PAIRING: beyonce (g!p) x stack moore (michael b. jordan) x black!fem!plussize!stripper!y/n
SYNOPSIS: y/n has spent months balancing a secret situationship with bey, convinced she has everything under control then stack starts showing up at the orchid room and one bad decision turns into another.
A/N: hey guys! this was one of the works i’m so excited, anxious and completely obsessed with haa. i’ve seen a few beyxstack fics and loved them really bad. PLEASE like, comment and reblog. it helps me tremendously and brings me much more friends :))) credits to the respective owners of these dividers.
SONGS THAT INSPIRED THIS ONESHOT: is there someone else? by the weeknd, lightnings girl by nancy sinatra, and promise by ciara! check out those songs, they’re amazing!
y/n moved through the orchid room like an angel.
her tits strained against the thin straps of her top while her hips rolled with each step on the stage.
the crowd loved her for it, tossing bills at her feet just to watch the way her belly softened when she dropped low or how her ass clapped back heavy and inviting.
she had been the main draw for months now, her body a secret weapon that kept the club packed.
beyonce had slid into her world quiet at first.
a private dance that was too long turned into hands gripping and mouths crashing together.
months had passed since then and whatever they shared stayed unlabeled but beyonce acted like y/n belonged to her anyway.
she showed up after shifts and everything.
everyone in the club noticed how beyonce pulled y/n close, one hand always on her waist like a claim.
gifts arrived without warning.
diamond studs on y/n’s ears, new bags, designer pieces that made the other girls whisper.
beyonce fucked her like she needed to remind y/n who could make her shake the hardest.
that pull stayed strong even as things grew complicated.
y/n remembered the way beyonce had her pressed into the couch that one night, dick sliding in deep and slow at first.
beyonce spread her wide, watching as she disappeared into y/n’s heat, growling low about how no one else got to feel this.
she came hard, filling y/n until it dripped, leaving her trembling and full then stack moore started appearing in the vip section.
he watched y/n dance.
big tips came with smiles that felt too personal.
harmless flirting turned into something else when he requested more private time. his voice dropped low when he told her how her body drove him crazy.
y/n felt the spark and didn’t pull away.
beyonce had been traveling more, not showing ip as much and stack filled in for her without asking twice.
the lies started small.
y/n balanced both worlds, careful at first but the pull from each made it harder.
beyonce would text late, demanding she come see her and y/n would show up breathless and fucked out from another encounter, claiming club overtime.
stack would kiss her in his car after hours and she would murmur something about early rehearsals the next day.
both noticed the shift in her but she danced around their questions with soft touches and moans that distracted them for a while.
one evening, beyonce waited in her house. she pulled y/n in close, hands roaming all over.
beyonce kissed her neck, sucking marks that would hide under makeup later.
when she finally freed herself, it stood thick and ready.
she laid y/n back and buried her face between them, tongue working fast and deep, licking and sucking until y/n’s hips bucked then beyonce climbed up, sliding inside with one long push, filling her completely.
she fucked steady and hard, hips snapping while her hands pinned y/n’s wrists above her head.
“you feel so good, baby,” she whispered.
y/n could only moan back until beyonce spilled insider her.
afterward, beyonce held her close, stroking y/n’s hair.
“you seem distracted lately. something you need to tell me?”
y/n lied smooth, eyes half closed.
“just the club wearing me out.”
beyonce nodded but her grip tightened a little like she didn’t fully believe it.
stack pulled her in different ways.
he took her to his place one night after closing.
he got her naked slow, kissing down her body until he had her bent forward, face down, ass up. his tongue traced over her, teasing until y/n pushed back against his mouth, desperately.
when he pushed in, it was from behind. deep strokes that made her start crying and slobbering.
stack reached around, rubbing her clit in circles while he drove harder, whispering how addicted he was getting to her sounds.
y/n came shaking hard and he followed soon after, pulling out to paint her back.
the missed calls piled up.
beyonce would ring while y/n was still catching her breath at stack’s and she would answer, whispering excuses about being in the dressing room.
stack noticed new jewelry on her wrist once and raised a brow but she brushed it off as a club bonus.
beyonce sent more gifts.
flowers and lingerie that y/n wore for stack by accident one night.
he commented on how expensive it looked, his hand sliding under anyway, fingers dipping inside her while she tried not to moan too obviously in the vip booth.
another night, beyonce surprised her at home, pulling her against the window overlooking the city.
she took her time stripping y/n down then turned her around, pressing her against the glass.
beyonce slid in from behind, one hand around y/n’s throat.
beyonce talked low in her ear, asking if anyone else could fuck her like this.
y/n shook her head, lying through the pleasure as another orgasm was coming.
stack had his own ways of pulling her under.
in his shower, he pressed her to the tile, lifting one leg high and sliding in slow at first then building speed.
water ran down their bodies as he fucked her steady, his mouth on her neck, sucking fresh marks.
he came inside her this time, holding deep while she clenched around him.
“i want more nights like this,” he whispered.
the secrets weighed heavier as the week went on.
y/n felt the suspicion growing in beyonce’s texts and the way stack watched her closer during dances.
she kept lying, telling each one she was busy with the other life pieces.
gifts kept coming from beyonce while stack offered quiet dinners and rides that ended with her riding him in the backseat.
TIMESKIP…
the orchid room hosted an exclusive night for high rollers and both of them showed up, invited through separate circles.
y/n performed early, her body moving under the lights.
she spotted beyonce across the room first, her eyes tracking her every sway then stack walked in.
y/n’s heart dropped when they ended up near each other at the bar, talking casually until beyonce noticed how stack leaned toward y/n.
beyonce’s jaw tightened when stack whispered something that made y/n laugh soft. stack caught the look and stared back, challenge in his eyes.
y/n tried slipping away but beyonce caught her wrist.
“who the hell is he to you?”
stack stepped closer.
“problem here?”
accusations were thrown as the pieces clicked for both of them.
they didn’t cause a scene in front of everyone but the energy said they weren’t walking away from her either.
later, after the crowd was leaving, they pulled her into the locked private back room.
beyonce pushed her against the wall first, kissing rough and claiming while stack watched.
“you been playing both of us?” beyonce said between bites down her neck.
y/n moaned, unable to deny the truth anymore.
stack moved in behind her, hands gripping her ass.
“guess we show you who this body belongs to now.”
beyonce dropped to her knees first, spreading y/n’s thighs and licking strokes that had y/n gripping her shoulders.
stack kissed her mouth, swallowing her moans while his hands played with her tits, pinching the sensitive peaks.
they moved her to the couch, beyonce sitting back, dick hard and glistening as y/n sank down onto it facing away.
the stretch felt familiar and overwhelming at once.
beyonce guided her hips, helping her bounce while stack came up behind, spreading her cheeks and pressing in slow to her other hole.
the fullness made y/n cry out, body shaking between them as they found a rhythm, one pushing in while the other eased back.
their hands were everywhere.
beyonce’s fingers rolling her nipples, stack’s hand slapping her ass.
beyonce reached around, rubbing her clit fast while stack pulled her hair just enough to arch her back.
y/n came hard, clenching around both of them, voice breaking.
they switched her around after that, laying her on her side.
stack slid into her front this time while beyonce took her from behind again.
they moved together now talking over her about how they both owned her now.
the sounds filled the room, wet and raw.
skin meeting skin mixed with y/n’s broken moans.
they made her come again and again until her thighs trembled nonstop.
beyonce pulled free first, stroking herself until she came across y/n’s soft belly.
stack followed, grinding deep and spilling inside her with a low groan.
y/n laid there spent, leaking from both holes, body marked and satisfied.
Pairing: Cherry x Stack
Featuring Smoke / “Smokey Bear”
Summary: Ray finally comes to Clarksdale to reclaim the wife and son he believes still belong to him.
But Cherry is no longer the woman he left behind. She has a home now, a son, a family, and a voice sharp enough to cut through every claim he tries to lay on her.
When Ray refuses to let go, the Moore house becomes a battlefield, and Cherry, Stack, and Smoke are forced to prove exactly how far they’ll go to protect what they’ve built.
Something Like Hope | Soft Hands, Heavy Love | What He Built to Keep
The door swung open, revealing the figure standing on the porch, half-hidden in the deep shadows of the night.
Ray.
The air went still. The crickets and cicadas that had been the soundtrack to the Mississippi night fell silent, as if the whole world was holding its breath. Stack didn’t move, just stood there, a solid, unmoving wall of muscle and intent. His hand rested on the doorknob; his posture was loose, armed, ready.
Ray took a slow step forward, out of the deepest shadows and into the faint light spilling from the house. He looked thinner than Stack remembered, harder, the lines around his mouth etched with a bitterness that hadn’t been there before. His eyes, dark and sunken, locked onto Stack’s immediately. It wasn’t a greeting. It was a challenge. A sizing up.
Neither man looked away. Neither offered a word. The space between them crackled with a history so thick it was almost visible. The air grew heavy, charged with all the things that had been left unsaid between them, all the things that had been done.
A floorboard creaked behind Stack. Smoke appeared at his side, a silent, menacing presence. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just stood there, his shoulder brushing against Stack’s, a second wall of unyielding force. His gaze was colder than Stack’s, more calculating, and it fixed on Ray with the unnerving focus of a predator that had been waiting for its prey to show itself.
From inside the house, Cherry stood frozen just beyond the living room threshold, Silas held tight against her chest. She had made herself move, her feet carrying her forward before her mind had caught up, a primal need to see, to know. The baby was warm and heavy in her arms, his soft breaths a small, fragile rhythm against the frantic pounding of her own heart. She could feel the tension rolling off the porch in waves, a cold, sickening dread that threatened to choke her.
Ray’s eyes flicked past Stack, past Smoke, and landed on her. His gaze lingered for a second, then dropped to the baby in her arms. His expression didn’t soften. It didn’t change. But something in it hardened, a subtle shift that was more painful than any sneer.
Then his eyes moved back to her hand. To the heavy red diamond ring on her finger. To the delicate chain around her neck, the E.M. glinted in the low light.
Every piece of the life she had built.
Every piece of the man who had built it with her.
He saw it all. And it hurt him. She could see it in the tight set of his jaw, in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It wasn’t the pain of a man who had lost something he loved. It was the ugly, bruised pride of a man who had lost something he owned.
The silence stretched, thin and sharp, until it felt like it might snap.
Finally, Ray spoke. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a statement of fact that was meant to cut like a blade.
“I’m here for my wife.”
For a beat, Stack didn’t react. He just stood there, letting the words hang in the air between them. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a smile of humor or warmth. It was a dangerous thing, a flash of white in the darkness that promised violence. It was the smile of a man who had been waiting for this moment, who had been looking forward to it.
He didn’t look at Cherry. He didn’t look at Smoke. He kept his eyes locked on Ray, his smile widening just enough to show the edge of his gold tooth.
“Is that right?” Stack asked, his voice a low, pleasant rumble that was more terrifying than any shout.
That dangerous smile on Stack’s face didn’t falter. It just widened, a predator baring its teeth in the face of a challenge it had been craving. “Is that right?” he repeated, his voice a low, pleasant rumble that was more terrifying than any shout.
“You got no business here, Moore,” Ray said, his own voice tight, strained. He took another step onto the porch, trying to claim space he had no right to. “This is between me and my wife.”
Stack’s smile vanished. The shift was instantaneous, like a switch being thrown. The air went from tense to explosive. “Your wife?” he snarled, taking a single, threatening step forward that brought him chest-to-chest with Ray. “Nah, nigga. You lost that right when you left her pregnant and alone. While you went to drop the soap in jail.”
Smoke’s hand shot out, clamping down on Stack’s shoulder, holding him back with surprising strength. “Stack. Not here.”
“He came to my goddamn house,” Stack shot back, his eyes burning with a wild light, his body coiled to strike. “He standing on my porch talking about what’s his.”
“You think this changes anything?” Ray spat, his gaze flicking past them to Cherry, who stood frozen in the doorway. “She’s my wife. That’s my blood in there. I’m here to take them home where they belong.”
That was it. The fuse was lit.
Stack lunged.
He moved with a terrifying speed, a blur of raw fury. He wasn’t thinking. He was just reacting, an instinct to tear apart the threat that had dared to speak his son’s name. But Smoke was faster. He moved with him, his body twisting, his grip like iron as he hooked an arm around Stack’s chest, hauling him back with brute force.
“Get off me!” Stack roared, struggling against his brother’s hold, his hands clawing for Ray. “I’m gone kill this motherfucker!”
“You ain’t killing nobody on this porch!” Smoke grunted, his muscles straining as he dragged his brother back. “You gone make a mess Cherry gotta clean up later!”
Cherry watched them, her heart hammering against her ribs, the baby in her arms starting to stir, sensing the violence in the air. But as she watched the two men wrestle on the porch, a strange, cold clarity washed over her.
Ray was talking again, his voice cutting through Stack’s enraged snarls. “See? This is what he is. A goddamn animal. You think this is a place for a woman? A child? You belong with me, Cherry. I’ll take you home. We’ll forget this ever happened.”
Stack’s rage intensified. “She ain’t going nowhere with you! You ain’t never touching her again! You hear me? You dead if you even think about it!”
And through it all, through the threats and the violence, Cherry noticed something. A sickening, familiar pattern.
Ray talked about ownership. My wife. My blood. I’ll take them home.
Stack talked about protection. You ain’t touching her again. I’ll kill you.
Neither one of them, not for a single second, asked her what she wanted.
Not once.
It was like she wasn’t even there. Like she was an object to be won, a prize to be claimed, a thing to be protected but not consulted. The weight of it settled on her, heavier than any of the anger, heavier than any of the fear. It was the same feeling she’d had with Ray, just wrapped in a different, louder package. The feeling of being invisible.
The baby in her arms let out a soft whimper, a small, fragile sound that cut through the rage on the porch.
And something in Cherry broke.
Or maybe, something in her finally came together.
She took a step forward.
Not a big step. Just one. Out of the shadows of the doorway and onto the porch, into the fight.
The movement was so small, so quiet, but it stopped everything.
Stack froze, his struggles ceasing as he turned to look at her. Smoke’s grip loosened in surprise. Ray’s eyes locked onto her, a flicker of triumph in them, like he thought she was coming to his side.
She wasn’t.
She stood there, in the middle of the three of them, a small woman holding a baby, facing down three powerful men. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady. Her voice, when it came, was soft, but it carried a weight that silenced every other sound in the night.
“Stop.”
The single word hung in the night air, fragile but unbreakable. Stop.
It was a whisper, but it landed with force. Stack’s rage, a roaring inferno a second before, was extinguished, leaving behind a stunned, heavy silence. Smoke’s arms fell away from his brother. Ray’s triumphant smirk faltered, replaced by a confusion that quickly soured into irritation.
All eyes were on her.
Cherry stood her ground, the baby in her arms a solid, living anchor. She looked from Ray’s face to Stack’s, then back again. She took a slow, deep breath, the air filling her lungs with a courage she didn’t know she possessed.
“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not standing right here,” she said, her voice gaining strength, each word clearer and more certain than the last. “You don’t get to stand on this porch and talk about taking me home. I am home.”
Ray’s face hardened, the familiar mask of a man whose authority was being questioned. “Cherry, stop this nonsense. You’re confused. He’s filled your head with all kinds of ideas, but you belong with me. You’re my wife.”
“I was your wife,” she corrected him, and the words felt like a key turning in a lock she hadn’t even known was there. “The moment you put your hands on me, the moment you made me feel small in my own home, the moment you went to jail for being a fool… that was the moment I stopped being yours. I just didn’t have anywhere to go until now.”
She shifted Silas in her arms, his warm weight a comforting reality. “The moment I left Florida, I left you. I am not coming back. Ever.”
The finality in her voice was absolute. It was not a negotiation. It was a declaration.
Ray stared at her, his expression shifting from irritation to disbelief, and finally, to a raw, ugly rage that twisted his features. This was not the woman he had left. This was not the quiet, pliable girl who would lower her eyes and shrink into herself. This was a stranger.
“You listen to me,” he began, his voice low and menacing, the tone she knew all too well. The tone that promised consequences. “You will get my son and you will come with me. I will not be made a fool of by some backwoods juke joint nigga and his little brother. You are my property. The child is my blood. You will do as I say.”
Every word was a lash, a desperate attempt to regain control, to remind her of her place. But it didn’t work. The words hit her, but they didn’t stick. They couldn’t. Not anymore.
Because as he spoke, she saw it with a clarity that was breathtaking. He wasn’t angry because he loved her. He wasn’t hurt because he missed her. He was furious because he had lost possession. He was raging because his property had walked away.
“He is not your property,” she said, her voice ringing with a newfound power. “And neither am I.”
Ray’s face contorted, his control finally shattering. “You ungrateful bitch—”
He lunged for her.
He didn’t get more than a single step.
Before Ray could even process the movement, Stack was on him. Not with the wild, unfocused rage from before, but with a cold, terrifying precision. He moved like a striking snake, his hand shooting out to wrap around Ray’s throat, slamming him back against the porch post with a sickening crack of wood. The impact knocked the air out of Ray’s lungs in a whooping gasp.
Stack’s face was inches from his, his eyes burning with a fire that was colder and deadlier than any rage. He squeezed, just enough to make the point, to feel the frantic pulse of life under his thumb.
“You don’t get to talk to her,” he hissed, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “You don’t get to look at her. You don’t get to breathe the same air as her. You got that? You are nothing. You are a ghost. The only reason you ain’t dead already is ‘cause I don’t want her to have to wash your blood off my porch. But you keep testing me, motherfucker, and I’ll make you a goddamn stain in this dirt. You hear me? I’ll fuckin’ end you.”
Smoke was there instantly, not pulling Stack off, but standing beside him, a silent, looming threat that promised there was no escape. He leaned in, his voice dropping into a calm, terrifying monotone that was somehow worse than Stack’s rage.
“He means it,” Smoke said, his voice flat, devoid of all emotion. “But let me be clear. Stack? He’ll kill you ‘cause he’s angry. He’ll make it quick and ugly. Me? I ain’t angry. I’m just practical. If you ever come back here, if you even think about coming back here, I won’t kill you fast. I’ll take my time. I’ll find a spot deep in the swamp where the gators get fat and nobody ever finds a goddamn thing. And I’ll sit there and watch. Just to make sure the job’s done right. You understand the difference?”
Ray clawed at Stack’s hand, his eyes bulging, his face turning a mottled red. He struggled, but it was useless. Stack’s grip was like iron.
Cherry watched, her heart hammering, but she didn’t scream. She didn’t look away. She just stood there, holding her son, and watched the man who had tormented her get handled by the man who had saved her. And she felt nothing. No triumph. No fear. Just a quiet, final closing of a door.
Stack held him for a few more seconds, letting the terror sink in, before he shoved him away. Ray stumbled back, gasping for air, his hand flying to his bruised throat. He looked from Stack’s cold, murderous face to Smoke’s impassive stare, and finally to Cherry, who stood there, unmoved, untouched.
He saw he had lost. Completely.
Defeated, humiliated, and broken, he turned and stumbled down the porch steps, disappearing into the darkness.
But before he was swallowed by the night, he stopped. He turned back, his gaze finding Cherry one last time. Then, his eyes dropped, locking onto the baby in her arms.
It wasn’t a look of fatherly concern. It wasn’t a look of regret. It was a look of possessiveness. A look that said you are mine. It was a look that promised this wasn’t over. It was a look that claimed ownership, even in defeat.
The look bothered everyone. It was a violation, a final, desperate attempt to lay a claim on something that wasn't his.
But it bothered Smoke the most. His easy-going demeanor vanished, not replaced by a cold anger, but by a deep, chilling stillness that was more frightening than any of Stack’s threats. It was the quiet calm of a man who had just moved from observer to guardian. He watched Ray disappear into the darkness, his gaze unwavering, and for the first time, Smoke looked truly, deeply invested. The threat was no longer an abstract problem his brother had to handle. It was a direct challenge to the family he had built alongside him.
He didn’t look at Stack. He didn’t look at Cherry. His eyes remained fixed on the spot in the darkness where Ray had vanished. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, a quiet promise that was far more terrifying than any shout.
“He comes back,” Smoke said, his tone leaving no room for argument, “and we won’t be having a conversation on the porch.”
He finally turned, his eyes meeting Stack’s. There was no blame, no reproach. Just a shared understanding, a unified front.
“We end it,” Smoke said. “For good.”
The dawn broke gray and heavy over Clarksdale, a thick, damp mist clinging to the ground and blurring the edges of the world. It was the kind of morning that promised heat later, a slow, suffocating blanket that would settle over the town and make every movement feel like a chore. Smoke was already moving, long before the sun had fully burned through the haze. He moved through the sleeping house like a ghost, his steps silent on the wooden floors. He paused for a second in the hallway, his gaze falling on the slightly open door to Silas’s room. Inside, he could hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of the baby, a sound that had become the strange, new heartbeat of their lives. He could hear the deeper, steadier breath of Cherry in the next room, and the faint, restless stirring of his brother, who had finally fallen into a fitful sleep a few hours before.
He didn’t wake them. He didn’t say goodbye. He just slipped out the back door, the cool morning air a welcome shock against his skin. He wasn’t doing this for Stack. Not really. His brother’s anger was a wildfire, all noise and fury, but it burned itself out. Smoke’s was different. It was a cold, deep thing, a glacier that moved slowly but with an unstoppable force. Ray’s look last night, that final glance at Silas, had carved out a space inside him that was now filled with a single, chilling purpose.
He walked into town, his long strides eating up the dirt road. The town was just beginning to stir, a few lights flickering on in windows, the smell of woodsmoke and coffee hanging in the air. He didn’t go to the juke joint. That was Stack’s world, loud and full of eyes. He went to the quieter places, the places where business was done with a nod and a whispered word. The first was a small bakery run by an old woman named Miss Eula, a woman who had known the Moore boys since they were still scrapping in the dirt.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered. Miss Eula was behind the counter, her hands dusted with flour, her face a roadmap of wrinkles and wisdom. She looked up, her eyes sharp and knowing.
“Smoke,” she greeted, her voice as dry as day-old cornbread. “You’re up early.”
“Morning, Miss Eula,” he said, his voice low and calm. He leaned against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were alert. “Need to ask you something.”
She nodded slowly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Figured you might. Heard there was some trouble out at your place last night.”
“Word travels fast.”
“It always does in this town,” she said. “What you need to know?”
“Where a man would stay if he was trying not to be found. A man who ain’t from here, but ain’t trying to leave just yet.”
Miss Eula pursed her lips, her gaze thoughtful. She didn’t ask who. She didn’t need to. “There’s a boarding house on the edge of town. Mrs. Gable runs it. She takes in all sorts, doesn’t ask too many questions as long as the money’s good. And there’s an old house next to it. Been empty for years. Belonged to the Hendersons before they moved up north. Folks say it’s haunted, but that’s just a story to keep kids away.”
Smoke nodded slowly, the information settling into place. “Appreciate it, Miss Eula.”
She reached under the counter and pulled out a small paper bag, still warm. “Take these,” she said, pushing it toward him. “For the baby. And for your brother. He looks like he could use something sweet.”
Smoke took the bag, the warmth of it a small comfort in the cold morning. “We owe you.”
“You just keep that family safe,” she said, her voice firm. “That’s all the payment I need.”
He left the bakery and walked toward the edge of town, the warm bag in his hand a stark contrast to the cold purpose in his heart. He found the boarding house easily enough, a faded, two-story building with peeling paint and a sagging porch. Next to it, half-hidden by overgrown weeds and a drooping fence, stood the Henderson place. It was a skeleton of a house, its windows like vacant eyes, its porch sagging like a tired old man. It was the perfect place to hide. The perfect place to watch.
Smoke didn’t approach it. He didn’t need to. He found a spot across the street, in the shadows of an old alleyway, and he waited. He was patient. He could wait all day if he had to. He just stood there, a silent, unmoving figure, and watched the house.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, burning away the mist. The town came alive, the sounds of voices, wagons, and distant music filling the air. Smoke didn’t move. He just watched, his mind working, his senses sharp. He saw Mrs. Gable come out to sweep her porch. He saw a few boarders come and go. And then, just as the sun was beginning to dip, he saw him.
Ray emerged from the boarding house, not from the abandoned one. He looked around, his movements furtive, his shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller. He wasn’t the arrogant man who had stood on their porch last night. He looked like a cornered animal, desperate and dangerous. He crossed the street and slipped into the abandoned house, disappearing into the shadows.
Smoke waited another hour, letting the darkness settle. Then he moved. He crossed the street, his steps silent, his body melting into the shadows of the overgrown yard. He didn’t go to the front door. He circled around to the back, where a small window was broken, the glass hanging in jagged shards. He listened for a moment, heard nothing, and then he slipped inside.
The house smelled of dust and decay, of damp wood and something else, something sour and desperate. Smoke moved through the rooms like a cat, his feet making no sound on the filthy floor. He found Ray in the front room, sitting on a rickety chair, staring at a small, flickering candle. He looked up when Smoke entered, his eyes wide with shock and fear.
“You,” Ray whispered, his hand instinctively going to his side, where a gun would be.
Smoke didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his silhouette filling the doorway, a tall, imposing figure in the darkness. He let the silence stretch, let Ray’s fear build, let the weight of his presence press in on the small, suffocating room.
“Your brother sent you?” Ray finally asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Smoke shook his head slowly. “Stack’s got a temper,” he said, his voice a low, calm monotone. “He’s emotional. He’d kill you right now, if he was here. He’d probably enjoy it. It’d be loud and messy and he’d feel better afterwards.”
He took a slow step into the room, his eyes never leaving Ray’s.
“But me?” Smoke continued, his voice dropping even lower, becoming something more intimate, more terrifying. “I’m not emotional. I don’t get angry. I just… think. I think about problems. And I think about solutions.”
He took another step, closing the distance between them. Ray shrank back in his chair, his hand still hovering near his empty holster.
“Let me explain the difference between me and my brother,” Smoke said, his voice still calm, but with an edge that could cut glass. “If Stack kills you, it’ll be because he’s angry. It’ll be a crime of passion. A temporary loss of control.”
He paused, letting the words sink in. He was standing over Ray now, his shadow engulfing the smaller man.
“If I kill you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, a cold, dead sound that promised an eternity of darkness. “It’ll be because I thought about it. I’ll have planned it. I’ll have considered every angle, every possibility. I’ll have dug the hole myself. It won’t be a crime of passion. It’ll be a business decision. A logical conclusion to a problem. And I won’t feel a goddamn thing.”
Ray stared up at him, his face dripping with sweat, his eyes wide with a dawning horror. He saw it then. He saw the difference. Stack was a storm, violent and destructive, but it would eventually pass. Smoke was the abyss. A cold, endless void that would swallow you whole and never even notice.
“I’m not here to kill you,” Smoke said, his voice returning to its normal, calm tone. “Not yet. I’m here to give you a message. You have until sunrise to get out of this town. You get on a train, you get in a car, you start walking. I don’t care how. But if the sun comes up and you are still in Clarksdale… the business decision becomes final.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Ray sitting in the flickering candlelight, a man who had just looked into the face of true evil and realized he was out of his depth. Smoke stepped back out into the night, the cool air a welcome relief. He had drawn the line. It was a clear, sharp, and undeniable line. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that Ray would not cross it again.
The house was a tomb.
Smoke had been gone for hours, and the silence he left behind was a heavy, suffocating thing. It pressed in on Cherry, thick and suffocating, filling every corner of the home she had just started to believe was hers. She had put Silas down, his small body warm and heavy with sleep, but she couldn’t rest. She couldn’t sit. She just moved, a restless ghost haunting the rooms, her hands touching things without feeling them, the cool wood of the crib, the soft fabric of the curtains, the solid weight of the front door she had locked twice.
The moon cast long, skeletal shadows across the floor, and every creak of the settling house sounded like a footstep on the porch. Every whisper of the wind sounded like a voice she thought she had escaped. She stood in the center of the living room, her arms wrapped around herself, and she could still smell him. Not a real scent, but the memory of one. The cheap, sharp smell of his cologne. The faint, sour scent of his anger. It was a phantom limb, an ache for something that was no longer there, and it hurt more than any real blow.
Stack was in the doorway, watching her. He had been watching her for a long time, his presence a weight in the darkness. He saw the way she moved, the slight tremor in her hands, the way her shoulders were pulled in, just a fraction, like she was trying to make herself smaller. It was the same way she used to move in Florida, the same way she had moved when he first found her. And it made something cold and hard settle in his chest.
He wanted to fix it. He wanted to go out into the night and find Ray and tear him apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a memory. He wanted to erase him from the world, from her mind, from the very air she breathed. He wanted to build a wall so high and so thick that nothing could ever get to her again.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t fix this with his fists or his gun. He couldn’t fix this with his money or his name. This was a wound that was inside her, a poison that had been dripping into her soul for years, and he had no idea how to draw it out. The feeling was foreign to him, a helplessness that tasted like ash in his mouth. He was a man who solved problems, who took what he wanted, and reshaped the world to his liking. But this… this was beyond him. And it was killing him.
He took a step forward, his boots making a soft sound on the floorboards.
Cherry flinched.
It was a small movement, almost imperceptible, but he saw it. He saw it, and it felt like a physical blow. He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides.
“Cherry,” he said, his voice rough, low.
She didn’t turn. She just stood there, her back to him, her body rigid. “I’m fine,” she said, the words a lie so thin it was transparent.
“No, you ain’t,” he said, taking another step. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
He was closer now, close enough to feel the tension rolling off her in waves. He could see the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way her hands were clenched into small, tight fists.
“He’s gone,” he said, his voice softening, trying to soothe a wound he couldn’t see. “He ain’t coming back here. I promise you that.”
“I know,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the words. “I know he’s gone.”
And then, it happened.
It wasn’t a dramatic breakdown. There were no screams, no hysterics. It was a quiet, devastating collapse. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, followed by another, and another, until they were falling freely, silent and relentless. Her shoulders began to shake, small, racking sobs that she tried to suppress, her body fighting against the release even as it claimed her.
Stack was there in an instant, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her back against his chest. He held her tight, his body a solid, immovable shield against the world. He didn’t say anything. He just held her, his chin resting on top of her head, his heart aching with a helplessness he had never known.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, her words muffled against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“You got nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Nothing at all.”
“It hurts,” she cried, her body trembling against his. “Seeing him… it hurts. Hearing his voice… it hurts. It reminds me of Florida, of that house, of… of everything. It feels like I’m back there, like I never left.”
She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. He held her tighter, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing her back, trying to absorb her pain, to take it into himself and carry it for her.
“I hate him,” she whispered, her voice raw with a pain that was years old. “I hate him for what he did to me. I hate him for making me feel so small. I hate him for making me feel like I was nothing.”
“You ain’t nothing,” he said, his voice a fierce, protective growl. “You never were nothing. You’re everything. You hear me? You’re everything.”
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, her eyes shining with a pain that was so deep. “I just want it to stop,” she whispered. “I just want it to be over.”
“It is over,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. “He’s gone. He’s never coming back. I swear to you, Cherry, on my life, he will never hurt you again.”
She searched his face, her eyes looking for something to hold onto, something to believe in. She saw the truth in his eyes, the fierce, unwavering conviction, and a small, fragile part of her began to believe him.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, her body slowly calming, the storm of her emotions beginning to subside. She leaned into him, her head resting on his chest, her body fitting against his like it was made to be there.
“Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Don’t leave me.”
He tightened his hold on her, his arms wrapping around her like a vise. “I ain’t going nowhere,” he said, his voice a low, steady promise.
“No,” she said, looking up at him again, her eyes clear and focused. “I don’t mean that. I mean… don’t go after him. Don’t look for him. Don’t… don’t fix it. Not like that. Not with blood.”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. He wanted to argue, to tell her that the only way to fix this was to eliminate the threat, to erase Ray from the face of the earth. He wanted to promise her revenge, to paint the town red with the blood of the man who had dared to hurt her.
But he saw the look in her eyes. He saw the fear, not of Ray, but of him. Of the man he could become, the monster he could unleash. He saw that she didn’t want a savior who was just as much of a monster as the man she was running from.
And for the first time in his life, he chose her over his own rage.
“Okay,” he said, the word a quiet surrender. “Okay.”
She let out a soft breath, a small, fragile sound of relief. “Just stay,” she whispered, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, over his heart. “Just stay with me. Here. With me.”
And for once, he did.
He didn’t make any promises. He didn’t make any threats. He just stayed. He led her to the bedroom, his arm around her waist, his body a steady presence at her side. He laid her down on the bed, and he laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms, her back against his chest, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a broken whole.
He held her all night, long after her tears had dried and her breathing had evened out. He held her as the moon crossed the sky and the stars began to fade. He held her as the house settled into a deep, quiet sleep, a fortress built not of wood and stone, but of a love that was fierce and possessive and, for the first time, truly and completely, at peace.
The candle flickered, a single, lonely eye in the oppressive dark of the Henderson house. Its light was weak, doing little to push back the shadows that clung to the corners of the room, shadows that seemed to move and breathe with a life of their own. The air was thick with the scent of decay and damp earth, a smell that clung to the back of my throat, a smell of failure. I sat in the rickety chair, its frame groaning under my weight, and I stared at that flame. I watched it dance, and I tried to remember who I was.
I was a husband. A father. A man who provided. A man who was respected.
That’s what I kept telling myself.
The words were a shield, a flimsy barrier against the cold, hard truth of what I had become. A man hiding in a rotting house, scared of his own shadow. Scared of a quiet nigga with dead eyes.
Smoke.
His name was a stone in my gut. His voice, a low, calm monotone that had echoed in this room hours ago, still echoed in my head. “If I kill you, it’ll be because I thought about it.”
