Lil Bitts Library

Somewhere reading. Not a writer, just write a lil bit. 20’s • she/her

[lilbitt]

LILBITT’S MASTERLIST

(Works can also be found under the tag LilBittsPen)

Click to read a little more ➫ About Me

❣︎ Not much for elaborate plots, but I do try to write things that make you feel ❣︎

-If there’s ever something specific you want to see me write — just drop it in the ask box.

Ⓢ Ⓘ Ⓝ Ⓝ Ⓔ Ⓡ Ⓢ

Mini Series

What are Brothers For? • Stack X Annie, Smoke X Annie

✉︎ Part 1

✉︎ Part 2

✉︎ Part 3 — When I can write the words, y’all will have the part. Swear 🤞🏾

Blurred Lines • Modern AU • Stack X Annie

✉︎ Part 1

✉︎ Part 2

✉︎ Part 2.5

✉︎ Part 3

✉︎ Part 4

One Shots / Drabbles

✉︎ Sweet Tooth • SmokeStack X Annie

✉︎ Sweet Tooth (Extended Version) - Coming soon

✉︎ In Too Deep • Stack X Annie

✉︎ One of Them Days • Elias ‘Stack’ Moore

✉︎ Retribution • Stack X Annie

✉︎ Surrender • Smoke X Annie

✉︎ Braid My Hair • Smoke X Annie

✉︎ The Gym not date Date • Smoke X Annie

Thanks 4 Reading ❤︎

[lilbitt]

Is there a part 3 of the stack sleeping with Annie to apologize for making smoke leave fic?

I wrote like a quarter of part 3 a longggg time ago and then never went back to it lmao 🫣🫣 it’s on my list of things to revisit this year so we shall see if it ever sees the light of day 🌚

[lilbitt]

Just had to pop in and say I’m OBSESSED with the way you write the twins omg

Oop — thank youuuuu 😭🫶🏾🫶🏾 I love writing for them nut cases lmaooo

[lilbitt]

Sweet Tooth

The Extended Version

SmokeStack X Annie

Original drabble is ↪︎ here

A/n - Um sooo this little ‘side project’ was supposed to be out weeks ago buttt moving was chaotic, my mood been up and down, and I almost deleted this whole page all together actually 😬 lmaooo. Anyways, we’re here now 🥳. Um I tried my best with this, PLEASE REFER TO THE NOT A WRITER DISCLAIMER IN MY BIO 😒, Im about to post and throw my phone 🌚 Enjoy 🫶🏾 or don’t 😬 (yikes).

C/w : Language, mean!Smoke, mean!Stack, brat!Annie, they are rough with her and she likes it 👐🏾, smut (degradation / praise, rough handling, use of ‘daddy’, spanking, a lil objectification, oral (m receiving), Annie is literally in heat or something idk, lazy smut

Keep playing with fire…eventually you get burned.

The flame lit up on a random Saturday. Burning slow one second and engulfing her whole the next.

It was still early — after breakfast, before lunch, that sweet spot where heat hadn’t settled too thick and the wind still cared enough to throw a nice breeze. The sun was currently playing peek-a-boo, ducking behind clouds and then rising high, not taking its job serious at all. Giving a little grace, before it actually clocked in for the day. 

The typical noises that usually drifted around the neighborhood — screen doors banging shut, loud phone conversations held on porches, cars beeping as they were locked and unlocked — all ceased to exist at the moment. Slean street was quiet right now. Calm. A result of half its residents being at work, while the other half remained in bed sleep. 

Annie took full advantage of it; the weather and the stillness. She was curled up in her egg chair on the porch, smoothie on her left, pen dragging across the page in front of her, and mind far from the present — mind focused instead on yesterday morning, when Smoke had been cutting her grass. 

He walk like it’s heavy. 

I mean…they both do. 

Smoke though…shit. 

Annie glanced towards her yard, like he was still out there, strong arms flexing as he pushed the mower across her lawn. Smoke walked with a wide stance, gait steady and just a little uneven, like there was something thick hanging between his legs that got in the way. Annie’s teeth sunk into her glossed lip as she thought about it. Gaze flicked back to her page. 

He walk like…whatever he got swinging, he know how to use. Walk like he rearrange souls. He could rearrange mine, just for one night.

Cutting her grass was a chore Annie’d never asked him to take on — she shared a long porch with the brothers, but technically she had her own yard, and she’d been tending to it, or paying someone else to do so, long before she’d known the Moore’s existed. Smoke had put an end to that almost immediately after the twins moved in though. They took over the left unit of the duplex, while Annie remained on the right, and Smoke cut her grass whenever he cut his and Stack’s now. She’d fought him on it, a couple times, and then let him have his way because well…why would she stop him when he looked so fucking good doing it? 

She’d been throughly entertained yesterday — seated on the porch like she was now, except she’d had shades perched on top of her head then and a book in her lap she hadn’t bothered to read a word of. Her attention had been on him instead. He’d been dressed for the weather; grey cotton shorts, black t-shirt, durag covering the waves Annie knew were brushed deep into his hair. It made her shift right then and there  — just thinking of the way his wide chest had stretched that cotton, the grey shorts that’d left nothing to imagination. 

Yeah, it’s heavy. Probably got a curve too, one that can hit every spot I have without trying. He could’ve proved my theory yesterday if he wanted to. Could’ve fucked me right here on this porch. 

Annie sounded like music as she moved. Literally. Had Citrine and Black Tourmaline wrapped around her wrists, along with stacked copper bell bracelets that jingled in the quiet every time her pen glided across the page. Finally working out some of energy she had pent up.

That’s probably what he need. Some pussy to help ease that tension he always carrying around. 

She’d spent yesterday drinking him in like water from her spot on the porch. Studying him. Smoke’s eyes would cut in her direction occasionally, like he felt her shifting, and clenching, and watching — and Annie never bothered to look away. Had held his stare instead. Smiling too sweet, like she was daring him to do something. 

He hadn’t though. 

He’d just pinned her in place with his eyes instead, let his hands flex around the handle of the lawn mower like he’d rather be grabbing something else, and then got back to work. It’d happened more than once; the staring, the silent tension, the building of anticipation. Had left Annie just that much wetter every time.

Whatever he got pent up? He can take that all out on me. Swear I’d be so good for Smoke. As soon as I got done being bad.

 I wonder who fuck better, him or Stack? Wonder who thicker? Who longer? Who meaner? Stack probably nastier. Gotta be. I know that mouth is. 

Annie shifted again. Continued writing.

That fuckin’ mouth. I wonder what else it’s good for besides talking shit. 

Stack had been gone for most of the time her and Smoke were outside yesterday. Had arrived back home loud; music blasting, engine roaring, turning the corner fast for no reason. It’d made Smoke shake his head. Had made Annie smack her lips together. And her stomach tighten slow.

Despite the driveway they shared, the younger Moore always parked by the curb — like he wanted to be able to leave without delay, whenever he felt like it. Today was no different. He parked on the street smooth, killed his engine, and hopped out like he hadn’t just interrupted all the peace in the neighborhood. 

“Damn nigga,” Stack’s lips were curved up, voice carrying across the yard, chain around his neck glinting dangerously as it caught the sun. He had his head turned towards Smoke, even as his legs brought him to Annie. “You still out here cutting grass? Yo’ ass tryna put on a show, you ain’t slick.” 

“Fuck up,” Smoke turned the lawn mower off, head following his brother. “You get the papers?” 

“Told you I wouldn’t forget. When I ever say I’m gone do somethin’ and not do it?” 

Smoke squinted, top lip jumping up like ‘nigga please’. 

Stack’s smirk didn’t drop. Matter fact, it only grew as he finally turned his head towards her, climbing the three steps to the porch.

Annie had her lips around the rim of her glass. Was shaking her head because he was so ridiculous — and so damn fine. 

Bronze skin, dark eyes, dimples that caved so deep he didn’t even have to smile for them to pop. Stack moved like water — easy, unbothered, unassuming. It worked for him. Was how he pulled people in, before they realized what really lay under all that…easy.

“You wearin’ this for me?” His eyes were already sweeping over her; the fresh island twists she had pulled in a bun on top of her head; the pink tank she wore — with straps thick enough to support, and push up, her full chest; the denim shorts that hugged her tight — distressed at the bottom and cutting off mid-thigh. His stare stopped at her feet, at her pretty toes that were painted a soft green, pushed comfortably into her favorite pair of slides. 

Annie let her home made lemonade slide down her throat before she answered, “That’s all it take to get you started? Some shorts?” 

“Ain’t about the shorts. It’s ‘bout how you wearin’ ‘em.” 

“And how am I wearing them, Stack?” Her anklet shimmered as her foot swung lazily — back and forth and back and forth.

“Like you tryna start some shit you ain’t prepared to finish.” 

The hum that left her throat was low. Too sensual to be mistaken for amusement. Annie shifted, let her foot keep swinging, let the heat that was Elias settle over her.

“You ain’t even said good morning to me. You need to learn how to greet people.” 

“You like how I greet you jus’ fine.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Stack stepped in then, pushing into her space like he owned it. “What you drinking on?” His eyes jumped from her lips, to the glass in her hand, to the identical one she had sitting on the small table next to her. “This one mines?” 

He was already reaching before she answered and Annie didn’t hesitate to smack his greedy ass hand away.

“That’s not for you, that’s Smoke’s.” 

There was a shift in the air between them then. Stack pausing, Annie’s head cocking boldly. Both breathing a little deeper for different reasons.

“We hittin’ now?” His lips were still curved. Just with an edge. 

Annie’s foot swung faster. 

“Stop tryna touch stuff that don’t belong to you,” She kept her gaze locked with his. Kept a smirk on her face. “You not the one out here cutting my grass, he is.” 

“Niggas get rewards for walking back and forth across yo’ grass?” Stack’s dimples caved, gold flashed. “What I get for playing errand boy ‘den?” 

He held up the two bags he carried in his hand. Full of items she’d texted him to get when she found out he was stopping by the store. 

“Thank you for playing errand boy Stack.” She brought her glass back to her mouth. “My thanks is the reward.”

“Man–” He reached again, for her glass this time. Wrapping his hand around it and pulling it directly from her lips. 

Annie’s mouth dropped, fingers sliding from the glass, body coming forward like she was being dragged out the seat. 

Stack’s eyes stayed locked with hers. Playful. Dark. Two things that shouldn’t even mix.

He rotated the glass deliberately, placed his thick lips directly over where hers were just resting, and then sipped slow. 

Until he had his fill. ‘Till Annie’s own mouth felt dry – in a way that had nothing to do with needing something to drink. 

He never broke their stare. Not while he swallowed and not when he finally pulled the glass down. 

His lips were wet, tongue came out to clean them and Annie’s eyes followed the movement until Stack spoke, accent as thick as whatever was brewing between them, “Dat’s jus’ as sweet as you, baby. What I gotta do to get some more?” 

Annie tightened the grip on her pen, blue ink blossoming across the page as she continued writing. 

 I feel like I’m going crazy. I almost backtracked last night and texted Ra, just to give me some relief. I don’t want Rashad though. I don’t want lazy strokes and decent head. I want my soul touched. Wonna be done so nasty, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror the next day. Wonna be dropped on some dick long enough to touch the bottom. Don’t wonna be able to even move when it’s all done.

Annie’s hand glided effortlessly, tongue sliding across the sweet gloss coating her lips. 

I want Smoke. I want Stack. And I don’t know why they actin’ scared. Smoke always glaring, like he ready to punish something, but then don’t ever do shit. Stack always barking, running his mouth like he get paid for it, but then don’t ever bite. Let me find out the SmokeStack twins can’t handle nothing, outside of cutting some grass and talking some shit. That’d be…sad. 

Annie snickered to herself, bell bracelets singing as her wrist dragged. 

Almost like they were warning her to proceed with caution. 

Let me find out Smoke can’t stroke. Let me find out a joke is the only thing Stack know how to crack.

More snickering. More singing from her bracelets. 

The same warning. 

I played in my pussy again this morning. Feel like that’s all I do, since I met them. I wander if they ever hear me…moaning out they names while I fuck myself. Imagining Stack’s mouth. Smoke’s eyes. I swear he can see right through me.

“I’m ‘bout done wit’ the front. Gone get the edges and then move to the back.” 

Stack had stepped inside the house, leaving Annie to her view. One that was now coming up the stairs slow, rag thrown over his shoulder, face serious as ever.

“You know I can get Gerald to do the back right?” 

She didn’t mention the 20something year old who cut grass for the neighborhood because she actually wanted him in her backyard. She mentioned Gerald, because it would get on Smoke’s nerves. Because it would make them eyes narrow. Make that nose flare a little in the way it did whenever he got aggravated. Whenever she was playing and he didn’t allow himself to do something about it. “He just told me last week he keeps my spot open for the day I decide to start back being his client.” Annie’s voice was sugar. Warm, pointed, and petty. 

Smoke didn’t speak immediately. Took a second. Let the bees buzz and the wind whistle and the heat from the sun press down heavier. 

“You was showing off for dat nigga the way you do for me — I bet he did say that.” His eyes pierced hers. Voice rough in way that made her center heat. 

“Showing off?” She tilted her head, as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. As if her lips weren’t already quirking up. 

“Dats’ why you out here, ain’t it?” His gaze didn’t waver. “To be watched. To give me somethin’ to look at while I’m out here cuttin’ yo grass.” 

His words weren’t teasing. Weren’t playful.

They were blunt. Matter of fact. It was almost mean the way he said it. Carried an edge. One that stemmed from desire and restraint. 

One that didn’t bother Annie at all. 

She didn’t need playful from Smoke. Didn’t need teasing. 

She wanted Smoke exactly the way he was. 

“I’m sittin’ on my porch, reading my book.” Her lips were still curled up. Voice a little….breathy in a way she couldn’t, or didn’t, try to hide. “That’s not my problem if you’re distracted, Elijah.”

Elijah. 

She said it like she was tasting it.

And Stack always let that shit slide. But Smoke? His eyes narrowed. Sharpened. 

‘Cause Annie wasn’t ready for what came with Elijah. For what came with sitting pretty on the porch, showing off skin, and being a fuckin’ tease while she dropped his government like she had the right. 

“Why you lookin’ like that?” Annie blinked up at him from where she sat. “I can’t say your name? Don’t be mean, Lijah.” 

The sound that left Smoke’s mouth wasn’t really a laugh. Couldn’t be, because his lips didn’t even twitch. 

That jaw did though. 

Them hands did too. 

And when he spoke, it was in that same blunt tone. Words weighted with that same rough edge. 

“It’s Smoke. You ain’t earned Elijah. And you ain’t seen mean.” 

Annie didn’t even realize how deep she was breathing. How hard her hand gripped her pen. How her thighs pressed together even harder.

I want them to ruin me. 

