments later, I make my way downstairs to see that he did, indeed, make breakfast: eggs, bacon, grits, waffles, and a side of fruit. I make myself a plate before sitting down for thirty minutes, enjoying breakfast as I watch television.

Time goes by before Smoke appears from his home gym—sweaty and all—with a gold chain to match, as if he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Good. Thank you for feeding me,” I reply, smiling.

“No problem, baby. I’m trying to make sure you have something other than one bag of chips and water,” he jokes. Smoke has always been a firm believer that I need to take care of myself properly. And for some reason, he thinks all I eat is snacks and barely any nutritious meals, like the madman he is.

But I let him have it, because sometimes I do feel light-headed.

“Anyways, I’m gonna disregard that comment, because I don’t respond to fake news,” I cut in playfully, rolling my eyes.

Smoke walks toward me before arguing, “Or, you know I’m right, as always—because you don’t eat enough when you're not with me.”

I wave a hand in his face. “That’s not true. Where do you get that from?”

He ponders, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how you scarf down food like crazy when you’re with me.”

He caught me there—but I’m not gonna tell him that, because then he’s right. Half the time, I don’t even think about how hungry I am until he reminds me. It's annoying, because then he asks me a bunch of questions, like he’s my dad or something.

“Whatever. I’m done talking about it. Let’s table that discussion for the day,” I suggest, feeling tense all of a sudden.

Elijah just stares at me for a minute before agreeing.

After we both get ourselves ready for the day, Smoke tells me he has to stop by his company to handle something—and then he’s all mine for the rest of the day. We drive through the city in his black Porsche, his hand permanently resting on my thigh. I think he can be clingy at times—in the sense that he always wants to be near me or touching me. But he says, “I just want to touch you, baby.”

It makes me melt in all the best ways.

After the Porsche is parked, we walk hand in hand into Joint Company, which is the name of his business, co-owned by him and his twin brother Elias “Stack” Moore. Even though they are identical twins, they act completely differently—so it’s easy to tell them apart. Stack acts hot-headed and reckless. Smoke, on the other hand, is reserved and level-headed.

To me, it’s a no-brainer who I’d choose.

Also, Stack likes white women who want to Black themselves. They’re so down with the brown, it’s all they want to be around.

The receptionist greets Elijah as he walks by.

“Hello, Mr. Moore. It’s nice to see you, sir,” she says, while my hand stays snug in his grip.

“Same to you, Pearline.”

Riding the elevator is a short trip. He still refuses to let go of my poor hand, so I lean into his side and kiss his neck, brushing against his gold chains.

“I’ll try to make this business talk as quick as I can. Bear with me,” he promises, leaning his head to the side to give me more access.

I rub my hand across his belly. “It’s alright, baby. You know I have nowhere to go today. I’m all yours.”

The doors glide open to reveal the company floor—employees scattered across desks, doing their jobs as usual. The twins run a successful and smooth-sailing business, so they don’t have too much to worry about when it comes to their staff.

We make it to his office. We open the door to see Stack waiting. He turns around as the door opens.

“Well, look at this—my brother and his favorite girl,” he greets with a smile, flashing his grill.

I wave softly. “Hello, Stack.”

Smoke breaks away from me to greet his brother with a warm hug.

“What’s so important that you called me in?”

Stack chuckles. “It’s all business. More than usual with you today.”

Smoke smacks his lips. “You pulled me away from my time off, so yes.”

At that comment, Stack stiffens slightly, sensing his brother’s annoyance.

“Alright. Leave her here, and let’s go into my office to discuss business.”

Both twins are gone for about an hour before Smoke returns to find me seated on his couch, phone in hand. I look up as I hear the door open.

“Sorry for the wait, baby. We had to straighten some stuff out, but it’s done now,” he apologizes, sitting next to me.

I put my phone down and lean closer. “You’re all mine now?” I ask.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he replies with a look of longing in his eyes—like he hates being away from me.

At that look, I place my hand on his neck with a simple but firm grip.

“What’s the matter, Eli?” I ask gently.

“I just see peace when I look into your eyes.”

At that comment, my heart flutters at his confession. His beautiful brown eyes never leave mine as I press my forehead against his.

I place my lips on him deeply, causing him to groan from deep within his chest. Large hands firmly grip my waist, pulling me onto his lap while my hands wrap around his neck.