The words had settled deep into a part of me I hadn’t known existed. A part of me that understood, with chilling clarity, that he wasn’t making a threat. He was stating a fact. He was describing a process. Like a butcher explaining how he’d carve a hog.
I shivered, pulling my thin jacket tighter around me. The night had grown cold, a damp, penetrating chill that seeped into my bones. I could hear the scuttling of rats in the walls, the faint, distant hum of the town sleeping peacefully, unaware of the war being waged in its midst. A war for my family. For my property.
My wife.
The image of her on that porch, standing there with my baby in her arms, flashed behind my eyes. She looked different. Not just the weight of the child, nor the fullness of her body. Something else. Something in her eyes. A light I had never seen. A confidence that was… wrong.
It wasn’t her.
It couldn’t be.
My Cherry was a quiet girl. A sweet girl. She knew her place. She knew how to make a home, how to be obedient, how to show respect. I had taught her that. I had molded her, shaped her into the woman she was meant to be. A woman who understood that a husband’s love was a heavy thing, a protective thing. A woman who knew that fear was just another word for respect, that obedience was the purest form of love.
But the woman on that porch… she hadn’t been afraid. She hadn’t been obedient. She had looked at me with a coldness that had turned my blood to ice. She had spoken to me with a voice that was not her own.
Because it wasn’t her voice.
It was his.
Stack Moore.
The name was like acid on my tongue. A loud, arrogant fool who probably couldn’t read a ledger but knew how to charm the simple-minded. He had gotten his hooks in her, poisoned her mind. He had filled her head with all sorts of nonsense about freedom and choice, with ideas that were unnatural, dangerous. He had manipulated her, twisted her into this… this stranger.
He saw a soft, vulnerable woman, and he saw an opportunity. He saw a pretty face and a body heavy with another man’s child, and he saw a way to claim something he hadn’t earned. He wasn’t in love with her. How could he be? He didn’t even know her. He was in love with the idea of her. The idea of a family. The idea of being a hero.
He had played on her fears, on her loneliness. He had whispered sweet nothings in her ear, promised her the world, and she, being a woman, being weak, had fallen for it. He had stolen my wife. He was brainwashing my son, teaching him to call another man daddy. It was an abomination.
But it wasn’t her fault.
She was a victim. A poor, lost creature who had been led astray by a predator. She was confused and scared. She didn’t know what she was saying. The things she said on that porch, the way she looked at me… it wasn’t her. It was the sickness talking. The sickness he had put in her.
My duty, as her husband, as the man who loved her, was not to abandon her. It was to save her. To bring her back into the fold, to remind her of her place, to cleanse her of the poison that had infected her soul. It would be a difficult process. She would fight me. She would say hurtful things, things she didn’t mean. But in the end, she would thank me. In the end, she would remember who she belonged to. She would remember that a husband’s love is a fierce, protective thing, a love that will do whatever it takes to bring his wayward lamb back to the safety of the flock.
The candle sputtered, wax dripping down its sides like tears. I watched it, and a new resolve began to harden in my gut. The fear was still there, a cold, squirming thing, but it was being pushed aside by something else. Something hotter. Something more familiar.
Anger.
Righteous indignation.
I had been wronged. I had been disrespected. My property had been stolen. My family had been defiled.
The quiet one, Smoke, had given me an ultimatum. Be gone by sunrise. But he didn’t understand. He thought I was just some stray dog he could scare off. He didn’t understand the bonds of matrimony, the sacred duty of a father. He didn’t understand that I wasn’t just fighting for a woman. I was fighting for principle. For the natural order of things.
If she wouldn’t come willingly… then I would have to force the situation.
I would have to be firm. To remind her of the consequences of her actions. I would have to take back what was mine, by force if necessary. It wouldn’t be pleasant. It would be… messy. But it would be for her own good. It would be an act of love. The purest, most selfless act of love a husband could perform.
I stood up, the chair groaning behind me. I walked to the broken window and looked out at the sleeping town. The moon was high now, a cold, silver coin in the black sky. It illuminated the street, casting long, dark shadows. I could see the Moore house from here, a dark shape on the hill, a fortress built on my misery.
But fortresses can be stormed.
I thought about my son, my blood, my legacy. I thought about him growing up, calling that loud-mouthed fool daddy. I thought about him learning to be weak, to be soft, to be everything a man shouldn’t be.
No.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
I would take him back. I would raise him to be a man. A real man. A man who understands that strength is power, that obedience is respect, that love is ownership.
The quiet one’s words echoed in my head again. “If the sun comes up and you are still in Clarksdale… the business decision becomes final.”
I smiled, a slow, grim smile. Let him come. Let him try. He thought he was dangerous. He thought he was the only one who could be cold and calculating. He didn’t know anything about me. He didn’t know what a man was capable of when he was fighting for his family.
I had come here to get my wife. To reason with her. To bring her home.
But now… now things had changed.
Now, it was about something more.
Now, it was about making a point.
I turned from the window, my mind made up. I would not be scared off by a couple of backwoods niggas who thought they were men. I would not be intimidated by threats in the dark.
I was a husband. I was a father.
And I would take back what was mine.
No matter the cost.
The sun was a warm, heavy blanket pressing down on the late afternoon. It was a good day. The kind of day that felt like a reward, a small pocket of peace after the long, dark night of the past week. Ray was gone. Smoke had confirmed it that morning. The abandoned house was empty. The boarding house hadn’t seen him in days. He’d vanished, slinking away into the night like the coward he was.
Inside the house, the mood was lighter than it had been in weeks. Stack was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, a lazy, confident grin on his face, watching Cherry move through the garden.
“You sure you know what you doing with all them plants?” he called out, his voice carrying across the yard. “Look like you just throwing seeds in the dirt and hoping for the best.”
Cherry looked up from where she was kneeling, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, a playful smile touching her lips. “And what do you know about it, Mr. Juke Joint? You think liquor just grows on trees?”
Smoke, who was sitting on the porch steps sharpening a knife, let out a quiet huff of a laugh. “He probably does,” he muttered, not looking up from his task. “Thinks with his chest, not his head.”
“Man, fuck you,” Stack shot back, but there was no heat in it. It was easy, familiar. The rhythm of them, restored. “I’m a visionary. I see potential. You just see work.”
“I see a man who’s too lazy to pull a weed,” Smoke countered.
Cherry laughed, a bright, easy sound that seemed to make the sun shine a little brighter. She turned her attention back to the small patch of earth in front of her, where Silas lay on a soft blanket, his little arms and legs waving in the air, his eyes wide with wonder at the big, blurry world above him.
“You hear that, my sweet boy?” she murmured, her voice a soft, melodic hum meant only for him. “Your daddy and your uncle are acting like fools again. They think they know everything, but they don’t know a thing about growing things. About patience. About watching something small and fragile get stronger every day. That’s our secret, ain’t it? Just me and you.”
She reached down, her fingers gently stroking his soft, round belly. Silas cooed, a happy, gurgling sound that was the sweetest music she had ever heard. She smiled, her heart swelling with a love so pure, so powerful, it almost hurt. This was her life. Her son. Her garden. Her loud, ridiculous, wonderful family. For the first time, it felt real. Unshakable.
“You’re going to be so strong,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “So much stronger than me. You’ll never have to be scared. You’ll never have to shrink. You’ll just… be. And I’ll be right here, watching you grow. I’ll always be right here.”
A shadow fell over her, a sudden, unexpected cloud that blocked the warm afternoon sun. She frowned, thinking a storm was rolling in, but the sky was still a clear, endless blue. She looked up, her eyes following the shadow back to its source, and her heart stopped.
He was standing there, just a few feet away, half-hidden by the overgrown bushes that lined the edge of the garden. Ray.
He looked… clean. His hair was combed, his shirt was pressed, and his face was scrubbed. He looked like the man she had married, the man she had left, not the desperate, wild-eyed creature who had stood on their porch that night. He was smiling, a small, gentle smile that made his eyes look wild.
“Cherry,” he said, his voice soft, a familiar caress that sent a chill down her spine. “I knew I’d find you out here. Always did love to be in the dirt, didn’t you?”
Cherry’s blood ran cold. She instinctively moved, her body shifting to block Silas from his view, her hand coming to rest protectively on the baby’s chest. She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She just stared, her mind a frantic, chaotic mess of fear and disbelief.
He was supposed to be gone.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a trembling whisper.
Her eyes darted past him, a desperate, instinctive plea for help. She looked toward the porch, her heart hammering against her ribs, praying to see Smoke’s solid, unmoving form, the quiet guardian who was always watching. But the porch steps were empty. The chair was gone.
Her gaze shot to the kitchen window, to the spot where Stack always leaned, his presence a familiar, comforting silhouette against the light. But the window was empty, too. The dark, vacant glass stared back at her, a reflection of her own terror.
They were gone.
But she could hear them. Their voices, muffled and distant, drifted out from the back of the house. The low, rumbling cadence of Smoke’s calm rebuttal, followed by the higher, indignant boom of Stack’s playful outrage. They were deep in the house, caught up in their easy, familiar argument, lost in a world where monsters didn’t step out of the shadows and into the garden.
She was alone.
The realization was a physical blow, a punch to the gut that stole the air from her lungs. The sounds of their safety, their normalcy, became a cruel soundtrack to her own private horror. They were right there, just walls away, but they might as well have been a hundred miles.
Ray followed her frantic gaze, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew what she was looking for. He knew she was looking for her new keepers.
“They can’t hear you,” he said, his voice soft, a terrible, intimate secret shared just between them. “They’re too busy laughing. Too busy being men. They don’t understand what’s really at stake. Not like I do. Not like a husband does.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, her voice a trembling whisper.
Ray took a slow step forward, his hands held up in a gesture of peace. “I just wanted to talk,” he said, his voice still soft, still reasonable. “Just to see how you were doing. To see my son.”
He talked like nothing had happened. Like there hadn’t been a violent confrontation on their porch. Like Smoke hadn’t threatened to bury him in a swamp. Like he hadn’t come to take her by force. He talked like they were old friends catching up, like they were still married, still a family.
It was the most terrifying thing she had ever experienced.
“He’s not your son,” she said, her voice gaining a sliver of strength.
Ray’s smile faltered, just for a second. A flicker of the old anger, the old entitlement. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same, unnerving calm.
“Of course he is,” he said, taking another step closer. “He’s a beautiful boy, Cherry. He has your eyes. I saw him from the window. He looks strong.”
He was getting closer. Too close. Cherry could feel the old panic rising in her throat, the old instinct to shrink, to apologize, to make herself smaller. But then she looked down at Silas, at his innocent, trusting face, and something inside her, something new and strong, held its ground.
“You need to leave,” she said, her voice firmer now.
“I will,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I just want to hold him. Just for a second. It’s been so long. A father has a right to hold his son, don’t you think?”
He reached for the baby.
And in that moment, as his hand extended, as his fingers brushed past her arm, Cherry had a realization so profound, so devastating, it almost brought her to her knees.
He never saw her.
Not once.
Not when she was standing on the porch, defying him. Not now, as she stood between him and their child. He didn’t see a woman who had found her voice. He didn’t see a mother protecting her son. He didn’t see Cherry.
He saw an obstacle. A disobedient object that was standing between him and his property.
All those years she had spent trying to be seen, trying to be heard, trying to be loved… it had all been for nothing. He had never looked at her. He had only ever looked at it. The wife. The mother. The possession.
The realization was a liberation. It was a death. It was the final, brutal understanding that there was nothing there to save. Nothing there to reason with. Nothing there to go back to.
His hand was almost there, his fingers reaching for the soft, warm blanket that held his son.
And Cherry, for the first time in her life, didn’t shrink.
She stepped back.
Pushing her fears out of her mind and remembering she had to finally stand up and protect her son, she said, “No.”
The word was a physical thing in the air between them. A small, sharp sound that was both a question and an answer. No. It was a pebble dropped into a still pond, and the ripples it created were vast and terrifying. Ray froze, his hand hovering in the space between them, his expression shifting from that unnerving calm to a flicker of confusion, then to a slow, dawning disbelief.
He looked at her, really looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. His gaze dropped to her face, to the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes, the way she stood, not like a cornered animal, but like a mother wolf protecting her den. She wasn't cowering. She wasn't pleading. She was standing her ground, her body a solid, immovable wall between him and his son.
“What did you say?” he asked, his voice low, a dangerous quiet that was more menacing than any shout.
“You heard me,” Cherry said, her voice stronger now, the tremor gone, replaced by a steely resolve that felt as old and as unyielding as the earth itself. “I said no.”
He laughed, a short, sharp, humorless sound that was like glass breaking. “No?” he repeated, as if the word was a foreign concept, a language he didn’t understand. “You don’t say ‘no’ to me, Cherry. You never have.”
“That was before,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “This is now.”
The mask was slipping. The facade of the reasonable, loving husband was cracking, peeling away to reveal the ugly, familiar face of the man she had left. The condescension in his eyes hardened into something colder, something more possessive.
“Don’t be foolish,” he said, his voice dropping, taking on the familiar patronizing tone that used to make her feel small. “You’re confused. You’re tired. This… this life you’re living… it’s not real. It’s a fantasy. It’s a distraction. You belong with me. You belong at home. This is where you belong.”
He gestured to the house, to the garden, to the life she had built, as if it were all a cheap, tawdry stage set, a temporary illusion that would crumble at his touch. He was trying to rewrite her reality, to convince her that her strength was a weakness, that her happiness was a lie.
“This is my home,” she said, her voice firm, a quiet declaration of fact. “This is my son. This is my life. And you are not a part of it.”
The last shred of his control snapped. The mask fell away completely, and the man she knew, the man she had feared, was standing in front of her. His face twisted into a mask of rage, his eyes burning with a cold, possessive fire.
“You ungrateful bitch,” he snarled, his voice no longer soft, but a low, venomous hiss. “After everything I’ve done for you. After everything I’ve given you. I put a roof over your head. I put food on your table. I gave you a child. And this is how you repay me? By whoring yourself out to some backwoods nigga with a shiny tooth? By letting him play house with my family? With my son?”
He took a step forward, his body radiating a threat so palpable it made the air around him feel thick and heavy. He was trying to intimidate her, to bully her, to push her back into the small, frightened box he had built for her.
“I gave you everything!” he roared, his voice a loud whisper in the quiet afternoon. “And you threw it all away for what? For a little bit of attention? For a few pretty words? You think he loves you? He doesn’t love you. He’s using you. He’s using you to get what he wants. He’s a user, Cherry. Just like all of them. And when he’s done with you, when he’s had his fun, he’ll throw you away, just like they all do. You’ll come crawling back to me then. You’ll see.”
He was in her face now, his spittle flying, his eyes wild with a desperate, righteous fury. He was trying to break her, to shatter the newfound strength she had found, to remind her of her place.
But she didn’t break.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn't even blink.
She just stood there, a small, solid force of nature, and let his words wash over her, let them hit her and fall away, unable to penetrate the armor she had built around herself and her son.
She saw him for what he was. Not a powerful man. Not a loving husband. Not a father. He was a bully. A small, pathetic man who was terrified of losing control, terrified of being seen for what he truly was: a man who owned things, but who had never known how to love anything.
And in that moment, she felt a surge of something so powerful, so liberating, it almost took her breath away. It was pity.
She looked at him, at his contorted, furious face, and she felt nothing but a deep, profound pity for the small, broken man he had always been.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice quiet, but clear as a bell. “He did give me everything.”
Ray stopped, his tirade faltering, confused by the sudden shift in her tone.
“He gave me a home,” she continued, her gaze softening as she looked down at Silas, who was now awake, his little eyes wide with curiosity, watching the loud, scary man. “He loves OUR son. He gave me a life where I don’t have to be scared. Where I don’t have to shrink. Where I can be… me.”
She looked back up at Ray, her eyes clear and steady, filled with a compassion that was more cutting than any insult.
“You never gave me anything,” she said, her voice a soft, final judgment. “You just took. And I’m done letting you take from me.”
The word hung in the air between them, a quiet, powerful declaration of independence. It was the word she had never been able to say, the word she had been dreaming of saying for years. It was simple. It was powerful. It was final.
Ray stared at her, his rage deflating, replaced by a raw, naked shock. He had lost. He had lost completely, and he knew it. He had come here to reclaim his property, to assert his dominance, to remind her of her place. But he had found a woman he didn't recognize, a woman who was no longer his property, a woman who had built a fortress around her heart that he could not breach.
He looked from her face to the baby in her arms, and a dark, dangerous light entered his eyes. He hadn't won. But he wasn't done.
He straightened up, his expression hardening, his jaw set in a grim, determined line. He wasn't defeated. He was angry. And an angry man with nothing left to lose was the most dangerous kind of man.
“This ain't over,” he said, his voice low, a cold, hard promise. “Not by a long shot.”
He turned and walked away, disappearing back into the overgrown bushes, leaving her standing there in the fading light, a lone warrior in her own garden, the echoes of his rage a chilling reminder that the war was far from over.
The moment Ray’s form vanished into the thick, overgrown bushes, the spell of silence that had held Cherry snapped. The air rushed back into her lungs in a ragged, desperate gasp, and the world, which had narrowed to the space between her and the monster from her past, came roaring back. The chirping of the crickets, the rustle of the leaves in the evening breeze, the distant, muffled sound of the men’s voices from inside the house—it all flooded her senses at once.
Adrenaline, hot and sharp, surged through her veins. It was a primal, electric current, a command screamed from every cell in her body. Run.
She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look back. She scooped Silas from his blanket, his small body a warm, solid weight against her chest, and she ran. Her feet, bare and nimble, flew across the soft earth of the garden. Her wild, soft curls, usually pinned up in a careful, stylish cascade, bounced free with every frantic step, a dark halo against the fading light. She didn’t feel the twigs that scratched her ankles or the stones that dug into her soles. She felt nothing but the frantic, hammering beat of her own heart and the warm, precious life she held in her arms.
She burst through the back door, a whirlwind of panic and wild energy, slamming it shut behind her with a bang that rattled the frame in its casing.
The playful argument in the kitchen died instantly.
Stack and Smoke, who had been lounging at the table, were on their feet in a heartbeat, their bodies tensing, their easy camaraderie evaporating in the face of her terror. They saw her face, the wide, unshed tears shining in her big, deep brown eyes, the frantic, heaving of her chest, the sheer fear that poured off her in waves.
“Cherry,” Stack said, his voice low, a dangerous growl that was already vibrating with rage. He was moving toward her before she could even speak, his arms outstretched.
“He was here,” she gasped, the words tearing from her throat. “In the garden. Ray. He… he touched…” She couldn’t finish. The words were too ugly, too real. She just clutched Silas tighter, the baby now awake and fussing, sensing the storm of emotion that surrounded him.
Stack stopped dead.
The air in the room grew thick, charged with a sudden, terrifying stillness. The rage that had been simmering in him since Smoke’s news boiled over, but it didn’t explode. It imploded, collapsing in on itself and forming a core of cold, hard, deadly purpose. His face, usually so expressive, became a mask of granite, his eyes darkening to a shade of black that promised nothing but pain.
He didn’t say a word. He just took Silas from her arms, his movements impossibly gentle, even though violence was radiating from him in waves. He held the baby for a second, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second as he looked at his son, before handing him to Smoke.
“Take him,” Stack said, his voice a flat, emotionless command. “Take him to his room.”
Smoke didn’t argue. He didn’t hesitate. He just took the baby, his own expression grim, and disappeared down the hallway.
Then Stack turned his full attention to Cherry. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, his body a solid, immovable fortress. He could feel her trembling, could feel the frantic, fluttering beat of her heart against his own.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
She shook her head, her face buried in his chest. “No. I… I said no.”
He pulled back slightly, looking down at her, his eyes searching her face. And he saw it. The change. The strength. The fire. He saw the woman who had stood up to her monster and hadn’t broken. A fierce, possessive pride swelled in his chest, a pride that was so powerful it almost eclipsed his rage.
Almost.
“You’re okay,” he said, his voice a rough, declarative statement. He wasn’t asking. He was telling her. He was making it true.
Then he let her go. He turned and walked to the phone, a heavy, black rotary phone that sat on a small table in the corner. His movements were devoid of all emotion. He was no longer a man. He was a soldier.
He dialed the first number, his finger stabbing the rotary dial with a force that made the plastic creak. He waited, his back to her, his shoulders rigid.
“Caleb,” he said, his voice a low, calm rumble. “It’s Stack. I need you. Now. Get your boys. Get your guns. Come to the house. We got company.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He just hung up the phone, the sharp clang of the receiver echoing in the tense silence. He dialed another number.
“Jedediah. Yeah. It’s time. Bring that shotgun I like. And your cousins. All of them. We got a problem.”
One by one, he made the calls. Each one was the same. A short, sharp declaration of war. He was mobilizing his army, calling in every debt, every favor, every man who owed him his loyalty. He was preparing for a siege.
Meanwhile, Smoke had returned. He moved past Stack and Cherry without a word, his face a mask of cold fury. He went out the back door, his hand already resting on the gun holstered at his hip. He moved with a predator’s grace, his eyes scanning the garden, the yard, the shadows, looking for any sign of the enemy.
He was the hunter now. And the hunt was on.
Cherry stood in the middle of the kitchen, a silent, terrified observer. She watched as Stack, her Stack, transformed into a cold, calculating general. She watched as he moved through the house, checking the locks on the windows, pulling a shotgun out from behind the sofa, loading it with a practiced, chilling efficiency. He wasn’t preparing for a fight. He was preparing for a massacre.
And she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that this was different. This wasn’t about protecting her. This wasn’t about defending his home. This was about something else. Something deeper.
He was preparing for her.
He was preparing for Silas.
He was drawing a line in the sand, a line made of blood and steel, and he was telling the world, telling Ray, telling God himself, that they would not cross it.
Smoke returned a few minutes later, his face grim. “He’s gone,” he said, his voice flat. “No sign of him. But he was here. I can smell him.”
Stack nodded, his expression unchanged. “He’ll be back.”
“With friends,” Smoke added.
“I know.”
They stood there for a moment, the two of them, a united front of cold, hard fury. The twin dynamic, which had softened over the past few months, had returned with a vengeance. They were no longer just brothers. They were a unit. A force of nature. A two-headed wolf ready to tear apart anything that threatened their pack.
Stack looked at Cherry, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second. “Go to Silas,” he said, his voice a quiet command. “Stay with him. Lock the door. Don’t come out until I come for you.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to stay. She wanted to fight alongside them. But she saw the look in his eyes, the look that told her this was not her battle. This was his. This was theirs. This was the price of their love, the cost of their peace. And she had to let them pay it.
She nodded, her heart aching with a love so fierce it was painful. She turned and walked down the hallway, her steps slow and heavy, leaving the two men to their dark, deadly work.
They stood in the silence of the kitchen, the air thick with the unspoken promise of violence. They could hear the cars pulling up outside, the sound of car doors opening and closing, the low, murmuring voices of the men who had come to fight for them.
“They’re here,” Smoke said, his voice a low rumble.
Stack nodded, his hand tightening on the stock of his shotgun. “Let them in.”
Smoke walked to the door, his hand on the knob. He paused, his gaze meeting Stack’s.
“It don’t matter if he’s by himself or with other people,” Smoke said, his voice a cold, hard fact. “No one is leaving alive.”
Stack’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “That’s the plan.”
They knew Ray would return. They knew he would bring his army. And they were ready. They were waiting. It was only a matter of time.
The storm broke just after midnight.
It didn’t creep in on quiet cat paws. It slammed into the house with the fury of a vengeful god, a sudden, violent onslaught of wind and rain that turned the world into a chaos of sound and motion. The sky, once a placid, star-dusted blanket, was now a churning, black cauldron, lit from within by flashes of lightning that turned the night into a series of stark, terrifying photographs.
Upstairs, in the nursery, Cherry stood by the window, her body a taut wire of anxiety. Silas was asleep in her arms, his small body a warm, heavy comfort against her chest, his soft, even breaths a fragile counterpoint to the raging storm outside. Below, she could see them. The house was dark, save for a few strategically placed lamps that cast long, dancing shadows, but the yard was alive with movement. Stack and Smoke, and the eight men they had called, were a scattered, disciplined force. They moved through the rain-slicked grass like wraiths, taking up positions behind the porch pillars, along the fence line, near the edge of the woods that bordered the property. They were waiting. A coiled viper of lethal intent, ready to be released.
She watched Stack, his tall, powerful frame a familiar silhouette against the flashes of lightning. He was by the big oak tree near the road, his shotgun held at the ready, his body still, a predator waiting for his prey. Smoke was on the porch, his handgun held low, his gaze sweeping the darkness with a calm, unnerving focus. They were in twin mode, a single, two-headed organism, their movements synchronized, their thoughts unspoken.
She cradled Silas closer, her lips brushing against his soft, downy hair. “It’s okay, my sweet boy,” she murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum in the storm-tossed room. “It’s okay. Your daddy and your uncle are out there. They’re going to keep us safe. They’re going to keep everything safe.”
She wanted to believe it. She needed to believe it. But the fear was a cold, hard knot in her stomach, a relentless, gnawing thing that refused to be soothed.
And then, it began.
It wasn’t a single shot. It was a volley. A deafening roar of gunfire that erupted from the tree line, a sudden, brutal assault that tore through the night. The air was filled with the sharp, crackling reports of rifles, the deeper, more percussive boom of shotguns, the angry, hornet-like buzz of bullets cutting through the rain.
Cherry cried out, ducking away from the window, her body instinctively curling around the baby, shielding him with her own flesh. She could hear the men below, their shouts and curses lost in the din of the battle. She could hear the splintering of wood, the shattering of glass, and the thud of bullets hitting the house.
She had to see. She had to know.
She risked a glance, her heart hammering against her ribs, her eyes peering through the rain-streaked glass. The yard was a hellscape of flashing lights and flying debris. She could see the muzzle flashes from the tree line, a scattered, chaotic line of enemy fire. And she could see her men, returning fire with a disciplined, controlled precision that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
Stack was a whirlwind of righteous fury. He wasn’t just shooting. He was roaring, a rage that could be heard even over the storm. He moved with a fluid, deadly grace, his body a blur of motion as he fired, reloaded, and fired again, his shots finding their mark with unnerving accuracy.
“Y’all motherfuckers came to the wrong damn house!” he bellowed, his voice a wild, unhinged war cry that echoed across the property. “You came for my family? You came to my goddamn home? I’m gone send you niggas back to Florida in a goddamn box!”
He was a force of nature, a one-man army, his rage a palpable thing that fueled his every move. He was the loud, explosive heart of their defense.
Smoke was the cold. He didn’t shout. He didn’t roar. He just moved and shot, his movements economical, his aim deadly. He was a silent, deadly shadow, a ghost in the storm, and every shot he fired was a kill shot.
“You missed, you sorry son of a bitch,” he muttered, his voice a low, calm monotone that was more chilling than any of Stack’s threats. He fired, and a figure in the tree line crumpled to the ground. “Told you. You ain’t got the range. You ain’t got the aim. You ain’t got the balls.”
The battle raged, a brutal, back-and-forth exchange of lead and hate. The men they had called were a tough, loyal bunch, Clarksdale men who knew how to handle themselves in a fight. They fought with a fierce, protective loyalty, a determination to defend the home of the man who had always had their backs.
Cherry watched, her heart in her throat, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and pride. She saw Caleb, the big, easy-going man from the bakery, take a hit to the arm, his face contorting in pain before he gritted his teeth and kept firing. She saw Jedediah, the old, grizzled farmer, his face a mask of grim determination as he picked off enemy soldiers with his old, reliable shotgun.
They were fighting for her. For Silas. For the life they had built.
And then, she saw him.
Ray.
He was standing just beyond the tree line, a wild, desperate figure in the flashing light. He wasn’t shooting. He was watching, his eyes locked on the house, on the window where she stood. He was looking for her. He was trying to find her.
And then, he raised his rifle.
He wasn’t aiming at the men. He was aiming at her.
Time seemed to slow down, stretching into an eternity of terror. She saw the flash of his muzzle, heard the sharp, crackling report of his rifle. She saw the bullet, a tiny, deadly projectile, cutting through the rain, coming straight for her.
She didn’t have time to scream. She didn’t have time to move.
The bullet shattered the window, a deafening explosion of glass that sent a shower of razor-sharp shards flying into the room. She felt a stinging, burning sensation on her cheek, a hot, sharp pain that was followed by a warm, wet trickle of blood.
She stumbled back, her body crashing into the wall, her arms still wrapped tightly around Silas, who had woken up and was now screaming, his high, terrified cries a horrifying counterpoint to the storm and the gunfire.
Below, the world went silent.
For a single, heart-stopping second, the roar of the battle was replaced by a stunned, horrified silence. Then, a sound erupted from the yard that was more terrifying than any gunshot.
It was the sound of Stack’s rage.
It was a sound that was not of this world, a fury that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, a scream of vengeance that tore from his throat like a physical thing.
“YOU DEAD! YOU MOTHERFUCKER, YOU DEAD!”
He was no longer a man. He was a beast. A demon of vengeance, his eyes burning with a fire that could melt steel. He charged out from behind the tree, his body a blur of motion, his shotgun roaring in his hands, a one-man assault on the enemy line.
“I’M GONNA BLOW YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF YOUR SHOULDERS! I’M GONNA FEED YOU TO THE GODDAMN GATORS PIECE BY PIECE! YOU AIMED AT MY WOMAN? MY SON? OH, YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG ONE, NIGGA! YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG ONE!”
Smoke was right behind him, his face a cold, hard mask of death. “He aimed for her,” Stack said, his voice a low, deadly whisper to his brother. “He aimed for my son.”
The men, fueled by a righteous, protective fury, followed them. They charged across the yard, a wave of lead and hate, their shots finding their mark with a renewed, deadly purpose.
The enemy line, already wavering, broke. They were not prepared for this, for the sheer ferocity of the counter-attack. They were not prepared to face the wrath of a man whose family had been threatened.
Ray stood his ground, his face a mask of desperate defiance. He fired his shots wild and erratic, but he was no match for the storm of lead that was coming his way.
Stack was the first to reach him. He didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate. He just kept firing, his shotgun roaring, a relentless, percussive rhythm of death.
Ray was hit. Once. Twice. Three times. His body jerked and convulsed, a marionette with its strings cut. He stumbled back, his rifle falling from his grasp, his face a mask of shock and pain.
He looked at Cherry, his eyes finding her through the shattered window. For a moment, the rage and the hate were gone, replaced by a look of raw, naked despair. A look that said I lost. I lost everything.
Then, he turned and stumbled into the woods, a dark, bleeding figure disappearing into the storm-tossed night.
The battle was over.
The remaining enemy soldiers, their leader gone, their courage broken, fled into the darkness, their retreat a panicked, disorderly scramble.
The yard was a scene of devastation, a gruesome tableau of violence and death. The men, their adrenaline fading, began to tend to their wounded, their faces grim and somber.
Stack stood in the middle of the yard, his chest heaving, his body slick with rain and blood. The storm was beginning to die down, the wind easing to a mournful sigh, the rain softening to a fine, cold mist. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder, a perfume of violence that clung to everything. He looked at the shattered window, at the dark, gaping hole where the glass used to be, and a cold, hard dread settled in his gut, a chilling counterpoint to the hot, burning rage that still pulsed through his veins.
He saw her face, streaked with blood, her big, brown eyes wide with a terror he had put there. He saw the baby in her arms, his son, his whole world, screaming because of the violence that had found them. He had failed. He had stood right there, and he had let that motherfucker aim a gun at his family.
The thought was a poison, a black, corrosive acid that ate away at the edges of his rage and replaced it with a cold, hard need. He needed to finish it. He needed to see Ray’s body broken and bleeding at his feet. He needed to feel the man’s life fade away under his hands.
He turned, his eyes scanning the tree line, the dark, imposing wall of the swamp that had swallowed his enemy. He took a step toward it, his body moving with a single-minded purpose, his shotgun held tight in his hands. He was going in. He was going to hunt him down.
“Stack.”
Smoke’s voice was a low, calm anchor in the storm of his fury. He was there, his hand on Stack’s arm, his grip like iron, pulling him back.
“He’s in the woods,” Stack snarled, his voice a raw, ragged sound. “I’m gone get him.”
“No,” Smoke said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not.”
“He aimed for her, Smoke!” Stack roared, his rage boiling over again, a desperate, frustrated sound. “He aimed for my son! I’m gone tear him apart with my bare hands!”
“I know,” Smoke said, his voice still calm, his eyes holding his brother’s, a silent, unspoken understanding passing between them. “But you’re not going in there. Not now.”
“Why not?” Stack demanded, his body trembling with the force of his anger. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because it’s over,” Smoke said, his voice a quiet, final judgment. “You hit him. I saw it. So did Caleb. He was hit bad. He’s bleeding out. You go charging in there now, in the dark, in the swamp, and you’re just asking for trouble. He’s desperate. He’s cornered. He might get lucky. And even if he don’t, the swamp will finish him. The gators will finish him. He’s already dead, Stack. He just don’t know it yet.”
Stack stared at him, his chest heaving, his mind a chaotic mess of rage and fear and a reluctant, dawning understanding. He wanted to argue. He wanted to fight. He wanted to chase the monster into his lair and destroy him, piece by piece.
But he saw the truth in his brother’s eyes. He saw the logic of it. Ray was a dead man walking. And going after him now would be a fool’s errand.
He let out a long, shuddering breath, the fight draining out of him, leaving him feeling hollow, empty, and exhausted. He lowered his shotgun, his body slumping, the weight of the night, the weight of the violence, settling over him like a shroud.
“He’s gone,” Smoke said, his voice softer now, a quiet reassurance. “He can’t hurt them anymore.”
Stack looked back at the house, at the shattered window, at the woman and the child he loved more than his own life. And he knew Smoke was right. The fight was over. The monster was dead. And they had won.