One night. All night. Wherever they want me. However they want me. For as long as they can go. I wonna be able to play in my pussy and remember what they did to me. Remember how they broke me in properly.

And I want it sooner rather than later. 

-AP ❤︎

The sound of her journal closing was nearly non-existent. Her sigh though? That was louder. Impatient. Wanting. Coated with attitude.

Playing with the twins — finding reasons to knock on their door, going back and forth with Stack, pissing Smoke off just cause she could — it was all…fun. 

Having fun wasn’t getting fucked though.

And that’s what she needed. What her body needed. 

Annie reached for her smoothie, settling back into her egg chair, eyes roaming around the quiet street. 

“Sooner rather than later….” She echoed the words she’d just written on paper. “Before I actually lose my damn mind.” 

The only response she got was the wind. Blowing in the same easy way it had been all morning. 

The calm, before the storm. 

—

Sooner came later on that day. 

After her key broke off in the lock of her front door to be specific. 

One second she was turning it and the next —

“— it just broke in half. I called Leon, but you know his ‘I’ll be out that way in a hour’ really means he gon’ take four.”

Annie stood in front of Stack, island twist hanging free and long, canvas bag she’d been using at the farmers market on one shoulder, while her purse sat on the other. It was yellow, matched the sandals on her feet, and made the little white sundress she was wrapped in pop. The same dress that looked perfect on her dark skin and brushed her thighs every time she spoke, in a way that’d make anyone look twice. 

In a way that Stack was taking his time looking at right now. 

“You must want me come over and play handy man, huh?” He was leaned against the door jam — arms crossed, voice teasing, eyes dragging up her slow. 

Annie let him take his time  — shifted casually, so her dress brush her thighs again and make him look longer. 

“I want you to be a good neighbor and let me wait over here.” 

Stack’s basket ball shorts sat low and extra on his hips. White wife beater covered nothing. Cuban link glinted like it was calling for her to pull on it. 

Or maybe that was just the heart beat between her legs talking. 

“That’s you askin’ nicely?” He had that smirk on his face — the one she always pictured when she was three fingers deep in her pussy. “Where them manners you always sayin’ I don’t got?” Stack settled deeper into the door jam like he could do this all day. “Ain’t you ‘sposed to say please or somethin’?”

“Now you worried about manners? Stack you gon’ let me in whether I say please or not.” Annie sounded completely unbothered. 

Was so bothered though, that her gaze wouldn’t stop drifting. From his eyes, to his thick lips, to them arms that looked big enough to raise her in the air and keep her there. 

She liked that about the twins. How solid they were. How both of their bodies came with broad shoulders, and strong arms, and hard abs. Stack was a little slimmer than Smoke — but the point stood — they looked like they could do damage. Like they could handle her. And that’s what Annie needed. 

What’d she’d convinced herself she could handle with no problem. 

“Is ‘dat right?” The low sound that left Stack’s throat was amused. A lil dangerous too. “You prolly ain’t wrong. Can get whatever you want when you wearin’ this lil ass dress for me,” His eyes hit her body pointedly again; legs, hips, titties sitting so high they were damn near in his face. “Betta’ be careful wit’ that shit. Walkin’ ‘round lookin’ like trouble.” 

Annie’s head cocked, “Is that not your favorite thing to get into?” 

Attitude and honey. That’s what her words were coated in. 

And they gave Stack pause. Left them both standing in silence for a second — silence that went just as fast as it came. Like it always did with them. 

“You swear you funny,” His smirk sharpened. Whole body leaned in closer to her. “What chu’ gone do when its my turn to laugh?” 

Her shoulders rose then dropped, “Laugh wit’ you I guess.” And then she crossed her arms, pushing her chest up further. “Now are you gon’ let me in?” 

He let her in. Feet moving one step to the side, creating space but not so much that she could get past without brushing against him.

“Thank you, Elias,” She threw the words over her shoulder, arm grazing his chest, legs carrying her into the lions den with ease. Like she belonged there. 

She didn’t wait to be led. Didn’t glance back when he mumbled something slick under his breath. Didn’t pause to see if he was following either. Cause she already knew he would be.

There was noise coming from the living room and Annie let that be the guide to her strolling. Let it take her deeper into the unit, sandals clacking on hardwood, the same bell bracelets from this morning announcing her presence like she was a special guest. 

She saw Smoke as soon as soon as she reached the entry way. Sitting on the couch — black t-shirt, grey sweats, attention directed towards the game playing on tv. Not that it stayed there for long. 

She had all of 3 seconds to take him in before he sensed her presence. Before he turned his head in her direction and then kept it turned. He didn’t look surprised to see her. Didn’t look confused either. He looked like he always did — like he was examining her. Like she belonged to him and he was making sure everything on his property was still intact. Like he was making sure his property hadn’t gotten in no trouble while she was out of his sight.

It was sick. The way that ache between her legs was already starting and she hadn’t even been in their presence for five minutes. 

Smoke sat up slow, placing elbows on knees, as he started taking stock of Annie; her dangerous brown eyes and glossed lips, the purse that sat on one shoulder and the canvas bag on the other, the small “A” pendant of her necklace currently burying itself between her cleavage, the short ass dress that flared out around her waist but hugged her chest too fuckin’ tight up top. 

He was done with his examination in seconds.

 “Where you get ‘dat dress? And where you comin’ from?” 

It was expected. Smoke never warmed up to anything. Didn’t mince words. Didn’t bother with niceties. Didn’t see anything wrong with questioning her like that. And even though it probably shouldn’t — wouldn’t if it were anyone else — his questioning always made something twist in her belly. Something more hot than warm. A feeling completely contradicted by the way Annie playfully shook her head. “Yes, I’m doing good. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

Nothing.

No response, no laughter, not even a twitch of his cheek. He let silence sit instead. Let it stretch. Used it like his own personal weapon. His own personal warning.

One that Annie savored.

That look he was giving her — it made her throat dry and her mouth water all at once. Made a smile break out and a light airy laugh leave her mouth as she looked him dead in his face. 

“I’ve had this dress since before I even met you. It’s pretty, ain’t it?” She tugged on her hemline. Made her deep cleavage that was on display, bounce. “And I was at the farmers market.” She adjusted how the canvas bag sat on her shoulder.  “My key just broke and I’m locked out, so y’all are keeping me company until Leon gets here.” 

“It’s short,” That’s what he gave her back. But he thought the dress was pretty too. She could tell, because his eyes wouldn’t stop dragging over her. Jaw jumping a little harder than before with every pass. That was the only thing that gave him away as his stare met hers again. “And Leon gone take all day. Me or Stack’ll have yo’ door open in five minutes.” 

“Told her I’d get it open,” Stack came into the room behind her, feet keeping him there for longer than necessary.  “Think she jus’ missed us forreal.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Annie pulled her eyes away from Smoke, to glance over her shoulder. “Y’all are not damaging my door tryna break into my house. Playin’ host for a couple hours won’t kill y’all.”

“Ain’t nobody say we had a problem wit’ it, baby.” That lazy drawl hugged her ears as Stack finally passed her, heading towards the left end of the couch and sinking down into the cushions. His legs spread wide first, arm got thrown over the back, attention stayed on Annie as one of her hands landed on her hip. She did it real extra and she looked real fine. 

“Why do I gotta keep reminding you that’s not my name?” 

Stack’s head dropped to the side lazily. “That is yo’ name. You daddy’s baby. You ‘ont want me sayin’ it, put somethin’ in my mouth that’s gone shut me up.” 

The image flashed in her mind out of nowhere — her standing over him, thighs encasing his head, hips grinding her pussy against his tongue, cumming all over that gold he kept in his mouth. He would talk while he let her drown him. Say some shit like, Daddy eating that pussy good, baby? Giving you what the fuck you been wantin’? Yo’  ass need to say thank you. And she’d respond. Sliding her pussy over his face. Panting loud. Thank you daddy. Thank you so much daddy — shit Stack. 

Annie blinked. A couple times. Until her vision came back into focus and she was no longer standing over Stack but looking at him. And the slow grin stretching across his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

Daddy’s baby. 

“You ight over there? You breathin’ a lil’ fast.” 

“And you listening a little hard.” Annie smacked her lips, sound as loud as the pulse that was thumping in her ears. “You need a filter.” 

Her words weren’t as playful as usual. Weren’t as light. Not because she was mad or offended, more so because she was caught off guard.

Annie was a grown woman. Experienced. Knew exactly what she liked and what she didn’t. Knew how much control she was willing to give and how much she wasn’t. 

Daddy’s baby. 

And for a second them two little words had her feeling like she wanted to give it all over. Had her feeling raw in a way she loved and hated? 

This was her game. Her rules. She was in control. She wanted to be ruined, yes. Wanted them to do whatever they wanted, however they wanted — on her terms.

The way that ache between her thighs grew though? Like being daddy’s baby was everything she needed no matter how much control she’d have to give up? 

It gave Annie pause. And she needed to recalibrate. 

She forced her eyes away from Stack — and immediately got trapped in Smoke’s gaze. He was still leaned up, face blank as ever, dark orbs studying her. Closely. Clocking reactions and filing them away. 

He could probably sense it — the way her clit was thumping.

“Yes, Smoke?” Her twists swung as she inclined her head. As she made her voice light.  

The older Moore tracked the movement of her hair, fingers twitching where they hung between his legs, before his eyes found hers again. He didn’t rush to respond. Took his time. Almost like he was making her wait on purpose. Like he was letting her know this wasn’t her game actually. Not really.

Annie shifted, impatient, wet, still slightly on edge. And then Smoke opened his mouth. As if that was his que.

“You gon’ wait for Leon all day, standin’,” His head just barely tilted. “Or you gon’ sit and catch yo’ breath?” 

“Nobody is out of breath.” 

Her neck moved as she spoke, pretty eyes so busy rolling she missed how the brothers glanced at each other; Stack smirking, Smoke very pointedly not, and silent understanding passing between them regardless. 

“I will sit down though.” Annie continued speaking as she finally moved from the entryway — dress swaying, hair swinging, hips switching in a way that didn’t do too much, but still caught eyes regardless. Four eyes to be specific. 

She floated around the living room, re-gaining her footing with every step she took. It was the familiar prickle settling over her skin that helped, the one that came from both twins cataloguing her every move. Annie had always liked when they stared, when they couldn’t help but stare, and today was no different.

She bypassed the wood coffee table and the couch with ease. Didn’t even glance at the entertainment system or the mounted flat screen on the wall. She headed directly for the arm chair in the corner instead and when she reached it, she did what she intended, sliding her canvas bag down off her arm and placing it in the seat. And then she was turning right back around and heading for her real destination. 

Annie’s lips turned up in the corner, eyes jumping from Smoke to Stack and back again as she came closer. 

“‘Scuse me,” She came from the left, stepping over Stack’s legs and right into the space between the couch and the coffee table. Her voice was breezy, movements unhurried as she gave them her back — setting her purse down on the wood in front of them, brushing her long twists over one shoulder, sliding her sandals off before taking a small step backwards. 

And then sinking, right into the middle cushion of the couch. 

Stack had to move his leg suddenly, Smoke had to shift his whole body over, and Annie? Didn’t care. Planted herself in that small spot between them anyways, wiggling like she was getting comfortable, thick thighs expanding like dough as her dress rose up a little. 

It encompassed her immediately; the dark scent of cedar and danger, the heat both of their bodies gave out, the tension that settled over the three of them — real thick and real delicious.

“You a trip.” That was Stack — side eyeing her, mirth in his voice. 

“Don’t be stingy with the couch,” Annie’s head turned in his direction. “Sharing is caring.” 

She blinked innocently when she said it, but she wasn’t fooling nobody. Not when that smile still sat on her face. Or when that teasing tone mixed in perfectly with her Nola accent. 

Sharing is caring. 

For a second, nobody even reacted to the words. Felt like time itself stilled as both brothers zeroed in on her  — in a way that was real twin-like.

It probably should have unnerved her. The attention. The quiet. The way the temperature in the room felt like it went from zero to a hundred. 

All it really did though was make her fight a bigger smile. Make her feel more in control than she had a few moments ago. 

And then Stack broke the silence — laughing low. Amused — but not really. 

“You heard ‘dat Smoke?” He didn’t pull his eyes away from hers when he started speaking to his brother. “Sharin’ carin’ now.” 

There was another beat of silence before eleven words disrupted all of that. 

“It’s carin’ tell it got her ass stretched wide and cryin’.”

Annie blinked and if you listened close enough you could almost hear the audible scratch of a record. 

“Excuse me?” Her head whipped from left to right. From an edged smirk to a narrowed gaze — one that said she better tread lightly. She couldn’t even clarify what’d she just heard before Stack was speaking again, grabbing her attention and making her turn back towards the left. 

“You droppin’ one liners like it’s a comedy show and you ain’t even prepared for what’s gon’ happen when the curtains close.”

“Think she ready, but she ain’t.” Smoke again. His words were short. Clipped. Nothing loud. Nothing extra. Just stating facts.

“It’s that sweet shit between her legs that got her talkin’ bold like that.” Stack’s eyes dropped down to her thighs. “Pussy been crying out for months. Hurtin’. Hungry.” 

“Too bad we can’t feed ha.” Smoke stayed focused on Annie’s face. “Not ‘till her mama learn how to fuckin’ act.” 

The reasonable response would have been to back track. Leave. De-escalate the situation. 

Annie though… Annie just let out an airy sigh that was supposed to be a laugh and then shook her head.  “This how y’all talk to guests?” She tsked like she was disappointed. Like she didn’t know what she was doing, or who she was playing with, or the fire she was feeding. Like they didn’t all know exactly where she would eventually end up — between Smoke and Stack, holes fucked, pussy punished, body used until both Moores’ were sated. 

“The next time I see mama Moore, ima let her know how y’all be actin’.” 

She did her best to watch her breathing. To look unaffected, but they caught it anyways. Stack saw them thighs pressing, heard that catch in her voice. Smoke saw the uneven rising of her chest — that break in rhythm that occurred whenever she had tension building. He saw them big eyes darken too. Saw ‘em start to glaze over, even as her mouth ran like she wasn’t feeling nothing.

“Girl –”

Annie didn’t let Stack get his words out, cutting him off and leaning forward to reach for her purse before she lost the upper hand she’d just barely gotten back. “If y’all are done discussing me — and what y’all never gone get anyways — I’m tryna mind my business.”

Her words settled over them as she did just that — digging around in her purse, applying a fresh coat of gloss, pulling out her journal and then feeling around for a pen next. She moved as if there wasn’t an insistent throbbing between her thighs. And she only bothered to spare them a glance after she’d settled back into the couch. 

“Weren’t y’all watching a game or somethin’?” She raised a brow, looking from left to right. 

Smoke didn’t respond. Not verbally. But that jaw clenched just right. Made her want to act up and behave at the same time. 