The hands rub up and down my back as we fight for dominance in each other's mouths. I pull away for a second to breathe, wishing I didn’t have to. Smoke just stares at me, eyes hazy, then forcefully pulls back into his mouth with pecks to start before kisses get deeper again.

“Smoke, we can’t do anything crazy in here,” I mutter between kisses. “Baby, we can do whatever we want; I’m the boss, remember?” he replies, not giving a fuck about the people outside the office. My hips start to grind on him as we continue. 

Elijah’s pants continue to get tighter, and his bulge gets hard under me. His hands grab one of mine from his neck to slide it towards the top of his pants. “Look what you did to me, lil mama,” he rasps, pulling back to intensely look into my eyes. I blush at the discovery, feeling a sense of pride at my accomplishment. “That’s not my fault, you just don’t know how to control yourself.” I jok,e trying to lighten the mood, hoping he’ll take it easy on me.

He shakes his head full of waves before replying “I didn’t do shit and we ain’t leaving until to take of it” he promises 

Wordlessly, I undo the buckles of his belt and unzip his pants, sliding my hand underneath his boxer briefs to wrap my hand around his length.

Slowly grazing past the pubic hair, he sighs as he leans his head back, exposing his neck in relief. “I barely got started, and you’re already acting like you’re in heat,” I joke. “Don’t start teasing,” he grits out, groaning as I start sliding my hand up and down the length.

His moaning and groaning are music to my ears.It's always funny when Elijah talks smack to me as if I don’t have the balls. “Oh would you look at that moaning like you’re my bitch” I taunt feeling a little cocky.

His breathing gets heavy at my words; he's unable to respond. Feeling overwhelmed but enough at the same time.

He’s always been the dominant one in the relationship he also enjoys it when a young thing like yourself shows him up at his own game. There’s also a level of trust and intimacy in letting you take control because he feels at ease, especially with you.

So I continue stroking him as I lean in his ear, “You can act all tough in front of everyone, but I just want you to know I’m just as capable of turning you out. No matter how much you think you have over me.”

I run my other hand over my chest, tugging on my gold chains. You lean back to hold eye contact with him as you bring him closer to pleasure and release. His stomach starts to feel tight as he gets closer, “I’m gonna-” he starts before you interrupt,“It's alright, I’ve got you,” then he releases with a grunt. 

His hand pulls you closer so you’re against his stomach and exposed length, his breathing is slowly coming down as he feels the afterglow.

Elijah starts kissing your forehead and rubbing your back, wanting to get you closer. Processing how overexposed and vulnerable yet comfortable with you in the intimacy that you shared, “As soon as you’re done collecting yourself, we can get out of here,” You say in a soft voice

A/N : I'm sleepy but, I was inspired to write. What do you think? I also appreciate all the love and support! Furthermore, the random reblgs with the memes had me dying. Anyways, see you later>

[aviawrites]

love bites (sinners)

!s: stack x female!oc

summary: Josephine’s brother, Wells, was a sharecropper with the Smoke-Stack twins. After they left him without a word, she never forgave them. When they come back seven years later causing trouble, she has no idea what to do — Especially when unexpected feelings arise. [5.5k]

a/n: thank you all for loving the last sinners story and welcome to my new followers! here’s another! also, again, im going to preface this with the fact that i am black. lastly, ! all of my ocs are ethnically ambiguous unless stated otherwise in the !s, free to read for all ! anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: swearing, n word use (by smoke and stack), abuse, alcoholism, blood, fighting, guns

in this story, our characters name is: Josephine

📍 Fields Shoe Shining and Tailor || 2:00pm

Dry air blows in as I suck on my bleeding thumb, having stuck the sewing needle right into it again. Wells has left me in the store alone, as he’s so keen on doing, but as he enters again, he’s got dumb and dumber on his trail.

“Ain’t no goddamn way,” I say in awe, watching the Smoke-Stack twins walk into our shop.

“That’s what I said, Jo.” My brother smiles. I don’t. “The devil done brought their asses all the way back from Chicago.”

“They say he works in evil ways,” I state, flat faced.

Wells is beaming, smiling cheek to cheek and staring at the twins like they gave him something. I seem to be the only one remembering how they left him seven years ago.

“Say man, there any colored folk down in Chicago?” he asks.

“There's colored folk everywhere.” Stack grins, walking up to my counter.

“Why are y’all back, Stack?” 

Wells chimes in. “They throwing a party, the fancy type. Down at the old sawmill.”