He ran to the house, taking the stairs two at a time, his heart a frantic, terrified drum against his ribs. He burst into the nursery, his eyes wild, his face a mask of fear.
He found her huddled in the corner, her body trembling, her face streaked with tears and blood, but she was alive. She was alive. And she was holding their son, protecting him, her love for him a force more powerful than any bullet.
He fell to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for her, his body trembling with a relief so profound it was almost painful. He didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into his chest, his body a solid, immovable shield against the world.
“He’s gone,” he whispered, his voice a raw, ragged sound. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Cherry looked up at him, her big, brown eyes swimming with tears, and she saw the man she loved. The man who had fought for her. The man who had killed for her. The man who would die for her.
And she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her soul, that she was finally, truly, safe.
The dawn came, slow and gray, a reluctant witness to the night’s horrors. The storm had passed, leaving behind a world that was washed clean and yet deeply stained. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and something else, something coppery and wrong, the smell of blood that had seeped into the ground and would not be easily washed away.
The house stood, a silent, weary sentinel against the pale, lightening sky. Inside, the quiet was a heavy, suffocating thing, a blanket of exhaustion and shock that settled over every room, every piece of furniture, every soul.
In the yard, the men worked. They moved with a grim efficiency, their faces somber. They were cleaning up the mess. The bodies of Ray’s men, eight of them, were being dragged to the far end of the property, to the edge of the swamp that bordered their land. They would be buried there, their bodies given to the murky, dark water, their names forgotten, their lives extinguished. It was a brutal, necessary task, a final, ugly chapter in a story that should never have been written.
Inside, the family was regrouping.
Smoke was on the porch, a silent, unmoving guard. He stood in the rocking chair, his gun resting across his lap, his eyes scanning the tree line. He was the watcher, the protector, the quiet, steady force that kept the darkness at bay.
Stack sat at the kitchen table, his body slumped in the chair, his head bowed. He was covered in blood, his shirt a dark, sticky mess, his hands caked with it, the blood of his enemies, the blood of his rage. He looked like a man who had been to hell and back, a man who had stared into the abyss and had not blinked.
Cherry stood beside him, a bowl of warm, soapy water in her hands, a clean cloth in her fingers. She was cleaning him. Slowly. Carefully. She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and began to wipe the blood from his hands, her touch gentle, her movements a ritual of cleansing and healing.
Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The silence was a language in itself, a shared understanding of the horror they had survived, of the love that had sustained them, of the cost of their peace.
She worked on his left hand first, her fingers carefully tracing the lines of his palm, cleaning the blood from his knuckles, from his cuticles, from the spaces between his fingers. His hands were big, strong hands, hands that could build a house, that could hold a baby, that could kill a man. And they were her hands. She looked at them, at the raw, brutal power they contained, and she felt a surge of something so powerful, so overwhelming, it almost brought her to her knees.
This family had fought for her. They had drawn a line in the sand, a line made of blood and steel, and they had said, “No further. You will not pass.” They had killed for her. They had died for her. They had risked everything for her.
But she had fought too.
She had stood in the garden, a lone woman against a monster, and she had said, “No.” She had protected her son, her body a shield, her love a weapon. She had faced her past, and she had not broken. She had survived.
She looked at Stack, at his bowed head, at the dark, at his thick head of hair that he slicked back every morning, at the strong, proud line of his jaw. She saw the man she loved, the man who had given her a home, a family, a life. And she saw the man who had been pushed to the brink, who had been forced to become a monster to protect the ones he loved.
And she loved him more. Not for the violence, but for the reason behind it. For the fierce, protective, all-consuming love that fueled it.
She finished with his left hand and moved to his right. It was worse, the blood caked on thicker, the skin raw and red. She worked slowly, her touch gentle, her heart aching with a love so fierce it was a physical pain.
He finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers. They were dark, haunted, filled with a pain that went deeper than the physical. He had been to a dark place, a place where rage and violence were the only currency, and he had brought a piece of it back with him.
He didn’t ask, “Did I protect you?” He didn’t ask, “Are you proud of me?” He didn’t ask, “Did I do good?”
He asked, “Are you okay?”
The question was a quiet, fragile thing, a raw, vulnerable admission of his own fear, his own doubt. It was a subtle yet massive difference, a shift from the brute who solved problems with his fists to the man learning to lead with his heart.
Cherry looked at him, her big, brown eyes swimming with tears, and she nodded, a slow, deliberate movement of her head. “I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice a raw, ragged sound. “We’re okay.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath, a sound that was half-sob, half-sigh, a release of all the tension, all the fear, all the rage that had been building inside him. He reached for her, his hand, now clean, wrapping around her wrist, pulling her closer, his body leaning into hers, a desperate, needy search for comfort, for connection, for love.
She leaned into him, her body fitting against his, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand coming up to stroke his beard, a slow, soothing rhythm that was as much for her as it was for him.
In the next room, Silas was asleep, his small body warm and safe in his crib, his dreams undisturbed by the violence that had raged outside his window. He was the reason. He was the reward. He was the future.
On the porch, Smoke stood watch, a silent guardian. He was the shield, the protector, the quiet, steady force that kept the darkness at bay. He was the brother, the uncle, the man who had drawn his own line in the sand, a line that said, “You will not touch my family. You will not harm my nephew. You will not pass. I am Smokey Bear.”
The lamp in the kitchen burned low, a single, warm flame in the cold, gray dawn. The house was quiet, the air thick with the scent of soap and blood, of love and loss. The house was still standing.
But far beyond the property, far beyond the porch light, far beyond the safety of the home they had built, a wounded figure moved through the darkness.
He was alive.
He was bleeding.
He was unfinished.
He stumbled through the swamp, his body a mass of pain, bleeding, his mind a chaotic mess of rage and despair. He had lost everything. His wife. His son. His pride. He had been defeated, humiliated, cast out. But he was not broken. He was not gone.
He was a ghost in the machine, a virus in the system, a threat that was not yet neutralized. He was a man with nothing left to lose.
Somewhere beyond the trees, something wounded kept breathing.
You’re like the cutest little puppy or a cute, needy little kitten in his eyes. Always hungry for attention, even if you don’t say it or you don’t show it in your actions. It’s in those pretty eyes he could get lost in for ages. It’s in the way he calls for you and you always come, leaning into his touch. Curling into his side or cuddling into his arms. It’s in the you burns off his affection but still pout when he pulls away. The goosebumps you get when he caresses your lower back, letting his hands trail to your hips.
“You in love with me or somethin baby?”
You know the answer.
So does he.
Especially with that smile or smirk on his lips. Laughs as you get all embarrassed. You try to shove him off but he pulls you closer by your waist.
The man can’t help but kiss your cheeks he knows are heating up even without being to see it on your skin, hold you by the back of your neck so he can give your a loving kiss on your perfect lips.
You’re his amazing fucking girl.
Even when he smokes.
And it’s almost chronic, has to have atleast one a day. And you look at him with bored eyes, but watch him none the less, as his lips take in tabbaco and blow it out ever so perfectly. You can’t help but get used to the smell, let it hit you when hold onto him like it’s the last time. The smell of tobacco, pinewood or cinnamon engulf you, falling in love with him a little more.
To the point he sends you in the store to get his favorite pack of cigarettes along with whatever snack you wanted and his favorite is ingrained in your memory. Or when he knows it’s too much, doesn’t like his pretty baby coughing up a storm, he gives your ass a little smack, shoo’s you away.
“No baby, not right now, gimmie me a second.”
He quickly finishes it, or takes one last drag, following you wherever you are because he loves being in your space. He tries his best to be careful with you, you’re a precious thing to him more than anyone on this planet, more than his fucked job, more than his own life, more than his lungs— you are the air he breathes.
a/n: I don’t encourage smoking irl (if it’s not weed) by any means. But boy do I get nostalgic with happy memories from smelling it, and lord knows I adore a character who smokes🤭🤤🤤 inspo, because I’m a slut for expanding past ideas.
You two bicker so much, your children think you actually hate each other.
“You’re too fuckin grown to not eat your greens.”
“I’m not the old hag needing to eat them with every meal, am I?”
“You talk so damn much over the movie, I can’t hear shit. fuck me.”
“You have bad ears any way old man, turn it down.”
“And hear you even more? Don’t think so.”
“It said make a right and you turn left?”
“You don’t know your right from left, you’re losing your brain from old age, woman.”
“I’m well enough to know what ‘right’ looks like, idiot, the roads not blocked so park there before we have to walk even farther.”
It’s… a lot lol. And your daughter who’s 17, asks you about it while you put away the dishes, more than concerned. You giggle, looking out towards the garden.
“You see those sunflowers out there don’t you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Your father gave them to me as a gift when you turned three. Every year more grow and they flourish. Look up the meaning of ‘em and then get back to me.” You wink over at her and go back to your task.
Love, loyalty and Adoration. Is what popped up on google.
It makes her think more about how you and your husband interact. The way you always eat whatever he doesn’t finish & vice versa. The way he puts a comforter on you when you sleep on the couch and pulls you into his lap, or carries you upstairs before the movie ends. How dad always keeps your favorite snacks filled and you two always move in tandem, you never have to ask what the other needs or what needs to be done. You two are in sync, you coming and hugging dad from the side when he’s stressed, how dad takes all the kids out when you need your ‘mommy moment.’ Dad does laundry while you cook, and that project you’ve been dreaming about is already half way done because Dad already built it out for you.
“Your kid thinks we don’t like each other hubby.” You say, painting the dog house the bright red, on your hands and knees.
He’s quick, “I don’t like you.” He’s staring from the patio set, your ass is still as perfect as ever in the paint stained capris your wearing. Youve gotten sexier over the last 20 years together, more curves, wrinkles and stretch marks. Gorgeous girl. He could wreck you right now on this Thursday afternoon, if your kids weren’t about to wake up from a nap.
You huff, standing up, “We have to be a good example! I don’t want them thinkin I hate yo—“
Before you can get another word out, you slip on the tray of paint you barely noticed was right under your feet. The love of your life is fast, protecting your head as you both fall to the ground but paint flies all over the both of you.
Your breath is caught in your throat, in shock, but he curses, eyes flying all over you in worry, “Dummy, watch were you’re goin!”
You burst into a fit of laughter, eyes closing as your smile brighter than the sun. Eyes crinkling. Laughter just like a melody. He scuffs in his head, ‘Clumsy ass.’ You’re beautiful. His wife is still so wonderful. He can’t help but kiss you on the full lips.
You speak softly, tantalizing, “again.” Another kiss. “Again.” Another kiss. “More.” And he gives you a long kiss, wanting.
Oh, this is what love is. Ever lasting, a cool glass of lemonade on a day summer day, so refreshing. Adoring— that man loves you. And you, him.
Black Fem! Reader x Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore & Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. (modern-day)
▶︎▶︎Part 1/2.◀︎◀︎
Summary: Your next-door neighbors, Stack & Smoke were your best friend’s twin brothers. Elias was drawn to what was forbidden, & Elijah had his eye on you. After one fantasy of the twins, you needed to get them out of your system.
A/N: My apologies for my absence, been busy with work but here’s Smoke & Stack! Enjoy! 🤭
Warnings: threesome with twins, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, cumshots, choking, fingers in mouth, biting, dumbification, overstimulation, praise, AU where Stack & Smoke are in the modern-day world, cocky!Stack, best friend's brothers trope, thigh riding, face fucking, mean!Smoke, cum play, teasing, fingering, rough sex, jealousy, head, sneaking around, use of n-word, mean!Stack, aftercare, manhandling?
Stack was nothing more than merely your best friend’s annoying ass twin brother. Far too cocky for your liking, and far too fine to let yourself get caught up. Reckless, smooth talker who would chase after the young women, or sneak in older women who wanted a personal taste for Ladies Night.
While Elijah was more quiet than Elias, taciturn, and took his time to speak with women than his fast-moving younger brother.
However, women often eyeing Smoke discreetly, they were drawn to his quiet nature, his strapping physique, and the women he kept.
Smoke never had a problem with women, and they loved the strong, silent type of men.
Women often calling them Devils In Twos and quoting that comes in many forms, even in midnight blue, not just crimson red.
At first, you didn't know that Eliana had two twin half-brothers…well, as she would explain it, two twin brothers. Their mother would say, “God didn't make half of anythin’ you hear? You are family,” and they took it to heart.
Their baby sister, Eliana with her breathtaking beauty, is a spitting image of their mom. She has brown skin, a button nose, dimples, plump lips, with bouncing curls down her back, and an hourglass body. Same traits as her big brothers, with a softer side.
Her nickname was Sage, which emphasizes her calmness that she brings to the sibling dynamic. The yin to their yang, and the créme de la créme.
The men? Either hunted down, beaten to death, or killed to be televised on the morning news for disrespect, breaking her heart, or looking her way, without any consequences to the brothers.
Overprotective as hell? Yes.
Stubborn as hell? Yes.
Soft spots for their sister? Yes.
You meet their sister in the neighborhood, where she moved into on the first day, casual talks about your jobs, movies, TV shows, dating, and music, various topics. You, and Eliana shared similar interests, views, and she could talk shit about her brothers frequently.
The Moore brothers had various business ventures, as proved by the papers on permanent ink. Stack worked on his popular club. While Smoke operated in the management, production, and high-end beverage business of his own, importing all over the world.
Smoke is investing in his own bar, Smokey’s Hub, right across from the strip club, which Stack owns for himself. Smoke objected to the idea, but Stack insisted on making more money, and Sage worked in the bar with Smoke, bartending to patrons.
Eliana felt safe, and comfortable around you. She had a real friend, not just someone who wanted to be around her brothers, or fuck them.
Who wouldn't?
It was pleasant to see that their little Sage was happy, smiling, and out of her comfort zone around you. Initially, you found her brothers attractive, but your interest was in getting to know her.
You had a strong friendship with Smoke, but Stack was occasionally a friend as well.
Stack had his moments, but your affection for the twins was evident, and they were aware of it too.
Sage and Smoke were vigilant of their brother’s mischief, including yourself. Who knows how many fake friends went after Stack, and left Sage in the dark, alone, in tears. Unforgiving of her brother.
They were either in their house or following behind his baby sister into yours, arm over her shoulder with that stupid grin across his face.
Stack would say that his television was broken, or needed to borrow some sugar, making various excuses just to see his sister, and you. He would try flirting, and sweet talk, while you hurl insults or bite back at him While Smoke followed behind him, smacking him upside his head.
His sister wasn't buying it. Sage replied by saying “You see me every day, go on and play with your little hoes,” as if he were a pimp from back in the day.
Sage was onto his game with you, and her. She warned you so many times about Stack, and you listened diligently to her, and Smoke.
However, one Friday night, you invited the twins over to your house for dinner, while you were cooking late at night, the men stood between you, carefully helping you prepare the meals, as they did.
You accidentally bumped into both of them, they stood before you, their eyes settled on you. Seductive. You didn’t say a word, and they only apologized for getting in your way.
Your mind created a nasty fantasy of you in between Stack & Smoke, you were on all fours, mouth full of Stack while Smoke fucked you from behind as he hated you, a man that deprived, in desperate need of your touch. Tears falling down your face, mascara running, twisting in pleasure.
Smoke & Stack had you in multiple positions, their big hands all over you, leaving no place untouched. Claiming you as theirs, kissing you, biting you into your skin.
The dream seemed so vivid that you attempted to fall asleep that same night. You couldn't sleep. Your fingers slipped beneath your panties, moving against your pulsating clit, and your fingers deep inside your pussy. Finger fucking yourself until you come over and over, leaving a mess over your sheets, yourself included.
You changed the sheets and took a shower. Despite that, the wet dream remained engraved in your memory. And you wanted to make it happen, and you've had a little crush on them.
Obviously, you didn't tell Sage that, when she would only jump to conclusions, and make accusations. Admit that you've never been a real friend to her at all.
Stack & Smoke was your next-door neighbors in the neighborhood, with its prestigious reputation nestled in a grand location where they paid extra for security, camera surveillance, privacy, and were squeaky clean in every way.
Still, Sage was becoming suspicious of you, and Stack together. The longing glances, flirting from him mostly, and you flirting back.
She trusted Smoke wouldn't do the same, and you were discreetly looking his way without her noticing, mainly because he was quiet and didn’t talk much.
Though Smoke was silent, it doesn't mean he’s not sneaking around or out-going like Stack. Hell, Smoke might even be fucking a woman or two, turning her whichever way she pleases.
People often underestimate the quiet ones, expecting little of them.
Eliana lay sprawled across the large pink couch, eyelids closed gently, a pink woolen blanket draped over her body. Softly snoring, as your eyes flickered toward her, and then back to the television screen, showing an episode of Living Single.
You lay slouched across the second couch on the right side of the spacious living room. Relaxed, relishing in the silence for a moment.
She was getting some rest after a hectic night at Smoke’s bar, and either he or Stack would usually ensure she got home safely on his days off since they lived in the same neighborhood as you.
She frequently came by to chat all day and could sleep through anything, yawning softly, blinking twice before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Refreshed, yet still slightly fatigued.
“Y/n?” Sage mumbled, her voice soft yet raspy from sleep.
You hummed in response, smiling softly. “Hey, sleepy head,” you whispered playfully, waving at her.
“Girl, work has been so stressful with Eli lately. The bar was packed,'cause Elias brought in half naked bottle girls from his damn club,” Eliana spoke unsettled, half asleep, half-awake. Her southern accent spilling from her speech.
Your brows creased at her sleepy speech, as the image you created in your mind appeared like magic. Your hand smacked over your mouth, stifling a laugh.
The vibration of your laugh tickles your palm, with one hand over your stomach. The pain inside crept through. “He’s so crazy, I can see him doing that,” You added, clearing your throat.
Eliana chuckled coyly, with a slight grin. “Smoke almost blew a fuse at him but it brought in more business for us. They asked about you," She says halfheartedly, rolling her eyes.
You blinked twice. “They did? How are they?”
“Unfortunately, yes. They are always asking about you, and wonder how you're doing. I don't like it. You like them?” Sage asked casually as if it took away the unease.
“Sage, you’re barking up the wrong tree here, ask them, yourself,” You shot back, your voice held an edge that barely concealed your frustration with this tangled situation.
Sage waved you off, with a defensive nod, before you caught that eye roll from her. You squinted at your friend and you scoffed coyly.
“You think every girl you're friends with is gonna fuck your brothers, even me?” You asked, accusing her, your voice in a strict tone.
Sage rose from her spot on the couch and snatched her blanket as if to cover herself from shame. Trust issues, fear of facing the same cycle again. She knew she shouldn't have said that to you, but you knew Sage was thinking it. Ruthless.
“You’re thinking it, but you won't say it.” You snapped, your head shook gently.
“Y/N…please. I'm sorry,” Sage whined softly, her lip poking out.
Spoiled rotten. Always used to get what she wanted, but that didn't include friends.
“No, you’re not.” You snapped in a calm tone, eyeing her up, and down.
Sage didn't say a word, speechless. Her face softening, with guilt, anxiety, and lament. Her lips fell into a frown, her shoulders slumped faintly. You could see it in her.
“Okay. I know you, and you're my friend. I don't want to lose you like this. I'm so fucking sorry!” Sage exclaimed worrily, her arms wrapped around you, her face buried in your neck. Overly clingy.
You didn't cave in, able to resist her. Pushing her away. Her face turned sour, while your face remained neutral. “Don’t you have a home to get to?” You shot back rudely, your hand gestures to the front door.
That cute shit isn't going to work on you, not now. Sage sighed in defeat, nodding in agreement. “I need to go home, I need to clear my head anyway.” Sage mumbled, her lip fell into a frown.
Sage says farewell to you. She stepped out with quickness and closed the door firmly. Hours later, you heard footsteps thudding against the concerte, fading away.
Your phone vibrated on the coffee table, your eyes flickered toward it, just after grabbing it. Your eyes focused on the screen, it was your best friend, Jaelyn. With a press of your thumb, you held the phone to your ear.
“Hey, Jaelyn. How's your evening going?”
“Hey, girl! It's going good, how about you?”
You sucked in a shallow breath, before your fingers tugged at the tussels of your pillows. Your lips fell into a tight line, frustration with your current feelings, and your choice.
There was no time to be adamant about your feelings, and you knew what you wanted.
“You remember Eliana’s twin brothers, Smoke & Stack? The same ones I've introduced you to a couple of weeks ago?” You mentioned knowingly, gesturing to them as if they were in the room.
“Yeah? The two fine twins? And their bratty sister?” Jaelyn drawled, blinking twice, unaware of what you were asking.
You knew that Jaelyn wouldn't judge you, or make a mockery of your feelings. She's been through similar experiences as you. Best friend since elementary school.
“Yup, those two. So I had a freaky dream about them a couple of nights ago…” You dragged along, your eyes glued to the ceiling.
“Ouuuuu! You did?! Girl, did they have you in a threesome? Did you suck their dicks? Doggystyle? Missionary? From the side? Cowgirl? Reverse?” Jaelyn exclaimed, her voice seductive, almost frantic.
“Yesss that, and they did! Every single one! It felt real to me, too.”
Jaelyn gasped softly, her hand over her chest. Her mouth parted slightly as if she moaned from the image. “Let me guess you want to fuck them?” she teased, grinning.
Your fingers dug deep into the fabric of the pillow, bringing your knees to your chest. Your lip poked out, “You know I do,”
“Then what's stopping you? Sage? You?" Jaelyn asked boldly, her head tilting.
“Nobody?” You drawled, biting your lip.
“Exactly! Why do you care for Sage’s opinion, or her thoughts? She'll have to deal with it or leave, somehow. Everyone wants to fuck her brothers,” London says, shrugging it off.
You sighed in relief, chuckling softly. “Preaching to the choir, boo!”
“We both know you don't want to be friends with those niggas. I'm 100% sure they like you. I see how they look at you, like they’re ready to tear that ass up! Simultaneously!" Jaelyn exclaimed, laughing on the other end of the line.
“Simultaneously is crazy!” You cackled loudly, eyes snapped shut.
You, and Jaelyn burst into laughter, you hand over your stomach, the sound echoing through the house. Head thrashing across the pillow, your palm hitting the cushion, thudding softly.
“Shit..I would fuck the brothers too, and I wouldn't give a single fuck, you hear me?” Jaelyn added, exhaling to stop herself from laughing.
“I hear you. I appreciate this shit so much, Jae!”
“Of course, girl! I'm here for you, just like you're here for me. All shade but I'm your real friend!”
“Girl, I love you but you're making my stomach hurt—”
You almost flinched at the sound of a sudden knock, pondering on the identity of the visitor. “Shit!” you mumbled, your eyes flickered toward the door in caution. "What's wrong, are you okay?” Jaelyn asked in concern.
“Yeah, but someone is at my door,” You say, carefully rising from the couch.
Silently wishing that it wasn't Sage. Swiftly checking your phone, you caught a glance of your Ring Camera live feed.
Stack & Smoke appeared on the screen, with Smoke acknowledging you with a chin raise and Stack displaying a self-satisfied smile.
“Girl! It's Smoke & Stack!”
“Ouuu! You’d better go fuck them! You got this!” Jaylen encouraged, winking at you.
You chuckled at your bestie’s nasty encouragement, and winked playfully at her. “Thanks, boo! I'll give you the details later!”
“Anytime, and yes, please! I can’t wait for the tea!” Jaelyn quiqqed, smirking with mischief.
With a push of your thumb, you laughed it off, and ended the phone call.
Your face lit up, until you swung the screen door and door, open. Revealing Elias in a grey oversized hoodie, and matching sweatpants, crisp, white Air Force Ones, on his feet. While Elijah opted for a black hoodie, and sweatpants. For the biting chill of fall, your favorite season.
You chuckled lightly, before letting them inside your house, stepping aside. “Hi Elijah, Hi Elias, Why are y’all here?” You asked, pushing the doors closed, locking them shut.
The men scraped their shoes outside and gently kicked them off into the shoe basket beside the door.
The twins loomed over you as Stack leaned in, with your hand pressing against his chiseled abs. Warmth spread through you, as your hand glided over his abdomen, pushing him back a few. Stack stumbled back, grinning, while you rolled your eyes.
“We can't see you, now? Hm?” Stack hummed, his hands mushed your face, gently shaking your head from side to side.
“Stack, stop playing..” You snapped, squinting. Your palm swatted at his arm, Stack hissing with a smirk.
“But it's cute you act all fuckin’ tough,” Stack winced, his voice playful.
“Nigga, you play too much,” Smoke gritted, cutting his eyes at him.
“Nigga, you just jealous,” Stack tutted, matching his death glare.
You strode off toward the couch that faced the television, and gently plopped down, as the twins followed behind you. Smoke sat beside you on the right while Stack sat on the left side. Sandwiched between them, just like the dream. Their cologne is spicy, woody, possibly a hint of dark cherry, and cinnamon. Fuck, they smelled really good.
Your body shifted, thighs pressed together. Stack & Smoke sat manspread, his knees brushing against yours on purpose yet Smoke’s arm rested over the couch. Stack’s death glare cut at Smoke, yet his big brother smirked impishly. Panties pooling from the closeness, the rush of heat flowed through you.
“I've finally had a day today, and another couple of days off tomorrow, which is good. I need a damn break,” You say with a sigh, your head falling back on the pillow.
“Folks ‘round there stressin’ you out too much?” Smoke asked gently, the rasp crept in.
“Yes, I've been there for 3 years now, and I don't plan to stay long. Being an assistant to a corporate boss in the office is not what I thought I was.” You complained, shrugging.
Ideas floated through their minds, hoping to provide a solution to your problem, an escape for you.
“If you don't want to keep workin’ over there, then would you be open to workin’ in a bar? I've got security, good music, decent folks in their right mind, and good food,” Smoke spoke, sincerity in his tone.
“Or would you work in a strip club? Bartendin’ if you want,” Stack chimed in, careful with his time.
Thankfully, you’ve already had a bartending license, and on-the-job training. You knew how everything occurred from start to finish.
How could you say no to good music, and good food? Decent folks in their right mind? Sold. Yet, bars, and strip clubs always attract weirdos. Smoke would be there 24/7, Stack would be there too.
“Honestly, I do need a new job, and I'm so fucking exhausted of my current one. My boss is such a bratty bitch,” You grumbled, rolling your eyes.
Humming lightly, your head snapped in the direction of Smoke. “I'll work in the bar then, Smokey Bear!” You exclaimed with a grin, batting your eyelashes at him.
Smoke’s lips curled into a big smile, lips still closed shut. His heart skipped a beat at the nickname.
“Good to hear,” Smoke whispered.
Stack snickered at the nickname you've called Smoke. His hand over his mouth. You laughed but stopped yourself immediately, you thought it was cute for Elijah. He offered an incredible bear hug, reminiscent of a bear…cautious, caring, and powerful.
“Smokey Bear? Y/n, you tellin’ me only this nigga can prevent wild fires?” Stack asked, still belting out hysterical laugh.
“The fuck you laughin’ for Stacky-wacky?” Smoke cooed, dragging along a snicker.
Stack’s lips tightened in a line, faintly twitching at the nickname from Smoke. Scoffed it off.
“The fuck that mean?” Stack asked rudely, squiting hard at his brother.
A laugh spilling out of your lips, as Stack cut his eyes at you, but your lips went into a tight line. “Ok, it was a little funny, Stack!” You chimed in, shrugging.
“Guys, I have to tell you something. So I had trouble sleeping a couple of nights ago,” You confessed, your eyes darting between the men.
You swallowed hard, clearing your thoart. “N-no. It was a sex dream about you, and Stack. I was between the two of you, and it felt real.”
“A sex dream?” Smoke & Stack say in unison, intrigued yet bewildered.
A rush of heat flooded your face, embarrassment couldn't creep in. You weren't feeling like that anymore, the release was needed. Rose from the couch, your eyes darting between the twins. Your face softened, with something unreadable.
“Yes, and honestly, I want it to come true for me and I should get y'all out of my system,” You drawled softly, your hand resting over the nape of your neck.
Smoke & Stack exchanged longing gazes, fighting off a slow bite of their lips. Their faces softening with love, something deeper was brimming inside of them. A war
“You should get us out of yo’ system, Y/n? You sure ‘bout that sweetheart?” Stack spoke up first, his voice dangerously gravelly, and raspy.
You blinked twice. “Yeah, why?”
You wouldn't be surprised if the women they fucked separately, or together the women wouldn't be able to get Elijah, or Elias out of their system, or forget about them.
Smoke & Stack rose their positions from the couch, their posture straightened, and still. The twins stepped forward, yet flanked you on either side of you simultaneously.
Smoke leaned in, his lips inches away from your ear. Heat sank in your body, breath hitching. Caught in your thoart. His gaze on you, possessive, and salacious.
“Once we fuck you. Y/n, you’re our girl. You know how we feel about you, baby?” Smoke drawled, his voice deepened with his accent. His warm minty breath tickles your skin.
“Ya'll know how Sage is,” You say, nervousness in your tone.
Stack’s head tilted slightly, glancing at you, as if he was ready to take you down. His finger slides under your chin and his thumb rests under your lips, forcing your gaze to his.
Heat spreads through your body as you meet his gaze softly, trying to hold it as if it could prevent yourself from melting.
Despite this, you involuntarily moaned, your pulse pounding loudly in your ears. Pointless. Your panties were already wet enough, even before any touch by either of them.
You liked this, you inhaled sharply. “Are y'all clean?
Smoke & Stack nodded in reassurance. “Yeah, we’re clean. We get checked every day, and wear condoms..”
You wanted to feel them instead, entirely. “T-that’s good. But can I feel y'all this time..”
“All you have to do is say it, and we'll fuck you how you want. Just like that lil dream of yours and I know. Even better than that dream, baby.” Smoke whispered in your ear, watching your shiver in front of them.
One twin in your ear, and the other twin in front of you.
It was the classic trope of a devil and angel on your shoulders, but this time there were two devils. One wore the blue hour, while the other was dressed in crimson red.
“You grown, ain't you? What’chu worryin’ ‘bout her for?” Stack asked, controlled, and inviting.
You leaned forward, arching your back instinctively. Your thighs clenched together, catching the eyes of both Stack and Smoke, whose lips curled into mischievous smiles in perfect unison.
“Just fuck me already,”
—————
You lie flat on your stomach, with your chin resting on your arms, folded. Naked, as your eyes flickered toward the twins who stood bare at the edge of your bed, their dicks were thick, deep brown, swinging near their thighs. The weight of their dicks was heavy. Yet you waited for them, desperately.
Damn. Now, you saw why.
“You can touch me..” You whispered, audible enough for the men to hear.
Smoke kneeled on the bed, sliding toward you with a small smirk of mischief, his movement, forward and dangerously deliberate. His palm pressed against your stomach, fingers splayed possessively. Gently pushing you down on the soft violet bedding, your legs spreading wide for him. Elijah wanted to taste you first, his tongue gliding over his lip.
“Fuckk,” Smoke groaned raspily, as he wrapped his lips around your clit, your mouth fell into a silent gasp once his tongue traced teasing, slow shapes over your clit. He was in sync with every tiny heartbeat, your hands shot out, fingers gripped the bedspread and the heels of your feet dug into the mattress. “Oh—-fuckk!!” you moaned again, and again.
Smoke’s hands slipped under your knees, gripped, and lifted, resting over his shoulders. Your voice spilling out in a plethora of loud choked moans, cuss words. “OhmyfuckingggGodddd!” you mewled, nails clawing at his back, almost drawing blood. Smoke growled raspily across your clit, and your lip poked out, whimpering softly. His tongue lowered to your brown folds, tongue kisses your folds deep as if they were your lips. “You sayin the wrong name..” Stack grunted lowly, lapping your cum in his mouth. Slurping, swallowing, as his lips opened, closed simultaneously.
Your body squirmed, shook, in his tight grip. Your hand over his head, Smoke swayed his head from side to side over your folds crazily, your back arching over the wet sheets. He made a mess of you, everywhere.
“Nah, baby, you pray to us,” Smoke rasped, the pad of his thumb flattened over clit. His fingers nudged your folds open, curling into your G-spot. “Elijahhh!” You lost your mind, begging him. Smoke added suction, the sounds of your pussy swallowing his fingers, and your moans brought a simmering anger in Stack. Finger fucking you like a madman. He could make you cum like that, twice as fast. “You get wetter when I do this?” he cooed, smirking devilishly. Your cum splattered all over his palm, creating a bigger pool. “Yesss!”
Stack stood there, arms crossed. Eyes rolled. Unfazed. He kneeled, and slid behind you, his gaze darting to you, and Smoke. His palm rested over his dick, closing his fist. Raspily groaned from his own touch, lifting his dick, in his hand. His hand mashed your face, yet you were unable to speak. “Open,” Stack admonishes, his moan spilled out, his head leaned over you, and your mouth parted wide. “That’s our girl..” he praised, before crashing his lips into yours, shoving his tongue in, as your tongue tangled with his, swallowing your feeble moans.
Your fucked yourself into Smoke’s fingers, your moans vibrating against Stack’s mouth. Stack broke the kiss, as he pushed his dick inside your mouth. You took him in as best you could, the weight of his dick was heavy, but your cheeks were hollowing around him. “Suck harder…” Stack hummed lowly, his eyes snapped shut and you did. Elicit raspy groans from the twins. The vibration from your mouth due to Smoke devouring you drove him insane. Jaw aching. “This mouth made for sucking dick..” You were already so sensitive, as you jerked away, his nose tickled your clit, Smoke didn't give you mercy. Are these men trying to kill you through pleasure? Yeah, they were.