Stack shook his head, chuckled under his breath, “Think a nigga worried about a game, when you talkin’ slick and flashing them thighs every otha’ minute.” 

Annie almost laughed, ‘cause it sounded like the little brother was being pushed to his limit. And that was just a little too bad.

She repositioned herself, just to flash her thighs again. Didn’t look back at Smoke. Didn’t bother supplying Stack with a response. And for the next 10 minutes, everybody acted like they had some sense.

Smoke remained on her right, eyes on the tv, jaw still held a little too tight for anyone to believe he was thinking about basketball. 

Stack remained on her left. Leaned back, arm laid out behind her, gaze jumping from Annie to the game and back again — in a way he didn’t even try to hide. 

And Annie, herself? Remained in the middle, leg sliding against one brothers, arm sliding against the others, fake paying attention to the tv right along with them. 

It was….calm. 

If calm meant heavy and still — like the air itself had stopped flowing to see what would happen next. 

The game continued and when number 13 missed another free throw, Annie sighed, messed with the hem of her dress, and decided to occupy her time another way. With her journal. 

The pen she’d grabbed from her purse clicked, attention drifting down to the worn yellow book that held her thoughts, and dreams, and desires. 

She opened the journal to where she’d left off this morning, didn’t bother with a new page, because it wasn’t a new day. She opted to position her pen a couple lines down instead and then let the ink talk. 

I’m so wet I can feel it. 

“She ain’t prepared for what’s gone happen when the curtain close.”  

“She think she ready but she ain’t.” 

Yeah, okay. 

They swear somebody scared of them. All that barking. All that glaring. 

I wander if Smoke know my clit jump every time he start talking reckless? Every time he call himself asking questions like he somebody daddy. 

I wonna play in my pussy right here. Spread my legs and make them see what they do to me. Make them clean all this mess I’m making up. 

I want Stack’s tongue. Want his mouth sealed to me while Smoke buries his face between my titties. 

They feel so heavy right now. I need him to hold them up and feed. Need him to make me feel it. To leave a mark. And then I want them to switch. 

As Annie wrote, her lashes fluttered. Bell bracelets sang out. Breath increased just barely. 

Smoke probably take his time eating pussy. Probably take that just as serious as he does everything else.

I want him to put his whole face in it. To make me cum ‘till I forget how to breathe. And then I want him to fuck me so good that I’m not even worried about breathing. 

It wasn’t her lashes or her bracelets or the way her chest rose and fell a little faster that got her in trouble though. It was her hips that did that. She kept moving. Small shifts, to the left or the right. Thighs squeezing together. Then separating. Then squeezing together again. And every time she combined both actions at once, a small shift of her hips and a flex of her thighs? It made her grip on the pen tighten. Put pressure on that spot between her legs. Felt so good, she just….didn’t stop. Brushing against Stack when she shifted left. Then Smoke when she went right. Then Stack again. Stimulating her clit the best way she could, damn near playing with her pussy, right in front of them. 

And they noticed. Because of course they did. 

“What chu’ over there doing?” 

Smoke’s voice was harsh, cutting through the haze she’d fallen into and causing her pen to stop moving immediately. 

“Fuck is you doing actually?” Stack’s head was already turned in her direction, gaze jumping over her — from the side of her face to the bottom of her dress — like he could already see the dripping pussy that sat underneath it. 

Annie wasn’t as quick with her response as she usually was and that didn’t go unnoticed. Or unchecked. 

“You ‘ont hear me talkin’ to you?” Smoke’s words were typically wrapped in an even unyielding tone. One that drove Annie crazy when she first met the older Moore, because he never sounded affected by anything. Regardless of what was going on or what she was doing to get under his skin. There’d been some cracks lately though; the other day when she borrowed sugar or when he came over last week to mount her new tv. Or right now, this very second.

Nothing about his tone was even at the moment. He sounded impatient actually. Voice was rough. Heated. Disbelieving in way that was more pissed off than shocked. Like even though he’d asked what she was doing, he already knew. Like he’d felt her brush him the first time. And the second. And the third. Like he’d listened as her breath increased and then watched out the corner of his eye as she dragged that pussy back and forth against his couch. 

“You deaf now?” Stack sat up completely, closed in from the left, while Smoke came from the right. “My brotha’ talkin’ to you. What you over there looking at?”

Annie was still frozen — thighs no longer clenched, pen pressing down on paper in one spot, head angled towards her journal but when Stack’s head angled, trying to read what had her attention, she snapped out of all of that. Damn near slammed her journal before looking up and meeting two sets of molten eyes. 

She blinked. Tried to sound as nonchalant as she always did when she finally managed to answer, “I’m minding my business. Didn’t we just disc—”

“You humping yo’ pussy against my 3,000 dollar couch,” Smoke cut her off. “You done lost yo’ mind?” 

Annie inhaled sharply, already denying, trying to play coy in a way that wasn’t going to work right now. “I was not—”

“You humping yo’ pussy against my 3,000 dollar couch,” He stressed every word as he repeated himself, brows furrowing like he was still wrapping his head around it — how bold she was.“You sitting between me and brotha’, ‘bout to nut on yoself, like you ain’t got no fuckin’ home training.”

“Well, we know she ain’t got no training.” Stack’s voice sounded like danger wrapped in velvet when he cut in. Look on his face said he wasn’t mad. More like…darkly amused. “She come over here, flauntin’ that pretty ass body like she can’t help herself, damn near erryday. It ain’t really surprising she don’t know how to control that pussy.”

Annie couldn’t even move they had her boxed in so tight. Staring dead at her while her brain scrambled to put together words. She’d have something witty to say in a minute, but she really was caught off guard, because she hadn’t realized what’d she been doing. Her body just moved without thinking around them. It was really their fault.

The gold in Stack’s mouth flashed mean when she remained quiet. 

“You got all that mouth any otha’ day and still actin’ like you can’t talk?” His eyes didn’t let up from her face. “This why you ‘ont wanna be my baby, huh? Cause you over here actin’ like a slut instead?”

Annie’s stomach twisted so wrong it felt right. And she physically couldn’t help it — how her entire center pulsed even as her mouth opened to bark back. 

“Elias who are you—”

“You get wet on my leather, Annie?” Smoke cut through their back and forth before it could even start, drawl lined with something sharper than she’d ever heard it.  “If that pussy done leaked on my leather, you gon’ clean that shit up wit’ yo’ tongue.”

Her mouth parted, like she was surprised. Stack laughed, like he wasn’t. 

“Ohhh, you in trouble, baby.” His head cocked. “You know what me and my brotha’ do to sluts like you, right? To ones who can’t control they pussy?” 

Shit was going from 0 to 100 again. And it was moving so fast, she didn’t have time to intercept. Didn’t have time to pull them back from the edge she’d just pushed them over.

“I must be talkin’ to myself.” Smoke was shifting in a way that wasn’t like him. In a way that said he was tired of talking and not being answered. 

“Must be brudda.” Stack’s eyes dropped. “She too busy holding on to that fuckin’ book. I still wonna see what she was writin’. What got that pussy so wet we can smell it.” 

And then he was reaching. Swift, quick, bold as always. And when he moved, Annie moved with him.

“This is my journal — Stack move,” Annie tightened her grip on the journal, holding it up and away from him. He leaned in, she leaned back, and Smoke? Let her. 

Annie didn’t even realize her mistake, until it was too late. 

Because when Stack followed her, lifting off the couch, hand clasping around the journal and yanking it out her hand, there were already fingers around her throat stopping her from lurching forward and getting it back. 

Her hands went up on instinct, a little gasp born from surprise more than anything leaving her mouth, “Smo—”

“Don’t say my name. You ain’t have nun to say five seconds ago, so you gon’ sit yo’ ass still and let my brother read what got you actin’ like a bitch in heat.” The hand around her neck flexed, hold not tight enough to hurt, but not so loose that she mistook this for playing. Because Smoke wasn’t playing. Had never been playing actually. “That ain’t yo’ journal no more. That’s me and my brothas’. We own everything in this fuckin’ house.” His lips grazed her ear, chest rose and fell against her back, tight grip on control slipping. Just a little. 

‘Cause she needed to be punished. Corrected. Needed to be bent over, tied down — and then she needed that ass spanked. Raw. 

And Smoke was fuckin’ itching to do it. 

Annie was pressed against solid muscle, dress fanned out and twisted up from the 2 second tussle with Stack. Her heavy breasts were damn near spilling out the stop, red lace of her panties peeking from under the awry hemline, pulse in her neck beating against the fingers wrapped around her throat. 

She could’ve put her foot down. Fixed her dress, told them they were doing too much. Taking it too far.

But she didn’t. 

“Let me see what’s making them big ass thighs press together. What got that pussy actin’ up.” The curve of Stack’s lips cut deep into his face as he took her in. As he felt the familiar weight of his dick gettin’ heavy. 

When he opened the journal, it was right to her last page, like the Universe itself was guiding him. 

He didn’t even look down at first. Just kept staring, that same fire that was always brewing between them? Catching alight. 

“I like you like ‘dis,” That deep ass grin of his stretched. “Mouth shut, titties damn near out, pussy tryna’ say hi to a nigga. You like it too, don’t you baby?” 

Annie’s skin was burning hot. Body sprawled across the couch at an angle, pussy so wet she could feel it on her thighs now. Her big eyes blinked like she was saying ‘yes daddy’. But her mouth remained shut ‘cause she was stubborn, even with one brothers hand at her neck and the other looking crazy enough to help him squeeze. 

That stubbornness made Stack laugh low. 

Smoke on the other hand, ain’t really get the joke. 

“Read the shit, nigga,” The older Moore’s voice cut through the silence, made Stack chuckle again.

“My bad.” He blinked at her. “You ready, baby?”  

And then he was reading — to himself at first.

Random words jumped out, from her morning session and the one that’d just been interrupted, like they were begging to be read. 

Stack, Smoke, wet, nasty, same time, want them to switch, want them to ruin me, played in my pussy again, wander if they ever hear me, wonna play in it right now, don’t know why they actin’ scared, Smoke can’t stroke, a joke is the only thing Stack know how to crack, almost backtracked last night, break me in properly, make them clean all this mess up, for as long as they can go, wonder who fuck better, wonder who nastier, wonna fuck Stack’s mouth —

Annie probably felt it before both of them. The air going from thick to suffocating, as that smirk on Stack’s face dropped. Completely.

“You writin’ ‘bout me?” His head snapped back up towards her. “Bout my brother?”  

“What?” Smoke’s voice was sharp. 

“She writin’ ‘bout us,” He was talking to Smoke. And didn’t look away from her once . “Bout playin’ in her pussy. How she think about fuckin’ us while she do it.” 

The fingers around Annie’s throat flexed as Stack continued. Summarizing her words at first — 

“She say she want us break her in. Want us at the same time. She been wondering who fuck better. Who get nastier. Say she wonna play in her pussy right now cause she so wet thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

And then reading them verbatim. 

“Listen to dis’ shit.” Stack’s eyes jumped from hers back to the journal. Southern accent getting thicker the more he spoke. The more worked up he got. ‘I want ‘dem ruin me. One night. All night. Whereva’ they want me. Howeva’ they want me. For as long as ‘dey can go.’” 

White hot embarrassment rushed over Annie. It started in her cheeks and made her overheated skin grow hotter. Traveled down to her stomach and made it tighten with what felt like shame and arousal twisted together. And then ended at her pussy, made her hips flex, pushed her back further into Smoke. 

Stack’s stare met hers again. “She want us take turns on her ass. Pass her back and forth ‘till we ain’t got no more nut to give. Till she can’t move. Say she want me slurping on that pussy, while you suck them big ass titties she got, and then she want us switch. ‘Dis what she was writing, while she slid that pussy all over the couch.”

Annie whimpered as the hand at her neck tightened. As Smoke’s voice hit her ears, deep and dead calm. So calm, that it wasn’t. 

“Is ‘dat right?” 

“Mhm,” A smirk was crawling back across Stack’s face. Sharp and messy. “She got jokes too —” He still sat on the edge of the couch, whole body facing her, tensed up, like he was ready to lunge. “Said we scared of the pussy. Said we can’t handle shit but cuttin’ grass and talkin’ shit. What you write in here, baby?” He asked a question he already knew the answer to. “Smoke can’t stroke? A joke the only thing Stack know how to crack?” 

The words sounded childish when he said them. And they were, because her journaling session this morning was nothing but venting born from sexual frustration. Venting that took place in the privacy of her own journal. Whatever shit she’d talked, wasn’t even something to really be mad about. 

The breath hitting her ear? Was deeper than before though. And the laugh Stack just let out? Well — the only word Annie had to describe it was unhinged. 

“She think we some bitches. Said she almost hit some other nigga to come through and fuck ha’ since we too pussy to handle the job.” That is not what Annie had written. But that’s exactly what Stack had read. The younger Moore suddenly closed the journal, tossing it on the coffee table, letting that same low crazy ass laugh ring out. “Imagine ‘dat—” he leaned in towards her, eyes flashing, “—you givin’ anotha’ nigga some pussy that’s been dripping for me since I met you.”  

And then he moved. Upper body suddenly coming forward, two hands claiming a spot on her thighs, fingers sinking in rough as he forced them open. As he forced them to spread as wide as they could in her current position. It made Annie completely sink into the hard body behind her, left one of her legs on the ground and the other folded at the knee in Stack’s lap. Put that slick mess that’d been building between her legs, all out on display.

Her panties stretched over her center obscenely — fat lips barely covered by the delicate material. She was drenched — wet coating her thighs, a big sticky spot right in the center of her lace, panties clinging to her pussy as it contracted around nothing. 

Her voice was breathy. Thick. “Stack—”

“Look at ‘dis shit,” His eyes were focused between her legs, hands flexing around the fat of her thighs, head cocked like he was studying art. “It’s dripping for me right now. This fat, wet, bad pussy.” 

He shook his head. And then out of nowhere —

Smack. 

One of his hands came up and raised back down, right between her legs. 

His palm was heavy. Hard. Unforgiving. 

“Pussy needa learn how to act. Rememba’ who make it get like this.” 

Annie’s mouth fell open in a quiet gasp, hips pulling back instinctively, legs trying to close as a sweet stinging sensation traveled through her and stopped directly at her clit. It wasn’t nothing but a lil love tap, and her body was already trying to cave in. 

There was nowhere for her to go though. Stack was already back to keeping her legs held open, making her feel what’d he’d just done. 

“Stack—”

“Shut that shit up,” Smoke cut her off. “I ont’ wonna hear no whining. And ain’t gone be no running. Look at me.” His fingers moved to her jaw, making her neck crane awkwardly to the side as he brought his face forward until their eyes met. “You walk in here, bouncing around in this dress, smellin’ sweet, smilin’ innocent, just to sit between me and my brother and write about bein’ used like a whore.” His voice was smoke, sinking into her skin, burying its way so deep, she’d never forget it.