“The old sawmill?” I scrunch my face up. “And who bought that for y’all?”

Smoke huffs. “We grown now, Josephine. We buy shit for ourselves.”

“I’m sorry, I meant whose money did y’all steal to pay for it.” 

“Woo.” Stack smiles wickedly, looking back at Wells. “This sister of yours always did have a mouth on her. Feisty lil thing.”

“Boy, if you don’t get the fuck on.” I roll my eyes, rounding the counter and heading toward the back.

“Wait.” Wells stands in front of me. “They bringing business.”

My ears perk up and I look back to the twins — Although, ain’t no business worth the mischief they bring with them.

“What business?”

“This suit jacket right here.” Smoke traces his finger along the button holes of his jacket. “I want you to embroider it, something classy for the party. I’ll give you twenty for it.”

I scoff. “Yea, hell no.” I begin walking off.

My brother stops me again, evoking a rough sigh out of me.

“What, Wells?”

“Come on now, Jo. We family. You gotta do this for ‘em. I’d do it myself if I knew how.”

“Family?” I furrow my brows, crossing my arms and turning my body toward the three men. “If we was family they would’ve never left you on that damn plantation when they fled.”

“It’s best you don’t speak on business you don’t know, Josephine,” Smoke warns.

Every time, he think he gets me with that damn Josephine. If only he knew that I preferred that name over any of my short ones, especially from the mouths of those I hold no relation or respect to.

“You think I don’t know, Smoke?” I near him. “Who do you think was there when he cried the nights after y’all left him?”

Wells shrinks in his spot, embarrassed. Hell, I don’t know why — If anything these motherfuckers should be ashamed for leaving their “family” to do the picking while they took their blood money and ran uptown without giving a shit about the rest of us.

“Twenty-five,” Smoke suggests.

“Forty,” I throw back.

“Thirty.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty-two. It’s the best I can do.” He holds out five clean bills, cleaner money than I’ve ever seen.

I sneer at him, rolling my eyes as I grab the bills and stuff the money in my apron pocket. 

“Atta girl.” He takes his jacket off, placing it neatly in my hand. “And make the thread match will you?”

I give him a do-you-think-I’m-an-idiot? look. Why the hell would I put orange thread on a navy lined jacket. It only aggravates me more.

“Are y’all done here?”

“Throw mine in too, Josie.” Stack coyly grins, taking his jacket off too. 

“No, Stack.”

“Come on, Jose. I got money—“

“Hell no, Stack,” I interrupt him, walking toward the back room. “You’re lucky I’m taking your damn brother's.”

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📍 Josephine and James’ house || 10:00am

Thimble covers my fingers now as I carefully thread flowers and flames into the bottom of Smokes suit. The thick smell of his cigarettes are embedded into every inch of the fabric, making me even less inclined to take my time.

Smoke is the lesser of two evils, if I had to choose. I can’t prove it, but I like to think that he at least felt a bit of hesitation before leaving Wells behind like that. Before they did what they did, when their daddy was alive, he wouldn’t only beat on them — He’d beat on Wells. I worked in a factory with my mama, so I was never subject to working in any kind of field, but Wells’ work got harder and harder the more he grew up. The only comfort he had was that he was doing it with the twins, our only friends. Ever since that day they left without a word and we heard about their destination through the grapevine, I never forgave them. The plantation got sold but each owner was as bad as the next, hitting Wells with his fist just because he could.

So no, I won’t forgive them — Not after that tricking shit they pulled on my brother, even if Wells is too forgiving to see it. God didn’t bless me with a forgiving heart.

James comes into the living room with his work overalls on, pulling the strap up over his shoulder.

“I’m heading out, baby,” he tells me.

“Oh, okay.”

I continue rocking in my rocking chair as he presses a kiss into my forehead. His retreating footsteps are tuned out by my singing, a gentle hum that gets me through the more tedious seam work. Just as I begin to get lost in my tunes, I hear footsteps nearing the family room.

I stop. 

“…James?”

No answer, only more heavy footsteps.

My heart skips a beat and I reach into the wooden table that holds our plants. I feel like a child navigating a new toy for the first time as I retrieve James’ small revolver, holding it in my free hand and pointing it at the hallway. 

Heartbeats turn into internal pounding in my ears as the steps take an eternity to reach me. When they finally do, I’m prepared to fire missing shots before meeting my grizzly demise.

As my sure murderer rounds the corner, I open my eyes to see…Stack. 