Smoke’s hand & Stack’s hand reached out, fingers gently gripped at your titties, kissing each swell of your breasts. Stack teased your left nipple between his teeth, while Smoke copied him on the right, sharply rolling the areola between their canines, while Stack’s finger pinched your clit. “Pussy made for this..” Smoke says, sliding in one more finger. Your thighs clenched against Smoke’s temples. You whined loudly, “P-please—-Elijah!! Elias!!!” you moan muffled on his dick. Your hand stroked what you couldn't fit in your mouth. “Nah. Go on and suck..slut..” Stack grunted, groaned, and moaned against you, your cheeks hollowing.
He tapped the fat head of his dick against your uvula, spurting spit, beads of precum. Stack moaned lowly. You made muffled choking sounds entirely, your hand pumping him still. Stack moved your hand. “I said suck my dick..no strokin’ baby..” Stack teased. Such a bully.
Stack’s hand latched around your thoart, his palm felt your neck muscles clenching, and unclenching, the steadfast movement of his dick going in and out. “Lemme feel that mouth…” Stack tsking through a moan. Sweat clung to your bodies, half of your face covered by a halo of curls. “Mhmm!” Your body twisted, shaking. Meeting Stack’s lovesick gaze, radiating your lust for them. His dick jumping, twitching inside your mouth.
Smoke pushed Stack a few feet away, he almost thrashed into the headboard but his palm on the wall. Before he could cum for you, by your command. Stack fisting his own dick, grunting loudly. “Here’s a reward, baby..shit..” You poked your tongue, mouth parted wide. Stack’s tip spurted thick spurts of cum white, landing on your titties, stomach, in your mouth. You swallowed, moaned devilishly. “Gonna..cummm!” you cried hopelessly, your breathing grew frantic, still breathing through your nose.
Their mouths released your breasts, yet your hips shoving into Smoke’s fingers, almost knuckle deep. Twisting, and curling his fingers into a ‘come here’ motion. “Eli—pleaseee!” but your choked moans fell on deaf ears, he only wanted you to feel it. His fingers slid out teasingly, he grinned at you with a heated gaze. “I ain't done eatin’ baby,” His tongue darted endlessly, tongue fucking you like you were the last meal. “This lil pussy suckin me in.." Smoke teased, scissoring his fingers over your G-spot. You twitched, and opened with every flick and suck, constantly oozing white cum.
Abruptly, you released, drenching Smoke's face, on his tongue, gulping, devouring your pussy completely as if he could engulf it all in his mouth entirely, "Elijahhhhh!!" your body arched over the mattress, maintaining that. “Can't stop cummin’ sweetheart? Make a mess on me.." he teased, the pad of his thumb tracing the outer shape of your folds, squelching noises. Of course, you couldn't. He was the cause and effect of your climaxes. His tongue flickered across your tight asshole, gliding a wet stripe. “Aahhh! Ughh!” You cried helplessly, nails dug deep into his neck.
You shrieked uncontrollably, stifled groaning, your eyes rolled back, Elijah thought he glimpsed white, while you witnessed stars flickering behind your closed eyelids, vivid colors exploding, whispering his name, sanity slipping away, body quivering, your pussy still emitting white droplets of cum, squirting again. Your body collapsed, chest falling, and rising. “Like how you taste?” Elijah groaned, low, and mean.
Smoke leaned forward, his hand gripped your thoart. Crashing his lips into yours, your mouth parted wide for a dragged-out wild moan, as Smoke shoved his tongue in, tongue wrestling with yours, swapping spit, and your white cum. Before you swallowed, slurping his tongue clean. But Stack’s hand gripped the back of your neck, yanking you away. Stack tongue kissed you deeply, tasting you. “Taste better…real sweet..” Stack praised, his tongue glides across his lip.
The Moore twins ruined you, did more than ravish you. These men were walking catastrophes. You were theirs.
Stack leaned into the headboard, his back cradled by the pillows. His hands held onto your waist, hoisting you up straight. Resting his chin on your shoulder, as you straddle him. “Make a mess on me..” He whispered, his voice deepened. Your pussy slides back, and forth against his thigh. Head fell back, dragging a raspy moan.
Your essence trickles all over his thigh. “You somethin’ else..shit..” Stack groaned raspily, he watched you fucked yourself on his thigh in awe. “Elias..” His teeth sank into his lips, moaning quietly. His thumb circling your clit, pooling his finger with your essence. His digit traced a trail of your essence around your nipples, you shivered. “Fuckkk..need youuuu!”
Stack lifted you, angling his dick at your wet pussy, as he lowered you onto him, you gasped loudly for oxygen once his tip pushing past your swollen folds, fitting every inch in push by push. “All the way down on it..” Stack hissing through it, the curve of his dick hits a certain spot that made you cry helplessly in pleasure. “E—Elias!!! Elias!” His hand latched around your thoart once he was fully inside and forced you to face him, veins pulsating against your slick, soft walls. “I'm fittin’ you right in..” he says, voice raspy, and mean. Your fingers gripped the sheets, for dear life. “Ain’t you tryna get us out yo’ system? Just talkin’ plain ol’ shit..” he taunted once more, and he felt your walls grip him tight.
“Ride this dick..the right way.…” Stack admonishes, your walls clenched around him instantly, as if it were a muscle memory.
By his command, you bounced fast, and ruthlessly. “You like this?” You whispered, tongue trailing along his neck, biting him deep. His eyelids closed shut. Your ass clapped against him, fucking him back as he said yet he smacked your ass again, disapproving. “Harder..” he commands, you bounced harder than you could. Overstimulated. “I—Elias..” your voice desperate. He shook his head, his hands latched around your waist. Your hips rolling, feeling a new sensation, your body buzzing with warmth. “Not enough moanin…” He whispered softly.
Smoke’s fingers pinching your clit mercilessly, you panted, crying softly. Tears falling down your face, your lip poked out. The twins paid that no mind, you were adorable to them. Your essence dampened his fingers entirely, white over brown skin. Rubbing your cum around your ecret brown nipples, you shook uncontrollably. “Elijahhh…Eliass! Ahh!” and Smoke wrapped his mouth around your nipple, licking it clean, tasting you, and fingers twisting your nipple. He moaned in appreciation, sucking it roughly, he gave the left nipple the same treatment..sucking, pinching, playing with them.
Stack opted to push upward, violently. You moaned desperately. “Takin’ too long to ride..” Stack gritted. Smoke’s hands fondle your breasts in teasing circles, and Stack was fucking you like he was molding his dick size in your pussy. Sexually frustrated. Your thighs burned in exhaustion yet you kept going, as his pace sped up, his hips slamming violently. “And I'm doing the fuckin’ for yo’ lil ass..” Stack teased, eyes rolling back. The chokehold of your pussy around his dick made him work for it, drilling into you, grunting your name, beating his climax.
Smoke resumed to play with your boobs, and flicked your throbbing, bruised clit. “Is it that good? You screamin’ like you ain't had dick like this” Stack asks, his hand gripping your jaw, facing him. Smoke let out a loud, wet pop, biting your nipples. “So fuckin good! So good!” These men were fucking the life out of you. Your feral screams rippling from your thoart. Back arched. Pussy bruised. Swollen. Sweaty. Asscheeks covered in their handprints.
You were out fucked by them. “This pussy got magic in it…only takin’ what we give you..” Stack taunted raspily, his hand moved Smoke’s hand out of the way. His digits pinched your nipples. “We wanna hear you say it..” Stack grunted, yet you bounced and he let a groan. Heat pooling through your stomach, you grew tighter, tighter, wetter, desperate. He was still fucking you deep and fast, as if he hated you.
“Say it…”
“Ahh—fuck! I'm yours! Y-you and Elijah!”
You panted out of breath, as Stack gave you long, deep thrusts, fucking you like a beast untamed. Bouncing on him grew useless, when he gave it to you, watching you squirm, cry like a deprived woman of pleasure. “And you gon’ know it every time we around, fuck what folks say..” Stack mumbled, meaning their sister as well. At this point, you didn't give a good goddamn if their sister found out or not. You were theirs, and theirs alone.
Knots in your stomach grew tighter, and tighter, threatening to unravel. Beckoning for a release, your voice, raspy, and low. You could barely scream, but there was still volume. “Ain’t done with’chu..” Stack was still fucking you unforgivingly, while Smoke played with your body, your hands shot out, and gripped Smoke’s shoulders. Stack’s hands slipped under your knees, and bounced you himself. “Ahh! Ahh! Elias!!! Elijah!! I’m gon—!” You begged them, yet those smirks across their faces knew you were close.
“Make a mess..”
You creamed, squirted everywhere all over Stack’s dick, leaving a huge mess on the sheets, while Stack drilled into you fast, fucking you through your climax, while he growled, grunted, and groaned in your ear. “I’m gon fuckin’ ruin you…”Smoke tongue kissed you messily, swapping spit. You moaned through each thrust, bouncing after every time Stack pushed his hips upward. “Already ruined that pussy…” Stack says, caught a pool of cum in his lap, nails marks on his brown skin. Your head fell back against his buff chest, first one to break the kiss. They already ruined you, turned you out, fucked you every which way, and fucked you loose.
Stack shoots his fat load of cum inside you, gritting his teeth, snapping his eyelids shut, seeing stars bursting. “Ahhh! Shittt!” Your mouth parted wide, but no sound came out. The impact of the climax, and rough fucking knocked the wind out of both of you. Stack pulled out fast, yet your mouth opened, as he came onto your tongue. You moaned devilishly, and swallowed quickly. Stack fell over the bed, and panting raspy, heaving, chest falling, and rising.
While you collapsed on the mattress, chest falling, and burned out, blinking away tears.
Smoke’s leaned in, facing you forward. His brows rose in concern, and his hand cradled your face. “One more round for me, baby?” Smoke cooed, his hand latched on your jaw.
You weakly nodded, giggling. He pulled in for a passionate kiss, deep, and slow. Now, it was Smoke’s turn.
His hands held on tight to your waist, flipped you on all fours before sliding his dick in fully. You moaned greedily, wildly as if you were a dying woman. Almost gut-wrenching but in immense pleasure. “Elijahhh!” With that, his hips rolling, deep and slow thrusts, dragging every stroke just to feel the constant twitch, grip of your pussy. “Ain’t enough?” Smoke rasped, gravelly grunting through his teeth, fucking you harder, shoving you across the mattress toward Stack. “I-it’s enough!!! Fuckk!!!” You shrieked, your hands thrashed into the mattress, softly thudding. Smoke’s palm slapped across your ass harshly, the sound echoed in the room and you moaned ferally.
You spoke some sort of gibberish in a slut like moan, softer. Your mouth drooling, eyes half lidded. Stack’s hand gripped your jaw, grinning down at you taunting like a bully. “Look at that face…” he says, in amusement. His thumb traced over your lips, your mouth parted wide, just after he shoved his thumb inside. “Thought you could handle all that..you can’t handle us..” Stack bullied, his smirk menacing. You whimpered patethically “Fuckk..” Your tongue twirled around his thumb, sucking it while your back was blown out by Smoke, he held you down by your waist to keep you still.
“Don’t give much lip when you take dick?” Smoke teased, his voice gravelly. Rutting against you, hitting a spot that Stack couldn't reach. You whimpered in response, and the brothers chuckled darkly. “Definitely don't…” Stack mumbled, a smirk etched on his face. All you could do was let out feral moans, cuss, or say their names in between, and take Smoke’s dick which you knew you could do. Your hair was a mess, mascara running down your face. A beautiful sight to them.
You clawed at Elijah's arm, yet he moved your hand out of the way, pushing his dick in deeper as if it couldn't fit. Your mouth fell open, jaw aching, body still buzzing in heat. You couldn't make noise anymore, lowly moaning. The Moore twins wore you out, until Smoke pulled out immediately.
You interjected, your voice came out in sharp bursts of air, raspy still. Your hand gripped his arm, pulling him back toward you. “N-nooo! Put it back in…” you whined loudly, your lip poked out but Elijah smacked your ass disapprovally.
Smoke turned you on your side, lifting your left leg, hooked tight under his buff arm just after sliding himself back inside, and, you immediately came just from Smoke enetering you alone. Embarrassing. Smoke didn't laugh, only his half hooded gaze down at you. Heat rising in his chest, pushing forward hard, yet slow, and long thrusts. "So fuckin’ greedy..” he says, as if he didn’t have enough your essence on his dick alone. Smoke was a dangerous one, he knew how to talk to a woman in the bedroom. Your head fell back against the pillows, moaning loudly again, clutching at his arm. “Elijahhhh..”
You didn’t want him to stop, but the pleasure he provided drove you to your limit. You felt lightheaded, your vision clouded with tears as your pussy clenching around Smoke’s dick repeatedly with loud, wet noises, the thick white ring around him expanding with each thrust. "You and this lil pussy gon' be the death of us.." Smoke gritted, biting back a rough moan.
He pumped into you unexpectedly, hitting G-spot made you scream crazier, your hans tightening around him in a vice-like grip, wetter than before, your back arching for him, his tip hitting a new spot that Stack couldn't, as the intensity increased to sweet torture yet relentless.
Stack's hand shot out, his fingers rubbed your clit in fast, teasing circles. Your hips undulating, bucking into his fingers while you took Smoke's dick, your eyes snapped shut, stars twinkling, virbant colors brusts. You sighed blissfully at the overstimulation from them, chasing the pleasure, trying to halt your climax. Stack's free hand reaching over, palming your breast, moaning at the pleasure he was giving you, you cried hopelessly. "Ahh! Ahh! E-Elias!!! Elijah!! Fuckk!" Your voice dragged out in soft pleas for more, but how much more could you take? It was driving you insane. Your climax closer than you expected.
"There you go, just cum already. You know you want it.." Stack cooed, taking his fingers from your mouth before biting his thumb. He smirked salaciously at you, and you already bottomed out, body still chasing the sweet relief of the release. “S-so…c-closee!! Ah shit! Right there!!” You wanted to. Desperately. You whined loudly for them, begging for them to keep up. Your jaw dropped, Stack crashed his lips into yours again, and swallowed your moans. You broke the kiss with a gasp for air, eyes shot out at the overwhelming sensation.
“Go on, and cum. You wrapped around my dick like this when you tryin’ so hard not to cum…” Smoke coaxed you on, fully enamored. That voice of his alone made you cum already, he knew what he was doing. His dick jumping, twitching inside you, your walls soft enough for him to slip, and slide easily. You whimpered for dear life, any source of something.
You screamed feral in hopeless pleasure rippling from your thoart, tears falling down your face, losing your voice again. Smoke watches as your pussy clings to him, gushing around his dick. He pumped into you until a guttural moan rippling from his thoart, just after spilling his thick load of cum inside you, fucking through your orgasm.
His hips slowed, halted instantly, pulling out, his cum trailing down your thighs. Smoke groans lowly as he watches. His eyes flickered toward you, his hand cradling your face, loving, careful, and you moan softly at his touch. Your body shaking, twitching. Passionately kissing your lips, peppered soft kisses along your neck, and suction on you collarbone, giving hickeys.
“You good over there, baby?” Stack asked in concern.
“Y-yeah. I just can't move…” You says raspily, chuckling softly.
Smoke & Stack rose up, while pulling up their sweatpants, Smoke lifted you in his arms, and carried you bridal style before he left Stack kissed your temple. “T-thanks, but we have to figure a way to tell your sister.” You says, voice almost nervous.
Stack waved it off. “She’ll be a’ight,” as if it wasn't a major issue.
Honestly, she would have to deal with it, somehow.
“You know she won't be. We fucked her friend.” Smoke chimed in, his voice controlled, and strict.
“Her friend fucked us back, remember? She’s our girl, man. This relationship is genuine.” Stack bragged with a shrug.
Smoke & Stack exchanged concerning looks, before nodding in agreement. “We'll be in the room wit’chu to tell her. Like Stack say, you’re our girl. We gon’ be right there.” Smoke says, his voice held an southren edge.
Smoke prepared a comforting bath for you to relax in while you cleaned up.
The twins swapped out the sheets for fresh ones and requested to use the other two bathrooms for showers, to which you granted permission.
Afterwards, the men took charge of cooking dinner as you moisturized your skin. You shared a meal with them, then readied yourself for sleep.
It was clear that the twins stayed over, a decision you made as you weren't ready for them to leave just yet.
All you had to do was prepare yourself for their baby sister.
you and donnie were at the gym like any other day but, you were planning on trying this trend you seen on tiktok.you set everything up now you were just waiting on him.
when you seen him walking over, you pressed record.
you smiled “hey” as he leaned down kissing you. he pulled back and you got a good look at his sweaty face, “aw baby” you quickly wiped his face before the sweat reached his eyes.
you knew how you were gonna start the video now.
“y’all remember how i said my current boyfriend a boxer? them w-“ his face turned sour real quick “hold on—current boyfriend?” and you just sighed in faux irritation “hold on donnie, anyway—he be acting permanent sometimes y’all, excuse him” you weren’t through talking when adonis spoke up “‘acting permanent’ i am permanent, forever” he said that last part looking at the camera.
you fought back a laugh.
“for the moment” you corrected glancing away from donnie. his expression was confused, hurt, and irritated “yo—find something safe to do, [𝜗𝜚]” and you stayed staring at the ground as the man towering over you, stared at you.
the man reached for his water bottle taking a sip before speaking “if i said ‘lil groupie’” “but i’m not a groupie” “and i’m not your ‘current’ boyfriend” with a shrug. “that ain’t what you call me when i’m in it an-“ your eyes widened and you reached for the phone quickly “aright bye yall!” ahead of you stopping the recording.
Warnings: RPF, strong language and smut. Minors DNI!
Summary: Welcome to The Uso Penetration Penitentiary.
She drooled at the sight of the twin brothers, as she watched Jey whisper something into Jimmy’s ear. The twins walked over to her on the bed, and Jimmy was the first to get into position. Jimmy laid down on his back, before instructing her to lay on top of him. Jey guided her on top of his brother, she whimpered when she felt her pussy lips touch Jimmy’s cock.
Jey knelt behind her, placing his hands all over her ass. Jey spat onto his hand and used the saliva to rub along her ass crack. She looked back to see Jey spitting saliva down onto his cock. Jey held her ass cheeks apart before pushing his cock inside of her. Jimmy not wanting to be left out, slipped his own cock into her pussy.
She was being worked from both sides, both twins building up a rhythm, one would thrust in whilst the other thrusted out. She could barely think, both twins could feel the others cock through her walls….
ღ summary: your attraction to your best friend is ruining your quest to finally lose your virginity. what happens when he decides to help you out?
ღ pairing: jey uso x black!reader, jey uso x black fem!reader
ღ warnings: 18+, mdni, profanity, sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, p in v
ღ word count: 3,577
ღ author’s note: i’m incapable of writing anything short or on a deadline. hope yall enjoy anyway. the next one won’t take as long.
ღ taglist: @m00nlitnight
kinktober masterlist
light knocks on the front door filled the quiet space of jey’s home in the dead of the night. it was late, past 11pm to be exact. you’d usually be in bed by now, either already sleeping or winding down for the night. but you couldn’t bear to be alone in your apartment after the night you’d had.
jey swung the door open, already expecting you since you’d texted 20 minutes ago that you were on your way. he wore an encouraging smile on his face that faltered once he saw the defeated look on yours.
“how’d it go?” he asked after stepping aside to allow you to step inside his home. the smell of febreeze and fabulouso filled your nostrils once you entered. jey cleaned vigorously when he was nervous or anticipating something. habits passed on to him by his mother who got it from her mother and so on and so forth. your chest tightened once you realized that you were the reason. yet another thing to add to your list of shame and guilt tonight.
you let out a huff of breath as you plopped down on his plush, grey sectional couch, immediately taking one of the decorative pillows and hugging it against your chest. you heard the door click shut before jey locked it. his heavy footsteps moving closer to you afterwards.
“i guess it didn’t go well, then?” he asked, but it was more of a revelation than a question. you looked up at him, eyes low and filled with sadness and an emotion you couldn’t bring yourself to name. “hey.” jey dipped down, sitting next to you before pulling you into his wide chest. it was apparent that he was spending more time in the gym. his body was different each time you’d seen him now, his shoulders broader, his biceps suffocating you now when he pulled you close. he was mindful of that tonight, his grip was tight but not overwhelming. but somehow that didn’t stop you from feeling suffocated in his presence.
“i couldn’t do it. he did everything right. dinner, candles, music, even asked for permission to kiss me. he made me feel so safe and secure. i was so close to letting go and letting it happen but then… i just couldn’t.” you huffed out a frustrated breath after speaking. “it just didn’t feel like the right time.” you finished. jey rubbed your back. the warmth of his hands on your body made you want to shiver.
“that’s fine, mama. take all the time you need.” he spoke lowly against the top of your head. the intimacy of the gesture was almost enough to make you melt. instead, you sat up straight enough to break his hold on you. his tenderness towards you had ignited a new fire in you.
“i am a grown ass woman. why is having sex so hard for me?” you looked at jey as if he’d have the answer to your failed virginity quest. and the honest truth is, he did. he held it in his teasing smirk when no one’s watching, his soft laughs at your reactions, his habitual, gentle touch on your skin, and his deep brown eyes when he looked at you like you were the only girl in his world. he just had no idea that he was single handedly making it hard for you to find another guy who compared to him.
“i still don’t understand why you’re making it such a big deal. sex is supposed to come naturally. when you force it, it takes all of the magic away from it.” jey told you.
“easy for you to say. you have women throwing themselves at you.” you reminded him.
“and you don’t have guys doing the same to you? you’re the one who acts like none of them are good enough, no matter how much you describe them as ‘perfect on paper’.” jey stood up from the couch to walk to his kitchen and you took off your shoes before following. he walked to his cabinets to retrieve two glasses, rinsing them out before pouring some ice cold water in them from the fridge. he slid one in front of you and drank from his own as you spoke.
“because they are perfect on paper. but perfect on paper doesn’t mean perfect in the moment. or perfect for.. me.” your eyes fell away from jey and onto the marble island in front of you before you took a sip of your water. avoiding his gaze when you feared that looking into his eyes might finally give you away. and he noticed. he always noticed.
you and jey had been friends for the better part of both of your lives. you met in high school, went to college together, and now in your mid-twenties, you found yourselves attached at the hip. it was always just a genuine, platonic bond between two people who understood each other on a level that others couldn’t. jey didn’t have another bond like yours with anyone outside of his twin brother. that meant something special to him, something deeper. and he didn’t take it for granted.
so he ignored the lingering gazes down his frame when you thought he wasn’t looking, he laughed it off when his playful flirting really left you flustered, and he ignored it when it became glaringly obvious that the reason you couldn’t lose your virginity was because you couldn’t find anyone that compared to him physically.
he knew you like back of his hand. familiar, predictable, and unsurprising in the best ways. in his favorite ways. he knew you were too shy and nervous to ever come out and say it plainly, so he acted as if he didn’t notice. not because he didn’t reciprocate the attraction. you were easily the finest woman he’d laid eyes on. he was enamored with you both physically and mentally. and it was for that reason that he didn’t want to take it there with you. but watching you try and try and struggle and fail to get over this hurdle in your life made him want to test the waters, see if he could relieve you himself and boost your confidence.
“well… who is perfect for you, mama?” jey’s tone was low, sultry and dripping with implication. butterflies fluttered in your lower stomach, your breath hitched, causing water to drip down the side of your mouth. you sat your glass down on the island as jey made his way around it, reaching you in three steady strides. his hand was on your jaw before you could even collect your thoughts, his thumb gently wiping the corner of your mouth dry.
“who do you picture when you imagine yourself losing your virginity?” his tone remained the same as he asked. you looked up at him, doe-eyed with panties becoming more soaked the longer his eyes were on you.
“j-jey, i—“ you stuttered as heat rose to your cheeks. the answer to both of those questions was the same.
“whose name do you moan when you touch yourself?” he continued. you swore that the level of warmth on your cheeks now could’ve heated the entire kitchen.
“o-okay, that’s a bit m-uch.” you were breathless as you turned to break out of his grasp, avoiding his gaze as you grabbed your glass of water again. you looked down at the glass and followed it when he took it out of your hands and sat it next to his own.
“i want to help you, mama. i can relieve all your frustration. but, i need you to be honest with me.” he gently grasped your chin between his fingers and turned your head back to him to make you look him in the eye. the energy in the room had clearly shifted. you couldn’t shy away or hide from him anymore, he wasn’t allowing it. the tension that rose between you and your best friend had swallowed you whole, wrapped around your throat and squeezed until it forced the truth out of you.
“y-you, jey. it’s a-always been y-you.” the admission made you feel small under his gaze. you were ashamed to have had these thoughts about him when you felt like he clearly didn’t feel the same. his tongue swiped over his bottom lip before biting it as he looked at you, your chin back in his hand.
“do you trust me?” was his only response. you nodded, still unsure of where this was going exactly.
“then let me do this.” he tilted your chin up towards him and leaned down before he pressed his lips into yours, slow and steady. after the initial shock, you quickly fell into the pace he set. his movements were slow and steady at first. careful. like he was afraid of you crumbling into pieces that he couldn’t put back together.
but the tug of your fingers grasping his shirt is what gave him the okay to speed things up. he took your bottom lip between his own and sucked it gently before moving down to your jaw and then your neck. he sucked the skin there, tongue kissing the spot like it could do it back to him. the sensation caused you to gasp as your hand found its way to the back of jey’s head, encouraging his movements.
he slid his hands under your bare thighs and picked you up in one swift movement, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. your breathing hadn’t calmed down since the initial kiss and jey noticed. he decided to give you a break from the kissing while he carried you upstairs to his bedroom.
you were desperately trying to calm your nervousness down in your head as he carried you. you had been in this phase before and weren’t new to kissing or guys giving you hickies, but it never felt quite as good as it did right now. your entire body was on fire, waiting to feel whatever jey decided to do next.
jey entered his bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him, a subtle attempt to make you feel more comfortable. he gently laid you down on his king sized bed and stayed between your legs, softly pressing you into the bed as he looked at you.
“i got you. okay?” he looked almost nervous as he searched your face for any inkling of hesitation. he was worried about the dynamic, about you regretting this. he would hate himself if he lost you because he pushed you to face your desires too soon. but you quickly nodded in response, feeling nervous but ready for wherever he took you.
“say it, mama.” one of his hands started to roam down your body now, rubbing down your side over the fabric of your mini-dress and settling on your hip, making your breath hitch.
“you got me.” his lips crashed back into yours after you said it. this time with more urgency but the same amount of passion, only pausing to ease your dress up your body and over your head. he rolled his hips into yours, letting you feel just how hard he was for you, and, baby, he was rock solid. you let out a breathless moan into his mouth at the feeling.
his lips trailed down your neck, stopping to flick his tongue over both of your hard nipples before he made his way down your torso. he pulled the red lace of your panties down your legs in one tug, desperate to get a taste of you and finally give you the first time that you deserve. he spread your legs wide, dragging two fingers from your clit down to your entrance as he admired your naked pussy for the first time. the sight was downright mouthwatering. his wandering thoughts of your naked body didn’t come anywhere close to the real thing. the new sensation of having someone else’s fingers down there made you shiver under his touch.
“this how wet you get for me?” he bit his lip at the sight and you choked out a soft ‘yes’ that sounded sinful, making his dick strain against his gym shorts. his head dipped lower and the muscles in your legs tensed.
“relax fa’ me, baby.” he hummed between your legs. his breath hitting your sensitive skin made you shiver. you tried your best to do as he said, feeling a warm flutter in your lower tummy at him calling you ‘baby’. his tongue flattened against you before he licked a long swipe up your slick folds, savoring the taste. he focused his attention on your throbbing clit as he began flicking it with his tongue, slow and gentle, the same way he kissed you in the kitchen just moments ago.
“o-oh my g-od.” you breathed out. he hooked his arms under your thighs and used his hands to spread your legs wide as he continued to explore your inner folds with his mouth, tongue kissing your pussy with precision. your soft moans felt like encouragement as he increased the speed of his tongue.
you reached down and caressed the back of his head before you could stop yourself. the familiar feeling of your fingers intertwined in his hair made him groan against you. he wrapped his lips around your sensitive clit, now sucking as he slid his middle finger into your tight hole.
“ohhhh jeeyyy.” your back arched off the bed as you moaned out. the new level of pleasure that you felt was almost overstimulating. no other man has made it far enough to have their head buried between your thighs the way you had allowed jey to right now. and he didn’t take the privilege for granted. the wet sounds of his mouth eagerly devouring your pussy filled the room.
his finger curled just enough to hit the soft skin of your g-spot and you cried out. he hit it repeatedly as he began flicking your swollen bud with his tongue at a matching pace. feeling you squirm under him as your whimpers filled his ears only made him determined to bring you to your breaking point sooner. when he added a second finger inside you, the pleasure was overwhelming. you tried to back away from him, using your hands to push your body up the bed to no avail. he already had you locked into place with his free hand.
“i know, baby. i know. don’t run from it. just let it go.” the vibrations of him mumbling against your sensitive clit pushed you over the edge. the warmth in your lower belly intensified and the pressure you felt building had finally snapped, setting off goosebumps across your entire body as your eyes snapped shut.
“oooh fuuuuck jeeyyy.” a pool of liquid gushed out of you and into jey’s mouth, whatever he couldn’t slurp up in time landing on his bed sheets. soft pants slipped between your lips as your legs shook and jey continued to eat you out as you came down from your high.
you got a good look at jey when he rose from between your slick thighs and stood at the end of the bed. the moonlight reflected off the juices left on his lips, in his mustache and on his beard. knowing that you were the one that caused it, that it was your juices covering your best friend’s mouth felt like a dirty little secret. and it only added to your arousal.
he pushed his gym shorts down his toned legs. your breath hitched when his dick sprang free, a drop of his precum flying off the tip. the realization that none of your shameful fantasies about jey were right settled in. he was much bigger than you’d guessed.
“fuck.” you moaned. jey smirked as he climbed back to you, hovering as he looked down at you. he hesitated, giving you one last chance to back out. his mesmerizing brown eyes bored into yours as he waited for an indication of how you were feeling. but your nerves were long gone now, left somewhere on the floor between your lace panties and his gym shorts.
your hands went to both sides of his head before pulling him down into a passionate and sloppy kiss. the sweet taste of your juices was still on his tongue as it entangled with yours.
jey lined himself up to your entrance and slipped the tip of his dick inside you. you broke the kiss to let out a hiss at the slight burn of him stretching you and he moved to your neck, leaving tender kisses as he gave you time to adjust. his lips on your neck soothed you as anxiety fought to rise to the surface.
he inched inside you slowly, pausing between movements to give you time to adjust to his size. he was big, much bigger than you’d expected being inside you for your first time. and you appreciated him taking it as slow as he was. by the time he bottomed out inside you, the stretch was not only bearable, it was pleasurable.
“you’re so fuckin’ tight, y/n.” jey groaned as his hips slowly pulled away from you until only his tip was left between your walls. he rolled them back into you at the same teasingly slow pace. he repeated the motion, scared to speed up too soon or get too rough with you. but the more you squeezed around him, the more his resolve cracked. you were making it hard for him to not fuck you into the mattress right then and there.
“jey.” you gasped. he lifted his head to look into your hazy, lust-filled eyes looking up at him.
“yes, mama? tell me what you need.” your hands rested on his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you. he hadn’t stopped giving you the slow, deep strokes that were making you crave more as he looked into your eyes. if you could think straight right now, you’d swear he was trying to make you fall in love.
“fuck me. please. faster.” without another word, his hips were snapping into yours relentlessly. you cried out, realizing that you weren’t fully ready for what you asked for but it was too late to take it back. his length dragged along your walls at a mind-numbing pace. every thrust into you tapped his tip against your g-spot. a knot formed in your lower stomach as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. your orgasm was approaching fast. not only could jey see it all over your face, he could feel it in the way your walls squeezed him even tighter.
“look at you. getting fucked for the first time. squeezing my dick like it’s always been yours.” he grunted. he took his bottom lip between his teeth as you felt heat go to your cheeks. in a drunken game of truth or dare a few months ago, you’d revealed to him the dirtier details of how you’d want your first time to go. the passionate, gentle but still filthy, hands all over your body, dirty talk in your ear type of sex. it wasn’t until this moment that you’d realized he had taken that conversation more serious than you initially thought.
you managed to open your eyes as his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides with just enough force to remind you who was fucking you. the sounds you were making were unfamiliar to your ears. you’d never been very vocal when touching yourself before, but jey was pulling every moan, wine, and mewl out of you with ease. each sound was music to his ears, including the wet, gushy ones coming from your pussy.
“fuuuuck, jey. i-i think i’m—- fuck.” the knot in your stomach was coming undone in a way you’d never felt before.
“c’mon. cum on this dick like it’s yours, mama.” his command sent you over the edge. chills came over your body as the intensity of your arousal rose until it finally snapped. you could feel yourself pulsing around him as you moaned his name. he let his head fall next to yours, lips ghosting over your neck as his warm breath fanned your skin. his thrusts became erratic, signaling his own end nearing. not long after your own orgasm did he pull out of you and release his sticky seed all over your stomach.
jey took a moment to catch his breath before climbing off the bed and heading into his attached bathroom. he emerged a few moments later with a damp washcloth. he gently spread your legs open once again, wiping the mess between your legs dry before cleaning his cum off your stomach. he disposed of the towel before climbing back into bed next to you. he covered you both in his blanket before pulling you close, draping an arm over your waist as he settled into bed. you were in too much of a haze to fight him on cuddling or even sleeping over. you weren’t even sure if you could stand, let alone make it downstairs to leave.
“how was it? your first time?” he had the slightest hint of nervousness hidden behind his deep voice. you turned your head to look at him, a lazy smile slowly spreading on your lips.
The backyard was alive with laughter and music. Smoke from the the grill as juicy ribs sizzled, kids running around playing, and folding chairs everyone. Uncles loud cracking jokes, solo cups in their hands as aunties fanned themselves as they gossiped.