“You worryin’ ‘bout what you think I can’t do. Sittin’ next to me tryna figure out who dick bigger, when you ain’t ready to take either.” His face was hard, nostrils flaring, something thick and long growing in his sweats and pressing right into Annie. “But you wonna be used right? Want yo’ holes fucked so bad you was ‘bout to nut on my couch just thinkin’ ‘bout it?” His fingers pressed deeper into her jaw. “If you want it, you gone take what come wit’ it, and I don’t wonna hear shit out yo’ mouth but ‘thank you daddy.’”

His words dropped like a weight. And they brooked no room for argument. Or negotiation. She’d take it all — whatever him and Stack had to give — and this was the last out he was granting her. The last time he was letting her slide. 

Annie’s breath mixed with Smoke’s as she panted soft. As she remained pressed against him, thighs still spread, pussy drenched, heart beating faster than what was probably healthy. 

She didn’t really stop to think about the repercussions — what this would start, what it could change, what they were about to do to her. 

All she could focus on was the pulse between her legs. How close she was to finally getting what she wanted. And she let that ache, that yearning, talk for her. Let it put the final nail in her coffin. 

“I hear what you sayin’,” Annie licked her lips, spoke like she wasn’t already spread wide and hemmed up by the throat. “But why would I tell my daddies thank you, when they still aren’t doing shit???”  

Nothing happened at first. 

Nobody moved. 

Nobody blinked. 

Felt like breathing flat out stopped for all three of them. And it stayed like that.

Up until everything unpaused at once.

Stack let her thighs go, stood up from the couch. Smoke slid his hand back to her throat, practically barked out his next words, “Stand yo’ ass up!” 

Annie didn’t really get the chance to move herself, before she was being moved. Smoke was rising and she had no choice but to rise with him, legs scrambling, both feet just planting themselves on carpet before he let her neck go and spun her around. 

“Think you like pushin’ cause ain’t no nigga eva’ pushed back,” His hand was already reaching for her again, fingers re-wrapping around her neck, pulling her in until her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He was breathing deep, eyes so dark they didn’t look brown anymore. “By the time me and my brotha’ done wit’ you? All ‘dat brat shit? Gone be out the window. You gone be takin’ dick, swallowin’ nut, and talkin’ polite, like a real good girl.” 

She couldn’t think of a response before his mouth swallowed hers. 

The kiss didn’t start off gentle. Or slow. But it wasn’t sloppy either. It was demanding. Thorough.  Entitled. His tongue stroked into her mouth like it belonged there, like he was claiming her. Like she was already claimed.

He didn’t wait for them to create a rhythm, he set it instead. Head tilting, lips forming a seal with hers until she had no choice but to breathe in him and nothing else. They weren’t really kissing so much as she was being kissed — with such nasty precision she felt it in her pussy.  It made Annie moan — a sound that was swallowed before it could even be heard. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, wet sounds ringing out louder than the bracelets on her wrists every time the two parted and came back together. Every time his tongue fucked into her mouth with purpose. Annie moaned louder. All she smelled, all she felt, all she could think of was Smoke. Heat bloomed in her stomach, nipples growing hard and achy, tongue seeking out more of him, now that his mean ass had finally cracked. Her pulse thudded hard against the hand still locked around her throat —

And then a hand wrapped around her twists, the same ones swinging long and free, and pulled.

The hand at her neck dropped as Annie’s head was yanked back, the sharp sting making her eyes fly open, vision immediately filled with the sight of Stack smirking down at her. 

“You forget about yo’ favorite twin?” 

He closed in immediately — grip around her hair firm, angling her head until it turned to the side and then kissing her from where he stood behind her. Extra, wet, and nasty. She couldn’t even catch her breath, before it was taken again. 

Because that’s what the brothers did — took, possessed, and consumed. 

That’s what they were going to do to her. 

Stack kissed rough. Slick. And he tasted like sin. Sweet, dark, and addicting. The music their lips made was loud — greedy smacking sounds born from the way his mouth moved against hers. From how he used her hair to pull her mouth deeper into his one second and then to yank her away the next.  

“That mouth so sweet —” His stare was like lava when he pulled back, the same gold in his mouth flashing like a warning she’d already decided not to heed. “‘Dis how the fuck I want you greet me from now on. Straight tongue, none of ‘dat smart mouth shit.” 

He pulled her back in quick, like he was feigning for more already. Whimpers climbed out of Annie’s throat as their mouths moved together. As their saliva mixed, Stack kissing her deeply and then sucking on her tongue, as if he wanted to bottle her taste. It felt like he was trying to fuck her mind rather than her mouth. And it was working. Annie was dizzy. Was craning her neck for more when he finally pulled away, a long strand of spit keeping them connected before it broke off.

Her mouth was kiss swollen, lips and chin wet, body leaned back into Stack’s like she was unsteady on her feet.

“Yeah, my mouth good for something else besides talking shit, huh?” Stack echoed the words he’d read in her journal, kissing her rough one last time before he let her hair go. 

And as if they’d practiced the transition, Smoke stepped right back in. 

“Get ‘dat dress off.” No please. No hesitation. Just direction. Direction she should have been quick to follow, considering this was all she’d been wanting. 

Annie never did what was expected though. Wasn’t known for making things easy. 

Instead of complying, she let her heated eyes wander, from Smoke’s piercing stare, down to them lips she’d just felt for the first time. And then further, past his stiff shoulders and wide chest and big arms. She let her gaze drag all the way, right to them grey sweats. To the cotton that was stretched, soft fabric molded around something that looked lethal. That looked so lengthy and fat she felt her throat constrict. 

Smoke hadn’t touched himself. Hadn’t readjusted nothing. Hadn’t grabbed. Hadn’t stroked. And his dick was demanding attention. Sat heavy in a way he couldn’t hide. In a way that caught Annie’s attention. And then kept it. 

Stack was still behind her, all up on her, body hot and tone instigating. “Look at ha’. Ain’t even got her breath back and she still focused on the wrong shit. She so fuckin dick hungry.”

“I ‘ont care what she is. She betta’ get that dress off, for it get ripped in half.” 

That got her attention. Made her eyes jump right up to Smoke’s face. Made her lip sink into her teeth. Because she could feel that he was on the edge of showing her exactly what she thought she wanted. 

“He mean that too, baby.” Stack’s breath hit her ear. “And if he ont’ do the honors, I will.” It was crazy encouraging crazy. 

And as she stood between all that crazy, breathless and wet, she only grew wetter. Only had a stronger urge to keep pushing. To keep taunting. 

So, what exactly did that make her?

“I can’t get the dress off if y’all don’t give me space to move,” She attempted her usual tone — defiant, sarcastic, unbothered — but her voice came out too wrecked for that. 

And she didn’t get the chance for a redo. 

One second her dress was sitting pretty on her frame and the next — Smoke moved like a solider executing an order. No hesitation and no remorse as his arm shot out, hand clasping the front of her dress and then yanking — pulling the thin material down in one strong controlled movement.

Annie gasped as the straps of her dress were forced off her shoulders, burning her arms as her breasts bounced free — full, heavy, sitting up on her chest with just the perfect amount of hang. And then came her soft stomach, her prominent hips, that fat lace covered mound that sat perfect between her thighs. Every inch of her dark ebony skin was exposed in seconds as white fabric pooled around her feet. 

She blinked, like she was surprised or something. 

“Done repeatin’ myself to yo’ hard headed ass.” Smoke met her wide stare unflinchingly. “You gon’ learn how to listen.” 

“And we gon’ have fun teachin’ you. You see ha’, Smoke?”

Stack couldn’t have gotten a full look at anything yet. 

And he still sounded like he was starving. 

Acted like he was too. 

The palm against her ass came out of nowhere — landing on the side of one of her full cheeks with so much force Annie damn near lost balance. 

“Stack —” She said his name loud. High. Hand flying back on instinct as heat spread across her skin.

“You know what me and my brotha’ ‘bout to do to this ass?” Stack’s fingers locked with hers, his hands grabbing the one that’d flown back, not to comfort, but to move her out his way.

SMACK. 

His palm rained down again. In the same spot. Harder than before, like he couldn’t help himself. 

“What chu’ even got panties on for? They not covering shit. Lace ain’t doin’ nothin’ but gettin’ swallowed by this big ass.”

He moved a step back, got a better angle. 

SMACK.

Everything on Annie jiggled when his hand made contact with her again — thighs, ass, stomach, them full breasts Smoke was currently fixated on.

“Stack —” The sound that left her throat wasn’t really a cry this time. It was a moan, followed by Annie taking a half step forward — like she didn’t know what to do with the pleasure and pain twisting together inside her body — before she was promptly pulled back. 

SMACK.

Stack’s hand came from the left, bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he watched that ass jump. Deep voice washing over Annie in a way that drove her crazy.

“Don’t run baby. You know a nigga like me, like to chase.” His palm rained down again, the loud thwack of skin against skin echoing throughout the living room. 

“‘Dis the same ass you was bending over the otha’ day right?”

SMACK.

“Now you ‘ont wonna show it off? My lil slut actin’ shy now??” 

SMACK.

Annie’s throat was dry. Mouth wide open. Things happening inside of her body that didn’t even make sense. She was overheated everywhere. Overstimulated and not stimulated enough. Pussy clenching around nothing. Mind blanking as she was forced to feel that sting wash over her repeatedly. As a bow formed in her back, only serving to push her ass out further. 

Meanwhile, something was shifting inside Stack’s chest every time his hand connected with her. Something dark and primal. 

“You was ‘bout to give anotha’ nigga this pussy?” His dimples caved in as he spoke. “Let him see this perfect ass bent over, when you know daddy right next door ready to give you what you want?” 

His palm cracked down sharp. 

“Stack -”

“You gon’ make that shit up to me, Annie. Gon’ stand on all that shit you be talkin’.”

The bow in her back deepened, titties sitting high in the air as loud pretty moans fell from her mouth.

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Left cheek. Right cheek. Left cheek again. 

He wasn’t giving her time to warm up. Didn’t take baby steps. Didn’t pause in between hits and let her get adjusted. He just kept going, hand cracking down, eyes glittering like he was hungry. To feed. To fuck. To punish. 

And Smoke? 

Just watched.

Roamed his eyes over every dip and curve she had, studied the way her face twisted up when his brothers hand landed, the way she panted, the way them big ass titties bounced — hard chocolate nipples pointing straight at him like they was begging to be sucked. 

He eyed her soft tummy, how it moved in time with everything else on her. Took in her prominent hips next, them big thighs and long legs, that fat dripping pussy. 

Annie was moaning like it hurt. Puttin’ on a real good show. But that shine coating her thighs? The way they keep squeezing and rubbing together? 

Told a different story. 

SMACK.

“Look at ‘dat shit move. Fuck Annie.” 

Stack’s palm rained down again. And again. And again. Like she was his toy and he was entertaining himself.

“Stack — shit! Okay, daddy! Mmmm — baby, okay!” Her voice was thick, pleading. For him to keep going. For him to stop. For him to leave her ass alone and give some attention to the ache between her thighs. She went from a bow in her back to leaning forward — and that only gave him better access. Only allowed him to grip her forearm now and really lock in.

“Awe now you daddy’s baby?” He laughed at her. Dick jumped, angry and thick. Hand came crashing down again. 

“Oh my God. It feel so — !” Annie didn’t think it was possible to cum from this, but every time his hand connected with her full cheeks, the pain spread, everywhere at first and then directly to her clit. 

Stack would’ve kept going. Would’ve let her see just how possible it was. 

But Smoke put a stop to all that. On purpose. 

“Give ha’ to me.” He didn’t wait for her to be handed over. Was already reaching when Stack laid a parting smack to her ass, that loud clap mixing with Annie’s moans. 

“You gon’ drive me fuckin’ crazy girl,” Stack’s voice was guttural. He hadn’t slid inside her yet, hadn’t even tasted her, and still — he felt it. That greedy possessive feeling creeping down his spine. 

He pulled her up so she was standing straight, stepped back just as Smoke’s hands wrapped around her waist, moving in sync with his brother like they’d done this 100 times before. 

Annie was breathing like she’d ran a marathon. Skin achy, head spinning, legs unsteady. 

Smoke pulled her into him like he was ‘bout comfort her — had her titties pressed to his chest, his dick firm against her stomach, her forehead resting on his shoulder. He let her be for all of three seconds. And then he did what’d he been itching to do since she stepped into his living room. 

Her eyes flew open, a sharp hiss leaving her mouth when Smoke wrapped them twists around his hand and pulled till her head was upright where he wanted. He gripped her hair tighter than his brother had. Didn’t want her to be able to move unless he was directing it. 

He looked her dead in the face, voice hotter than a summer day in Mississippi, “You think you ready for us and you can’t even stand straight right now?” 

Annie was so busy trying to breathe, that she couldn’t answer. Smoke continued. 

“Stack playin’ wit’ you — nigga ain’t even got serious yet. I ain’t even started. And you already shakin’. Pussy damn near leaking on my floor. You ain’t ready for me lil girl.”

It was borderline condescending. 

Annie’s hips jerked anyways. Tongue came out to wet her lips. Big brown eyes glazed over, with so much want, so much need, that it made Smoke’s fingers flex. Made his grip on her hair tighten.

“And you ‘ont give a fuck. Don’t ‘een care what we do to you — long as we tend to that pussy, huh?” 

He said it like it pissed him off. Like it — she — was testing his control. And winning. 

“If you know that, stop making me wait.” Her words were drenched in lust and impatience. 

Because she’d never felt like this before. So small. So desired. So desperate. 

Annie was blessed with height that’d been intimidating people all her life. Had thick everything that only served to amplify her tall frame — soft arms, stomach, thighs, breasts. Had a mouth she let run. A stubborn streak that got on her own damn nerves. And while some men could handle it, most couldn’t. Not really.

Stack though? Smoke? Did it with ease. Handled her mouth. Her attitude. Her body. All without breaking a sweat. And it made her mouth water. Made her continue talking,  as she held Smoke’s glare. 

“Y’all supposed to be fucking me right now.”

Stack started, low and amused — “Pussy still got you talkin’ reckless.” 

And Smoke finished, eyes so dark she was damn near sinking into them. “Dat’s an order?“

The words came out so sharp they almost felt like a threat. 

And the obvious answer was to give no answer at all. 

“It can be,” Annie went a different route. Like she didn’t have a sore ass and Smoke’s hand tangled in her hair. Like her chest wasn’t still rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. “If that ‘s what’ll finally get you to listen Elijah.” 

Smoke’s eyes narrowed immediately and Stack let out something that sounded like a laugh behind her, “I know you tryna’ let her make it brudda’ but you gon’ have to show her somethin’. She beggin’ for it.” 