“Jesus.” I hold my chest, letting out a relived breath. “Now why the fuck would that man let you in here?”

“I’m not allowed to visit my old friends?” he asks with a smile, leaning in the doorway.

“We ain’t nothing near friends, Stack.”

He sucks his teeth. “That’s just how you choose to see it, Josie.” He walks closer, sitting in the couch across from my rocking chair.

“That’s how it is,” I assure him. “What do you want?”

“To check in on you, damnit. We just got back, I’m owed a few updates, hm?”

“You’re not owed shit, Stack. And right now you’re wasting my time. What do you want?”

He stares at me for a moment, tilting his head and biting his lip in the slightest. “I wanted to know if you still dance.”

“Tuh,” I scoff. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“No, for real,” his tone quiets. “Do you?”

“Maybe I do, Stack. But not for you.”

“…I want you to show me.”

I continue embroidering Smokes jacket. “And why would I do that?”

“‘Cause I ain’t leaving until you do.”

“I guess we’ll just sit here then...”

And we do. What feels like half and hour goes by, the silence being filled with Stack’s constant nagging. He asks me any question he can think of, my life, my brother, my husband, my sewing, none of which I want to disclose to him. Nevertheless, I do, hoping and praying that he forgets his condition and gets up to leave. 

Of course, he never does — They always were stubborn.

“Alright,” I huff, setting my embroidery needle down. “You really not gonna leave?”

“Sure ain’t,” he leers. “I’m starting to think you want me to stay.”

Accepting defeat, I set the jacket down on the rocking chair, grabbing a record from our side table and heading toward the player.

“Let me get that for you.” Stack grabs it from my hands, gently placing it on the record player and lowering the stylus.

He returns to his seat, crossing his leg and biting his lip, a hungry look of satisfaction on his face. “Go on.”

The record crackles to life, one of my favorite jazz songs blaring through the loudspeaker. As it always does, my body moves automatically, no thought needed. 

“Woo,” he pull his cigarette out of his mouth, clapping. “There you go,”

“Shut up, Stack,” I groan, turning my back to him and swaying my hips.

It doesn’t take long for me to get lost in the music, throwing my hands in the air and running them down my body, my legs, arms, and hips rocking in symphony. I’ve forgotten Stack was sitting there by the time the music comes to a close — And my eyes haven’t reopened yet when I feel his frame against my back. 

His hands hold my waist, pulling me close.

“That dance ain’t nothing like it was last time,” he says, his lips far too close to my ear.

My hands firmly rest on his. “Yea, well I wasn’t grown last time.”

“I know that’s right…” his breath grazes my neck. “You gon’ do that at the Joint for me?”

For the first time…I consider it. If it was anybody else’s Joint I’d jump at the idea, longing to feel the freedom of dancing to my hearts content once again. One thing James hates more than anything was my dancing — Any work of mine, he’d rather me not do. Even so, I can’t give the twins this satisfaction.

“You wish.”

Stack stays silent for a moment, simply pushing his chest against my back. I’m about to tell him to get the hell on when I feel his tongue on my ear…then his teeth, nipping my lobe.

Why I don’t immediately pull away is beyond me. If Smoke saw me right now…If James saw me right now…If Wells saw me — Wells.

I roughly push against his chest, turning toward him.

Stack adjusts his pants. “Come on, baby.”

“You best leave,” I suggest — I don’t know if I’m panting from my dancing or the close proximity.

He steps closer. “We got time—“

“I have a husband, Stack.”

“Mane, fuck your husband,” he urges. “He ain’t gon’ be home for another few hours, ain’t it?”

“And I need to have this suit done by then,” I reiterate, convincing myself more than I’m convincing him. “Go home, Stack.”

He searches my face for any signs of hesitation, and for a moment I think he sees it. But he backs down, putting his hands up and turning toward the door.

“Alright,” he surrenders. “But I best see you at that Joint tomorrow night, Josie.”

Hell the fuck no.

I stay in the living room until I hear him swing the door closed behind him — I’ve never trusted myself so little until now. I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I follow him out.

I’m not supposed to tolerate these men, let alone dance for one of them. This is what I’ve heard of the Smoke-Stack twins doing to women. Serenading them, fucking them, and leaving them to the dogs. It won’t be me.

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I finally walk to the door, reaching for the lock. But as I go to walk back down the hallway and finish the jacket, really this time, something on the coat rack catches my eye.