In the center of it all, under the wide shade of a palm tree stood Nina, dressed in a black body con dress and a matching head wrap, her golden earrings and necklaces, shining against her glowing brown skin. In her arms resting comfortably on her hip was her and Josh’s 2 year-old son Kairo, who refused to be put down for more than 3 minutes.
"Mama I stay wif you" Kairo mumbled sleepily, wrapping his little arms tighter around her neck and snuggling his soft cheek against her collar bone.
"I know baby," Nina cooed, smoothing a hand over his curls. "You got the whole backyard to play in with your cousins, but you wanna stay with mama huh?"
Kai nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was a mamas boy and was proud of it.
Nina smiled, bouncing him gently while chatting with Trinity and one of Josh’s cousins, who were laughing about how attached Kairo was. "Girl, that little boy has not left your side the minute y’all got here." Trinity giggled.
On cue her husband, Josh strolled over in his black tank top and matching shorts, his chain shining bright. A smile on his face that always made Nina melt no matter how long they’ve been together. A plate of ribs as he leaned in and kissed her cheek slow and sweet.
"You looked so good from all the way there, I had to come see what’s up girl" he murmured against her skin then looked at Kairo. "Damn. You mind if I get some love too, champ?"
Kairos eyes were narrowed. Suspicious. Annoyed. Possessive.
Josh leaned In again, this time aiming for Nina’s lips.
"Mwah," he exaggerated, laying a big loud kiss on her mouth, cupping her cheek with his free hand like they were the only two people in the world. "Mhm, is that cherry?" He said with a grin.
Kairo scowled.
"MY mama!" He announced loudly, pointing a finger at Jeys face. Then with furry of a betrayed toddler, he used his other hand to push his daddy’s chest, who didn’t even budge. "Go!"
"Oooohh, we jealous now?" Josh laughed, setting his plate down on a side table, moving closer. "I can’t love on my wife now?"
Kairo turned his whole body sideways, trying to block his mama from her own husband, boy chubby arms spread out in defence. "No kiss! MY mama!"
"Awww, he serious!" Trinity cracked up from her seat, recording the moment on her phone. "Y’all look at him guarding Nina."
Nina was wheezing from laughter, holding her son as he dramatically tried to put space between her and his daddy. "Kai Kai, you betta stop before your daddy does something silly—"
"Oh nah, I’m finna show out now" Josh smirked stepping forward.
He leaned in again, pressing another kiss Nina’s cheek— then one on her forehead, and another right between her collar bone and shoulder.
Kairo lost it.
He flailed his little arms at Josh, trying to push him away with his tiny toddler strength, face scrunched and real betrayal. "Nooooo!! Noo daddy!! My mama!!"
"Boy, you tryna fight me?" Josh teased dodging the baby’s hand swing with dramatic theatrics. "You gonna hit me cause I’m lovin on my girl? Huh? You mad cause she was mine first!?" 
He kissed her again, causing her to giggle against his lips, as he smacked his lips dramatically. "Mwah! What you gon do, little man?"
Kai gasped and smacked his tiny palm against Josh’s shoulder with all the toddler fury he could muster. "Stop"
Nina was laughing so hard she almost dropped him. "Okay enough Josh, leave him alone! He’s gonna start crying for real!" Watching Kai’s little pout.
"Nah, nah it’s war now" Josh said grabbing Nina’s waist from behind, chin on her shoulder. "I’m staking my claim"
Kissing her again, just to push his sons buttons.
Kairo squirmed and yelled. "MY MOMMY!" Before he pulled Nina’s face down with his chubby hands, placing a big wet kiss on her lips. Then turned to his dad and glared at Josh.
Trinity and Jon who walked over to watch were doubled over, with tears in their eyes.
"Oh he petty, petty" Trinity howled.
"He showed yo ass Uce" Jon laughed out.
Josh wiped his imaginary tears. "Alright, I see how it is. My own son done turned on me"
"He loves his mommy babe, what can I say?" Nina giggled, cuddling Kai close, kissing his chubby cheek, as he smiled in Josh’s direction, like he proved his point.
Josh pursed his lips out, nodding his head. "Aight Kairo. Bet. You win today. But tonight when you in bed, best believe I’m gettin all the kisses."
Kai squinted back before waving his dad off.
Then to assert dominance, he threw his arms around his moms neck, leaning into her chest with a satisfied smile, eyes lazily open still on his dad.
"My mommy" he mumbled with a sleepy sigh.
Josh threw his hands up and backed away laughing. "Alright! Im done! I can’t win against a two year-old with dimples. Y’all got it"
As Nina laughed and kissed her baby’s head, Kairo nestled into her neck, eyes closed a little smug smile on his face. Josh kissed his sons forehead before walking away to grab his plate, shaking his head and muttering. "Man, I used to be her baby…"
"Still are!" Nina called after him, sending him a wink.
Josh turned back, that smile tugging at his lips again. "Yeah…I just gotta fight for my spot now" 
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS
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All OC Characters Belong To Me
18+! Contains Smut 🌶️
“Can I eat it?”
Ciara choked on her chamomile tea. “What?!” She sputtered as she wiped away some of the tea that had landed on her chin and chest. She arched an eyebrow as she looked down at him, and he was already looking up at her.
“Please…”
“Josh, what the fuck?!” She laughed, then let out a yelp when he nipped at her thigh. “What has gotten into you?!”
“The kids are asleep, and my wife is walking around in these tiny ass shorts.” He muttered, pulling at her shorts. “And smelling so fucking good.” Ciara felt a delicious shiver run through her body. The hunger in his eyes made her breath catch. Ten years of marriage, and he still looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. “Lemme eat that pussy baby.”
He took the cup out of her hands and placed it on the nightstand next to their bed.
“Josh…” She trailed off with a whisper as he pulled her shorts down her legs.
Ciara bit her lip, her head falling back against the pillows as Josh hooked his fingers into her panties, sliding them down with agonizing slowness. His warm breath fanned across her pussy, making her squirm in anticipation.
"Fuck baby," he murmured, his voice deepening with desire. "Pretty ass pussy."
He nuzzled his face into her cunt, breathing her in, before darting his tongue out and licking a slow, deliberate stripe from her entrance up to her clit. Ciara jerked at the contact, toes curling, all her focus narrowing to the slick heat of his mouth on her. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, feather-light at first, teasing, knowing exactly how to get her to squirm.
A loud moan escaped her as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes rolling into the back of her head as he started to flick his tongue. She gripped his hair and tugged when he brought his tongue down to her entrance and lapped up her slickness with greedy, dragging strokes. It was the way he moaned against her, the rumble vibrating through her, that always got her, like eating her pussy was his favorite damn thing to do.
Her back arched off the bed as she felt his index finger circle her opening before slowly sliding inside of her. He pumped his finger in and out, curling wickedly, never breaking the rhythm of his tongue. Josh groaned, practically purring as he pressed in a second finger, scissoring her open while his tongue flattened and dragged side to side over her clit.
She propped herself up on her elbows, now biting her bottom lip to stop from moaning too loud. She loved watching her husband get pussy drunk. He was so good at it. His eyes were on her, dark and wild-like, watching her come undone on his fingers and tongue.
“Jo-osh.” She moaned softly. “Fuck baby,”
“Yeah,” He said after releasing her clit with a soft plop. “You like this shit, huh?” He asked, bringing his other hand up and slapping her pussy. Her hips jerked, and he did it again before diving back into her slick pussy.
Her orgasm hit her hard. She clamped her thighs around his head as wave after wave rolled through her, and for a moment her vision fuzzed out. Josh didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as she started gushing around his fingers.
“Fuckkkk, Daddy.” She moaned, and Josh felt his dick jump in his shorts.
“Oh, you tryna get a baby put in you tonight.” He said as he pulled away. Ciara rolled her eyes, but the blissful smile on her face told him all he needed to know.
He bent back down and placed an open-mouth kiss on her clit before crawling up the bed. Ciara watched as he pulled his briefs down, and his dick popped out, smacking his stomach, thick and flushed and already leaking. She moaned as he dragged his dick through the mess between her thighs, smearing it over her pussy before he lined it up. He paused to rub the head against her clit, back and forth, making her gasp and twitch. “You ready, mama?”
She nodded, eyes rolling into the back of her head as he sunk into her. She whimpered and tilted her hips, greedy to have more of him, wanting him closer, deeper. He grabbed her thighs, lifting them until her knees reached her chest and folding her nearly in half, the stretch tight and impossibly deep. The angle made her delirious, pressure and heat blooming in her core. He set a punishing rhythm, hips slapping against her ass, every thrust a shockwave through her bones. She could feel his dick thick inside her, and the obscene, wet sound of their bodies colliding filled the room even as she fought not to scream.
“Shit,” Josh moaned out. “F-fell so fuckin good, mama.”
Ciara could barely breathe. Each drive of him inside sent a burst of pressure and heat up her spine,
Josh leaned down, his mouth eager and searching, and pressed his lips to her neck, under her ear, dragging his teeth along the delicate skin. The burn of his beard, the rough drag, and then his tongue soothing it. “Fuck,” he groaned into her ear, “You gon’ make me cum already.”
Hearing his fucked out, strained voice in her ear sent her over the edge. She gripped his forearms as her juices flooded out of her. Her breath crashed out in staccato gasps as he rolled his hips in hard, fast circles, grinding her into the mattress and grinding out her orgasm until she thought she might pass out.
“You gon’ let me fill you up? He gritted out, hips stuttering as he tried to hold off his own orgasm.
“Mhmm,” she breathed, clutching at his waist, “please, please—“She couldn’t finish it; the words dissolved into a moan as his cock throbbed deep inside. She was already trembling, stretched to the edge, slick and raw and oversensitive. Josh’s face hovered over hers, sweat beading on his brow, his gaze hungry and warm.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he whispered, his voice shredded by need. “Take it for me. Want you so fuckin’ full, baby.” He leaned down, hips still pumping his release into her with short, neat thrusts, fucking her through the aftershocks. The pleasure was too much, too bright, and she whimpered, clutching at his back, her nails digging little crescents into his skin.
He shifted enough to kiss her lips, slow and messy. Ciara cupped his jaw as she kissed him back, thumbing at the scruff on his cheeks. He stayed inside her, cock softening but still held, a gentle anchor as his hands stroked slow circles over her thighs.
“Damn, you freaky as hell.” He muttered against her lips, laughing when she pinched his side. Ciara snorted and flicked his on his forehead as he collapsed beside her, propping his head up on his hand, his other arm slung lazily over her waist.
“You’re the freak,” Ciara said, poking his chest. “You’re a fiend. No self-control at all.” Josh just grinned, mouth shiny, eyes heavy-lidded and smug. He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, all tender despite everything they’d just done. “You looked like you liked it.”
Ciara shrugged. “It was alright,” she squeaked when he pinched her nipple.
“Yeah, okay.” Josh grinned. “Oh yes, daddy.” He said, mimicking her voice. “Put a baby in me.” He rolled his eyes. “Alright, my ass.”
“Mmm, shut up and pass me my tea, fool,” she said, but her voice was loose and syrupy as she rolled over into the heat of his chest. He didn’t even bother to wipe himself off, just cupped her ass and hauled her up until her thighs bracketed his hips. His dick was already starting to harden again, pressed right up against the sticky warmth still leaking out of her.
She snorted when she felt him twitch against her. “Don’t you dare.”
He reached for the mug and pressed it to her lips like a peace offering, tea cold now, bitter with the ghost of honey and chamomile. She screwed her face up at the taste, and Josh laughed before taking the cup back from her and setting it on the nightstand. He placed a quick kiss on her lips before gently moving her off his lap.
“You lucky I love you,” He said as he got off the bed and pulled his shorts back on.
“Don’t forget the honey,” She called out, laughing as Josh flipped her off before walking out of their room.
Author's Note: For some reason, smut is easier to write than the next chapters of Torn & The Tutor... 🤷🏽♀️ enjoy! lol
warnings: smut (it’s who i am), oral receiving (fem receiving), cursing, bathroom sex, ex boyfriend trope, annoying family members,
🖊️: everyone thinks serena’s ex is the one that got away. she deals with hearing it once everyday. wait until, her brother brings him to the family barbecue.
word count: 9.2k
“if it ain’t my beautiful granddaughter, where jey at?”
serena sighed yet again. she was tired of the shits. every time her family had one of these bbq’s, someone couldn’t hold back on bringing up her ex. maybe it’s that old folks thing about the new young people—they never really break up, honestly.
but that wasn’t the case. when she told jey, she was done with his bullshit last year, she meant it. she blocked him on everything, even xbox live, and changed her number. he wanted to run the streets across the earth slanging dick to any nxt newbie who smiled his way, go ahead. she wouldn’t dare be apart of it.
but, hold on.
serena and jey, were never ‘official’ official. but was…official. y’know?
they both posted each other, were always boo’d up at the club, slept over at each others places, he even flew her to his matches or wherever he was in the world…he’ll, they even met each others families.
which is proving to have done more harm than good.
“granny, y’know me and jey aren’t together no more.” serena sighed before kissing her granny on the cheek
“yea yea, but you kids always breakup, than makeup, breakup, than makeup again. next thing, ya pregnant—“
serena’s mother let out a gasp from the side of her, “alright mama, serena ain’t pregnant…right?”
“ma!”
“i’m just askin, girl damn. she ain’t lyin’ at least. but mama, serena and jey aren’t together. let’s let her be today, alright mama?"
her granny frowned, waving her hand dismissively. she was old but not that old. "nah, i ain't buyin' it. that boy looked at you like you hung the damn moon, serena. i've been around long enough to know when somethin's real."
serena shifted uncomfortably on the plastic lawn chair, and swirled her cup. if the ground could swallow her…do it now.
"i remember when he first came 'round here," granny continued, her eyes going distant with memory of him. "so respectful. callin' me 'ma'am' and bringin' those fancy chocolates i like. not like them other boys you used to drag through here."
"granny, please—"
"listen to me, child. when yo granddaddy first caught my eye, it was the same way. that fire. that boy jey was your one. i felt it in these old bones. the way he'd look for you first thing when he walked in a room."
serena stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the concrete patio. "i need another drink."
she walked toward the back house, ignoring the concerned looks from her cousins. the quiet of the kitchen was a relief after the noise of the backyard. she yanked open the refrigerator, grabbing a high noon and cracking it open with more force than necessary.
the door creaked open behind her. her mother's perfume—always the same since serena was a child—filled the small space.
"you okay?" her mother's voice came from behind her.
serena turned, leaning against the counter. "i'm fine. just tired of everyone bringing up ancient history."
"a year ain't ancient, baby girl."
"feels like it." serena took a long sip, the cold bubbles burning her throat. she knew her granny didn’t mean any harm. jey was a sweetheart and a charmer. everyone loved him. it was natural for them.
"you know granny means well. she just thought—"
"ma, seriously? you too now?"
her mother raised her hands defensively. "i'm not saying get back with him. i'm just askin if you heard from him. he called the house last week."
serena’s hand froze, the drink half way to her lips. she could feel her heart beating in her ears damn near. "he what?"
"listen. for someone who claims to have not been official, you were real hurt, serena. i could barely get you out your house inna mornin' to meet me for breakfast."
"ma, why did he call here? why are you ignoring my question?"
"baby, i saw how much you loved that boy," her mother said softly, coming closer. "the way your whole face lit up when he'd call. how you'd be runnin' around gettin' all dolled up when he was comin' to town."
serena rolled her eyes, but her mother pressed on.
"you've always been like this, since you was little. reactive. feelin' everything so big. when you hurt, you hurt deep. and that's okay, but—"
serena palmed her face, "ma, you still ain't answered my question about why he called here."
her mother sighed, leaning against the counter. "i understand y'all weren't official or whatever, but was that ever really discussed between y'all? 'cause from where everybody else was standin', it sure looked official."
"that's not—"
"i'm not takin' his side, serena. i promise you that. i'm on your side. always have been. that's why seein' you so torn up over him had me worried. you was cryin' for weeks, wouldn't eat right, wouldn't go out."
serena looked down at her can, picking at the label with her thumbnail. the truth stung more than she wanted to admit.
"all i'm sayin' is—"
"ma, please just tell me why he called the house." serena's voice cracked slightly.
her mother busied herself straightening the napkins on the counter before letting out a sigh. before serena's mom could open her mouth, a familiar voice boomed from the front of the house.
"aye wassup uce!"
serena's heart dropped to her stomach. she knew that voice. her body tensed up as her eyes shot to her mother's face, which had guilt written all over it.
"ma?" serena whispered, her voice barely audible.
the sound of footsteps and male laughter grew louder. serena's mom suddenly became very interested in rearranging the potato salad on the counter.
"i was gonna tell you, but—"
serena's older brother drew's voice carried down the hallway. "yeah man, everybody's out back. ma and granny been cookin' all day."
serena gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white. "you didn't."
her mother finally looked up, her expression apologetic but firm. "drew called yesterday sayin' he was bringin' a friend. i didn't know it was jey until this mornin', and by then—"
"by then what?" serena hissed, panic rising in her chest. "you couldn't pick up a phone? send a text? 'hey baby girl, by the way, your ex that broke your heart is comin' to the family barbecue'?"
serena felt like she'd been slapped. how could they? how could he? before she could respond, drew appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. and right behind him, looking exactly the same as he had a year ago, was jey.
"look who i found wanderin' around downtown," drew announced, oblivious to the tension in the room. "said he was in town for a show tomorrow."
jey stood there in his fitted black tee and jeans, tattoos showing under his sleeves, that same half-smile on his face that used to make serena's knees weak. his eyes found hers immediately, just like granny said they always did.
"hey," he said softly, only to her.
serena's throat closed up. she gripped her drink tighter, searching desperately for words, any words.
drew looked between them, finally sensing something was off. "uh, y'all good?"
"drew, come help me with somethin' outside," their mother said quickly, grabbing drew's arm and practically dragging him toward the back door.
"but i just got—"
"now, boy."
the back door slammed shut, leaving serena alone with jey in the suddenly too-small kitchen. the silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap.
the ticking of the old kitchen clock filled the silence. serena felt like she was underwater, everything moving in slow motion. jey took a step toward her, that familiar look in his eyes—the one that used to make her forgive him anything.
"rena, i—"
the nickname hit her like a physical blow. she felt the aluminum can give way beneath her fingers, crumpling with a satisfying crunch. without a word, she pitched it into the trash can beside the fridge, the metallic clang punctuating her silence.
jey reached out as she moved toward the door. "can we just talk for a—"
she didn't slow down, just raised her palm to his face as she brushed past him, close enough to catch that same cologne he always wore. his words died in his throat. the heat of his body nearly made her falter, but she kept moving, pushing through the screen door and back into the noise and sunshine of the backyard.
serena scanned the crowd, ignoring the curious glances from relatives who'd clearly seen jey arrive. she spotted sierra by the grill, laughing with their cousin marcus. sierra, who'd held her while she cried over jey more times than she could count.
"hey cuz," sierra said as serena approached, her smile fading when she caught sight of serena's face. "what's wrong with—oh shit." her eyes widened, looking past serena toward the house. "is that who i think it is?"
"sierra, i swear to god i'm about to lose my fuckin' mind," serena whispered, grabbing her cousin's arm. "did you know he was coming?
"hell no! i would've warned you."
marcus raised an eyebrow, "who we talkin' about?"
"nobody," serena snapped, then sighed. "sorry, marcus. just… can you give us a minute?"
he nodded, backing away with his plate of food. "y'all women and your drama. i'll be by the speakers if anybody needs me."
as soon as he was out of earshot, sierra grabbed serena's shoulders. "what happened? what did he say to you?"
"nothin' yet. i didn't give him the chance." serena's hands were shaking. "sierra, i can't do this. not today. not here with everybody watchin'."
sierra glanced toward the house where jey had emerged onto the back porch engaging in a conversation with her brother and few of her cousins, "you want me to create a diversion so you can escape? i could fake an asthma attack."
despite everything, serena let out a small laugh. "you don't have fuckin' asthma. i do."
"details, details." sierra waved dismissively. "seriously though, you want me to take you home?"
serena sighed, glancing around at her aunties and uncles who were already watching her with curious eyes, "nah, i can't just bounce. you know how they get. by tomorrow mornin' the whole family group chat would be blowin' up about how i ran off 'cause jey showed up."
"so what? let 'em talk."
"easy for you to say. you ain't the one they be analyzin' like a damn science experiment." serena rolled her shoulders back, straightening her spine. "i gotta just deal with this shit. act like it don't bother me."
"you sure? 'cause your face tellin' a different story right now."
serena took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something she hoped looked like indifference. "i'm good. i'm grown. it's been a year."
a deep, familiar laugh cut through the backyard chatter, making serena's stomach flip despite herself. she turned to see jey standing with her granny, who was patting his cheek like he was still her favorite. she was smiling up at him, nodding along to whatever he was saying, completely captivated.
"unbelievable," serena muttered. "look at granny actin' like he's the second coming."
sierra snorted. "you know how she is about him. always thought he hung the moon."
serena watched as jey leaned down to listen to something her grandmother whispered. whatever it was made him look up, his eyes scanning the yard until they locked with serena's. his smile shifted, something softer and more private passing over his face.
without thinking, serena raised her hand, middle finger extended high and proud in his direction.
"childish ass bitch," sierra muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched up. "real mature, 'rena."
"what? he deserved it." serena dropped her hand, heat rising to her cheeks as she realized several relatives had witnessed her little display.
sierra shook her head. "you really tryna convince everybody you over him with that move? 'cause all i'm seein' is a girl who still got feelings strong enough to be mad."
"shut up," serena grumbled, grabbing a fresh drink from the cooler. "i ain't got no feelings except annoyance."
"mhmm. that's why you flippin' him off in front of granny and the whole family." sierra's eyes tracked something over serena's shoulder. "heads up, he's coming this way."
serena's spine stiffened. her body froze, once again. "he better not."
"too late." sierra stepped back slightly. "i'ma give y'all some space—"
"don't you dare leave me," serena hissed, grabbing her cousin's wrist.
"fine, but i ain't being your buffer all day." sierra crossed her arms as jey approached, his steps slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a spooked animal.
"hey, sierra," jey said, his voice gentle as he came to stand before them.
sierra gave him a once-over, her lips pressed into a thin line. she didn't respond, just took a long, pointed sip of her drink while staring straight through him like he was made of glass.
the silence hung heavy between them until serena couldn't take it anymore. "why the hell are you here? one of those nxt bitches didn't let you fuck or something?" the words came out sharper than she intended, dripping with venom.
jey's expression fell, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he schooled them back into neutrality. "it ain't like that, rena."
"don't call me that," serena snapped. "and you didn't answer my question."
he shifted his weight, glancing around at the relatives who were pretending not to eavesdrop. "can we talk somewhere private?"
"hell no," serena laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "anything you gotta say, you can say right here."
sierra's eyes bounced between them like she was watching a tennis match. "i'ma go check on granny," she muttered, finally removing herself despite serena's death glare.
jey waited until sierra was out of earshot before speaking again. "i'm in town for a show tomorrow night at the arena. drew hit me up when he heard i was comin'."
"and you just thought you'd crash my family barbecue? for what?" serena crossed her arms tight over her chest, creating a barrier between them.
"i didn't know you'd be here," he kissed his lips at her expression. "alright, that's a lie. i knew. i wanted to see you."
"well, now you've seen me. mission accomplished." serena moved to step around him, but he shifted slightly, not quite blocking her path but making it clear he wasn't done.
"rena—serena," he corrected himself when her eyes flashed. "i just… can we just talk? five minutes."
serena felt eyes on her from all directions—her nosy-ass cousins, her aunties, her grandmother who was watching with naked hope on her face. she couldn't make a scene, not here.
"no," she said through gritted teeth. "you saw me. you ruined my fuckin day. get out. now."
jey ran his hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "look ian mean to ambush you. drew invited me, and i didnt have a choice. i thought maybe—"
"stop talking to me," serena hissed, cutting him off. "just stop."
she turned away from him, her eyes landing on the back porch where her mother stood, watching the whole scene unfold. her mama's expression was a mixture of guilt and concern, her hands nervously twisting the dish towel she held.
without another word to jey, serena stormed past her relatives, ignoring their whispers and stares. she pushed through the screen door, brushing past her mother without acknowledging her.
"baby girl—" her mother started.
serena kept walking, taking the familiar path through the house to the stairs. each step creaked under her weight as she climbed, muscle memory guiding her to her childhood bedroom. she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the old house.
her room was exactly as she'd left it years ago when she moved out. trophies from high school track meets lined the dresser. polaroids and concert tickets were still stuck in the frame of her mirror. the faded pink comforter on her bed was pulled tight—her mother must have made it up, knowing she might need a retreat.
serena sank onto the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. the nerve of him. the absolute audacity to show up here, in her safe space, with that puppy dog look in his eyes like he hadn't been the one to—
a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"go away," she called, not bothering to lift her head.
the door creaked open anyway. "it's just me," sierra's voice came soft from the doorway. "brought you a drink. figured you might need somethin' stronger than that high noon."
serena looked up to see her cousin holding two red cups. "is that uncle roy's special punch?"
sierra grinned, closing the door behind her. "you know it. man pours half a bottle of hennessy in there and calls it 'just a splash.'"
serena accepted the cup, taking a long sip and wincing at the burn. "thanks."
sierra settled beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. "so… that was intense."
serena snorted. "that's one word for it."
"everybody downstairs actin' like they ain't just witnessed a whole telenovela episode." sierra nudged her shoulder. "auntie mabel already on the phone with her prayer circle."
"lord, they gonna be burnin' sage and prayin' over my love life by sundown."
they sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. the muffled sounds of the party continued below—music, laughter, the occasional shout.
"he looks good," sierra said after a while, her voice careful. "got his hair all different."
serena sighed, staring into her cup. "i noticed. that mullet always made me wanna just sit on his stupid face."
"you know what i think?"
"i know you gonna tell me regardless." serena sighed, throwing an arm over her face
sierra took another sip, studying serena's profile. "i think you still care about him."
"course i care," serena mumbled, the alcohol loosening her tongue. "don't mean i want him back."
sierra twirled the ice in her cup. "so… you gonna avoid him all day?"
serena leaned back against the bed, her eyes fixed on the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to her ceiling from when she was fourteen. "that was the plan."
"you know he ain't leavin' without talkin' to you. stubborn ass."
serena closed her eyes, feeling the alcohol warm her chest. "i hate that he still looks so damn good," she admitted quietly. "like, why couldn't he have gotten fat or lost all his hair or something?"
"girl, i know. it's been what, nearly a year? and he still walkin' around looking like that. it's disrespectful."
they fell silent again, the bass from the music downstairs vibrating through the floorboards. serena traced the rim of her cup with her finger, the words she'd been holding back for so long suddenly pressing against her throat.
"sometimes i miss him," she whispered, so softly sierra had to lean in to hear. "like, stupid things. the way he'd call me pretty or call to stay on facetime. how he'd send me flowers wherever he was across the world, or pulling me to sit in his lap if it was hella chairs near us."
"i was in love with him, si. like, really in love." serena's voice cracked slightly. "even though we both kept sayin' we didn't want commitment, that we were just havin' fun… we belonged to each other. y'know?"
"i know, girl…shit, everybody knew. that's why the family still asks about him."
serena wiped at a tear that had escaped. "it's so stupid. he fucked up, not me. i shouldn't be the one sittin' here cryin'."
"love ain't about who's right and who's wrong," sierra said, putting an arm around her cousin. "it's messy. and yeah, he fucked up. but that don't mean you can't still hurt."
serena took another long sip of her drink. "the worst part is, even after everything, there's still this part of me that wants to hear what he has to say."
"so maybe you should."
"and then what?" serena asked, throwing her hands up. "forgive him? go back to whatever the hell we were doing before? he cheated on me, si."
sierra raised an eyebrow. "did he though? y'all wasn't official, right? that's what you kept tellin' everybody."
"we weren't, but…" serena trailed off, frustration evident in her voice. "we were something. and he knew it. he knew what we had."
"so what are you really mad about? that he slept with someone else, or that y'all never put a real label on what you had?"
serena opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. she couldn’t think straight. hell, she was mad about something.
someone else had her man...in ways she was promised only she’d see.
serena swirled the drink in her cup, watching the ice cubes clink against the plastic. maybe sierra was right. maybe she wasn't even sure what she was mad about anymore. the hurt had calcified into something hard and protective around her heart, and she'd been carrying it for so long she wasn't sure how to put it down.
"i don't know, si," she finally said, her voice small. "i thought i was over it. over him. and then he walks in looking like… that, and my stomach does that stupid flippy thing and i'm right back where i started."
sierra squeezed her shoulder. "listen, rena. i ain't sayin' forgive him or take him back or nothin' like that. i'm just sayin' hear the man out. closure, y'know?"
serena thought about it for a moment, her mind racing through all the possibilities. what if he just wanted to apologize? what if he wanted her back? what if he was just being polite because drew invited him?
sierra leaned in closer, her voice low and serious. "any nigga worth showing up to a family barbecue is worth hearing out. especially one who's still got you this twisted after all this time."
serena snorted, rolling her eyes. "oh please. they all love his 'main event' ass. they wouldn't let his ass get a paper cut." she gestured vaguely toward the window where the sounds of the party continued. "granny's probably down there feedin' him her special sweet potato pie right now. the one she only makes at thanksgiving."
"so what?" sierra challenged. "you gonna hide up here all day? let everybody think he sent you runnin'?"
serena's jaw tightened. "i ain't runnin'."
"sure looks like it from where i'm sittin'."
serena knocked back the rest of her drink, the alcohol burning a path down her throat. "fine. i'll talk to him. five minutes, that's it. but not here, not with everybody and their mama watchin' and listenin'."
sierra grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. "that's my girl."
"don't look so smug," serena warned, standing up and smoothing her dress. "i'm just tired of hidin' out in my childhood bedroom like i'm sixteen again."
she caught her reflection in the mirror, noting the slight flush in her cheeks from the alcohol. her hair was still perfect, thank god, and her makeup had held up despite the heat. at least she looked good while her life was falling apart. again.
sierra hopped up from the bed, adjusting her dress. "well, if you gonna face him, might as well do it with a full stomach. i think i smell granny's mac and cheese from here."
serena took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "alright. let's do this."
as if on cue, her mother's voice carried up the stairs. "serena! sierra! y'all come on down, food's ready!"
sierra raised an eyebrow. "saved by the bell."
they made their way downstairs, serena's heart hammering against her ribs with each step. as they reached the bottom, a small group of serena's uncles and their friends were pushing through the front door, laughing loudly.
"y'all got any more of that hennessy punch?" uncle roy called out, leading the pack toward the kitchen. "we drank the cooler dry!"
serena's mother appeared from the dining room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. her eyes immediately found serena's, relief washing over her face.
"there you are, baby girl," she said softly.
before serena could remember she was supposed to be mad, she found herself crossing the room and wrapping her arms around her mother. the familiar scent of cocoa butter and the same perfume her mother had worn since serena was little enveloped her.
her mother hugged her tight, one hand coming up to stroke her hair like she used to do when serena was small. "i love you always," she whispered into serena's ear. "you're the prize, remember that. don't you ever forget it."
serena squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears. "i know, ma," she murmured.
when they pulled apart, her mama cupped her face. "you good?"
serena nodded, managing a small smile. "i'm good."
"alright then," her mother said, patting her cheek. "everybody's waitin' on us. your uncle lewis been eyein' that brisket for an hour."
they made their way through the house and out to the backyard where tables had been set up and loaded with food. the smell of barbecue and her granny's famous sides filled the air. serena kept her eyes carefully trained on the spread, avoiding scanning the crowd for jey.
she grabbed a plate and got in line behind sierra, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on her. she could hear jey's distinctive laugh somewhere to her left, mingling with her brother's and cousins'.
"serena, baby," her granny called from her seat of honor at the head of the longest table.
serena sighed, already knowing what was coming "yes, granny?"
"make jey's plate," her grandmother said, not even trying to be subtle. "that boy's been workin' hard, travelin' all over. probably ain't had a home cooked meal in a minute."
"his hands ain't broke, granny," serena said, her voice coming out sharper than she intended.
granny's eyes widened, her expression hardening. "serena marie! where are your manners, girl? that boy is a guest in this house."
"it's fine, ms. elaine," jey said, suddenly appearing beside serena in the food line. he smiled down at granny with that charming grin that used to make serena weak. "i got it. actually, let me make your plate too, rena."
he reached for serena's empty plate, his fingers brushing against hers. the brief contact sent an unwelcome jolt through her body.
"it's serena and i don't need you to make my plate," serena said, trying to pull it back. "i can do it myself."
but jey had already taken both plates, stepping ahead of her in line. "i know whatchu like. still no baked beans, extra mac and cheese, right?"
serena stood there fuming as jey moved down the line, carefully filling both plates. the audacity of this man. she caught sierra's eye across the yard, her cousin giving her a what-the-hell-just-happened look.
jey was piling her plate with all her favorites—her grandaddy's secret smoked brisket, granny's mac and cheese, potato salad with extra paprika the way she liked it. he even remembered to keep the greens separate so it wouldn't touch the other food.
"here you go," he said, turning back to hand her the loaded plate. their fingers brushed again as she took it, and she hated how her body betrayed her with a shiver.
"thanks," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.
jey nodded toward an empty spot at one of the tables. "mind if i sit witchu?"
before serena could respond with the firm "get the fuck out my face," that was on the tip of her tongue, granny called out from her table.
"jey, baby, come sit by me! i wanna hear all about your travelin'."
serena had never been so grateful for her grandmother's interference. jey hesitated, looking between serena and granny.
"raincheck?" he laughed softly.
serena just shrugged, already turning away. "whatever."
she watched as jey made his way to granny's table, settling in beside the older woman who immediately began fussing over him like he was still family. the betrayal stung, even if it was expected.
sierra slid onto the bench beside serena at the far table she'd chosen. "so that happened."