She was. And she was about to get everything she was asking for. 

Smoke’s arm flexed as he used her hair to tug her face closer. As he spoke over the low moan Annie let out. 

“You think ‘dis a game. Think this ‘bout to turn into whateva’ nasty shit you been writin’ in that book.”

Her lashes fluttered, brain going fuzzy from the sharp sting traveling through her scalp. From the feeling of Smoke washing over her.

“‘Dis ain’t no fantasy, Annie.” He remained unblinking as he catalogued every one of her responses. “ And you don’t run shit wit’ me.”

She was moving. Or rather, she was being moved. Went from leaning into Smoke, body frozen in one spot to being walked, forward first and then around the coffee table. 

“Smoke —”

“You that desperate for ‘dis dick?” He ignored her saying his name. Kept her body pressed to his. Kept stepping. Kept her braids wrapped his fist. “You gon’ learn how to ask for it. Can be Stack’s slut all you want, but you gon’ be a good girl for me. A good nasty lil bitch.”

The younger Moore liked the slick shit — the attitude, the mouth, the playing hard to get. It got his blood up. Had him damn near obsessed with Annie. 

Smoke though…Smoke liked obedience. Liked manners. Respect. And Annie was gon’ give him all that. Wasn’t gon’ have no armor with him. Wasn’t gon’ show no resistance. 

The two moved, Annie’s legs working to keep up with Smoke’s, a sharp groan leaving her mouth at his unrelenting grip. 

He didn’t let go until they reached the center of the room. Only let go because unbeknownst to her, Annie was about to be on her —

“Knees.” 

He didn’t have to yell for the one word to sound like exactly what it was — a command.  

Annie’s big eyes opened slowly. Skin buzzing. Scalp tingling. Pussy so wet she felt like she was one shift away from cumming. 

Stack had just bent her over and spanked her. And Smoke had just dragged her around this room. Like it wasn’t nothing. 

“Fix yo’ face.” She had the audacity to look shocked. To look even more turned on than she had a second ago. “I let you walk wit’ me jus’ now. You gon’ be crawling by the end of the day. Now get on yo knees Annie, for I put you on them.” 

She listened. For what was probably the first time today. It could’ve been the shock that made her act right. Could’ve been the look Smoke was giving her. Could’ve just been her pussy controlling her actions. But either way, she listened. And she didn’t look away from him once. Not as her legs started to fold. Not as her breasts bounced softly in time with her movement. Not as her knees finally hit carpet. She kept her pretty eyes locked with his. Moving graceful but with an edge. Blinking slow up at him like she was asking ‘this what you want daddy?’. 

6ft, clean fade, mean eyes, permanent frown — that’s what she was looking up at. That was the view Smoke provided as he looked down on her, hands at his sides, jaw jumping. 

Jaw always jumping in her presence.

“Ain’t got no business lookin’ like ‘dat. Sweet ass face wit’ all ‘dis fuckin’ body. You see what you do to me?” 

What she did to him couldn’t be missed.

“It look so big.” 

Big. Lethal. Dangerous. 

His sweats hid nothing. She could see how wide he was. How long. How hard. And just like earlier, she was damn near entranced. 

Smoke licked his lips slow. An action he wasn’t even aware of. “You ‘bout to take all ‘dat. Gon’ keep every inch in yo’ mouth ‘till I decide you can breathe. Gon’ swallow my nut like the pretty lil bitch you is. And then you gon’ thank me.” It all flashed in his head, every time she’d bounced over here smirking like she couldn’t be touched, every time she’d pushed, every smart ass remark that’d left her mouth. “Dis’ what chu’ been wantin’ from me ain’t it? What chu’ been waitin’ on?” 

“Yes.” 

She didn’t hesitate to respond. Because it had been what she waiting on. Because she felt like she deserved the dick. Because regardless of how she’d gotten to this point, she was here now and this is all she’d been wanting. As far as Annie was concerned — some hair pulling, some spanking, was worth it, as long as she was getting her twins. 

And that was her second mistake of the day. Thinking it’d gotten as…rough as it could get. 

Smoke scoffed, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. How fuckin’ needy she was. “Don’t nothin’ else tame ‘dat mouth, but you get some dick in front of you and know how to act? Shit not gon’ save you Annie. Don’t make up for nothin’.” 

Annie…was getting her bearings back. Wasn’t being touched or dragged. Was able to think now. To play. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” She looked back up at him. Almost sounded like she meant what she was saying too. Woulda’ been convincing, if not for the smirk on her lips. “You gon’ let me keep tryin’?”

Her hands moved on their own, smirk still on her face, fingers gripping the waist band of grey sweats and black briefs and then pulling slow. 

The dick popped out fast though. Had of mind of its own. Every single inch of it. 

Annie’s head moved back on instinct. Smirk dropped so fast it wasn’t even funny. Throat worked to swallow spit. Spit that she’d need in a second. 

The dick didn’t curve to the left or the right. Didn’t change shades half way down the shaft. Didn’t look like any part of it would be easer to take than the other. It was consistent — like its owner. Stood straight out. Had a wide mushroom head and an even wider base. Was thick. Heavy. Just like she’d predicted. And the tip was leaking already.

Annie just…stared. 

“Ain’t never seen her dis’ quiet, Smoke.” Stack’s voice rung out. Lazy and dark.

“Don’t need words for what she ‘bout to be doing.” Smoke. Studying her as she studied him. “Dis’ what chu’ been beggin’ for Annie. What you so sure you can take.” The older Moore laughed then. Short. Quiet. Layered with something thick and mean. “Shoulda’ jus’ stuck to playin’ in yo’ pussy lil girl.” 

-

Annie had dick in her throat. Spit running down her chin. Tears in her eyes. And Smoke didn’t even seem close to finishing.  

“Swallow dat’ shit Annie — swallow that fuckin’ dick — there you go. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.” 

Annie whimpered, peering up at him, lips wrapped tight around his shaft. It was obscene. How wide her mouth stretched. How her titties bounced freely. How every wet slurp was accompanied by a drawn out moan and some variant of, “It taste so good, daddy”, “Thank you, daddy” “This what I needed, Elijah” “I love this dick so much, Elijah.”

He’d cracked something in her. And it was written all over her face. 

When she’d started, she’d been in control — because Smoke allowed it. Had let her kiss the head, stroke him slow, work every inch inside her mouth little by little. And she’d worked it. Had been alternating between swallowing his length whole, sucking him in deep one second and then playing with just the tip the next.  Running her tongue over that big mushroom head, testing his sensitivity, and catching every drop of precum while her hands twisted around his base.

She’d been making love to the dick — wet sloppy kisses, tight sucks, controlled swallows of her throat. 

Smoke had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be teaching her something. Had gotten caught up in them big eyes and that mouth that felt like velvet. Had been swallowing down sounds, gritting his teeth, getting more and more worked up every time he thought about where she’d learned this shit. Every time she’d moaned around him, sending vibrations traveling up and down his dick. 

And Annie had been watching. Saw the way his lids started to close. They way his throat worked to swallow down a groan. It’d made her blood rush. Made her cocky. And she gotten just a little ahead of herself. Had slid her mouth off him with a loud pop, lids low, face wet, full lips splitting into a smile. And then she’d started talking. 

“Why you keep this dick from me again? Cause I can’t handle you? Or cause you can’t handle me?” 

That was all it’d taken. 

Smoke had gotten back in his body. Went from letting her suck him, to fucking her throat like it belonged to him. And he hadn’t slowed down since. 

“This throat feel like home. Think I’m gon’ keep you like dis’. On yo’ knees, hands behind yo’ back, mouth open, waitin’ for me to use everyday.”

Smoke held her head still. Grunting as her throat squeezed around him. As she took it like her breathing didn’t even matter to her no more.   

Because it really didn’t. Not when it felt so good to have Smoke carving out space in her throat. Not when she got to see his lashes flutter every time her tongue brushed one of them thick prominent veins he had running down his shaft. 

Annie’s body felt like it was on fire. And she kept her mouth wide and let Smoke continue to stroke the flame. 

He didn’t play with her. Wasn’t pulling his dick out and smacking the head against her tongue. Wasn’t making her chase it around. He was focused. Sliding every inch into her mouth, over and over and over again. With long, deep, thrusts. 

Annie gagged, a filthy helpless sound, and the hands around her wrists tightened.

“Lil slut would prolly like ‘dat. Wouldn’t you baby?” Stack’s voice fell over her and amplified everything she was feeling. Made her whine around the dick in her mouth.

The younger Moore was behind her. Bent a little at the waist, one big hand locked around both of her wrists. Pulling her arms back and away from her body. 

It left her feeling helpless. Completely out of control. And it was her fault. 

She’d tried to touch her pussy once. Had slid a hand between her parted thighs while Smoke used her mouth like a fuckin’ flashlight. Had just barely grazed her center when Stack came out of nowhere, snatching her wrists up and talking low.

“Nah, baby. Only thing you focus on right now is my brotha’. Get yo’ hands off that greedy ass pussy. That’s mine.”

He hadn’t let her wrists go since. And she’d been left with her mouth and only her mouth doing the work. 

“Answer my brotha’.” Smoke glared down at her. Almost mad at how good she was taking this shit. How good she felt. “You’d like that shit wouldn’t you?” 

He pulled out of her mouth, a loud wet sound filling the living room, long strands of spit stretching from the head of his dick to her now glossless lips.

Annie was panting. Chest just as wet as her chin. Thighs squeezing together. Every ounce of attitude in her body seemingly non-existent now. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Who you talkin’ to?” Stack sounded like he was smirking. “Me or him?” 

“Both of y’all.”

She was staring straight at Smoke as she spoke. Watching the way his head dropped to the side. Listening to how he grunted low. 

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll make that shit happen for my good girl.”

Her entire center throbbed. A high needy sound climbing out of her throat. Neck stretching as she leaned forward to suck him right back up.

She didn’t know what they’d done to her — what Smoke had done to her — but all she could think about was earning that nut. Tasting it. Tasting half of the SmokeStack twins. She wasn’t even fixated on the ache between her legs anymore. Not entirely. Because all she could focus on was pleasing them. 

It was something she’d have to unpack later. When she could think clearly. 

Right now, she let her brain turn off. Let her body lead and really — it was doing that already anyways. 

Annie dragged her mouth up and down his length. Tonguing his shaft. Swallowing every time Smoke’s head hit the back of her throat. She made it sloppy — made it nasty, hands free and all. And Smoke…Smoke was damn near ready to say fuck being neighbors and move her in forreal. Was ready to bust and give her what she was working so hard for.

The twins started talking to her then, right over all that noise she was making. All that mess. 

“Yo’ mouth made for dis’.” Smoke. 

“Mouth made for suckin’ and body made for fuckin’. She need ‘dis shit.” Stack.

“You gon’ be my stress relief from now on,” Every time Smoke opened his mouth, he fucked into her mouth rougher. Controlled, mean movements. Her lips were kissing his pelvis every other second, as his nuts drew up tight. “You gon’ calm me down every time you piss me off. Gon’ do it just like this.”

“Takin’ me and my brudda’s nut. That’s yo’ job now, baby.” Stack’s thumb rubbed one of her wrist softly. Like his grip wasn’t the complete opposite of soft. Like her throat wasn’t being worked like a toy. The contrast made her see stars. “I think we gon’ keep you, Annie.”

“She already kept.” 

The words were final. So final, they should have worried her.  But her brain was clouded with Smoke. With Stack. And her mouth was busy, jaw aching, pussy so wet it felt like she could cum from this alone. 

Annie had spent the last few months wanting to be fucked. This wasn’t that. 

This was ownership. Possession. A reworking of her soul. And she wasn’t even really aware of it yet. 

“You think you deserve this nut?” Smoke watched her blink hazily, keeping all nine inches down her throat for one long beat and then forcing himself to pull out completely. The sound that left Annie’s mouth as he took his dick away, as he gripped the base of his shaft to hold that nut back, was one of pure displeasure. 

It made Stack smirk. Had Smoke that much closer to painting her throat. Had his hand sliding up and down his length in quick short movements before he could stop himself. 

If Annie was able to move forward and swallow him again she would have. Instead, she moaned out a long, pretty sounding, “Yess, Elijah.”

“You don’t.” His rebuttal was quick. Sharp. Harsh. But his eyes were heated. And his voice was tight. And his hand was still moving, stroking his member, something like a tingle starting at the base of his spine. “But you look so fuckin’ hungry for it ima give it to you. And if you spill a fuckin drop —” He shook his head, hand stopping right at the tip and twisting. “Fuck.”

He was close. Shoulders tense. Brows furrowed. Breath heavy. And something about seeing him like that — so close to losing control — woke up that impatience in Annie. The same impatience that’d gotten her in this shit in the first place. 

“I’m not gon’ spill it, Elijah. Give it to me.” 

It wasn’t a request. Wasn’t a plea. It was more of a demand than anything.

She was talking to him like she was in charge.  

Talking to him like she still hadn’t learned.

Smoke’s hand froze abruptly. With his chest heaving, and nuts drawn up tight, and dick throbbing angrily. He still stopped. Because even when he was on the verge of losing control, he still had it.

Annie frowned and behind her, Stack shook his head. Dropped her wrists. Mumbled something that sounded like, “Damn, baby. This ‘bout to be a long day for you.”

In front of her? Smoke had completely let his dick go, left it standing straight out, head leaking, shaft damn near pulsing. And then he stared at her for a second. Flexed his jaw and …smiled? 

“Stack,” He took his eyes off of Annie, to look at his brother. “Get the fuckin’ rope.”

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A/n - If you made it to the end I hope you enjoyed 😬😬😬. I couldn’t call this a drabble cause the shit 14.3k words butttt sorry if it feels a little jumpy and inconsistent? I do notttt have the capacity to write really fleshed out stuff right now. I feel like grief permanently altered my brain and I hate it so badddd y’all because I don’t be having the stamina no more (hence me getting sooo lazy in the second half 😭😭😭) Anyways, I may spin the block on this little world in the future when I can write normally again cause this was a little fun or w/e lmao, for nowww feedback is appreciated, Thank’s for rocking w/ me even when I when I fall off the face of the earth and Happy (late) Wednesday - Lil Bitt out 🫡🫶🏾

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Visionaries (not tagging my Smoke and Annie girlies b/c Stack all in the mix) - @lizbehave @thebumblebeesworld @shereeluvssinners @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @bananajoeclone @aellesa @atpeaceinthestars @underated345-blog @hotebonynearby @hdfen2474 @chromexbarbie @honeytoffee @mmbee675

Series specific - @theogbadbitch

[miss-spiders-sunny-patch]

Fuck what Annie talm bout…I’ll be a good girl RIGHT NOW

[lilbitt]

I’m with you when you right!!