“Motherfucker,” I mumble under my breath.

Hanging there next to James and I’s winter coats, a grey suit jacket with a red pocket square sits pretty. In the pockets, Stack has left me five clean bills…$32.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📍 Fields Shoe Shining and Tailor || 10:00am

Business is slower than usual on this fine Friday morning. Wells finishes up some shoes that were brought in yesterday, and Smoke’s mostly finished suit jacket lays in the back room. It was being used as my personalized pillow before. My chin nearly falls off of my fist and my eyes flutter closed as a gust of warm wind passes over me.

All of the fatigue in my body is stripped away the next moment as two gunshots ring out from outside. Wells and I immediately pop our heads up and run toward the door.

“What the—“

My face drops when I see the scene outside. None other than Elijah Moore stands across from two men with bullets in their legs as he tucks his gun back into his jacket.

“The fuck are you doing, Smoke!?” I shout, running up to him.

“They tried to rob my truck.”

“So you shot ‘em?”

“I sure the hell did.” He looks at me crazy.

“Are you fucking serious? Y’all can’t go one day without bringing trouble can you?”

All of the store owners in the square have come outside, standing in front of their businesses and watching the scene play out.

“…Come on.” Wells pulls me back. “Go inside, I’ll handle it.”

“Will you, Wells? Or you gon’ let them get away with it again?” I yell in his face, adrenaline rushing through me.

“I got it, Jo. Just please go inside,” he begs.

I spin on my heels, rushing away from the bloody scene and back into the store on a mission. I rip a paper from under the counter and bite the pen cap off, spitting it onto the floor. 

You and your crazy ass brother need to stay away from the Delta — Maybe back up to Chicago where they’ll deal with your asses right. Whatever happened yesterday was a mistake, I don’t want it, I’ll never want it. And come pick up this jacket of yours.

Grammatical errors litter the page, but I fold up the letter all the same, pressing it tight and leaving it on the counter as I go to retrieve Smokes suit from the back. When I return, Wells is entering with him.

“You just gotta chill is all I’m saying. People don’t do shit like that around here no more.”

I push the suit against Smokes chest, stepping back.

“Fuck is—“ He looks down at the jacket. “It’s done?”

“I’m not finishing your jacket,” I tell him, plain and simple.

He eyes me as I return behind the counter, stone faced and completely avoiding his gaze.

“You been showing me a lot of disrespect, Josephine, and I’ve been nothing but good to you.” He lays his jacket across his arm. “So I’ll ask you one good time what your problem is with me.”

“You are my problem, Smoke. Both of you.”

Wells walks over to me. “Don’t start this again, Jo—“

“I’m not starting nothing, Wells. It’s called having a backbone. Keep the coat, Smoke. Your brother can have his back too.”

I can see him make the conscious decision to retain his calmness as he adjusts his position.

“Alright,” he nods. “If you ain’t gon’ finish it, Imma need my money back. Eighteen flat, and that’s being generous.”

“You not gonna play me in my own store, boy.” I pay him no mind, rearranging my counter. “That coat is more than half done. With all that money y’all got in Chicago you oughta not need any back.”

“See, what you not gon’ do is steal from me, Josephine. I don’t give a damn how mad you are.”

“Or what, Smoke?” I challenge. “You gonna shoot me too?”

He pauses, then pulls that same pistol on me. “Think I won’t.”

“Woah, woah.” Wells holds his hands up. “Is it worth all this, y’all? Really?”

Smoke and I stare each other down, neither of us budging as the barrel of his gun aligns with my nose.

“I ain’t leaving without my money, woman.”

“Well then you ain’t leaving.”

“I’ll get you your money, Smoke,” my brother mediates. “Just put the gun down.”

I shake my head. “Nah, he ain’t gotta put it down. It’s not like he’s gon’ shoot it—“

My words can barely get out when a bullet is fired into the wall behind me, causing a sharp ringing in my ear.

“Smoke!” Wells yells, running over to me.

I hold my hands tight over my ear, moving from behind the counter and over to Smoke.

“Are you fucking crazy!?” I shove him. “You gonna do that bullshit in my damn store?”

“Give me my money.”

Grace and Bo from across the street run in, examining the sight in front of them — Smoke tucking his gun back in his suit, my hands over my ears, Wells pushing me back.

“What the hell is going on?” Bo asks.

“He’s fucking crazy, that’s what.”