"don't start," serena warned, stabbing at her mac and cheese.
"i'm just sayin', he remembered exactly how you like your food."
"so what? i ain't forget how he likes his food either. don't mean nothin'." serena shoved a forkful of brisket into her mouth, chewing aggressively.
sierra raised an eyebrow. "alright, what's his favorite then?"
serena paused mid-chew, her fork hovering over her plate. she glanced over at jey's table where he was laughing at something granny said, that same easy smile lighting up his face. "ribs. extra sauce. potato salad but not with eggs. corn bread, mash potatoes on the side with extra gravy and sweet tea so sweet it could put you in a diabetic coma."
"damn, girl. you really just proved my point."
"shut up and eat your food."
serena tried to focus on her plate, but her eyes kept drifting to jey's table. he was being his usual charming self, listening intently to granny's stories and asking all the right questions. her younger cousin jasmine had somehow wormed her way into the conversation and was batting her eyelashes like jey was gonna give her his autograph.
"that lil girl need to sit down somewhere," serena muttered under her breath.
"who, jasmine?" sierra followed her gaze. "oh lord, she really is layin' it on thick. somebody need to tell her she look desperate."
"not my problem," serena said, though her grip on her fork tightened when jasmine giggled at something jey said.
"mhmm. that's why you stabbin' your mac and cheese like it owe you money."
serena forced herself to look away, focusing on her cousin randal who was telling some story about his new job. she nodded at all the right moments, laughed when she was supposed to, but her attention kept wandering.
after what felt like forever, people started clearing their plates and settling into the lazy afternoon rhythm of a family barbecue. the older folks claimed the chairs in the shade, the kids ran around the yard with water balloons, and the adults her age congregated around the speakers where someone had put on a throwback playlist.
serena was helping clear tables when jey appeared beside her, collecting empty cups.
"you don't have to do that," she said without looking at him.
"i know. i want to help."
they worked in silence for a few minutes, the tension between them thick enough to cut. serena was hyperaware of his every movement, the way he would get to close to her, and reach for the same stack of paper plates and cup she would to attempt to brush against her.
"yo granny's somethin' else," he said as they both reached for the same stack of plates. "she made me promise to take some leftovers back to my hotel."
"that's granny for you. she'd feed the whole world if she could."
jey nodded, his expression thoughtful. "she asked about you, you know. when you went upstairs earlier."
serena stayed quiet. part of her remember what sierra said earlier…to hear him out. another part of her wanted him get the fuck away from her before she tried to see how hard a plastic knife could stick him.
"what did you tell her?" serena asked despite herself, still not meeting his eyes.
"told her you was probably tired. long day." jey's hands stilled on the plates he was stacking. "she said you been workin' too much lately. not takin' care of yourself."
serena rolled her eyes, "granny talks too much."
"she cares about you. they all do." jey glanced around the yard where her family was scattered in their usual post-meal contentment. "missed this, you know. all of them."
"well they clearly missed you too," serena said, the bitterness creeping back into her voice. "jasmine damn near climbed in your lap during dinner."
jey's mouth quirked up at the corner. "you jealous of a nineteen-year-old?"
"boy, please." serena rolled her eyes, but heat crept up her neck. "i just think it's funny how you show up here after all this time and everybody acts like you never left."
"not everybody," jey said quietly, his eyes finding hers. "you act like you wish i never existed."
serena finally looked at him fully, taking in the familiar planes of his face, the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he was being serious. "some days i do."
the honesty in her voice seemed to catch them both off guard. jey's expression softened, something vulnerable flickering across his features.
"rena—"
"don't." she held up a hand, stepping back. "just… don't."
jey didn't move, his eyes still fixed on her face. "can we talk? please? just ten minutes."
serena looked around. the kitchen had emptied out completely, everyone heading to the yard to start doing the cha cha slide.
jey took a step closer. "ten minutes, that's all i'm asking. and then if you want me gone, i'm gone."
a loud splash followed by raucous cheers and laughter erupted from the yard. serena glanced toward the sound, then back at jey. the kitchen was quiet now, just the two of them standing amid half-cleared plates and the lingering smell of barbecue.
"fine," she finally said, crossing her arms. "ten minutes. and after that, you leave. i mean it, jey."
relief washed over his face. "thank you."
serena leaned against the counter, creating distance between them. "your time's already ticking."
jey ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking nervous in a way she'd rarely seen before. "i don't even know where to start."
"maybe with why you're really here," serena suggested, her voice cooler than she felt. "because i ain't buying that drew just happened to invite you and you just happened to accept."
"i asked him to," jey admitted. "when i found out i was coming to town for the show, i reached out. i've been trying to find a way to talk to you for months."
serena raised an eyebrow. "thats bullshit."
"you changed your number."
"there's a reason for that."
jey nodded, accepting the hit. "i deserved that. i deserved all of it—the blocking, the number change, everything."
silence stretched between them. from outside, the sounds of the party continued, but they felt distant, like they were in their own bubble of time.
"clock's ticking," she reminded him, tapping an imaginary watch on her wrist.
he nodded, running a hand over his hair. "i fucked up. i know tha—"
"we weren't together," she shot back automatically. "remember? you made that very clear every time i brought up where we stood."
jey's shoulders slumped. "i know. and that was me being stupid and scared. i didn't want to put a label on us because i was afraid of fucking it up. and look what happened—i fucked it up anyway."
serena laughed, the sound hollow. "you expect me to believe that? after what i saw?"
jey took a deep breath, leaning against the opposite counter. "what you saw… god, rena, i wish i could take it all back."
"but you can't," she said flatly. "so what now?"
ey stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "what you saw was me being the biggest fool on the planet. i ain't got no excuse that's good enough, but i need you to know something."
he took a deep breath, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "i love you, serena. i always have. never stopped, not for a single day."
serena's breath caught in her throat. "don't."
"it's the truth," he continued, his eyes glistening. "i've loved you since that first night in new orleans when you cussed me out for spillin' your drink and then made me buy you two more."
he ran a hand over his face, struggling to find the words. "the whole time we were together—or whatever we was—i kept thinkin' i wasn't enough for you. not good enough, not stable enough."
serena stared at him, speechless.
"i grew up watchin' my pops lose every damn thing trying to make it in this business," jey said, his voice rough with emotion. "he was gone all the time, chasing that next booking, that next big break. my mama raised us practically alone while he was out there living his dream. and when he finally came home for good, broken down and bitter, she didn't even know him anymore."
jey's eyes were intense, almost pleading. "i swore i'd never do that to someone i loved. never make them sit at home waiting, wondering if i was coming back, if it was all worth it. but then there i was, doing exactly that to you. on the road 300 days a year, asking you to understand, to wait."
"i never complained about that," serena said quietly.
"you shouldn't have had to. i was becoming my father, and i hated myself for it." jey's voice cracked slightly. "so i kept telling myself—and you—that we weren't serious, that we were just having fun. because if we weren't really together, then i wasn't really failing you."
serena felt tears pricking at her eyes. "so you slept with her instead? to prove your point?"
"i was trying to sabotage the best thing in my life because i convinced myself i'd ruin it eventually anyway." jey stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "i wanted to be the man you deserved, but i didn't know how. not without giving up everything i'd worked for, and i was too selfish to do that."
serena's heart hammered in her chest. "you could have talked to me. told me how you felt."
outside, the music shifted to something slow and soulful. the late afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the floor between them.
he looked down at his hands, flexing them slightly. "i was scared that if i fully claimed you, made you mine officially, i'd do to you what he did to my mama. i'd drag you into that life of always wanting more, never being enough."
"that wasn't your choice to make," serena said quietly.
"i know that now," jey admitted. "but back then, i thought i was protecting you. so i kept us in that gray area, tellin' myself we was just having fun, that you were free to walk away anytime."
serena crossed her arms, shaking her head as she processed his words. "you're not the only one who was scared, jey." her voice came out smaller than she intended. "i wasn't any better than you. not really."
jey’s eyes glossed over as he leaned against the counter, "whatchu’ mean?"
"i mean i played along with the whole 'we're just having fun' thing because i was terrified too." she laughed bitterly, blinking back tears. "every time you'd say we weren't serious, i'd just nod and agree, pretending that's what i wanted too."
"but it wasn't?"
"of course it wasn't!" serena threw her hands up. "i was head over heels in love with you, but too damn proud to admit it. i wanted you—all of you—100%. i wanted to be your girlfriend, your woman, not just some girl you were 'having fun' with in every city."
jey took a step closer, hope flickering across his face. "why didn't you ever say anything?"
"for the same stupid reasons you didn't. i was scared. scared you'd choose the road, the career, anything but me." she wiped at a tear that had escaped. "so i played it cool, acted like i was fine with whatever we were, even though it was killing me."
"rena…"
"and then when i saw you with her, it was like… confirmation of everything i feared. that i wasn't enough, that i was just one of many." her voice broke slightly. "so i ran."
they stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air between them. serena finally looked up, meeting his eyes.
"so what? what's the point of telling me all this now?" she asked, her voice rising with emotion. "we were both cowards, we both messed up, and now what? you think you can just walk back into my life after all this time and—"
her words died in her throat as jey closed the distance between them in two quick strides. his hand caught her by the belt loop of her jeans, tugging her against him. before she could process what was happening, his mouth was on hers, hungry and desperate.
for one stunned moment, serena froze. then something inside her broke loose—all the anger, all the longing, all the love she'd been trying to bury for two years. her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as she melted into the kiss.
jey's hands slid to her waist, lifting her slightly so she was perched on the edge of the counter. she could feel his heart hammering against her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own. his fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss.
with a sudden surge of need, serena pushed against his chest. his eyes widened, thinking she was rejecting him, but she slid off the counter in one fluid motion. her fingers curled into his shirt as she backed him toward the pantry door, her eyes never leaving his.
"what are you—" he whispered, but she silenced him with another kiss, reaching behind him to turn the knob.
they stumbled into the dark pantry, the door clicking shut behind them. the small space was filled with the scent of spices and flour, barely enough room for both of them. serena pressed him against the shelves, canned goods rattling as their bodies collided.
"we shouldn't—your family—" jey managed between kisses, his hands already sliding under her shirt.
"shut up," she breathed against his mouth, her fingers working at his belt buckle.
the metal clinked in the darkness as she yanked it open, her hand slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. he gasped against her mouth when she found him, already hard and straining against the fabric.
jey's head fell back against the shelf as she stroked him, his breath coming in short pants. "fuck, rena—"
his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her in for another desperate kiss before his lips traveled down her neck. the scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin sent shivers down her spine, her body arching into his touch.
"listen to me," she whispered fiercely, her hand stilling as she gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at her. even in the dim light filtering through the cracks of the door, she could see the heat in his eyes. "i ever find out you're giving dick to another bitch, i'll kill you. i swear to god, jey."
"i'm yours. only yours. i promise, ma."
his hand slid up her thigh, disappearing beneath her dress. "prove it," she challenged, her breath hitching as his fingers found the edge of her panties.
"right here?" he asked, his eyes darting to the door. the sounds of the party outside seemed impossibly distant.
"right here," she confirmed, already working his jeans down his hips. "right now."
he spun them around so her back was against the shelves, lifting her effortlessly. her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her dress up, his mouth reclaiming hers in a kiss that left no doubt about who she belonged to.
"someone gone hear us," he murmured against her lips, even as his fingers hooked into her panties.
serena bit his lower lip, her eyes locked with his. "then you better make sure i stay quiet."
the shelves creaked ominously as jey pressed closer, his hands everywhere at once. serena clung to him, as he slid her panties to the side and slid inside her in one complete thrust. her mouth opened on a silent scream.
serena threw her head back, biting her lip to keep from crying out as jey's thick dick stretched her pussy, splitting her wide open. the feeling was overwhelming—like coming home and discovering something brand new all at once. she clutched his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his skin through his shirt.
"fuck," he growled against her neck, immediately starting to fuck her with deep, relentless strokes. "so goddamn tight, baby."
he shifted his stance, wrapping one muscular arm under her ass to support her weight while his other hand reached up to grab one of the shelves above her head. the new leverage let him drill into her cunt with punishing force, each thrust pushing her higher against the wall of canned goods.
"i missed yo ass so much. i missed this pussy," he whispered harshly, his breath hot against her ear. "thought about it every fuckin' night."
serena's eyes rolled back, pleasure building at the base of her spine. "shut up and fuck me," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies coming together.
jey obeyed, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. the shelf above them creaked dangerously with each thrust, threatening to give way under his grip. serena bit down on his shoulder to muffle her moans, the taste of cotton and his cologne filling her senses.
"nobody fucks me like you," she admitted in a breathless whisper, her pride momentarily forgotten in the haze of pleasure. "nobody."
his pace faltered for just a second before he redoubled his efforts, one hand sliding between them to find her clit. "and nobody ever will," he promised, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb. "you belong to me. yea?"
the dual sensation of his dick stretching her walls and his fingers working her clit had serena climbing rapidly toward release. she could feel herself getting wetter with each thrust, her slick arousal making obscene sounds as he pounded into her.
"i'm close," she warned, her voice tight with desperation. "don't stop, please don't stop—"
jey's fingers pressed harder against her clit, making tight circles as his hips pistoned relentlessly. "tell me, baby. tell me what i need to hear."
serena's body tensed, her cunt clenching around his thickness as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. she choked back a sob as her release neared, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the overwhelming sensation.
"did you miss me?" jey whispered against her ear, his voice rough with need. "did you miss this dick?"
serena couldn't hold back anymore, all her pride dissolving in the heat between them. "yea," she cried out, the admission torn from her throat in a choked, broken sound.
"yea?" he pressed, slowing his strokes to deep, deliberate thrusts that hit something perfect inside her.
"mhmm," she managed, the sound low and desperate.
"mhm," he mimicked, matching her mewl as a smirk played across his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
something about his cockiness ignited a fire in her. serena slid her hand into his mullet, fingers tangling in the longer strands at the back of his neck. she tugged hard, using his hair as leverage to pull him closer. the sudden pain made him slam into her with unexpected force, hitting so deep she accidentally let out a scream.
panic flashed across jey's face. he immediately released the shelf, his hand flying to cover her mouth. his palm pressed firmly against her lips, muffling any further sounds as he continued to fuck into her soaking wet cunt.
"shh, baby," he whispered urgently, his eyes darting toward the door. "you tryna get us caught? everybody and they mama gone be in here if you keep screamin' like that."
serena's eyes rolled back as she moaned against his palm, the added danger of possibly being discovered only heightening her pleasure. her tongue darted out, tasting the salt of his skin. serena's eyes rolled back, her muffled moans vibrating against his palm
jey's hand remained over her mouth as his thrusts became more erratic. serena's nails dug into his shoulders, her eyes rolling back as she finally tipped over the edge. her orgasm crashed through her in violent waves, her pussy clenching and pulsing around his dick.
"that's it," he encouraged, his voice strained as he fought his own release. "cum all over this dick, ma. show me how much you missed it."
serena's nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks through his shirt as her body convulsed with aftershocks. her pussy contracting violently around jey's thickness.
she felt herself gushing, hot slick flooding between them as her release drenched his dick. her release coated him, slick and hot, making each thrust wetter than the last. her thighs trembled uncontrollably, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
"fuck, baby," jey groaned, feeling her cum drench him. "i can feel you—"
his words cut off as his own orgasm hit without warning. with a final powerful thrust, jey buried himself to the hilt inside her spasming cunt, a guttural grunt tearing from his throat as he came.
she locked her ankles behind his back, pulling him deeper, refusing to let him pull out. the message is clear.
"you sure?" he asks, his control slipping. when she nods frantically against his palm, he loses what little restraint he had left.
his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, holding her firmly in place as he emptied himself deep within her, his cum pulsing hot against her walls.
serena felt each throb of his cock as he filled her, their releases mixing together in a mess of heat and desire. their bodies remained locked together, both of them panting against each other's skin as they rode out the aftershocks.
"goddamn," jey finally whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "i forgot how good we are together."
serena let out a breathless laugh, her body still tingling from her intense orgasm. "shut up. we ain't good together. we're fuckin' incredible together."
his smile was bright even in the dim light. "can't argue with that."
the sound of someone calling serena's name from the kitchen suddenly brought them crashing back to reality.
"shit," serena hissed, unwinding her legs from his waist and hastily adjusting her dress. "that's my mama."
jey quickly tucked himself back into his pants, fastening his belt while serena smoothed her hair and wiped at the corners of her mouth.
"serena? you in here?" her mother's voice was getting closer.
"just a sec, ma!" serena called out, her voice surprisingly steady. she turned to jey, her expression suddenly serious despite their disheveled state. "this doesn't fix everything."
jey nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "we need to talk for real. not just...this."
serena nodded, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "i know."
"later tonight?"
before she could answer, the pantry door swung open, flooding the small space with light.
serena froze, her hand still smoothing her rumpled dress as the pantry door swung wide open. the harsh kitchen light flooded in, illuminating their guilty faces and jey's frantic attempts to stuff himself back into his boxers.
her mother stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other still gripping the doorknob. her expression shifted from confusion to realization to exasperation in the span of three seconds.
"a damn shame," her mother said, shaking her head slowly. "just a shame. not official my ass." she gestured between them with a dismissive wave. "get yall asses together and get out my damn pantry with that freaky shit."
jey cleared his throat, finally managing to secure his belt. "ms. johnson, i apologize for—"
"boy, save it," she interrupted, though there was a hint of amusement beneath her expression.
before her mother could finish her thought, her eyes landed on something behind them. her face morphed from mild amusement to absolute horror.
"lord jesus—" she gasped, reaching past them to grab a shelf. "y'all knocked over my—"
her mom slams the pantry door back and says, "i just bought them damn peaches, my fucking god. nut assses. its a damn lock on that pantry too."
serena and jey stood frozen for a moment before laughter bubbled up between them, the absurdity of the situation hitting them all at once. they collapsed against each other in the dark pantry, shoulders shaking with silent giggles like teenagers caught making out.
"she really more worried about them peaches than us fuckin' in her pantry," serena whispered, wiping tears from her eyes.
jey's body shook with suppressed laughter. "yo mama ain't changed a bit."
after their laughter subsided, serena straightened her dress one more time. "c'mon, we better get out before she comes back with reinforcements."
they slipped out of the pantry, checking that the coast was clear before hurrying through the kitchen. they managed to make it upstairs without being spotted, ducking into serena's bedroom and shutting the door behind them.
"shit, i look a mess," serena muttered, catching sight of herself in the mirror. her lipstick was smudged, hair disheveled, and there was a distinct flush across her chest that screamed "just got fucked."
jey came up behind her, his reflection appearing over her shoulder. "damn, you look beautiful," he said softly, his hands settling on her hips.
serena met his eyes in the mirror. "don't start again. we ain't got time for round two."
"not what i meant," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "but i wouldn't say no."
serena rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. she turned to face him, suddenly serious. "we still need to talk. for real this time."
jey nodded, his expression matching her gravity. "i know. and we will. tonight?"
serena hesitated, then nodded. "yeah. tonight."
she moved to her dresser, pulling out a hairbrush and some makeup wipes. "but first we gotta fix ourselves before the whole family figures out what we been doin'."
jey leaned against the wall, watching as she touched up her makeup. "you think your mama's gonna tell everybody?"
serena snorted. "please. that woman loves drama more than her soaps. by the time we get back downstairs, even the neighbors gonna know we was in that pantry."
jey laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "guess we better come up with a good story then."
serena paused, meeting his eyes in the mirror again. "or we could just tell the truth."
"you wanna tell em, i just fucked you in yo mama pantry?"
"no, goofy!" she laughed as she tossed a shirt at him, "tell em we together...we back."
jey's face broke into the biggest smile she'd ever seen. he lifted her off her feet, spinning her around the small room before setting her down and kissing her deeply.
"alright, alright," serena laughed against his mouth. "we gotta get back down there before somebody comes lookin'."
they finished fixing themselves up, serena adding fresh lipgloss while jey tried to tame his hair. as they headed for the door, serena grabbed his hand.
"you ready for this? 'cause once we go down there together, the whole family gonna know. and you know granny, gonna start planning our wedding and shit."
"too late for that," jey laughed, pulling her toward the door. "she been planning that shit since the first time i showed up here."
Author's Note: Another request. This baby wanted a toxic Jey.
She requested : "...was wondering if you could do something like this for Jey.. toxic drunk maybe both.. you are the professional so you can make it whatever you want angsty smutty whatever but maybe his bratty ex has started to try to move on and he deads that shit REAL QUICK."
The picture she also referenced is attached too...👇🏽🥴
4.5k Words🫣
Reader|
I had one lash on, one lash off, hair halfway curled, and my phone buzzing on the counter like it was trying to break through the marble.
Again.
"Damn it, Jey…" I muttered, flipping it over. His name lit up my screen for the sixth time in ten minutes. I hit decline.
Not even thirty seconds later, Incoming FaceTime...
I groaned but answered, because I knew if I didn’t, he’d just keep calling like a man possessed. "What?"
The camera was close to his face, way too fucking close — that slightly red-eyed, glossy look that told me he was real drunk. His grill flashed when he smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Where you goin’, mama?"
"Out." I didn’t even pause in grabbing my setting spray. "With the girls."
His smirk dropped. "Nah. Not tonight. Stay home."
I laughed under my breath, brushing my curls forward. "You still think you can tell me what to do? Newsflash...We’re not together, Joshua."
"You keep sayin’ that like it mean somethin’," he shot back, leaning so close to the phone that I could see the glint of his chain swinging. "You mine ‘til I say you not. Don’t get cute."
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the way my stomach tightened at the edge in his voice. "You must be real gone if you think you can pop up on my phone like this, tryin’ to call shots."
"You think I won’t?" His tone shifted — low, slow, that dangerous calm he always got right before he did something stupid. "Keep playin’ with me, baby. Post one lil’ story, let me see a bottle or some dude in your section, all that shit gettin' handled."
My throat went dry, but my mouth still worked. "You sound crazy."
"And you love it.” His smirk returned, lazy and arrogant, because he knew damn well he wasn’t wrong. "Tell me you don’t."
I didn’t answer. I just hung up.
But as I turned back to the mirror, my pulse was pounding — and deep down, I already knew… tonight was about to be some shit.
My phone buzzed again before I could even slide my heels on.
Joshua🙄
I pressed decline without a second thought, but the damn thing lit up again like he was in competition with my patience. On the fourth call, I swiped up just to get it over with.
"Nigga!...What!?"
"Don't fuckin' hang up on me," he bit out, his words sharper now, that drunken drawl still laced underneath. "You actin' real bold tonight."
"I told you I'm going out. I don't owe you shit."
His chuckle filled the speaker, "You think I'm just gon' sit here and let you disrespect me?"
Jerking my head back and looked around, cause I know he done lost his damn mind. "Disrespect?" I let out a laugh, closing my bedroom door and tossing the strap of my purse up to my shoulder.
"Joshua, you are not my man. You don't get to use words like 'disrespect'. Please be fuckin' for real."
"I'm always yo man." His voice dipped low, slow, heavy with conviction– and it hit that nerve I hard admitting still existed. "You got a bad habit of forgetting."
"You got a bad habit of thinkin’ you own me," I snapped, pulling the phone from my ear. "I’ll talk to you when you sober up."
Beep Beep Beep.
I didn’t wait for him to respond. My notifications were already blowing up — my girls were texting that they were outside the lounge, hyping me up with mirror selfies and
"Where you at?!" messages.
I grabbed my keys, heels clacking down the stairs, that mix of irritation and adrenaline buzzing under my skin.
The second I slid into my driver’s seat, my phone lit up again.
Joshua🙄: Don’t make me come find you.
Joshua🙄: You think I’m playin’.
I bit my lip, staring at the screen longer than I should’ve. His contact photo —that same stupid fine smirk I hated— stared back at me.
Another text popped up before I could lock the screen.
Joshua🙄: Bet.
I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine, shaking my head.
But that thump in my chest? That wasn’t fear.
That was knowing damn well he meant it.
The bass from the lounge was already rattling the sidewalk by the time I pulled up. Neon light spilled onto the street, and I spotted my girls posted near the entrance, drinks already in hand like they’d been pre-gaming without me.
"Finally!" Mia yelled the second I stepped out of the car, her silver mini catching the light. She hugged me tight before pulling back with a grin. "Girl, you look good as hell. He gon’ be sick when he see—"
"Don’t." I cut her off, shooting her a look that said we are not speaking his name tonight.
Tasha and Lani followed with their own greetings, hyping me up, tugging me toward the door. "C’mon, shots are already waiting."
We slipped inside, and the music hit me like a wave– sticky floor, flashing lights, that familiar haze of sweat, perfume, and liquor in the air. My irritation from earlier started to fade into something lighter, easier.
For a while, it was just drinks and laughs. We posed for pictures, made short videos, and clinked shot glasses until my cheeks hurt from smiling. Tasha was the one filming boomerang when she turned her phone around and said , "Ooo, this is cute–going on the story."
I didn’t think twice about it.
Until I saw the read receipt pop up from Joshua’s thread.
No text. No call. Just the read. A cold prickle slid down my spine.
"Mama, you good?" Mia asked, sipping her drink.
"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile.
But not even ten minutes later, the crowd at the door shifted, heads turning like someone important just walked in.
And there he was.
Black fitted shirt. Cuban glinting under the lights. That damn slow, cocky walk like he had all the time in the world. His eyes found mine in seconds — and didn’t move.
"Oh, hell," Lani muttered under her breath, already recognizing the look on his face. "Is that–"
"Please." My voice was low, my pulse loud in my ears.
I watched him weave through the crowd, ignoring people trying to dap him up. The closer he got, the more I could see it — that slightly glassy stare, the lazy smirk that wasn’t really a smirk at all.
He stopped just in front of me, looking me up and down like he was making a mental list of all the ways he’d ruin my night.
"Enjoyin' yourself?" he dryly asked. I crossed my arms, fighting to keep my expression bored. "I was."
He just nodded, lips twitching like he wanted to say more but was holding it in. "A'ight."
...That was it...?
Before I could figure out what game he was playing, he turned on his heel, and glided through the crowd without another word. No scene. No dragging me out. No petty back-and-forth.
I blinked, still staring at the space he'd left behind.
"What in the hell was that?" Mia asked, brows raised while looking over the rim of her cup.
I took a short breath before shrugging, "Hell if I know," I muttered, shaking it off and grabbing my drink. If he wanted to pretend he didn't care, I could do that too.
And maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was the bass thumping throughout the lounge, and the heat from the dance floor.
By the next song, I was in the middle of the crowd with my girls, hips rolling, hair sticking to my shoulders, our laughter cutting through the music. My phone was somewhere in my purse, forgotten.
Some guy I didn’t know slid in behind me, his hands hovering near my waist, close but not touching. I didn’t move away. I didn’t encourage it either—but I knew exactly how it looked from across the room.
Especially if a certain drunk, possessive man was still watching.
I let my head fall back, letting the beat carry me, feeling the eyes around us— the way the air seemed heavier all of a sudden.
Tasha leaned over to yell in my ear, "Girl, he’s still here."
I didn't have to ask who.
But, I knew how he was about to react.
The music suddenly wasn’t the loudest thing in the room anymore.
I could feel it before I saw it — that shift in the air, the way the crowd seemed to ripple like they knew something was about to go down.
Fuck.
Joshua didn’t look at the guy behind me. Didn’t need to. His eyes were locked on mine, that slow, deliberate stalk that said you must be out your mind.
The guy’s hands dropped from my waist before Joshua even reached us. Smart man.
"Lemme talk to you real quick."
And it wasn't a request. His tone cut through the bass, low but edged, and it snapped me right out of the tequila haze.
The crowd seemed to pull back without anyone actually moving, like they could smell the tension bleeding off him. Joshua didn’t break eye contact once as he closed the space between us, that slow, deliberate gait making the whole room feel smaller.
My mouth opened to protest, but the way his hand brushed my wrist—not rough, but firm enough to remind me of exactly who I was dealing with—shut me up. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of liquor and his cologne hitting me all at once, that intoxicating mix of trouble and familiarity.
"Josh, I’m not doing this here—" I started, trying to twist my hand free.
"Didn’t ask where we was doin’ it,"he murmured, leaning down so only I could hear him. "Let's go. Now."
I glanced back at my girls, who were all wide-eyed and frozen in place. Tasha mouthed be careful while Mia shifted like she was debating stepping in. I shook my head—fast—because the last thing I needed was for him to feel challenged by somebody else.
He led me toward the back exit, not even looking around to see who was watching. Every step we took, my pulse got louder. I hated how much my body responded before my brain could tell it to chill—the familiar coil tightening in my stomach, the way my skin buzzed under his touch.
The second the door swung shut behind us, the muffled bass of the club was replaced by the hum of the city at night. Cool air rushed against my skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat radiating off him.
He stopped just far enough from the door that no one could hear, his gaze sweeping over me like he was taking inventory.
"You out here lettin’ random dudes touch up on you now?" His voice was calm, but that calm was razor-thin. "You think that’s cute? Think I’m the type to see that shit and let it slide?"
I tilted my chin up, refusing to shrink. "He wasn't even touching me and I told you earlier, Joshua. You not my man. You don't get t–"
His laugh cut me off, short and humorless. "See, that's where you keep fuckin' up. You think I need your permission to handle what's mine?"
Before I could fire back, he stepped closer, his breath hitting my cheek, the smell of Hennessy heavy between us. "Finish up whatever you got goin' on. I'll be outside. Don't make me come find you again, bae."
He didn't wait for a response, didn't so much as glance back when he walked off into the night.
I stood there, heart thundering, my body caught somewhere between fury and adrenaline.
By the time I finally left– ten minutes later, still trying convince myself I didn't care. My stomach was already knotted.
I decided to just go home. I walked back into the club, and walked straight to the section Mia looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.
"You good babe?"
Her question caused Tasha and Lani to look over.
"Yeah," I lied, grabbing my purse from the couch and finishing the last of my drink. "I'm just gonna head out."
The three of them exchanged a look, the kind that said we know you’re lying but we’re not about to press it right now.
"You sure?" Tasha asked, voice low so it wouldn’t get lost in the music.
I nodded, forcing a half-smile. "Yeah. I'll text when I'm home."
They let me go, but I could still feel their eyes on me as I threaded my way through the crowd and back toward the door. Every step felt heavier, the air thicker. I told myself I was fine, that he was probably gone by now, that this was just me being paranoid.
The lie barely lasted until I hit the sidewalk.
The lot was quiet— too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every sound echo, every shadow look sharper. My heels clicked against the pavement as I headed toward my car, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.
I unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat, tossing my bag onto the passenger side. The second I reached for the ignition—
Tap. Tap.
That metallic knock was soft, almost casual, but it hit me like a punch to the gut.
I turned my head slowly, and there he was.
Joshua.
His smirk was slow, deliberate, but his eyes were stone—sharp, unreadable.
"Told you not to make me come find you," he said, voice low enough that it vibrated more than it carried, sinking right into my chest. "Unlock the door."
My fingers hovered over the lock for all of two seconds before I sighed and hit the button.
There was no point pretending I had a choice—when Joshua wanted his way, he got it.
He slid into the passenger seat like he owned it, shutting the door with a quiet finality. That cologne hit first, then the faint tang of Hennessy still on his breath.
"Drive," he murmured, leaning back in the seat but keeping his gaze locked on me. "Home."
I didn’t argue. My hands gripped the wheel, knuckles tight, the quiet between us suffocating as I pulled out of the lot. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the leather when he shifted. I didn’t have to look to know he was watching me the whole ride.
When we finally pulled into my driveway, I killed the engine. Before I could even take a breath, he was out of the car, waiting for me to follow. I trailed him up the steps, every nerve in my body screaming with a mix of tension and anticipation.
The second we stepped inside, he went straight for the cabinet above my counter—the one he knew I kept my liquor stash in.
He didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed the bottle of Henny, twisted off the cap, and poured half into a glass like he hadn’t already been drinking.
"You think I ain't know?" His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but that edge was there, sharper than the glass in his hand.
I stayed by the doorway, my purse still on my shoulder. "Know what?"
"That you out here tryin’ to move on." He took a long swallow, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. "Think I ain’t heard? Think I ain’t seen?"
I scoffed, "Joshu–"
"Nah, shut that shit up..." he cut in, setting the glass down with a solid thunk on the counter. "You think I ain't know about these other muthafuckas, you call yo self entertainin'?"
I opened my mouth, but he was already closing the distance, the smell of dark liquor and him hitting me like a wave.
"You think I'm finna sit back and watch you give my shit away?" His hand came up, thick fingers brushing my jaw, deceptively gentle. "Nah, mama. That ain't how this works." Thumb tracing my bottom lip, slow and deliberate, and my pulse went wild.
I hated how much my body always betrayed me in moments like this. How no matter how much I wanted to stand my ground, part of me craved the storm that came with him.
"You can try, baby," he said, that dangerous calm back in full force, "but you already know how that story ends."
Before I could get a word out, his hand slid down from my jaw, gripping my wrist, tugging me toward the couch. He didn’t shove — didn’t have to. His pull was that unspoken command I knew too well.
"Jey—"
"Sit," he said, low but firm.
I sank into the couch, my pulse hammering. He dropped down to his knees in front of me, that lazy smirk curling back up as he reached for my phone on the coffee table. My brows knitted. "What are you —"
He held it up between two fingers, unlocking it with my face before I could snatch it back. "Gon’ make somethin’ real clear to you… and to all these lil’ ‘friends’ that be blowin’ up your line."
"Joshua, stop playin—"
"Oh. I am playin'… just not the way you think." His thumb swiped quick, pulling up the camera before I could even process it.