[lilbitt]

Sweet Tooth

The Extended Version

SmokeStack X Annie

Original drabble is ↪︎ here

A/n - Um sooo this little ‘side project’ was supposed to be out weeks ago buttt moving was chaotic, my mood been up and down, and I almost deleted this whole page all together actually 😬 lmaooo. Anyways, we’re here now 🥳. Um I tried my best with this, PLEASE REFER TO THE NOT A WRITER DISCLAIMER IN MY BIO 😒, Im about to post and throw my phone 🌚 Enjoy 🫶🏾 or don’t 😬 (yikes).

C/w : Language, mean!Smoke, mean!Stack, brat!Annie, they are rough with her and she likes it 👐🏾, smut (degradation / praise, rough handling, use of ‘daddy’, spanking, a lil objectification, oral (m receiving), Annie is literally in heat or something idk, lazy smut

Keep playing with fire…eventually you get burned.

The flame lit up on a random Saturday. Burning slow one second and engulfing her whole the next.

It was still early — after breakfast, before lunch, that sweet spot where heat hadn’t settled too thick and the wind still cared enough to throw a nice breeze. The sun was currently playing peek-a-boo, ducking behind clouds and then rising high, not taking its job serious at all. Giving a little grace, before it actually clocked in for the day. 

The typical noises that usually drifted around the neighborhood — screen doors banging shut, loud phone conversations held on porches, cars beeping as they were locked and unlocked — all ceased to exist at the moment. Slean street was quiet right now. Calm. A result of half its residents being at work, while the other half remained in bed sleep. 

Annie took full advantage of it; the weather and the stillness. She was curled up in her egg chair on the porch, smoothie on her left, pen dragging across the page in front of her, and mind far from the present — mind focused instead on yesterday morning, when Smoke had been cutting her grass. 

He walk like it’s heavy. 

I mean…they both do. 

Smoke though…shit. 

Annie glanced towards her yard, like he was still out there, strong arms flexing as he pushed the mower across her lawn. Smoke walked with a wide stance, gait steady and just a little uneven, like there was something thick hanging between his legs that got in the way. Annie’s teeth sunk into her glossed lip as she thought about it. Gaze flicked back to her page. 

He walk like…whatever he got swinging, he know how to use. Walk like he rearrange souls. He could rearrange mine, just for one night.

Cutting her grass was a chore Annie’d never asked him to take on — she shared a long porch with the brothers, but technically she had her own yard, and she’d been tending to it, or paying someone else to do so, long before she’d known the Moore’s existed. Smoke had put an end to that almost immediately after the twins moved in though. They took over the left unit of the duplex, while Annie remained on the right, and Smoke cut her grass whenever he cut his and Stack’s now. She’d fought him on it, a couple times, and then let him have his way because well…why would she stop him when he looked so fucking good doing it? 

She’d been throughly entertained yesterday — seated on the porch like she was now, except she’d had shades perched on top of her head then and a book in her lap she hadn’t bothered to read a word of. Her attention had been on him instead. He’d been dressed for the weather; grey cotton shorts, black t-shirt, durag covering the waves Annie knew were brushed deep into his hair. It made her shift right then and there  — just thinking of the way his wide chest had stretched that cotton, the grey shorts that’d left nothing to imagination. 

Yeah, it’s heavy. Probably got a curve too, one that can hit every spot I have without trying. He could’ve proved my theory yesterday if he wanted to. Could’ve fucked me right here on this porch. 

Annie sounded like music as she moved. Literally. Had Citrine and Black Tourmaline wrapped around her wrists, along with stacked copper bell bracelets that jingled in the quiet every time her pen glided across the page. Finally working out some of energy she had pent up.

That’s probably what he need. Some pussy to help ease that tension he always carrying around. 

She’d spent yesterday drinking him in like water from her spot on the porch. Studying him. Smoke’s eyes would cut in her direction occasionally, like he felt her shifting, and clenching, and watching — and Annie never bothered to look away. Had held his stare instead. Smiling too sweet, like she was daring him to do something. 

He hadn’t though. 

He’d just pinned her in place with his eyes instead, let his hands flex around the handle of the lawn mower like he’d rather be grabbing something else, and then got back to work. It’d happened more than once; the staring, the silent tension, the building of anticipation. Had left Annie just that much wetter every time.

Whatever he got pent up? He can take that all out on me. Swear I’d be so good for Smoke. As soon as I got done being bad.

 I wonder who fuck better, him or Stack? Wonder who thicker? Who longer? Who meaner? Stack probably nastier. Gotta be. I know that mouth is. 

Annie shifted again. Continued writing.

That fuckin’ mouth. I wonder what else it’s good for besides talking shit. 

Stack had been gone for most of the time her and Smoke were outside yesterday. Had arrived back home loud; music blasting, engine roaring, turning the corner fast for no reason. It’d made Smoke shake his head. Had made Annie smack her lips together. And her stomach tighten slow.

Despite the driveway they shared, the younger Moore always parked by the curb — like he wanted to be able to leave without delay, whenever he felt like it. Today was no different. He parked on the street smooth, killed his engine, and hopped out like he hadn’t just interrupted all the peace in the neighborhood. 

“Damn nigga,” Stack’s lips were curved up, voice carrying across the yard, chain around his neck glinting dangerously as it caught the sun. He had his head turned towards Smoke, even as his legs brought him to Annie. “You still out here cutting grass? Yo’ ass tryna put on a show, you ain’t slick.” 

“Fuck up,” Smoke turned the lawn mower off, head following his brother. “You get the papers?” 

“Told you I wouldn’t forget. When I ever say I’m gone do somethin’ and not do it?” 

Smoke squinted, top lip jumping up like ‘nigga please’. 

Stack’s smirk didn’t drop. Matter fact, it only grew as he finally turned his head towards her, climbing the three steps to the porch.

Annie had her lips around the rim of her glass. Was shaking her head because he was so ridiculous — and so damn fine. 

Bronze skin, dark eyes, dimples that caved so deep he didn’t even have to smile for them to pop. Stack moved like water — easy, unbothered, unassuming. It worked for him. Was how he pulled people in, before they realized what really lay under all that…easy.

“You wearin’ this for me?” His eyes were already sweeping over her; the fresh island twists she had pulled in a bun on top of her head; the pink tank she wore — with straps thick enough to support, and push up, her full chest; the denim shorts that hugged her tight — distressed at the bottom and cutting off mid-thigh. His stare stopped at her feet, at her pretty toes that were painted a soft green, pushed comfortably into her favorite pair of slides. 

Annie let her home made lemonade slide down her throat before she answered, “That’s all it take to get you started? Some shorts?” 

“Ain’t about the shorts. It’s ‘bout how you wearin’ ‘em.” 

“And how am I wearing them, Stack?” Her anklet shimmered as her foot swung lazily — back and forth and back and forth.

“Like you tryna start some shit you ain’t prepared to finish.” 

The hum that left her throat was low. Too sensual to be mistaken for amusement. Annie shifted, let her foot keep swinging, let the heat that was Elias settle over her.

“You ain’t even said good morning to me. You need to learn how to greet people.” 

“You like how I greet you jus’ fine.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Stack stepped in then, pushing into her space like he owned it. “What you drinking on?” His eyes jumped from her lips, to the glass in her hand, to the identical one she had sitting on the small table next to her. “This one mines?” 

He was already reaching before she answered and Annie didn’t hesitate to smack his greedy ass hand away.

“That’s not for you, that’s Smoke’s.” 

There was a shift in the air between them then. Stack pausing, Annie’s head cocking boldly. Both breathing a little deeper for different reasons.

“We hittin’ now?” His lips were still curved. Just with an edge. 

Annie’s foot swung faster. 

“Stop tryna touch stuff that don’t belong to you,” She kept her gaze locked with his. Kept a smirk on her face. “You not the one out here cutting my grass, he is.” 

“Niggas get rewards for walking back and forth across yo’ grass?” Stack’s dimples caved, gold flashed. “What I get for playing errand boy ‘den?” 

He held up the two bags he carried in his hand. Full of items she’d texted him to get when she found out he was stopping by the store. 

“Thank you for playing errand boy Stack.” She brought her glass back to her mouth. “My thanks is the reward.”

“Man–” He reached again, for her glass this time. Wrapping his hand around it and pulling it directly from her lips. 

Annie’s mouth dropped, fingers sliding from the glass, body coming forward like she was being dragged out the seat. 

Stack’s eyes stayed locked with hers. Playful. Dark. Two things that shouldn’t even mix.

He rotated the glass deliberately, placed his thick lips directly over where hers were just resting, and then sipped slow. 

Until he had his fill. ‘Till Annie’s own mouth felt dry – in a way that had nothing to do with needing something to drink. 

He never broke their stare. Not while he swallowed and not when he finally pulled the glass down. 

His lips were wet, tongue came out to clean them and Annie’s eyes followed the movement until Stack spoke, accent as thick as whatever was brewing between them, “Dat’s jus’ as sweet as you, baby. What I gotta do to get some more?” 

Annie tightened the grip on her pen, blue ink blossoming across the page as she continued writing. 

 I feel like I’m going crazy. I almost backtracked last night and texted Ra, just to give me some relief. I don’t want Rashad though. I don’t want lazy strokes and decent head. I want my soul touched. Wonna be done so nasty, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror the next day. Wonna be dropped on some dick long enough to touch the bottom. Don’t wonna be able to even move when it’s all done.

Annie’s hand glided effortlessly, tongue sliding across the sweet gloss coating her lips. 

I want Smoke. I want Stack. And I don’t know why they actin’ scared. Smoke always glaring, like he ready to punish something, but then don’t ever do shit. Stack always barking, running his mouth like he get paid for it, but then don’t ever bite. Let me find out the SmokeStack twins can’t handle nothing, outside of cutting some grass and talking some shit. That’d be…sad. 

Annie snickered to herself, bell bracelets singing as her wrist dragged. 

Almost like they were warning her to proceed with caution. 

Let me find out Smoke can’t stroke. Let me find out a joke is the only thing Stack know how to crack.

More snickering. More singing from her bracelets. 

The same warning. 

I played in my pussy again this morning. Feel like that’s all I do, since I met them. I wander if they ever hear me…moaning out they names while I fuck myself. Imagining Stack’s mouth. Smoke’s eyes. I swear he can see right through me.

“I’m ‘bout done wit’ the front. Gone get the edges and then move to the back.” 

Stack had stepped inside the house, leaving Annie to her view. One that was now coming up the stairs slow, rag thrown over his shoulder, face serious as ever.

“You know I can get Gerald to do the back right?” 

She didn’t mention the 20something year old who cut grass for the neighborhood because she actually wanted him in her backyard. She mentioned Gerald, because it would get on Smoke’s nerves. Because it would make them eyes narrow. Make that nose flare a little in the way it did whenever he got aggravated. Whenever she was playing and he didn’t allow himself to do something about it. “He just told me last week he keeps my spot open for the day I decide to start back being his client.” Annie’s voice was sugar. Warm, pointed, and petty. 

Smoke didn’t speak immediately. Took a second. Let the bees buzz and the wind whistle and the heat from the sun press down heavier. 

“You was showing off for dat nigga the way you do for me — I bet he did say that.” His eyes pierced hers. Voice rough in way that made her center heat. 

“Showing off?” She tilted her head, as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. As if her lips weren’t already quirking up. 

“Dats’ why you out here, ain’t it?” His gaze didn’t waver. “To be watched. To give me somethin’ to look at while I’m out here cuttin’ yo grass.” 

His words weren’t teasing. Weren’t playful.

They were blunt. Matter of fact. It was almost mean the way he said it. Carried an edge. One that stemmed from desire and restraint. 

One that didn’t bother Annie at all. 

She didn’t need playful from Smoke. Didn’t need teasing. 

She wanted Smoke exactly the way he was. 

“I’m sittin’ on my porch, reading my book.” Her lips were still curled up. Voice a little….breathy in a way she couldn’t, or didn’t, try to hide. “That’s not my problem if you’re distracted, Elijah.”

Elijah. 

She said it like she was tasting it.

And Stack always let that shit slide. But Smoke? His eyes narrowed. Sharpened. 

‘Cause Annie wasn’t ready for what came with Elijah. For what came with sitting pretty on the porch, showing off skin, and being a fuckin’ tease while she dropped his government like she had the right. 

“Why you lookin’ like that?” Annie blinked up at him from where she sat. “I can’t say your name? Don’t be mean, Lijah.” 

The sound that left Smoke’s mouth wasn’t really a laugh. Couldn’t be, because his lips didn’t even twitch. 

That jaw did though. 

Them hands did too. 

And when he spoke, it was in that same blunt tone. Words weighted with that same rough edge. 

“It’s Smoke. You ain’t earned Elijah. And you ain’t seen mean.” 

Annie didn’t even realize how deep she was breathing. How hard her hand gripped her pen. How her thighs pressed together even harder.

I want them to ruin me. 

One night. All night. Wherever they want me. However they want me. For as long as they can go. I wonna be able to play in my pussy and remember what they did to me. Remember how they broke me in properly.

And I want it sooner rather than later. 

-AP ❤︎

The sound of her journal closing was nearly non-existent. Her sigh though? That was louder. Impatient. Wanting. Coated with attitude.

Playing with the twins — finding reasons to knock on their door, going back and forth with Stack, pissing Smoke off just cause she could — it was all…fun. 

Having fun wasn’t getting fucked though.

And that’s what she needed. What her body needed. 

Annie reached for her smoothie, settling back into her egg chair, eyes roaming around the quiet street. 

“Sooner rather than later….” She echoed the words she’d just written on paper. “Before I actually lose my damn mind.” 

The only response she got was the wind. Blowing in the same easy way it had been all morning. 

The calm, before the storm. 

—

Sooner came later on that day. 

After her key broke off in the lock of her front door to be specific. 

One second she was turning it and the next —

“— it just broke in half. I called Leon, but you know his ‘I’ll be out that way in a hour’ really means he gon’ take four.”

Annie stood in front of Stack, island twist hanging free and long, canvas bag she’d been using at the farmers market on one shoulder, while her purse sat on the other. It was yellow, matched the sandals on her feet, and made the little white sundress she was wrapped in pop. The same dress that looked perfect on her dark skin and brushed her thighs every time she spoke, in a way that’d make anyone look twice. 

In a way that Stack was taking his time looking at right now. 

“You must want me come over and play handy man, huh?” He was leaned against the door jam — arms crossed, voice teasing, eyes dragging up her slow. 

Annie let him take his time  — shifted casually, so her dress brush her thighs again and make him look longer. 

“I want you to be a good neighbor and let me wait over here.” 

Stack’s basket ball shorts sat low and extra on his hips. White wife beater covered nothing. Cuban link glinted like it was calling for her to pull on it. 

Or maybe that was just the heart beat between her legs talking. 