Smoke turns to Wells. “You best tell her to give me my money, nigga. Else the next one going into a body.”

“I’m gon’ get the money, goddamnit!” Wells exclaims.

I get in Smokes face, rage overriding my common sense. Without thinking about it, I spit — A ball of saliva lining his right cheek.

“Fuck you,” I growl.

Smoke short circuits, looking at me with ten different men in his eyes. But the good ones don’t get the best of him today; he wastes no time pulling the gun out again, aiming it right at my chest. Grace swoops in, pulling me away before he can do something he might regret.

“Let’s go, we are going,” she tells me.

“He won’t do nothing!” I yell as Grace drags me to the car. “You ain’t shit, Smoke! Your ass should’ve stayed gone!”

Bo and Wells run out behind Smoke as Grace backs us out. Smoke has completely lost his composure now, shouting all of the fuck-you-bitch’s that he can muster. I’m just glad he has sense enough not to shoot my ass where I sit. 

It’s only when driving away that I finally calm down, realizing just how huge of a mess I made of something that may not be worth it. As Grace speeds us away, I sink lower in the passengers seat, wanting nothing more than one of those cigarettes in Stack’s jacket pocket.

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📍 Juke Joint || 10:00pm

I wrap my feather shrug tighter as the cool air of the Mississippi night breeze past me. I drove here in silence and in secret without asking myself questions. Why the hell I’m here, I don’t know.

Cornbread stands up the minute he sees me walking up.

“I don’t think you should be here, ma’am.”

“Cornbread, please get the fuck out of my face,” I smile, not in the mood to stay in this cold ass weather.

“Un-uh,” he shakes his head. “Smoke gave strict orders not to let your ass in.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I reveal the burgundy embroidered suit jacket from behind my back.

“Stack told me to bring it for tonight, I’m already late.”

Cornbread is conflicted, looking behind him in search of the twins.

“Man, where your brother at?”

“My brother ain’t my keeper — Now seriously, Cornbread. We wasting time and it’s cold out here.”

A sultry voice calls out from behind the doorman. “Let her in, Cornbread. She’s with me.”

He reluctantly obliges, stepping aside. 

“Thank you,” I curtsy.

Behind him, I see my one and only friend around here — Pearline. She wears a big smile, hooking her arm in mine as we walk deeper into the dancing crowd.

“I hear you been stirring up trouble,” she taunts.

I scoff. “And you been eyeing Preacher Boy since I saw y’all at the train station yesterday.”

She giggles, looking back at Sammie who happens to have his eyes on her right this moment.

“Just a little fun,” she shrugs. “So, which one is yours?”

“Girl, what?”

“Smoke…or Stack?” she urges, a mischievous smile on her lips. “I’m thinking Stack.”

“Well, I’m thinking neither!” My eyes widen. “I am married!”

She coyly shrugs. “I am too…”

My mouth hangs agape, in disbelief at this side of Pearline — No one’s been able to pull this out of her before. Hell, it ain’t my place to be mad at it.

We don’t fit another word in before Preacher Boy comes to retrieve his little princess, excusing himself and softly pulling Pearline to the stage. She waves goodbye, but I can only give her a look. An I-know-what-y’all-did look. 

Pearline’s song pulls that dance out of me that the jazz did yesterday. I have to stop myself from rocking my body to the blues so early into the night. As if I conjured this devil, my eye is caught by none other than Elias Moore himself — leaving the bar to talk to old Delta Slim. I make my way over.

“Stack,” I nod, placing the coat in his hands.

He grins, passing his drink to Slim who quickly makes himself scarce after downing the whole cup.

“I knew you could play nice.” He slips it on over his vest.

“When I want to,” I tilt my head, the hate that I usually feel for this face completely dissolving. “Where’s Smoke?”

“Man, fuck that." He nears me. “Where’s James?”

I roll my eyes. I’ve tried my best to forget about my husband since the second I left home.

“Oh?” Stack raises a brow, intrigued.

“We argued.” I summarize, my voice low. “He didn’t want me working no more, said it made him look like an unfit husband.”

He sucks his teeth. “Shit, you like to work. And I like that.”

I grin, praying that James never finds out where I came tonight.

“Honestly, I came here half just to spite him.”

Stack’s own smile grows wider, his golden grills showing as he wraps an arm around me, his hand sliding down to palm my ass.

“Let’s spite him even more.” He pulls my body close against his.