The next thing I knew, his hands were on my thighs, pushing them apart like they weighed nothing. That thick chain of his dangled between us as he leaned in, phone in one hand, the other hooking under the hem of my dress.
"This ain't about showin' my face," he murmured, lowering his head until his lips brushed just above where I ached. "This about lettin' 'em hear what happens when you stop actin' brand fuckin' new."
Before I could form a thought, his mouth was on me— hot, wet, deliberate. The first slow stroke of his tongue had my head falling back against the cushions, a sharp moan tearing out of me.
"That’s it," he hummed against me, the vibration making my legs twitch. "Let 'em know exactly where you belong."
I felt the subtle shift of the phone in his hand, angling it just enough to catch the sound of my breath hitching, the wet obscene noise of his tongue working me over. He kept one arm hooked under my thigh, holding me open, keeping me exactly where he wanted me while the other kept that camera locked in.
"J-Joshua—" I gasped, hips lifting.
"Mmh," he cut me off, licking deeper, slower. "Don’t run now. I’m just gettin’ started."
My toes curled when his lips sealed around my clit, sucking until my moans spilled out helplessly— every one of them recorded, catalogued for his petty little plan. My phone buzzed in his grip, and he chuckled against me, not stopping.
By the time he finally pulled back, my chest was heaving, skin damp, legs trembling. He set my phone on the arm of the couch for a second, licking his lips like he just finished dessert.
"You know what’s next, right?" His hand was already unbuckling his belt. "Gotta make sure they understand the whole picture."
He grabbed my phone again, flipping it to the cinematic option, and this time… he wasn’t just recording sound.
The next thing I knew, he was inside me — deep, hard, claiming every inch with that slow, punishing stroke he knew made my voice break. My hands clutched at his shoulders, but he kept that phone steady, catching the sight of my lips parting, my back arching, my body giving in.
"Yeah…" His voice was a growl now, his thrusts picking up. "Look at you. Can’t even talk no more. Bet they ain’t ever get you like this. Bet none of them can."
"You try to move on…" thrust "…I’m sendin’ him this." thrust "…and him... And him."
Each word was punctuated with a sharp drive into me, phone still recording every second.
I barely heard the camera click as he stopped recording just long enough to swipe through my messages. My stomach dropped as I realized what he was doing — tapping send on every name he knew shouldn’t have been in my phone.
When his gaze cut back to mine, that smirk was pure satisfaction. "Now they know," he said, hips snapping into me with a sharp thrust that stole my breath. "Ain’t no movin’ on from me, mama. Ever."
Every thrust felt heavier, slower, like he was pressing the point deeper into me with each roll of his hips. My nails dug into his shoulders, my head tipped back against the couch, but his focus was split between me and my phone — which somehow made it worse.
A sharp ding cut through the air. He didn’t stop moving.
Glancing at the screen in his hand, his smirk spread like wildfire. "Mm… first one just read it," he murmured, dragging his hips back slow before driving into me again. "Bet he sick right now."
Another buzz. Then another. He thumbed the screen open, still buried in me, his free hand gripping my thigh so tight I could feel his pulse there.
"Ahhh, look at this…" He chuckled, reading aloud in that lazy, mocking tone. "‘Wow, so this what you on?’ " His gaze slid back to me. "Yeah… this exactly what she on."
He tossed the phone to the other hand without missing a stroke, the chain around his neck swinging against my chest as he leaned in closer.
A third message lit up the screen. ‘Y’all still messin’ around? Thought you was done wit him bruh.’
Jey’s smirk sharpened into something meaner. "Go ‘head and tell him yourself, mama," he said, snapping his hips into me hard enough to make me gasp. "Tell him you real done."
Before I could speak, another notification popped up — and this one was bold. ‘She’ll be back when you fumble again.’
That laugh he let out was pure venom, low and humorless. "Oh, he think he slick."
His thumb swiped over the message, but instead of typing, he held the phone up between us, hit the little microphone icon, and gave me that slow, filthy grin.
"He gon’ hear this though," Jey said, voice low, taunting.
Then he started moving.
Deep. Slow. Heavy enough to shake the couch beneath us.
"Yeah…" he drawled into the mic, not bothering to hide the sound of skin meeting skin, the wet slap echoing in the quiet room. "This what she on… and she ain’t goin’ nowhere."
I bit my lip, but it was useless— the next thrust knocked a moan right out of me, high and breathless. The mic caught every bit of it.
"Mm-hmm," Jey kept going, tone smug, almost conversational like he wasn’t stretching me to the point of incoherence. "Hear that? This your girl… nah, my girl… takin’ every inch of what you know you can't and will never give her.”
Another moan slipped past me, louder this time. He angled his hips, hitting that spot that always made my legs shake, and I clutched at his shoulders, trying to muffle it in his neck.
"Nah, mama," he murmured against my ear, pulling me back so my voice carried. "Let him hear it. Let him hear who you screamin' and creamin' for."
I couldn’t stop it — the sound tore out of me, raw and unfiltered, while he kept up that deliberate pace, the mic soaking in every whimper, gasp, and broken plea.
"You hear this shit, right?" he said into the mic, voice laced with that venomous pride. "Now do yourself a favor… delete her number."
He ended the recording and hit send without hesitation, tossing the phone back to the couch cushion before hooking both hands under my thighs and pulling me flush against him, his strokes harder now, like sending that voice note just poured gasoline on the fire.
His grip on my thighs was bruising now, his pace relentless— each deep stroke forcing a sharp gasp from my lips, his chain swinging against my chest in time with the rhythm.
"Yeah… that’s it," he growled, eyes locked on mine, sweat glistening on his temples. "Give me all that shit… let me feel it."
My fingers dug into the cushions, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter until it was all I could do to hold on. He was everywhere — in my head, in my body, in every ragged breath I took — and the toxic satisfaction in his gaze told me he knew it.
"You know you ain’t movin’ on," he rasped, his thrusts getting rougher, more erratic. "Ain’t nobody else ever gonna fuck you like this."
That last snap of his hips pushed me over the edge— my back arched, nails clawing at his shoulders as my orgasm tore through me, loud and helpless. He cursed under his breath, holding me there, milking every shudder, every squeeze, until his own release crashed into him with a deep, guttural groan against my neck.
For a moment, all I could hear was our breathing, heavy, uneven, filling the quiet. He stayed inside me, one hand still gripping my thigh, the other brushing damp hair from my face like he hadn’t just sent audio porn to half my contacts.
When I finally glanced toward the couch cushion, my phone was lighting up in the dark— rapid buzz after buzz.
MiMi🫶🏽: Babe… tell me you not home with him right now 😒
Tash🥰: Y’all messy as hell.
Lani🤍: We already know. Don’t even bother lying.
I shut my eyes, dragging in a slow breath.
Jey chuckled low against my ear, smug and satisfied. “Guess they know you made it home safe, mama.”
* Bonus
The room was quiet now except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen and Jey’s slow, heavy breathing. His arm was draped across my waist, his body still radiating that warm, post-sex heat. The Hennessy bottle sat half-empty on the coffee table, a silent witness to all the chaos he’d just stirred up.
I shifted carefully, not wanting to wake him. His grip loosened just enough for me to reach for my phone on the cushion beside me.
MiMi🫶🏽: U made it home?
Tash🥰: ...nvm. We kno you DICKstracted
Lani🤍: Smh
I bit back a laugh, glancing over my shoulder at him. Out cold. His lips were parted slightly, lashes resting against his cheeks, the chain around his neck still glinting in the dim light. He looked peaceful—like he hadn’t just set my phone on fire with that voice note and blown up half my contacts.
I opened the group chat, thumbs hovering for a second before I started typing.
Me: Y’all… this man recorded himself eating me out and sent it to EVERY nigga in my phone he think I been entertaining.
The response bubbles popped up immediately.
MiMi🫶🏽:????????? ...😳
Tash🥰: . I—
Lani🤍: nah send me the audio LMAOOO
I muffled my laugh with my hand, glancing back at him again. Still dead asleep.
Me: He didn’t even show his face. Just my moans. Then read the replies OUT LOUD while still...😩
MiMi🫶🏽: girl. wthelly.
Tash🥰: messy af but also… 👀
Lani🤍: toxic soulmate behavior idc
I dropped my head back against the couch, shaking my head at their responses. My thighs were still sore, my phone was probably still hot from all the drama, and my heart was still racing from everything that had gone down.
I typed one last message before locking my phone.
Me: I hate him so bad. But also… I don't think I’m ever leaving... This dick is too good...🥴
Behind me, Jey shifted in his sleep, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my shoulder like he could hear what I’d just admitted.
𐔌 ֗ 𓂃 assistant!reader running quick errands while michael is at rehearsals, picking up a pressed suit for tonight’s event—which you were so graciously invited to by michael as he didn’t have the energy to ask anyone else, but it works out perfectly since you were stuck by his side most of the time anyways.
the boutique had already wrapped michael’s suit in protective plastic by the time you made it back to your car. mission accomplished! you tossed the garment bag carefully into the backseat before climbing in and pulling out the envelope michael had given you earlier just to make sure everything added up. but as you counted, you were noticing extra bills, a lot extra.
“what the hell…” you counted it again, then a second time and even a third time. there had to have been about eight extra thousand dollars leftover. you immediately grabbed your cellphone and dialed michael. the line rang twice before he picked up.
“hello?”
“michael.”
“hm?”
“i think you left way too much money for me, i recounted and there’s a lot extra leftover.”
“hm.. did you get the suit?” he asked.
“mhm.”
“and the other things?”
“mhm.”
“then what’s the problem?”
you stared at the stack of bills with a sarcastic laugh. this couple extra thousand dollars was like pocket change to michael.
“the problem is there’s enough money leftover to pay multiple people’s rent.”
you heard his muffled laugh crackling over the receiver.
“well then go buy yourself somethin’.”
“michael.” your voice suddenly getting very serious. one thing you were sure of was that you never liked money being just handed to you, you didn’t like the feeling of taking advantage of someone like that—especially not michael. getting to know him, you knew his pure intentions and how kind and loving his soul was. you couldn’t bare just taking his money.
“i’m serious.”
“no.”
“why not?”
“because this is your money.”
“and i’m telling you to spend some of it.”
you sighed and rested your head on the steering wheel in defeat.
“you’re impossible.” you muttered.
“that’s not what you said yesterday.” you could feel his devious smirk through the phone.
“michael!”
his laugh getting louder as it almost deafened you. the day before, let’s just say you were feeling extra generous, paying him many compliments while you watched him rehearse. and of course he wouldn’t let that go.
“go get yourself somethin’ nice.”
you glanced out the windshield where across the street sat a luxury shopping center. a few designer storefronts immediately caught your attention. your lip caught between your teeth.
“… something nice?”
“something nice.”
that was all the confirmation you needed.
“you’re gonna regret saying that.”
“no i’m not.”
you had a field day in versace. you purchased a pink silk halter dress from their spring collection, some heels and, of course, a hand bag to match the heels. indefinitely you were going to take full benefit of this opportunity. you spotted an agent provocateur so you took a peek inside, and possibly acquired a few more items.
later that evening, you had finally finished getting ready and michael had been waiting in the hotel lobby for you for what seemed like hours but was only 20 minutes, he likes to exaggerate.
you strolled down the steps as one of your hands kept you steady by holding onto the hand bar. your eyes met his when his mouth nearly fell at the sight of what you generously spent his money on. only because he was so used to seeing you in your juicy track suits, kitten heels and sunglasses, not like this, like a movie star.
“you clean up nice.” he offered his arm for you to grab to keep you steady—like the gentleman he is.
“what’s new?” you flashed him a big small as you both snorted and walked out to the limo. his eyes kept scanning the heels and handbag that perfectly matched the dress, a feeling of satisfaction filling his chest.
the limousine comes to a smooth stop outside the venue and immediately the sound of screaming fans and photographers bleeds through the tinted windows. even through the glass you can see flashes already going off. michael exhales softly beside you as you smooth your palms over the pale pink fabric of your dress for what must be the tenth time. the dress had felt beautiful and fierce earlier in your room but now it was feeling significantly more intimidating.
“you nervous?” michael asked as he turned to you, looking like a nervous wreck while he was annoyingly calm. the man had been doing this for decades.
“a little.” which caused michael to smile a little.
“you’ll be alright.” easy for him to say.
before you can muster a smart-ass response the door was opened by the chauffeur and the screams somehow got even louder. you watched michael step out first before following behind him, photographers immediately shouting his name for him to look in their direction. then all at once the cameras seemed to notice you. the photographers spewing out ‘michael is that your date?’ ‘what’s the lady’s name?’ ‘look here!’ you could feel your stomach twisting.
you carefully fell into step behind michael, just close enough to stay near but far enough to stay professional. for most of the event, everything went smoothly. the reporters and press asked questions, took photos, more questions while you remained silent for the most part, offering polite smiles and answers to questions regarding you being his assistant. that is until you hear a voice, one amongst hundreds yell something that you could let get past you.
“michael! is it true you’re hiding from the press because of your appearance?”
another shout from the crowd yelled something else in relation to that question, something far more cruel and disgusting. michael moved along with his practiced smile that he always knew, pretending he didn’t even hear it which made it somehow even harder for you to ignore it. your whole demeanor changed now, jaw tightened and anger clearly displayed on your face. the reporter shouted out at him once more and before you could stop yourself,
“why don’t you go get a real job? fuckin’ low life.” your words cutting through the crowd causing them to react like a zoo of animals. photographers flashing their photos at a million miles per hour, laughter and more screaming and because apparently your self-preservation skills had abandoned you entirely for the evening—you lift your hand with the middle finger extended, just for a second before continue walking. michael seen but stayed quiet in the moment.
the entire ride back to the hotel was painfully silent, which somehow was worse than being yelled at. micheal’s eyes never leaving his window while you started to fidget with the rings on your fingers, already visualizing how your resignation is gonna go. until finally he speaks up.
“you shouldn’t have done that.” he messed with the expensive watch on his wrist. your head snapped towards him.
“well you know someone had to.” he closed his eyes briefly, not annoyed but just tired.
“no.”
“michael—“
“no.” this no was a bit more stern and hard hitting. “i know how they are. they have spent years breaking me down through their headlines,” he peered over at you, finally, behind his sunnies.
“i don’t need you going through that.” the urge to fight back left your shoulders, letting out a big puff of air.
“i just hate hearing them say those things about you, michael.” your eyes dropped to your lap meanwhile a small smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“i know,” he reached over across the seat, his warm fingers gently squeezing yours. “just don’t let them get a rise out of you, okay?” he put his pinky up for you to pinky promise—something the two of you started doing. you looked up, still in a slight pout as your manicured pinky hooking around his.
“promise... butthead.” you both shared a comforting laugh and sat in content silence the rest of the ride.
next morning… your face plastered all over the tabloids—front page. a giant photo of you flipping off the cameras with the headline ‘MICHAEL'S ROGUE ASSISTANT!’ you found the magazine while you were on your morning coffee run, immediately grabbing it and rushing back to the hotel. you paced your room as you glared at the front cover, flipping to through the pages. michael was right, you just weren’t expecting it so suddenly.
“these assholes..” while you were there silently panicking, he found the situation rather amusing as he watched you with a smile. mainly because they were trying so hard to paint you as some terrifying menace meanwhile he spent that morning watching you organize files in a messy bun, your spectacles and pink fluffy slippers.
Advantages and Disadvantages - Smoke x F! POC Coded! Reader x Stack BLURB - SINNERS (2025)
Smoke & Stack x F! POC coded! Reader
Summary: Thank goodness you got stuck with those two.
Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is described to have a vagina. Reader's appearance is not mentioned, HOWEVER, I wrote this with women of color in mind!! NO SPOILERS! Mentions of vaginal fingering, dirty talk, probably out of character because I haven't seen the movie yet, dirty talk, reader is referenced to be a childhood friend of the twins, THREESOME, no incest between twins just sharing.
Word Count: 914 words (only a blurb sorryyy)
A/N: Wrote this while waiting for my delayed ass bus 😭 anyways it's unedited so I hope it's not so bad ! ! ! Anyways I need to watch this movie BADLY but I'm swamped in work rn 🙃 need the lord to throw me a bone and let me watch this movie ASAP I need it ! Enjoy !
Being childhood best friends to twins had its advantages and disadvantages, as all things do. But lately it seems like it's advantages were outweighing it's disadvantages...
It's disadvantages included always having two people teasing you whenever you knocked something over or fumbled your words when ranting about your day. It included being scared not once but twice in a day, the same familiar face yelling out "BOO!" as you rounded the corner, making your heart fall down to your toes. It also included having not one but two people to constantly worry for, including both in your nightly prayers and under your breath curses.
It's advantages included having four hands, two mouths, two dicks, and two very beautiful sights.
You don't know who to thank or praise for sending you these two, for borderline attaching them to you since you were a child, making you the three musketeers in every situation. Their names were synonymous with your own, constantly being seen as Smoke and Stack and You.
You were never alone, no, not since those two came into your life. It was hard to ignore them, you definitely tried in your teen years after vicious hormone infused arguments. It only ended with brown eyed gazes, soft touches, and gentle cooes being uttered, buttering you up until you couldn't ignore them any longer.
It was unbearable.
It was like, at this point, they knew everything about you and exactly what buttons to press to get you to do what they wanted. Like how to sweet talk you into giving them another dessert after helping make dinner with their mama, how to get you to avoid lecturing them after they came clean about something stupid they did, and how to make you cum the hardest.
You made a mental note to come back to this thought, whether them knowing you so well was an advantage or disadvantage, you could care less right now. All you could think about was how good it felt to have a large hand gripping both your wrists behind your back, the other hooked under your right leg, holding you up with firm arms. Another pair of hands was on you too, one hook under your left leg, holding you firmly against his body, as his other hand worked your pussy just right.
"Ohhhh fuckkkk," you garbled, eyes screwed shut and skin shiny under the light of the candles in the room. The feel of his thumb pressing right up against your clit, rubbing messy circles as his middle and index fingers plunged into your drooling cunt made your mind start to go blank.
"There she goes," Smoke cooed, voice rough with need as his hand worked you.
Stack groaned from behind you, rutting his hips gently into you, "I want a turn..."
Smoke bit his bottom lip, eyes moving from watching the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head down to where his hand moved between your shaking thighs.
"Not yet, brother," he purred, "Gotta make her cum at least one more time, then you can play with her all that you want..."
Stack chuckled, lips pressed against your ear, his hot breath making you shiver.
"Shit..." you hissed when Smoke's fingers curled at just the right spot.
"Ohhh," They said in unison, eyes widening, sporting matching grins.
Your hips bucked, chest heaving as you let your head fall back against Stack's shoulder. He cooed, pressing his lips against your skin. He bit you gently, sucking before pulling back to kitten lick an apology onto the growing mark.
"Shit baby," Smoke murmured, admiring your cunt, "This pussy squeezes my fingers so well..."
Forget replying, the words couldn't even find your tongue with how foggy your head was. The only thing keeping you grounded was the slick, wet noises echoing the room as Smoke's fingers worked you closer and closer to coming.
"Oh babydoll, you close?" Stack whispered into your ear, eye gazing down to where your cunt drooled over his twin's fingers.
"Mmm look good enough to eat..."
You couldn't even tell who said that at this point, too lost in the feeling of the swelling in your belly, the pleasure climbing to its peak.
"Wanna cum," you managed to slur out between gasps, sweet sweet oxygen barely making it into your lungs with every quick breath.
"Oh she wants to cum...?" Stack chuckled, "You hear that? She wants it so bad..."
His teasing tone made you buck your hips, feeling his hand splayed against your thigh grip a little harder. Smoke was quiet, focused as his brother whispered teases into your ear, your head lolling to the side.
"Need it bad, baby? Can't handle a couple more minutes? Wanna cum all over my brother's fingers? Gonna let me lick that pussy up after?" you hated how smug he sounded.
Your bleary eyes managed to open to see Smoke in front of you, brows furrowed and lips parted as his hand moved. His gaze slowly swept up over you, locking with your own. It made you gasp the way you saw his pupils blown so large, eyes dark as his own chest rose and fell quickly.
"Let go for me baby," he muttered, "Need to feel you cum for me, need to see you..."
Stack continued his whispers between chuckles and bites of your neck, taking the sensitive skin between his teeth to mark his spot.
Okay so there definitely was more advantages than disadvantages to this "friendship".
Summary: Being married to Smoke and Stack has been the greatest joy of your life. They’re different in every way, but together you make something that feels whole. Still, after too much time alone while they’ve been gone, you find yourself yearning for something more — unaware that whatever has been keeping them away is already starting to follow them home.
Pairing: Husband! Smoke x Wife! reader x Husband! Stack
WC: 10.6k
Warning: 18+, smut, arguments, mentions of loneliness, strained relationship, dangerous business situations, parental relationship struggles, complicated dynamics.
part 1/3 | this part is a flashback
Sinners Masterlist
You met the twins when you were twenty, twenty and swore that you had a mind of your own.
They calmed the storm that had been brewing in your life.
Things with your mama and daddy had been rough, rougher than usual. They were trying to take y'alls farmland, the one thing that y'all had to your name. At first they asked if they could build around the house and your father declined. Then, they asked if they could have it and your mama politely declined.
After that, they started threatening your family.
They never did it openly— just in small ways that made it known that someone was fucking with you.
A car followed you on your walk to the store and on the way back, just close enough and slow enough that you'd notice. Dead birds being thrown onto the porch, a small fire in the backyard, your powerline being cut.
The small things that would slowly drive you crazy.
Your parents started to argue more than they ever had in your entire life. She was worried that someone would hurt the family and he was always worried, more about you than them.
"They can do whatever the hell they want to me, to the land, to the house— but not my baby!" He barked, pointing at your room door.
You never knew what your day would be like, whether it would be better or worse than the previous and that terrified everyone.
——
When your birthday showed up, it was different from the previous ones. The worry of safety and fear of homelessness brewed in everyone's veins that morning— but everyone decided to not let it overshadow the day.
Your mama still made a cake, your favorite— a yellow cake with caramel icing.
You smiled and gave her a hug, too nervous to bring up the tears that fell down her cheeks.
"I'm so proud of you, proud to be your mother and proud of whatever you accomplish in life." She grinned through the tears.
"Thank you, mama. I'm the woman I am because of you and what you've taught me."
Your father walked into the kitchen, his clothes dirty from working on the car.
"Happy birthday!—“
"Come give your old man a hug." He chuckled.
You walked over, giving him a tight hug as he kissed you on the forehead.
"You've grown up on me, making me feel old." He muttered.
Your mama laughed and waved him off.
This was the lightest the house had felt in months, this moment was one that you hoped would last forever.
The rest of that day ended with you helping your mama clean greens, shuck corn, prepare the flour for bread, and your father prepared the meat.
You and her laughed, talked about life, church, and the dreaded topic— young men.
She always questioned if you had your eyes on any young men around town, any man that you'd want to court. You'd always say no and not just because you didn't want to talk about it, but you really meant it.
Having a boyfriend was the last thing you were worried about, most of the men around weren't your speed either.
——
As the hours passed by, dinner was prepped and the family gathered at the table. Y'all ate and made the best of the day.
By the end of dinner, your bellies were full and no one had any space for cake—but your mama insisted.
She brought the cake out, dimmed the lights and lit the candle. Your parents sang happy birthday to you, their voices filled with joy.
"Make a wish baby."
You closed your eyes and wished for an easier year for your family, one that isn't filled with fear. You also wished to fall in love, to be seen by someone other than your parents.
You blew out the candles on your cake.
Hopefully, your life would be better this year.
A few months later..
You were walking home from the store, humming a tune from the radio and looking down at the gravel.
You accidentally bumped into a man and dropped one of your bags.
"Shit, I'm sorry." You gasped.
The man's hands grabbed your items, he picked them up and handed them back to you.
"It's not a problem at all. Here you go."
You took the items, shoved them back into your bag and didn’t pay much attention.
You finally glanced up and saw him.
He was a sight for sore eyes— beautiful brown skin, big brown eyes, muscles showing through his shirt, and his gold tooth glinting in the sunlight.
He was fine, the kind of fine that you didn’t see often around the Delta.
"Thank you." You muttered, almost in a daze.
He stared back at you, his eyes scanned your face and his tongue swiped across his bottom lip.
"What's your name?" He asked.
You were so stuck on how good he looked that you didn't even hear him.
"Miss?"
You snapped out of it and told him your name.
He held his hand out.
"My name is Stack."
You shook his hand with your brow raised.
"Stack, like a stack of money?"
He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."
"Stack! Where the fuck you been? I've been—“ a voice from behind yelled.
A man approached him and your mouth was slightly parted at the sight.
"There's two of you.."
Smoke's brow raised. "Who is this?"
Stack told him your name and he was barely able to keep the grin off of his face.
"His name is Smoke. We're the Smokestack twins." He mentioned.
You nodded, both enthralled and not sure what to make of either one of them.
You adjusted one of the bags.
"Well, I best get on home. It was nice meeting you two."
You waved, walking around them and continued to walk down the road.
Smoke watched as you walked away— the way the sun shined on your skin, the way that your hips swayed with each step, or how your dress clung to you and highlighted your figure.
"Nice meeting you too." Smoke mumbled under his breath.
On your walk home, you thought about them and how they made your heart flutter. You'd never felt anything like it before, a feeling that you certainly didn't mind.
You got home—prepared dinner, took a hot bath, relaxed, and tossed in the bed. You just couldn't get them off your mind, no matter how hard you tried.
——
The moment that you met Stack that day changed everything for you.
You saw him again a few times around town, you exchanged glances. He'd never say anything, but his brother was different. You saw Smoke twice and he spoke both times, he never let the opportunity pass him by.
The third time that you saw him, it was while you were walking home after going to the post office.
"Hey." He called out.
You turned to see him walking across the street towards you and your stomach was in knots.
"Hey, Smoke." You replied.
He walked beside you with his hands in his pockets.
"I'm surprised to see you still out here, especially when the sun is setting."
You gripped your purse, a grin tugged at your lips.
"The same could be said about you."
"Are you on your way home?" He followed up.
You nodded.
"Yeah, I had to drop off some mail for my mama."
He nodded.
"I remember us having to do that for our father."
You stared at the cornfield across from you as you walked in sync with Smoke.
"Yeah, it takes up quite a bit of time. I guess it isn't too bad, if you like walking."
Smoke Scoffed, mixed with a chuckle.
"Shit, no one enjoys walking around the hot ass Delta."
You couldn't help but laugh, because he's honest.
The hum of cicadas filled the air.
"I probably should get on home." You mentioned.
Smoke halted his steps, his feet turned in the gravel and he was facing you.
"Before you go..I want to ask, are you spoken for?"
You couldn't believe your ears.
"As in seeing someone?" You asked.
He nodded.
You shook your head.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get to know you."
"You.."
"You want to get to know me?" You stuttered, your skin hot from nervousness.
He tried to hide his amusement.
"Yes ma'am, if you'd allow it."
You smiled and tried your hardest to hide it.
"That's fine with me."
Smoke hugged you, which took you by surprise— but you definitely welcomed it.
"Alright then, I'll come by and get you this Saturday at four— if you're okay with that?"
You almost absentmindedly shook your head until you thought about your parents.
"I can just meet you wherever you want to go."
He looked at you like you had three heads.
"Meet me there?—"
"Why would you do that when I have a car?"
You hesitated.
"My mama and daddy would flip if they saw you coming down their driveway to come get me. They might act like they're ready for me to date, but it's a plain old lie."
"Mhm." He replied.
You felt embarrassed. The first man that's interested in you and you can't even have him pick you up properly.
"How about you meet me down the road?" He asked.
You debated it and shook your head.
"That's fine. Are you sure that this isn't an issue?"
He stared at you and his expression softened.
"It's not a problem. I'll see you then."
He started to walk back up the road and you carried on down the street. Your heart skipped beats at the thought of this date.
As you continued walking, you heard a whistle from behind you— which caught your attention. It was Stack running towards you.
"Hey, I don't mean to bother you— but I need to ask you a question."
You stared at him with a puzzled look.
"Did Smoke ask to take you out?"
A grin pulled at your lips.
"Yes, we just made plans for Saturday."
He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth.
"I wanted to ask you out myself, but he obviously beat me to the punch."
"You wanted to ask me on a date too?" You asked with a confused face.
For the first time in your life, there was a feeling that you couldn't explain running through your body.
He smiled, staring at you as the afternoon glow hit your face.
"How could I not?—“
"You're gorgeous and you're kind with a sense of humor. Exactly what I like."
You glanced down at your feet and back up at him.
"So, ask me then."
You could tell that he was shocked by your reaction as his mouth was slightly parted.
"You don't have to tell me twice—“
“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?"
You nodded.
He grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to it.
"I'll see you then."
You both exchanged glances before the two of you walked your separate ways.
On your walk home you thought about this date— what it might be like, and how this is supposed to work. Going on a date with two brothers isn't a normal thing and in the eyes of most, it sure as hell isn't lady-like.
All you think about is the date and prepare in your mind for any questions that they have. Part of you felt like backing out, because what if you got a bad reputation due to this? What if your parents found out?
So many questions and not enough answers.
The day of the date was a pretty day outside, but it had been windy and the clouds had started to cover the sun. You had already fed your parents the lie that you were going to your friend Josephine's fish fry. Something that would satisfy their need for questions and keep them from worrying.
As time for the date got closer, you were even more nervous— you felt sick.
You took a long hot shower and contemplated on whether you thought it was a good idea. You pushed those feelings to the side and decided to go anyway.
That afternoon your father was gone for work and your mama was cleaning.
You put on a burgundy dress, one that you would’ve never have worn around your parents. It had the right amount of length and cleavage, just enough to leave their eyes wanting more.
You curled your hair and put on a dab of makeup— topped your look off with some perfume.
Once you finished, you made your way out of the house and walked up the road.
Smoke and Stack both stood outside the car, waiting on you.
As you approached their vehicle, they both stared in awe.
They walked closer to you, Stack was a step ahead of Smoke.
"You look mighty fine today." Stack gushed.
You bit your lip and took Smoke's hand as he opened the door for you.
"You do look beautiful." Smoke admitted.
"Thank you, both of you look sharp as well."
You sat in the passenger seat while Smoke drove and Stack sat in the back.
"Have you ever been courted before?" Stack asked, cutting through the silence.
You glanced back at him.
"No, all of this is new to me."
Smoke's fingers tapped the wheel.
"So, what are your actual names?"
"I'm Elijah Moore." Smoke chimed in.
"And I'm Elias."
You glanced out the window, watching the clouds hover over the cornfield.
"Elijah and Elias—“
“Hmm.. Those are cute names, they roll off the tongue easily."
Stack chuckled.
"That they do."
Smoke cut him a look in the rear view mirror.
There wasn't much talking during the car ride, mostly because you didn't know what to say and you were filled with anxiety about the date.
Smoke pulled up to this building, it almost looked like a barn.
"Is this a warehouse or a barn?" You questioned.
Smoke let out a slight laugh and put the car in park.
"It's neither. You'll see inside."
Smoke and Stack got out of the car, Stack opened the door for you and Smoke walked with you to the door.
Smoke knocked on the wooden doors.
A yell came from inside. "Come on in!"
Stack left your side and helped pull the door to the side, revealing the inside of the building.
It was beautiful, a true sight to behold. It was an old mill that had been repurposed, turned into a small dining restaurant. They called it "Mo's"
You stood there with a smile on your face, admiring the lights and the beautiful table set up.
"This is perfect." You mumbled.
They walked with you over to the table, pulling their jackets off and helping you into your seat.
"I've never seen anything like this before." You admitted.
Stack played with the toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
"A family friend owns this place. He had a dream and worked his ass off to make it happen."
Smoke nodded.
"It's been a hit too, some of the best food in the Delta."
A man brings over three mason jars filled with water.
You glanced around the room again and really took in the moment.
"What made you say yes to this?" Smoke asked, cutting through your distraction.
Both of them stared at you, not a harsh stare— but curious.
"Why say no?—“
"I know, it's not the normal way of going about things— but there's nothing wrong with giving it a try."
They both glanced at you, Stack shifted in his seat.
"So, are you from around here?" Stack pried.
You sipped on your water and took a second to answer.
"Born and raised. I've been living on Buttermilk road my entire life—“
"Are both of you from here?"
"Yes ma'am, grew up about twenty minutes from where you stay." Stack replied.
"What do you like to do to keep yourself busy?"
"I like to sew, my mama taught me at a young age. I also love baking, cooking, reading, and sitting on the porch."
"I have a few books that I can get you." Smoke added.
"I'd like that." You smiled.
"What do both of you do? For business or fun?" You questioned.
"We don't really do much for fun, too busy working and sorting things out." Stack stated.
You sipped on your water, your interest was piqued.
"What business is that?"
Smoke pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket.
"We're intertwined with a few businesses in Chicago, just simple stuff."
You didn’t say anything, but you made a mental note of that comment. "Simple stuff" is normally shit that you don't want to be involved in.
Smoke lit his cigarette, the smoke curled around his lips.
"Either of you been married? Or have children?"
Smoke shook his head and stack leaned back in his chair.
"We hadn't found anyone that made us consider that as an option." Stack informed.
In the few beats of silence between questions, you can hear the slight hum of the lights— just enough noise to keep it from being awkward.
As the three of you sat there, the door opened with four people walking in. They made their way over to the stage in the corner and began setting up.
"Who are they?" You asked.
Smoke flicked the ashes into the tray.
Stack smiled, "just something we had setup."
The group performed blues music, leaving you completely speechless. Before you could even say anything about the music, three plates were brought out to the table.
Catfish dinners— hot out the oil catfish, greens, black eyed peas, yams, and a slice of cornbread. The perfect way to your heart.