“That’s you askin’ nicely?” He had that smirk on his face — the one she always pictured when she was three fingers deep in her pussy. “Where them manners you always sayin’ I don’t got?” Stack settled deeper into the door jam like he could do this all day. “Ain’t you ‘sposed to say please or somethin’?”

“Now you worried about manners? Stack you gon’ let me in whether I say please or not.” Annie sounded completely unbothered. 

Was so bothered though, that her gaze wouldn’t stop drifting. From his eyes, to his thick lips, to them arms that looked big enough to raise her in the air and keep her there. 

She liked that about the twins. How solid they were. How both of their bodies came with broad shoulders, and strong arms, and hard abs. Stack was a little slimmer than Smoke — but the point stood — they looked like they could do damage. Like they could handle her. And that’s what Annie needed. 

What’d she’d convinced herself she could handle with no problem. 

“Is ‘dat right?” The low sound that left Stack’s throat was amused. A lil dangerous too. “You prolly ain’t wrong. Can get whatever you want when you wearin’ this lil ass dress for me,” His eyes hit her body pointedly again; legs, hips, titties sitting so high they were damn near in his face. “Betta’ be careful wit’ that shit. Walkin’ ‘round lookin’ like trouble.” 

Annie’s head cocked, “Is that not your favorite thing to get into?” 

Attitude and honey. That’s what her words were coated in. 

And they gave Stack pause. Left them both standing in silence for a second — silence that went just as fast as it came. Like it always did with them. 

“You swear you funny,” His smirk sharpened. Whole body leaned in closer to her. “What chu’ gone do when its my turn to laugh?” 

Her shoulders rose then dropped, “Laugh wit’ you I guess.” And then she crossed her arms, pushing her chest up further. “Now are you gon’ let me in?” 

He let her in. Feet moving one step to the side, creating space but not so much that she could get past without brushing against him.

“Thank you, Elias,” She threw the words over her shoulder, arm grazing his chest, legs carrying her into the lions den with ease. Like she belonged there. 

She didn’t wait to be led. Didn’t glance back when he mumbled something slick under his breath. Didn’t pause to see if he was following either. Cause she already knew he would be.

There was noise coming from the living room and Annie let that be the guide to her strolling. Let it take her deeper into the unit, sandals clacking on hardwood, the same bell bracelets from this morning announcing her presence like she was a special guest. 

She saw Smoke as soon as soon as she reached the entry way. Sitting on the couch — black t-shirt, grey sweats, attention directed towards the game playing on tv. Not that it stayed there for long. 

She had all of 3 seconds to take him in before he sensed her presence. Before he turned his head in her direction and then kept it turned. He didn’t look surprised to see her. Didn’t look confused either. He looked like he always did — like he was examining her. Like she belonged to him and he was making sure everything on his property was still intact. Like he was making sure his property hadn’t gotten in no trouble while she was out of his sight.

It was sick. The way that ache between her legs was already starting and she hadn’t even been in their presence for five minutes. 

Smoke sat up slow, placing elbows on knees, as he started taking stock of Annie; her dangerous brown eyes and glossed lips, the purse that sat on one shoulder and the canvas bag on the other, the small “A” pendant of her necklace currently burying itself between her cleavage, the short ass dress that flared out around her waist but hugged her chest too fuckin’ tight up top. 

He was done with his examination in seconds.

 “Where you get ‘dat dress? And where you comin’ from?” 

It was expected. Smoke never warmed up to anything. Didn’t mince words. Didn’t bother with niceties. Didn’t see anything wrong with questioning her like that. And even though it probably shouldn’t — wouldn’t if it were anyone else — his questioning always made something twist in her belly. Something more hot than warm. A feeling completely contradicted by the way Annie playfully shook her head. “Yes, I’m doing good. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

Nothing.

No response, no laughter, not even a twitch of his cheek. He let silence sit instead. Let it stretch. Used it like his own personal weapon. His own personal warning.

One that Annie savored.

That look he was giving her — it made her throat dry and her mouth water all at once. Made a smile break out and a light airy laugh leave her mouth as she looked him dead in his face. 

“I’ve had this dress since before I even met you. It’s pretty, ain’t it?” She tugged on her hemline. Made her deep cleavage that was on display, bounce. “And I was at the farmers market.” She adjusted how the canvas bag sat on her shoulder.  “My key just broke and I’m locked out, so y’all are keeping me company until Leon gets here.” 

“It’s short,” That’s what he gave her back. But he thought the dress was pretty too. She could tell, because his eyes wouldn’t stop dragging over her. Jaw jumping a little harder than before with every pass. That was the only thing that gave him away as his stare met hers again. “And Leon gone take all day. Me or Stack’ll have yo’ door open in five minutes.” 

“Told her I’d get it open,” Stack came into the room behind her, feet keeping him there for longer than necessary.  “Think she jus’ missed us forreal.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Annie pulled her eyes away from Smoke, to glance over her shoulder. “Y’all are not damaging my door tryna break into my house. Playin’ host for a couple hours won’t kill y’all.”

“Ain’t nobody say we had a problem wit’ it, baby.” That lazy drawl hugged her ears as Stack finally passed her, heading towards the left end of the couch and sinking down into the cushions. His legs spread wide first, arm got thrown over the back, attention stayed on Annie as one of her hands landed on her hip. She did it real extra and she looked real fine. 

“Why do I gotta keep reminding you that’s not my name?” 

Stack’s head dropped to the side lazily. “That is yo’ name. You daddy’s baby. You ‘ont want me sayin’ it, put somethin’ in my mouth that’s gone shut me up.” 

The image flashed in her mind out of nowhere — her standing over him, thighs encasing his head, hips grinding her pussy against his tongue, cumming all over that gold he kept in his mouth. He would talk while he let her drown him. Say some shit like, Daddy eating that pussy good, baby? Giving you what the fuck you been wantin’? Yo’  ass need to say thank you. And she’d respond. Sliding her pussy over his face. Panting loud. Thank you daddy. Thank you so much daddy — shit Stack. 

Annie blinked. A couple times. Until her vision came back into focus and she was no longer standing over Stack but looking at him. And the slow grin stretching across his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

Daddy’s baby. 

“You ight over there? You breathin’ a lil’ fast.” 

“And you listening a little hard.” Annie smacked her lips, sound as loud as the pulse that was thumping in her ears. “You need a filter.” 

Her words weren’t as playful as usual. Weren’t as light. Not because she was mad or offended, more so because she was caught off guard.

Annie was a grown woman. Experienced. Knew exactly what she liked and what she didn’t. Knew how much control she was willing to give and how much she wasn’t. 

Daddy’s baby. 

And for a second them two little words had her feeling like she wanted to give it all over. Had her feeling raw in a way she loved and hated? 

This was her game. Her rules. She was in control. She wanted to be ruined, yes. Wanted them to do whatever they wanted, however they wanted — on her terms.

The way that ache between her thighs grew though? Like being daddy’s baby was everything she needed no matter how much control she’d have to give up? 

It gave Annie pause. And she needed to recalibrate. 

She forced her eyes away from Stack — and immediately got trapped in Smoke’s gaze. He was still leaned up, face blank as ever, dark orbs studying her. Closely. Clocking reactions and filing them away. 

He could probably sense it — the way her clit was thumping.

“Yes, Smoke?” Her twists swung as she inclined her head. As she made her voice light.  

The older Moore tracked the movement of her hair, fingers twitching where they hung between his legs, before his eyes found hers again. He didn’t rush to respond. Took his time. Almost like he was making her wait on purpose. Like he was letting her know this wasn’t her game actually. Not really.

Annie shifted, impatient, wet, still slightly on edge. And then Smoke opened his mouth. As if that was his que.

“You gon’ wait for Leon all day, standin’,” His head just barely tilted. “Or you gon’ sit and catch yo’ breath?” 

“Nobody is out of breath.” 

Her neck moved as she spoke, pretty eyes so busy rolling she missed how the brothers glanced at each other; Stack smirking, Smoke very pointedly not, and silent understanding passing between them regardless. 

“I will sit down though.” Annie continued speaking as she finally moved from the entryway — dress swaying, hair swinging, hips switching in a way that didn’t do too much, but still caught eyes regardless. Four eyes to be specific. 

She floated around the living room, re-gaining her footing with every step she took. It was the familiar prickle settling over her skin that helped, the one that came from both twins cataloguing her every move. Annie had always liked when they stared, when they couldn’t help but stare, and today was no different.

She bypassed the wood coffee table and the couch with ease. Didn’t even glance at the entertainment system or the mounted flat screen on the wall. She headed directly for the arm chair in the corner instead and when she reached it, she did what she intended, sliding her canvas bag down off her arm and placing it in the seat. And then she was turning right back around and heading for her real destination. 

Annie’s lips turned up in the corner, eyes jumping from Smoke to Stack and back again as she came closer. 

“‘Scuse me,” She came from the left, stepping over Stack’s legs and right into the space between the couch and the coffee table. Her voice was breezy, movements unhurried as she gave them her back — setting her purse down on the wood in front of them, brushing her long twists over one shoulder, sliding her sandals off before taking a small step backwards. 

And then sinking, right into the middle cushion of the couch. 

Stack had to move his leg suddenly, Smoke had to shift his whole body over, and Annie? Didn’t care. Planted herself in that small spot between them anyways, wiggling like she was getting comfortable, thick thighs expanding like dough as her dress rose up a little. 

It encompassed her immediately; the dark scent of cedar and danger, the heat both of their bodies gave out, the tension that settled over the three of them — real thick and real delicious.

“You a trip.” That was Stack — side eyeing her, mirth in his voice. 

“Don’t be stingy with the couch,” Annie’s head turned in his direction. “Sharing is caring.” 

She blinked innocently when she said it, but she wasn’t fooling nobody. Not when that smile still sat on her face. Or when that teasing tone mixed in perfectly with her Nola accent. 

Sharing is caring. 

For a second, nobody even reacted to the words. Felt like time itself stilled as both brothers zeroed in on her  — in a way that was real twin-like.

It probably should have unnerved her. The attention. The quiet. The way the temperature in the room felt like it went from zero to a hundred. 

All it really did though was make her fight a bigger smile. Make her feel more in control than she had a few moments ago. 

And then Stack broke the silence — laughing low. Amused — but not really. 

“You heard ‘dat Smoke?” He didn’t pull his eyes away from hers when he started speaking to his brother. “Sharin’ carin’ now.” 

There was another beat of silence before eleven words disrupted all of that. 

“It’s carin’ tell it got her ass stretched wide and cryin’.”

Annie blinked and if you listened close enough you could almost hear the audible scratch of a record. 

“Excuse me?” Her head whipped from left to right. From an edged smirk to a narrowed gaze — one that said she better tread lightly. She couldn’t even clarify what’d she just heard before Stack was speaking again, grabbing her attention and making her turn back towards the left. 

“You droppin’ one liners like it’s a comedy show and you ain’t even prepared for what’s gon’ happen when the curtains close.”

“Think she ready, but she ain’t.” Smoke again. His words were short. Clipped. Nothing loud. Nothing extra. Just stating facts.

“It’s that sweet shit between her legs that got her talkin’ bold like that.” Stack’s eyes dropped down to her thighs. “Pussy been crying out for months. Hurtin’. Hungry.” 

“Too bad we can’t feed ha.” Smoke stayed focused on Annie’s face. “Not ‘till her mama learn how to fuckin’ act.” 

The reasonable response would have been to back track. Leave. De-escalate the situation. 

Annie though… Annie just let out an airy sigh that was supposed to be a laugh and then shook her head.  “This how y’all talk to guests?” She tsked like she was disappointed. Like she didn’t know what she was doing, or who she was playing with, or the fire she was feeding. Like they didn’t all know exactly where she would eventually end up — between Smoke and Stack, holes fucked, pussy punished, body used until both Moores’ were sated. 

“The next time I see mama Moore, ima let her know how y’all be actin’.” 

She did her best to watch her breathing. To look unaffected, but they caught it anyways. Stack saw them thighs pressing, heard that catch in her voice. Smoke saw the uneven rising of her chest — that break in rhythm that occurred whenever she had tension building. He saw them big eyes darken too. Saw ‘em start to glaze over, even as her mouth ran like she wasn’t feeling nothing.

“Girl –”

Annie didn’t let Stack get his words out, cutting him off and leaning forward to reach for her purse before she lost the upper hand she’d just barely gotten back. “If y’all are done discussing me — and what y’all never gone get anyways — I’m tryna mind my business.”

Her words settled over them as she did just that — digging around in her purse, applying a fresh coat of gloss, pulling out her journal and then feeling around for a pen next. She moved as if there wasn’t an insistent throbbing between her thighs. And she only bothered to spare them a glance after she’d settled back into the couch. 

“Weren’t y’all watching a game or somethin’?” She raised a brow, looking from left to right. 

Smoke didn’t respond. Not verbally. But that jaw clenched just right. Made her want to act up and behave at the same time. 

Stack shook his head, chuckled under his breath, “Think a nigga worried about a game, when you talkin’ slick and flashing them thighs every otha’ minute.” 

Annie almost laughed, ‘cause it sounded like the little brother was being pushed to his limit. And that was just a little too bad.

She repositioned herself, just to flash her thighs again. Didn’t look back at Smoke. Didn’t bother supplying Stack with a response. And for the next 10 minutes, everybody acted like they had some sense.

Smoke remained on her right, eyes on the tv, jaw still held a little too tight for anyone to believe he was thinking about basketball. 

Stack remained on her left. Leaned back, arm laid out behind her, gaze jumping from Annie to the game and back again — in a way he didn’t even try to hide. 

And Annie, herself? Remained in the middle, leg sliding against one brothers, arm sliding against the others, fake paying attention to the tv right along with them. 

It was….calm. 

If calm meant heavy and still — like the air itself had stopped flowing to see what would happen next. 

The game continued and when number 13 missed another free throw, Annie sighed, messed with the hem of her dress, and decided to occupy her time another way. With her journal. 

The pen she’d grabbed from her purse clicked, attention drifting down to the worn yellow book that held her thoughts, and dreams, and desires. 

She opened the journal to where she’d left off this morning, didn’t bother with a new page, because it wasn’t a new day. She opted to position her pen a couple lines down instead and then let the ink talk. 

I’m so wet I can feel it. 

“She ain’t prepared for what’s gone happen when the curtain close.”  

“She think she ready but she ain’t.” 

Yeah, okay. 

They swear somebody scared of them. All that barking. All that glaring. 

I wander if Smoke know my clit jump every time he start talking reckless? Every time he call himself asking questions like he somebody daddy. 

I wonna play in my pussy right here. Spread my legs and make them see what they do to me. Make them clean all this mess I’m making up. 

I want Stack’s tongue. Want his mouth sealed to me while Smoke buries his face between my titties. 