But this time…I allow myself to smile. Whether I like it because I know I shouldn’t be doing it, or because I’m growing soft spot for this twin, I don’t have time to figure out.

“Mm-mmm,” I decline, lightly pressing him back. “I gotta find Smoke— Pay him back.”

He backs off, crossing his arms. “I wouldn’t, Jose. He still hot from this morning.”

“I gotta. I did some disrespectful ass shit today.”

“Oh, I know.” He winces, looking up.

I do the same. Standing over the balcony staring at us is his brother, a cloud of cigarette smoke surrounding him.

Stack places his hand on the small of my back, leading me upstairs. He’s hot on my trail as a knot ties itself in my stomach. Had it not been for Stack pushing me, I might’ve turned around and forgotten about the whole ordeal. But nonetheless, as Smoke slips into a room, I follow after him,

Annie stands beside Smoke as we enter, we’ve clearly interrupted something. Smoke just stares holes through my head, his jaw clenched so hard I think it might pop.

“You got my money?” His ice cold tone makes it sound much more like a demand.

I reach into my bra, straightening out a few bills before handing to him. His hand is hard and firm as he pull the dollars from me, counting them up.

Stack scrunches his face up. “Nigga, you was tripping over $18?”

“It’s the principle, mane.” Smoke nods at me. “She know that. Now let’s go make some money.”

And with that, Smoke and Annie exit the room. I’m not enough of a fool to think that Smoke forgives me or will ever forget what I did — But he’s fair enough to take only what he’s owed and go on about his life, and I can respect that.

Now alone, Stack sits in a creaky wooden chair, relaxing and spreading his feet apart. I just stare at him, feeling the slightest bit insecure under his gaze.

“You hear that music, don’t you?” his grills gleam at me. “Show me a little some’.”

A small laugh escapes my lips. But before I can say no, Pearline begins to sing a smoother song downstairs, something much more my speed.

“Go on,” Stack urges me.

I oblige, now thinking less of how mad James would be and more how pleased I can make the man in front of me. My back is turned to him and I begin running my hands up and down my sides, accentuating the curves that I’ve yet to let Stack see. The song gains momentum, speeding much more than I thought it would. Lovely singing turns into wild hooting as the stomps of the crowd thump in my ears. Still, I sway to the music, just with more intention, seduction even. I don’t even notice that Stack has gotten up until his hands are following mine, running over the most intimate parts of my body. 

“You gon’ finally let me have you, Josie?” he rasps in my ear, his voice nearly blending in with the music.

“Maybe if you work for it…”

The two of us move in harmony, his hands following mine, my hips following his. It’s not until the tempo slows that I realize the position we’re in. My hands sit on the table as Stack stands behind me, his clothed waist grinding against mine as he leaves rough kisses on my neck. I don’t resist it this time, I don’t want to. In fact, I want to do the exact opposite. His hand rests across my throat, turning my head so that I can properly kiss him. It feels amazing, finally letting all of the tension out in this way. I feel possessed by the music as our hands grow nearer and nearer to crossing a line. But suddenly the stomps ain’t so far, and Stacks lips ain’t so close.

I open my eyes to a gruesome scene. It takes me a moment to be sure, but once I’m sure, I’m sure. James has burst through the door and ripped Stack off of me, landing blows the minute he entered. Only seconds have passed and blood has already begun covering his fist. Stack wastes no time, retrieving his brass knuckles and aiming for James’ face. Blood splatters across the room and the two men fight like dogs in front of me.

“Stop—“ I can barely choke the words out when I realize that this is going to end up in a death.

I don’t bother wasting time thinking before I run downstairs. The time between my leaving the room and returning with Smoke and Annie behind me must be about fifteen seconds, but it feels like three.

“The fuck!?” Smoke pushes past me.

He pulls his gun, aiming it at the incoherent mess that is Stack, James, and a lot of blood. I don’t speak, only run to the two men and try my best to save my James, pulling back on his shoulder. He swings his blood-soaked arm back, elbowing me in the face with a crack before continuing to tussle with Stack. I fall to the floor, cradling my cheek as I scoot away from the two men.

Two shots ring out, and the sound of thrashing finally ceases.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📍Josephine and James’ house || 12:00pm

I made out that he found the note when he begged me not to leave him. Even bloody, shot, and thrown on the Mississippi road, James still gained the power to speak those words to me. He threw me his accusations that he had against Stack, saying he did something against my will. James did it to save me, according to him. I blamed myself all night long for forgetting to put that note away — Maybe it was that that allowed him to survive the night. Perhaps my praying and apologizing to God was enough to make him save James from those two bullets in his side.