"Y'all really didn’t have to do all of this."
Smoke rubbed your hand.
"We had to go all out for someone special like you, we'd be fools not too."
Your skin was warm and eyes glassy, you were truly appreciative of their effort.
Y'all dug into your plates and left them left with nothing but scraps.
"My God, that was delicious." You muttered, wiping your mouth with a napkin.
Stack checked his watch.
"Mo's is some of the best. Normally, on a night like this he'd be full—but he did us a favor and let us have this space to ourselves tonight."
"Worth every penny." Smoke emphasized.
As the music continued on, Stack held out his hand.
"You want to dance with me?"
You looked at him and you were a little surprised.
"I didn't consider you a dancing man."
He winked.
"Baby, you just don't know."
You glanced at Smoke, not wanting to leave him by himself— but he waved y'all off and insisted that it was okay.
Stack got you onto the floor, his hands were on your waist and he pulled you close to him.
"Who taught you how to dance?"
You laughed. "It ain't hard, unless you have two left feet."
He made you feel like you were on cloud nine, the kind of feeling that you wondered if you'd ever experience.
Smoke was in the opposite corner, handing money to the man that brought y’all the food and water.
You rested your head on Stack's shoulder and your feet moved in sync.
"This has been the best night that I've had in a long time." You gushed.
"Me too."
After a bit of dancing, they grabbed their jackets and prepared to take you home.
Y’all got in the car and enjoyed the drive. It didn’t take long before they were pulling up the street from your driveway.
Stack turned the car off and a bit of silence hung in the air.
"Can I speak to y'all separately before I go?"
They both nodded.
You got out of the car and walked towards the back, gestured for Smoke to follow you.
You leaned against the back of the car with him in front of you.
"Thank you for tonight. It was better than I could've imagined, both of you made me feel so seen."
Smoke grabbed your hands, wrapped them into his and stared into your eyes. The moonlight illuminated your faces.
"There should never be a point where you aren't seen. A woman like you isn't common—smart, kind, accepting, and just so damn beautiful."
You smiled and looked down at your feet.
"Smoke.."
He chuckled, "I mean it."
You looked back up at him.
"I'm glad you see me, I see you too Elijah. You seem like a good man, a man worth having."
He closed the gap between you two, you pressed your hands against his chest— the fabric of his jacket resting against your fingers.
"Then, have me."
His eyes scanned yours, getting lost in the moment.
He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, your skin warmed at his touch.
"I want to kiss you, but only if you'll let me."
You bit your lip and shook your head.
His lips pressed against yours, soft and slow. You felt like you melted into him, like you were on a different planet.
His lips tasted like a mixture of tobacco and something more that you couldn't put your finger on.
Your body ached for more, but you pulled away.
"I'll see you again, some time soon."
He stared at you for a second longer, almost like he didn't want to leave.
He walked around the car and got in the passenger side.
Stack stepped out and made his way to you, a grin stuck on his face.
"Here comes trouble." You teased.
His gold tooth flashed in the moonlight and made him look irresistible.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" He asked.
"I had a great time and I can't thank both of you enough."
He waved you off. "You don't have to thank me, that's the least we could do for our woman."
You stared at him with your brow raised— a mixture of a smirk and curiosity on your face.
"Oh, I'm y'all's woman now?"
He groaned, almost like he realized that he spoke too soon and was simultaneously turned on.
"Mmm."
"You really are something, aren't you?" You giggled.
He leaned closer into you.
"Are we gonna see you again after this?"
You smirked with a fake shrug.
"Good, we don't want you slipping through our fingers."
He kissed you— hot and heavy.
The kind of kiss that you welcomed with open arms.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him— your foreheads resting on each other's.
His tongue glided into your mouth like it belonged there.
A heat filled your stomach, a feeling you'd never felt before.
He pulled away, your chest was rising and falling fast.
"You'll get me carried away if I continue. I had a good time with you, we'll be seeing you soon."
You licked your bottom lip.
"Thank y'all for the fun time tonight."
You adjusted your dress and began walking down the road to your house, while Stack stood there and watched.
When you got into the house, you could barely contain your excitement. Maybe it wasn't traditional, but it didn’t matter to you. You liked both of them, consequences be damned.
Over the next few weeks, you continued to see both of them. You took your time with them, you made sure that you focused on both of them separately instead of together. They're both so different from one another and you worried that if you didn't focus on them individually then you wouldn't truly be able to connect with them.
Stack picked you up that night, he drove you to this spot near a lake that he'd been to before. When you got there, he had a blanket laid across the grass with a basket.
"You planned a picnic for me?" You grinned and gave him a hug.
He kissed you and wrapped his arms around your waist.
"Anything for you, baby."
As the sun was setting the two of you laid there on the blanket, eating fish sandwiches with brownies.
"I didn't think I'd get any time with you, not with the way Smoke had been hogging you."
You rolled your eyes and took a sip from his flask.
"He wasn't hogging me, you were busy."
He scoffed. "Not that damn busy."
You nudged him.
"Don't be like that."
His brows furrowed, "like what?"
"Jealous."
He bit into his brownie. "I ain't jealous, it's just that you're my woman as much as his."
You held back a laugh and stared out at the lake.
"I missed you." You confessed.
He glanced at you with part of the brownie still stuck in his cheek.
"You did?"
You giggled.
"Why wouldn't I? Isn't a woman supposed to miss her man when he's busy?"
He finished chewing and took his time to respond.
"You had Smoke."
You sighed and started to get annoyed.
"Stop that. You're not Smoke and he's not you. Both of you are very different from each other. I love both of you equally, but if you're going to fight over me like a dog toy—"
"then, this can't continue."
His expression softened with instant remorse on his face.
"You're right, baby. I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to upset you. This is just something new for us."
You took another drink from his flask.
"Well, both of you need to get on the same page. I don't have time for nonsense."
He scooted closer to you.
"It'll stop and I mean it. I don't want to do anything that'll jeopardize what we have going on."
He leaned into you, his lips brushed the side of your face.
"I love you, so damn much."
You turned your head, hesitating for a second.
He crashed his lips into yours, your stomach fluttered at his touch.
His tongue swirled against yours— claimed dominance in your mouth and showed you that you were his.
His hands wandered your body and made their way down to your thighs.
He slowly started to kiss down your face and onto your neck.
A whine escaped your throat.
Your thighs instinctively parted as his fingers trailed them.
The kisses got farther and farther down your neck.
"Stack.." you whimpered.
His fingers went under your dress, they brushed against your panties and the wet spot on your underwear.
Your hips bucked out of nervousness.
"You already wet for me?"
He climbed on top of you and came in between your legs.
Your eyes lingered on his face before you began kissing him again.
He toyed with the hem of your panties.
He dropped his hand and rubbed over your lips, teased you just enough to make you gasp.
"I want to make you feel good, make you feel something that you haven't before." He groaned.
"What about Smoke? I don't want to make him feel upset."
He rubbed your cheek. "He'll get his turn, plus he won't be mad— ain't nothing to be mad over. You're both of ours."
He gave you a kiss and scooted down, putting his head between your legs.
He wasted no time. He pulled your panties off and he placed them beside you on the blanket.
His head was completely under your dress. He rubbed his thumb against your lips and made you squirm.
"Soaking wet for me and it's pretty as can be."
His tongue swiped against your slit and your eyes widened.
"Oh." You gasped.
He worked his tongue up and down your slit slowly, drove you crazy. Your fists clenched the blanket and your head was thrown back in bliss.
You'd never felt anything like this before.
"Fuck." You moaned.
You normally didn’t cuss often, but there were no better words for that feeling.
His tongue swirled around your clit.
You tried to keep from getting loud, because you never knew who was around— but he made it feel impossible.
"This feels so good, Stack."
"Good, baby. I want it to feel amazing for you, show you how you should be appreciated."
He rubbed one his fingers against your clit, got it coated in your slick.
He slowly lowered it and pushed it inside you, made you lose your breath.
"Damn, woman—“
“You're tight as hell, gripping my finger like that."
He slowly pumped it in and out of you, while he also sucked on your clit..
You rubbed his head through your dress and whined his name.
While you both were in bliss in a shared world, two car doors shut and a familiar voice shouted your name.
Your eyes widened as you jumped up, Stack stumbled up behind you.
Fear ran deep through your veins as you saw the horrified look on your mama and daddy's face.
"Good God." Your father mumbled.
Your mama stood there with her mouth agape and face filled with disbelief.
"Mama, it's not what it looks like."
You could see the pain and embarrassment all over her face.
"You lied. You lied to me and your father, had us believing that you were elsewhere and you're out here doing this!"
Your father pointed at Stack, his voice filled with nothing but contempt and anger.
"What's your name, boy?"
Stack's shoulders were pulled back and his brows furrowed.
"Boy? I ain't no damn boy, I'm a grown ass man."
You stared at your mama as your eyes welled with tears.
"We raised you better than this! Better than to be out whoring—"
"I almost didn’t believe Josephine when she said that you were out here with some man."
You wiped your tears.
"Mama, I'm not out whorin. I love him."
She scoffed.
"You don't know what love is—"
"You think this is love? Getting felt up in a field by some man? Any man can do that."
You tried approaching her, but she stepped back.
"I've known him for a while, I didn't just meet him."
Stack and your father exchanged words, your father threatened him a few times.
"I ain't gonna give you too many more chances to threaten me." Stack advised him.
"Stack, please." You pleaded.
Your father charged him and saw nothing but red.
Stack pulled out his gun, cocked it back.
"No! No!" You yelled.
You ran in front of your father, who moved you to the side.
"You love her so much that you'll kill her old man, is that it?" Your father snapped.
Your mama just stood there, hot tears streamed her cheeks.
"This is what you want? A man that'll do that to your daddy?"
You stood there, crying and unsure what to do next.
A familiar voice came from around the cars, his gun also pointed at your daddy.
"Seems likep we got ourselves a little bit of a problem here folks."
Your mama turned, a sarcastic laugh left her throat..
Your dad noticed Smoke and turned his body towards both of them.
You ran in front of Smoke's gun.
"Please, Smoke just put it down. Don't add more fuel to the fire."
Smoke stared at you and slowly lowered his gun.
"He better not take another step towards him."
Your mama walked towards you, fast and nothing in her way.
She smacked you with all her might and made you fall to the ground.
You grabbed your face and slowly pulled yourself up.
"Mama—"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You're messing with both of them, aren't you?"
You stood there like a deer in headlights with no idea what to say next.
"I can explain.."
She stared down both of the twins, nothing but disgust on her face.
"You could've had any man that you wanted and yet you subject yourself to being with them? You'd tarnish your name for them?"
Your hands trembled with your anxiety through the roof.
"I love them, mama. They treat me good, they see me, they love me." You explained.
Stack put his gun down as your father walked over to your mama.
She rubbed your cheek.
"You foolish girl. Look at this, look at it—"
"They will ruin your life in ways that you didn't even expect. If you think that you're going to get the fairytale ending with them, you're wrong."
Your parents walked away and your dad turned to face you.
"You don't know how badly this hurts me.. You can either end this nonsense tonight and we go on about our lives or you can come get your things."
His words were harsh and cold, they hit you like a truck.
"But daddy—"
He clapped his hands together, completely fed up.
"But hell. End it or go live with them, since they love you so much."
You stood there and watched as they got in their car and drove down the road.
Smoke and Stack walked over, they wanted to console you— but you pushed them away.
"Baby?" Smoke mumbled.
"Stay away from me!—"
Stack tried to grab your hand, but you pulled away.
"You two have already cost me everything..”
You fell to your knees and sobbed.
"I ought to put two in his chest for making her cry like ths." Stack whispered to Smoke.
"It'll be okay, because we got her through this— even if they don't."
They both sat on the ground near you. They let you cry and have your space. Eventually, you fell asleep from the crying as you leaned against Smoke.
He picked you up and put you in the back seat, made sure the blanket was on top of you.
You slept in the backseat as they drove to your house.
Your parents already had your stuff packed on their porch when they turned into the driveway.
They got out of the car and loaded your stuff into it while you slept. They pulled up near the porch at their house and brought your stuff inside.
Stack carried you into Smoke's room and laid you on the bed. Both of them decided that Smoke would sleep on the couch, just in case you didn’t want to be bothered.
You woke up to the sunlight beaming into the bedroom. You rubbed your face and looked around, completely confused because you didn’t recognize the room. Once you got up and walked towards the door, you realized where you were.
You walked into the hallway and made your way into the kitchen, where both of them were.
Smoke was reading the newspaper and Stack was eating breakfast.
You noticed a stack of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange juice on the table.
"Morning, baby." Smoke greeted you.
Stack turned to see you and he had a grin on his face.
"You want me to make you a plate? We made breakfast in case you'd be hungry."
You just stood there and took in the sight.
"Baby?" Smoke's brow raised.
"Why am I here? Why didn’t y'all take me home?"
Smoke glanced at Stack.
"When we pulled into the driveway, they already had your things on the porch. We grabbed your stuff and brought you here, because we felt like that was best." Smoke pointed out.
"Did you want to stay home despite what they said?" Stack chimed in.
You hesitated answering, which left a bad taste in their mouth and made them have doubts.
"I.. I don't know. I just didn't want things to play out that way." You stammered.
"You don't know if you wanted to stay home with them and end things with us?" Stack questioned.
You had a pit in your stomach, the kind that made you feel unwell.
You sat at the table, in the chair that's between them and poured orange juice into a glass.
The silence was so loud that it was all anyone could notice.
You sipped the orange juice as both of them stared at you.
Stack and Smoke stood up from their chairs. Stack placed his plate in the sink and Smoke put his jacket on.
They both gave you a kiss on your forehead, but you could feel the energy change.
"We'll be back later, you can just make yourself at home and we'll see you when you get back."
"That's if she's still here." Stack scoffed.
They made their way out the door and left you in the house.
You sat there for a while in complete silence— you ate some breakfast and thought long on your next move.
On one hand, the twins mean the world to you— both unlike anyone you'd ever met before. They make you happy, they make you smile, they make you want more— but what kind of daughter would you be to give your parents up for them?
What if your mama is right and they turn your life upside down?
The thought of leaving them made you feel queasy.
You finished your breakfast and tidied up in the kitchen, not much needed to be done. Their house is well kept, better than you expected.
You washed the dishes and placed them back into the cabinets.
Once you started cleaning, you couldn't stop. You needed something to keep your mind off of what happened.
You wiped off the kitchen table, mopped the floors, vacuumed their rugs, tidied the living room, emptied the ash trays, changed their linen, wiped down the coffee table, and finished your cleaning by lighting an incense.
After you finished your cleaning, hours had passed by. You found their bathroom and decided to take a shower.
While you were in the shower, they came through the door.
"Baby, we're—“
They both paused, stood there and scanned the room— they realized that the house had been cleaned.
"Did she clean?" Stack asked with a puzzled look.
Smoke nodded, "I think so."
You stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around your body, dried off before you stepped out of the bathroom.
They both walked around the house and looked at what you had cleaned.
You stepped out into the hallway and made your way towards Stack's room to change, but you noticed them in the living room.
They stared at you like they wanted to rip the towel off of you and take you right there.
"I see you made yourself at home." Stack mumbled.
Your brow raised, "is that not what you told me to do?"
You could feel Stack's attitude radiating off of him.
Smoke inhaled on his cigarette.
"That's fine, we just didnt expect you to clean is all."
You gripped the top of your towel. "I just wanted to keep busy, I wasn't sure what to do with myself."
The tension was still thick in the room and you were over it.
"Look.. I didn’t mean to hurt either of your feelings when I asked that question this morning—“
"What happened was a lot and at the end of the day, they're still my parents. They're all I know and it's difficult, leaving them in a different chapter of your life."
"You didn't hurt my feelings, you don’t have anything to apologize for." Smoke interrupted.
"Let me finish." You softly demanded.
"I just need both of you to bear with me. This is completely different from what I'm used to or expected to happen. I love both of you, but this is an adjustment."
Stack walked up to you and pulled you into a kiss.
"I love you, baby. I should've been more understanding. I was wrong.."
You pressed your forehead against his.
"It's okay."
Stack moved and went into the kitchen as Smoke approached you.
Smoked kissed you, his hand on your lower back.
"I'm with you no matter what." He confessed, his breaths hot and heavy.
You stared into his eyes, the hard man that you've always seen— melted right in front of you.
"I love you, Elijah."
He stared back at you, completely enamored.
"I love you."
Despite everything that had happened, you could feel yourself falling more in love with them.
——
After that, you went through your bags and found a nightgown to put on. You made your way into the kitchen with them. You looked through their cabinets and decided to make roasted chicken with potatoes for dinner.
You felt so at ease with them, like you were right where you needed to be.
They sat at the table and talked with you while you made dinner, also discussed some of their business plans— but not too loudly.
Dinner took no time to prepare, before you knew it y'all had ate and were getting ready for bed.
You washed the last dish and dried it off.
"Who's room are you sleeping in?" Stack asked as he leaned against the doorway.
You wiped your hands and turned to face him.
"It doesn't matter to me."
He stood there and thought for a second.
"It's only fair if you spend time with Smoke, especially after what happened."
You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen, giving him a kiss.
"I'll see you in the morning."
He smacked you on the ass, turned off the lights and followed you down the hallway.
You opened the door to Smoke's room and closed it behind you.
The curtains moved with the wind, his window cracked to cool down his room.
"You staying in here tonight?"
You watched as he pulled his pants off, you could see his dick jump in his boxers.
"Uhm.. yeah. I wanted to spend more time with you."
He folded his pants and placed them in the chair along with his shirt.
You watched and took in the view— the way his muscles flexed with every movement, how his chain glistened in the moonlight, and the way his abs looked.
He sat on the bed and a sigh left his mouth.
"You okay?" You asked.
He shook his head.
"Yeah, it's just the business stressing me as always."
You sat beside him, your hand rubbed his arm.
"Do you want to talk to me about it?"
He made a face, one that you didn’t see too often— a face of annoyance and protectiveness.
"Nah, I don't want you involed in it. The business is between me and Stack."
You weren't sure whether to be offended or even more curious about what they had been up to.
You leaned your head against his shoulder.
"I love you and I'm grateful for you."
"I love you too."
He seemed distracted by his own thoughts. He just wasn't really giving you much attention.
You moved his hand and slowly climbed into his lap, which got his full attention.
"Baby—“
You placed your arms on his shoulders, one of your hands rubbed the back of his head.
"Your business has gotten you so distracted, that you don't even seem excited about me being here."
He placed his hands on your hips.
"I'm sorry, I am excited—just in my own head."
You kissed his face softly. You kissed it just soft enough to bring him out of those thoughts.
His fingers swirled around your hips.
He brushed his lips against yours, almost as if he was hesitant on indulging you.
You pressed your lips into his, a soft and longing kiss.
His lips tasted like liquor with a hint of something sweet.
He wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer to him.
He kissed you deeply, his tongue swirled in your mouth and your hips bucked against his crotch.
You can makeout with Smoke for hours and it wouldn't ever have to go any further, he loves to be intimate without sex. Just being able to embrace each other, be close, and connected in the moment.
With Stack it's different, he always desires more sexual acts. He's never made you uncomfortable or gone too far, but a makeout session with him would never last long. He'd be itching to fuck you and feel all of you.
You two held and kissed on each other for another hour before you both eventually fell asleep.
Within a few weeks of you living with the twins, you'd found a rhythm that worked best for all of you.
You made breakfast three days out of the week, the other days they'd be gone too early to eat. You cooked dinner most nights, but they'd help where they could.
Even when everything seemed perfect for you, there was still a dull ache— a longing to go back home.
Maybe you'd been too eager to grow up, to experience love, and being with a man.
You sat in the chair, reading the paper in one hand and one of Smoke's cigarettes in your the other hand.
The headline in the paper was about six missing men from the Delta and surrounding area—they all disappeared without a trace.
You shook your head and blew smoke out of the corner of your mouth.
"There's always something going on around here." You mumbled.
You turned the pages and continued to read, before you decided to get up and finish sweeping.
You folded the paper and sat it back on the coffee table.
The smell of morning coffee and syrup lingered through the air, it reminded you of breakfast with your parents— something you’d probably never experience again.
You swept the floor in the living room, it wasn't dirty— but it just needed an extra sweep.
You swept the floor mindlessly, not putting much thought into it. Your broom brushed up against something at the edge of the couch.
You tried to pay whatever it was no mind, but the broom bumped it again.
You leaned the broom against the wall and knelt down, your hand moved under the couch— you tried to feel for the item.
Your hand grabbed a handle, it was a briefcase.
You sat on the couch with the brief case, messed with the locks.
The brief case popped open after a few minutes.
Your blood ran cold from confusion and shock.
Stacks of cash, more than you'd ever seen in your life. Papers with different aliases, pictures of men that you figured out were dead, deeds to buildings in Chicago under the aliases— too much shit for you to process.
You sat there for twenty minutes and just thought on what you'd seen. Without anymore hesitation, you packed up most of your shit and left their house.
Your mind raced and you held back tears, they were not who you thought.
Liars, killers, just monsters that happened to look good.
You walked for what seemed like an eternity, your feet ached. You walked down the driveway of your parents driveway.
Your mama stepped out onto the porch, wiped her hands with the rag in her hand.
"They sent you packing already?"
You looked down at your feet, your head hung in shame.
"No.. it just didn't—“
"They aren't who they said they were, are they?"
You glanced up at her, the embarrassment was written on your face.
"No." You replied.
She placed her hand on her hip. "Did you sleep with them?"
You shook your head no.
"Now, don't lie to me girl."
"Mama, I didn’t. I'm not ready to go that far yet."
She waved you over, "go to your bedroom. I'll need to talk with your daddy."
You got inside and left your bags at the door before you went into your room.
Your room was quiet, cold, and it didn’t feel like you belonged in it.
Your daddy knocked on your door about an hour later,
You fidgeted with your fingers, scared of what he'd say or how he views you.
"I talked to your mama.. why did you come back home?"
You shrugged.
"Things just weren't what I thought they'd be."
He scoffed.
"You thought they'd be different?—"
"My God, how could you be so naive?"
You understood where he was coming from, but it'd be a lie to say that you weren't annoyed with his tone. It's your first time living too and they refused to give you grace.
"I'm sorry, I never meant to have you in that situation."
He nodded as he leaned against your bedroom door.
"You need to open your Bible and think long about what you're doing. Living a life of sin will not be rewarding and those boys surely won't be worth it."
He shut your door.
Maybe you did need to open your Bible and pray about it, but what could you possibly say? "Lord, help me— I want to sleep with two brothers at the same time"??
You don't know what to do or think anymore. The one thing you did know is that you wanted your life to be easier, not harder or painful.
Hours passed by— you ate dinner in silence, bathed, and got back in the bed after. You were surprised that you hadn't heard anything from the twins, but maybe they didn’t care why you left or maybe they didn’t want to explain things.
They came home the next morning, they had only told you that they'd be gone for a few hours—never mentioned anything about overnight. It didn't matter anyhow considering that you had been gone for several hours..
Smoke opened the door, Stack walked in ahead of him.
"Baby, we're home. Things got tricky and we got caught up." Smoke called out.
Stack put his hat on the rack by the door, both of them shared a glance due to the silence.
They walked methodically around the house, both with their guns ready.
"Baby?" Stack shouted.
No sign of you and some of your stuff was missing.
They walked back into the living room, neither one of them knew what to think.
"What do you think ?" Stack asked.
Smoke looked around the room, his hand on his hip.
"Do you think she left? Or do you think she was taken?"
Stack's brow raised, "who the hell would do that?"
Smoke's hand rubbed the arm of the couch.
"You know who."
They hadn't been this nervous in a long time, because what if something has happened to you? What if their ways put you in danger?
"If you think that motherfucker took our woman then you know what we need to do!"
Smoke held his hand out.
"Woah, we don't know if that's the case. Slow your roll."
Stack rolled his eyes.
Smoke paced around the living room, his head was spinning with possibilities.
He looked down at the couch and paused.
"Shit." He whispered.
Stack stared at him, then down at the couch.
"Oh, fuck."
Smoke grabbed the suitcase and a deep sigh left mouth as he closed it. He closed his eyes and stood there for a moment, he knew they'd messed up big time.
"She saw that and she left. Maybe she was just confused?”
Smoke sat down on the couch, his mind was in deep thought about what to do.
"She made up her mind. We need to leave in case she tells anyone."
Stack pulled his shoulders back.
"Leave? What?--"
"Leave our her?"
"She left for a reason. She saw this shit and wanted no part in it, who are we to try and force it?"
Stack laughed in a mocking tone.
"You're wrong, this is wrong. We need to at least talk to her before giving up."
Smoke didn't say anything and that pissed Stack off even more.
Stack walked towards the door, nothing was on his mind but you.
Smoke got off the couch and walked in front of him.
"Calm yo ass down!--"
"We'll go talk to her, but we need to approach the situation right. She probably doesn't know what to think and we can't go to her with no answers."
Stack agreed with some hesitation.
Your day had started as they always had before you left, the same routine that you'd engraved in your bones.
Your parents had left to go to town and visit some of your family. You decided to stay at home, you just wanted to be by yourself.
You made a cup of tea and sat on the back porch in your rocking chair, you wanted to watch the sunset.
You thought about what would be like if you took your mama's advice— settled down with some man from church, got a nice house, had a few babies, and raised them right. Maybe life wouldn't be too bad, maybe what you had been chasing with them was nothing but trouble.
You rocked in your chair, felt the breeze of the wind and watched the sun set on the horizon.
The sound of footsteps came from the side of the house. You turned in your chair and expected to see your father, but you saw them.
You placed your mug on the table next to you and walked to the edge of the porch.
"What the hell are y'all doing here?" You snapped.
They stood at the bottom of the steps, white lillies in Smoke's hand.
"We need to talk." Smoke replied.
You scoffed.
"Leave. My parents will be back shortly and you don't need to be here."
Stack approached the bottom step.
"Baby, we can explain."
"Explain what?—“
"The fake names on shit, the dead men's names marked out? All that fucking money?"
Stack cut smoke a look. He looked completely out of his element and at a loss of words.
Stack moved up the steps and got closer to you. He reached out to you and wanted to bring you closer, but you pushed him.
"Don't fucking touch me!" You yelled.
Smoke was already fed up with your antics. He walked up the steps within what felt like two strides and grabbed you, brought you to the side of the house.
Stack just stood there and decided to not interfere.
"Let go of me!"
"Woman, look— you need to calm down and watch your tone."
You could tell by Smoke's tone that he was not going to play this game with you and dance around the issue.
"I know what you saw and I know what you think, I'm not gonna tell you otherwise either."
"We are businessmen before anything else right now. We do what we have to in order to navigate this world. Our shit? Don't ever touch our doorstep and it certainly won't touch you."
"Why didn’t y'all tell me?" You interrupted.
"Tell you what? That we do shady shit?—“
"Would that have made you happy?"
You had your arms crossed in front of you with a frown on your face like never before.
“You didn’t have to lie to me— feed me white house and picket fence lies, Elijah. You fed me bullshit with a smile and made me believe that this was more!”
Stack walked around to the side of the house and chimed in.
“This is more, baby. We should’ve explained it to you, we were wrong for that.”
“I’m sorry, I am. But, if this is how you handled it— were you ever going to be able to handle the truth?” Smoke added.
You stood there in disbelief.
“Fuck you, Elijah.”
Smoke bit his lip and Stack's eyes widened.
“Hey! We don’t have to be like that to each other, that’s not how we do stuff—“
“ Baby, we’re sorry. If this isn’t what you want, then we’ll leave.”
You didn’t say anything for the longest, but you eventually caved.
“No more lies.” You demanded.
They both looked at you and agreed, “no more lies or half truths.” Stack replied.
You buckled under the pressure too easily, but you couldn’t stay mad at them— not that way. You didn’t want to be mean or to shut them out, you just wanted an apology. You could only pray that your forgiveness wouldn’t bite you in the ass later.
Stack walked up to you and gave you a long hug, one hand rested on the back of your head.
“I love you, you hear me? You won’t ever have to doubt that.”
“I love you too, Elias.”
He gave you a quick kiss and moved out of the way so that you and Smoke could also have a moment.
Smoke gave you the flowers and hugged you tight, his hug was an apology on its own.
“I don’t want what we do to scare you off. You’ll be safe and we’ll make damn sure of it. Just like we’ll make sure that you get the life that you deserve.”
You kissed Smoke, a bit of disappointment still lingered but you could move past it.
You pulled away and walked back towards the porch.
“Do you want to go back home with us?” Stack asked.
“I’d love to, but.. you have to promise that none of what y’all do would make it back to me.”
Stack grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it, “I promise.”
Smoke stepped closer to you and placed your other hand over his heart.
“You have nothing to worry about, baby.”
In that moment you felt like you needed to be exactly where you were supposed to be, with them and only them.
Smoke glanced at his watch.
“We need to leave before your folks get back.”
Your stomach sank, the feeling that you so badly wanted to avoid. You couldn’t have both— it was them or your parents and you chose them.
Stack pulled the car closer to the front, while Smoke came inside and helped you gather all of your things.
A bitter sweet moment, this was the end of that chapter in your life.
Smoke walked out of the door with the last of your things and took them to the car.
“I’ll be out there with y’all in a minute, I just need to do something!” You yelled.
You quickly sat at the kitchen table with a pen and paper, you wrote down everything on your heart— something so maybe they’d understand.
Tears fell from your eyes onto the paper as you signed your goodbye.
You wiped your eyes and left the paper on the table.
You shut your family door one last time and got into the car. Y’all rode down the road in complete silence, you just needed some time to gather yourself.
In the few weeks that came after you officially moved in with no reservations, your relationship had taken off. You were falling more in love with them as the days went by.
You could recognize by their footsteps who was walking into the house, you could read their facial expressions without needing to hear them speak, you could communicate with them and didn’t have to use words.
You knew them and they knew you.
You were getting ready for the afternoon date they have planned for you, they didn’t say much as to what it was about— they just wanted you to wear a good dress.
You pulled out the purple dress they bought you, it was a bit shorter than you’d like but it looked amazing on you. You’d made sure that you curled your hair and put on your favorite pair of heels.
You were ready for the date night.
You closed the door to the bathroom and walked into the living room, where Smoke and Stack were in the middle of a conversation.
Both of them paused, Stack rubbed his hands together and Smoke licked his lips.
“Mhm, don’t make no damn sense with how good you look!” Stack gushed.
“She looks.. so good.” Smoke added.
You smiled and blushed at their compliments.
“Y’all are too kind.”
They looked damn fine as well.
Smoke grabbed your hand and Stack grabbed his hat as all of you made your way out the door.
When you got to the car Smoke opened the door.
“Wait, right here—“
“You’ll need this before we start driving.”
Stack came behind you with one of his ties that they were going to use as a blindfold.
“It must be special if I need to be blindfolded.” You laughed.
Stack gently tied it in the back and gave you a kiss on the forehead as Smoke helped you in.
The entire drive you tried to guess where they were taking you, they were amused at your guesses— but you weren’t even close.
“I can’t wait to see where I’m going!” You squealed.
After an hour's drive, the tires came to a halt.
Smoke and Stack both took a deep breath before getting out of the car.
“Give us a minute or two and we’ll grab you out of the car, baby.” Stack assured you.
You sat there with your fingers tapping the door in excitement.
After a few minutes, your door opened with Stack helping you out.
“I hope you love this, I really do.” He mumbled.
He held your hand and guided you to where you needed to go. You could feel how nervous he was, because his hands had started to sweat.
Once you had stopped walking, Stack let go of your hand and came behind you to undo the knot.
He pulled the tie from your eyes and you saw the beautiful sunset, it almost looked like a painting— that’s how perfect it was.
You finally turned to focus on them, they both stood in front of you and you noticed a few candles on the ground.
Stack handed you a bouquet of magnolias and walked back over to stand beside Smoke.
“Elijah? Elias? What is this?” You asked with a raised brow and anxious grin.
“In this life you never know what you’ll come across, you don’t know how long you’ll live, and you don’t know if you’ll spend that life looking for something more than you.” Smoke mentioned.
“We have lived plenty of lives already at a young age, experienced shit that most people wouldn’t walk away from. We never thought we’d find something worth sticking around for.” Stack added.
Smoke pointed at your flowers.
“Those Magnolias were our mother’s favorite, at least we were told..”
“We brought you here, because we always said that if we found a woman that we wanted for the rest of our life— she’d be the first to meet her.” Smoke admitted.
Your eyes watered as you looked down and saw her grave, pretty magnolias all around it and a lovely headstone.
“Luella Moore.” You mumbled under your breath.
You wiped your tears and tried not to get too worked up.
“What we have going on is different from what people would consider normal. We know people will stare or that they’ll have remarks— but it’s all worth it for you.” Stack professed.
Right before your eyes, they both got down on one knee— they both opened up a different box. Smoke’s box had a gold ring with a clear diamond and Stack’s had a thin gold necklace to go with it.
You covered your mouth from shock.
“Oh, my..”
“Are y’all serious? This isn’t a funny joke..” You added.
“We’d love to have you in our life forever, if you’d have us. You make this feel like home, like everything is right in the world.” Smoke choked out.
Tears fell down your cheeks and wet the neckline of your dress.
You shook your head yes.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
They stood up, smiles on their faces. They couldn’t wait to hug and kiss on you. Smoke put the ring on your finger and Stack helped put the necklace around your neck, yowere officially going to be theirs forever.
This was not even remotely close to what you had expected, but nothing you could’ve imagined would’ve trumped that.
It was the best moment of your life and you would’ve loved to share it with your parents.
You were genuinely happy— you felt alive and loved. Your relationship was far from perfect, there were some things that needed to be sorted— but you couldn’t worry about that then. Instead, you were ready to make a move and take everything to a deeper level.