It don’t matter now. I’m back home alone just like I would be if he wasn’t in the hospital, feeling the same too — Despite my stitched up cheek and the never ending thoughts of what Stack and I could’ve done last night. It’s wrong, I know it is, but no matter how hard I fight it, all I can imagine is what we would’ve done had James not barged in.

It’s stormy this evening, the clouds covering the sun make me feel like the lord might’ve darkened the sky just to make me feel worse. I flip through my old photo album, photos of young me, Wells, and our parents in that small house in South Carolina. Sometimes I miss those days — Most times, actually. Before I had a hard head and a harder ass, ready to take on anyone who wanted to whoop me at anytime. Back when I could be a soft Josephine who wouldn’t provoke men to shoot her or spend my nights with drunkards at an old mill.

A knock at the door pulls me from my miserable reminiscing. I close the album and set it aside, opening up the door for what I assume to be a patched up James…But it’s not. It’s a much more warming face.

“Stack,” I half smile, having no idea how he feels about last night…How he feels about me. 

“Can I come in, Josie?” he asks.

"'Course." I nod, stepping aside and letting him walk past me. As we make our way to the couch, I’m marveled at how little lasting damage James did to him. Sure he had a few stitches beneath his t-shirt and a cut and a bruise on his face, but nothing like James — His face was swollen, still black and blue when I visited him this morning.

We sit next to each other, Stack taking his time not to hurt himself. The tension eats me alive as we just stare at each other, soft jazz music playing.

“I’m sorry…” I begin. “I wrote a note—“

“Shh.” He places a hand on my criss-crossed thigh. “It wasn’t never your fault, baby.”

I can’t find it in me to smile today, although baby makes me want to oh so bad.

“Doctors said he should be okay this morning. But he was damn near dead by the time I drove him there last night,” I tell him. Stack gives me no answer. “If he recovers…I don’t know if I ever want him back in my house.”

I never allowed myself to consider the possibility of leaving James. My mama taught me that in order for anyone to see my value, I’m gon’ need some sort of man behind me, whether that be Wells, my daddy, or another man. But daddy died and I protected Wells more than he ever could protect me, so I did what I was told — Found a husband. 

I don’t know that I ever loved him. I said I did, but I didn’t know what love was when we got married. It didn’t matter anyway, he had money and he was good enough to me in the beginning, so I couldn’t ask for more. It was three good years before he showed me the real him. The him that got home from work and started drinking, and more than that, started hitting. Only holes in our walls at first, then more. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what makes me so violent. I never had it in me to stand up to him so I stood up to everyone else.

Stack brings his hand to my stitched cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

“If he ever comes near you again — Ever does this again,” his voice is the most tender I’ve ever heard it. “Smoke and I will shoot him dead this time.”

I shake my head, the tiniest hint of a smile on the corner of my lip. “No need.”

“You don’t believe me?” he asks, offended.

“Oh no, I do,” I assure him. “That’s why I’m not scared of what he’ll do no more. I think you and your brass taught him enough of a lesson.”

His eyes scan my body, his hand returning to my thigh. 

“Something like this happen before?”

“Only when he’s drunk and jealous.” I don’t include the part where that is every night. “That’s why I’m at the shop so much. I sometimes think that if I’m there long enough he’ll forget he was ever gonna touch me.”

Stack's face has dropped.

“Your brother know this?” he asks, a fiery glimmer in his eyes.

“He got no clue,” I scoff. “He’s dumb that way.”

He stares at me for a moment, a hunger in his eye behind the immediate anger. He raises a hand to my cheek again.

“I can show you real love, baby. Even if it’s just for today...”

Gently, Stack pulls my face to his. We’re careful not to touch each others’ wounds as he kisses me harder, laying back and pulling me on top of him. He pushes his hips up and I grind mine back and forth, groans escaping the both of us.

I feel free when I’m with Stack, like I can be powerful in who I am — I don’t worry about the store or James when I’m on him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, a deeper more guttural rasp in his voice now. I ignore it, enjoying his kisses that he litters across my chest. I feel like I’m flying, he can do anything to me.

“Josie,” he whispers.

“Hm?” I hum, not bothering to look down as I pull my dress up.

“…Can I bite you?”