They feel so heavy right now. I need him to hold them up and feed. Need him to make me feel it. To leave a mark. And then I want them to switch. 

As Annie wrote, her lashes fluttered. Bell bracelets sang out. Breath increased just barely. 

Smoke probably take his time eating pussy. Probably take that just as serious as he does everything else.

I want him to put his whole face in it. To make me cum ‘till I forget how to breathe. And then I want him to fuck me so good that I’m not even worried about breathing. 

It wasn’t her lashes or her bracelets or the way her chest rose and fell a little faster that got her in trouble though. It was her hips that did that. She kept moving. Small shifts, to the left or the right. Thighs squeezing together. Then separating. Then squeezing together again. And every time she combined both actions at once, a small shift of her hips and a flex of her thighs? It made her grip on the pen tighten. Put pressure on that spot between her legs. Felt so good, she just….didn’t stop. Brushing against Stack when she shifted left. Then Smoke when she went right. Then Stack again. Stimulating her clit the best way she could, damn near playing with her pussy, right in front of them. 

And they noticed. Because of course they did. 

“What chu’ over there doing?” 

Smoke’s voice was harsh, cutting through the haze she’d fallen into and causing her pen to stop moving immediately. 

“Fuck is you doing actually?” Stack’s head was already turned in her direction, gaze jumping over her — from the side of her face to the bottom of her dress — like he could already see the dripping pussy that sat underneath it. 

Annie wasn’t as quick with her response as she usually was and that didn’t go unnoticed. Or unchecked. 

“You ‘ont hear me talkin’ to you?” Smoke’s words were typically wrapped in an even unyielding tone. One that drove Annie crazy when she first met the older Moore, because he never sounded affected by anything. Regardless of what was going on or what she was doing to get under his skin. There’d been some cracks lately though; the other day when she borrowed sugar or when he came over last week to mount her new tv. Or right now, this very second.

Nothing about his tone was even at the moment. He sounded impatient actually. Voice was rough. Heated. Disbelieving in way that was more pissed off than shocked. Like even though he’d asked what she was doing, he already knew. Like he’d felt her brush him the first time. And the second. And the third. Like he’d listened as her breath increased and then watched out the corner of his eye as she dragged that pussy back and forth against his couch. 

“You deaf now?” Stack sat up completely, closed in from the left, while Smoke came from the right. “My brotha’ talkin’ to you. What you over there looking at?”

Annie was still frozen — thighs no longer clenched, pen pressing down on paper in one spot, head angled towards her journal but when Stack’s head angled, trying to read what had her attention, she snapped out of all of that. Damn near slammed her journal before looking up and meeting two sets of molten eyes. 

She blinked. Tried to sound as nonchalant as she always did when she finally managed to answer, “I’m minding my business. Didn’t we just disc—”

“You humping yo’ pussy against my 3,000 dollar couch,” Smoke cut her off. “You done lost yo’ mind?” 

Annie inhaled sharply, already denying, trying to play coy in a way that wasn’t going to work right now. “I was not—”

“You humping yo’ pussy against my 3,000 dollar couch,” He stressed every word as he repeated himself, brows furrowing like he was still wrapping his head around it — how bold she was.“You sitting between me and brotha’, ‘bout to nut on yoself, like you ain’t got no fuckin’ home training.”

“Well, we know she ain’t got no training.” Stack’s voice sounded like danger wrapped in velvet when he cut in. Look on his face said he wasn’t mad. More like…darkly amused. “She come over here, flauntin’ that pretty ass body like she can’t help herself, damn near erryday. It ain’t really surprising she don’t know how to control that pussy.”

Annie couldn’t even move they had her boxed in so tight. Staring dead at her while her brain scrambled to put together words. She’d have something witty to say in a minute, but she really was caught off guard, because she hadn’t realized what’d she been doing. Her body just moved without thinking around them. It was really their fault.

The gold in Stack’s mouth flashed mean when she remained quiet. 

“You got all that mouth any otha’ day and still actin’ like you can’t talk?” His eyes didn’t let up from her face. “This why you ‘ont wanna be my baby, huh? Cause you over here actin’ like a slut instead?”

Annie’s stomach twisted so wrong it felt right. And she physically couldn’t help it — how her entire center pulsed even as her mouth opened to bark back. 

“Elias who are you—”

“You get wet on my leather, Annie?” Smoke cut through their back and forth before it could even start, drawl lined with something sharper than she’d ever heard it.  “If that pussy done leaked on my leather, you gon’ clean that shit up wit’ yo’ tongue.”

Her mouth parted, like she was surprised. Stack laughed, like he wasn’t. 

“Ohhh, you in trouble, baby.” His head cocked. “You know what me and my brotha’ do to sluts like you, right? To ones who can’t control they pussy?” 

Shit was going from 0 to 100 again. And it was moving so fast, she didn’t have time to intercept. Didn’t have time to pull them back from the edge she’d just pushed them over.

“I must be talkin’ to myself.” Smoke was shifting in a way that wasn’t like him. In a way that said he was tired of talking and not being answered. 

“Must be brudda.” Stack’s eyes dropped. “She too busy holding on to that fuckin’ book. I still wonna see what she was writin’. What got that pussy so wet we can smell it.” 

And then he was reaching. Swift, quick, bold as always. And when he moved, Annie moved with him.

“This is my journal — Stack move,” Annie tightened her grip on the journal, holding it up and away from him. He leaned in, she leaned back, and Smoke? Let her. 

Annie didn’t even realize her mistake, until it was too late. 

Because when Stack followed her, lifting off the couch, hand clasping around the journal and yanking it out her hand, there were already fingers around her throat stopping her from lurching forward and getting it back. 

Her hands went up on instinct, a little gasp born from surprise more than anything leaving her mouth, “Smo—”

“Don’t say my name. You ain’t have nun to say five seconds ago, so you gon’ sit yo’ ass still and let my brother read what got you actin’ like a bitch in heat.” The hand around her neck flexed, hold not tight enough to hurt, but not so loose that she mistook this for playing. Because Smoke wasn’t playing. Had never been playing actually. “That ain’t yo’ journal no more. That’s me and my brothas’. We own everything in this fuckin’ house.” His lips grazed her ear, chest rose and fell against her back, tight grip on control slipping. Just a little. 

‘Cause she needed to be punished. Corrected. Needed to be bent over, tied down — and then she needed that ass spanked. Raw. 

And Smoke was fuckin’ itching to do it. 

Annie was pressed against solid muscle, dress fanned out and twisted up from the 2 second tussle with Stack. Her heavy breasts were damn near spilling out the stop, red lace of her panties peeking from under the awry hemline, pulse in her neck beating against the fingers wrapped around her throat. 

She could’ve put her foot down. Fixed her dress, told them they were doing too much. Taking it too far.

But she didn’t. 

“Let me see what’s making them big ass thighs press together. What got that pussy actin’ up.” The curve of Stack’s lips cut deep into his face as he took her in. As he felt the familiar weight of his dick gettin’ heavy. 

When he opened the journal, it was right to her last page, like the Universe itself was guiding him. 

He didn’t even look down at first. Just kept staring, that same fire that was always brewing between them? Catching alight. 

“I like you like ‘dis,” That deep ass grin of his stretched. “Mouth shut, titties damn near out, pussy tryna’ say hi to a nigga. You like it too, don’t you baby?” 

Annie’s skin was burning hot. Body sprawled across the couch at an angle, pussy so wet she could feel it on her thighs now. Her big eyes blinked like she was saying ‘yes daddy’. But her mouth remained shut ‘cause she was stubborn, even with one brothers hand at her neck and the other looking crazy enough to help him squeeze. 

That stubbornness made Stack laugh low. 

Smoke on the other hand, ain’t really get the joke. 

“Read the shit, nigga,” The older Moore’s voice cut through the silence, made Stack chuckle again.

“My bad.” He blinked at her. “You ready, baby?”  

And then he was reading — to himself at first.

Random words jumped out, from her morning session and the one that’d just been interrupted, like they were begging to be read. 

Stack, Smoke, wet, nasty, same time, want them to switch, want them to ruin me, played in my pussy again, wander if they ever hear me, wonna play in it right now, don’t know why they actin’ scared, Smoke can’t stroke, a joke is the only thing Stack know how to crack, almost backtracked last night, break me in properly, make them clean all this mess up, for as long as they can go, wonder who fuck better, wonder who nastier, wonna fuck Stack’s mouth —

Annie probably felt it before both of them. The air going from thick to suffocating, as that smirk on Stack’s face dropped. Completely.

“You writin’ ‘bout me?” His head snapped back up towards her. “Bout my brother?”  

“What?” Smoke’s voice was sharp. 

“She writin’ ‘bout us,” He was talking to Smoke. And didn’t look away from her once . “Bout playin’ in her pussy. How she think about fuckin’ us while she do it.” 

The fingers around Annie’s throat flexed as Stack continued. Summarizing her words at first — 

“She say she want us break her in. Want us at the same time. She been wondering who fuck better. Who get nastier. Say she wonna play in her pussy right now cause she so wet thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

And then reading them verbatim. 

“Listen to dis’ shit.” Stack’s eyes jumped from hers back to the journal. Southern accent getting thicker the more he spoke. The more worked up he got. ‘I want ‘dem ruin me. One night. All night. Whereva’ they want me. Howeva’ they want me. For as long as ‘dey can go.’” 

White hot embarrassment rushed over Annie. It started in her cheeks and made her overheated skin grow hotter. Traveled down to her stomach and made it tighten with what felt like shame and arousal twisted together. And then ended at her pussy, made her hips flex, pushed her back further into Smoke. 

Stack’s stare met hers again. “She want us take turns on her ass. Pass her back and forth ‘till we ain’t got no more nut to give. Till she can’t move. Say she want me slurping on that pussy, while you suck them big ass titties she got, and then she want us switch. ‘Dis what she was writing, while she slid that pussy all over the couch.”

Annie whimpered as the hand at her neck tightened. As Smoke’s voice hit her ears, deep and dead calm. So calm, that it wasn’t. 

“Is ‘dat right?” 

“Mhm,” A smirk was crawling back across Stack’s face. Sharp and messy. “She got jokes too —” He still sat on the edge of the couch, whole body facing her, tensed up, like he was ready to lunge. “Said we scared of the pussy. Said we can’t handle shit but cuttin’ grass and talkin’ shit. What you write in here, baby?” He asked a question he already knew the answer to. “Smoke can’t stroke? A joke the only thing Stack know how to crack?” 

The words sounded childish when he said them. And they were, because her journaling session this morning was nothing but venting born from sexual frustration. Venting that took place in the privacy of her own journal. Whatever shit she’d talked, wasn’t even something to really be mad about. 

The breath hitting her ear? Was deeper than before though. And the laugh Stack just let out? Well — the only word Annie had to describe it was unhinged. 

“She think we some bitches. Said she almost hit some other nigga to come through and fuck ha’ since we too pussy to handle the job.” That is not what Annie had written. But that’s exactly what Stack had read. The younger Moore suddenly closed the journal, tossing it on the coffee table, letting that same low crazy ass laugh ring out. “Imagine ‘dat—” he leaned in towards her, eyes flashing, “—you givin’ anotha’ nigga some pussy that’s been dripping for me since I met you.”  

And then he moved. Upper body suddenly coming forward, two hands claiming a spot on her thighs, fingers sinking in rough as he forced them open. As he forced them to spread as wide as they could in her current position. It made Annie completely sink into the hard body behind her, left one of her legs on the ground and the other folded at the knee in Stack’s lap. Put that slick mess that’d been building between her legs, all out on display.

Her panties stretched over her center obscenely — fat lips barely covered by the delicate material. She was drenched — wet coating her thighs, a big sticky spot right in the center of her lace, panties clinging to her pussy as it contracted around nothing. 

Her voice was breathy. Thick. “Stack—”

“Look at ‘dis shit,” His eyes were focused between her legs, hands flexing around the fat of her thighs, head cocked like he was studying art. “It’s dripping for me right now. This fat, wet, bad pussy.” 

He shook his head. And then out of nowhere —

Smack. 

One of his hands came up and raised back down, right between her legs. 

His palm was heavy. Hard. Unforgiving. 

“Pussy needa learn how to act. Rememba’ who make it get like this.” 

Annie’s mouth fell open in a quiet gasp, hips pulling back instinctively, legs trying to close as a sweet stinging sensation traveled through her and stopped directly at her clit. It wasn’t nothing but a lil love tap, and her body was already trying to cave in. 

There was nowhere for her to go though. Stack was already back to keeping her legs held open, making her feel what’d he’d just done. 

“Stack—”

“Shut that shit up,” Smoke cut her off. “I ont’ wonna hear no whining. And ain’t gone be no running. Look at me.” His fingers moved to her jaw, making her neck crane awkwardly to the side as he brought his face forward until their eyes met. “You walk in here, bouncing around in this dress, smellin’ sweet, smilin’ innocent, just to sit between me and my brother and write about bein’ used like a whore.” His voice was smoke, sinking into her skin, burying its way so deep, she’d never forget it.

“You worryin’ ‘bout what you think I can’t do. Sittin’ next to me tryna figure out who dick bigger, when you ain’t ready to take either.” His face was hard, nostrils flaring, something thick and long growing in his sweats and pressing right into Annie. “But you wonna be used right? Want yo’ holes fucked so bad you was ‘bout to nut on my couch just thinkin’ ‘bout it?” His fingers pressed deeper into her jaw. “If you want it, you gone take what come wit’ it, and I don’t wonna hear shit out yo’ mouth but ‘thank you daddy.’”

His words dropped like a weight. And they brooked no room for argument. Or negotiation. She’d take it all — whatever him and Stack had to give — and this was the last out he was granting her. The last time he was letting her slide. 

Annie’s breath mixed with Smoke’s as she panted soft. As she remained pressed against him, thighs still spread, pussy drenched, heart beating faster than what was probably healthy. 

She didn’t really stop to think about the repercussions — what this would start, what it could change, what they were about to do to her. 

All she could focus on was the pulse between her legs. How close she was to finally getting what she wanted. And she let that ache, that yearning, talk for her. Let it put the final nail in her coffin. 

“I hear what you sayin’,” Annie licked her lips, spoke like she wasn’t already spread wide and hemmed up by the throat. “But why would I tell my daddies thank you, when they still aren’t doing shit???”  

Nothing happened at first. 

Nobody moved. 

Nobody blinked. 

Felt like breathing flat out stopped for all three of them. And it stayed like that.

Up until everything unpaused at once.

Stack let her thighs go, stood up from the couch. Smoke slid his hand back to her throat, practically barked out his next words, “Stand yo’ ass up!” 

Annie didn’t really get the chance to move herself, before she was being moved. Smoke was rising and she had no choice but to rise with him, legs scrambling, both feet just planting themselves on carpet before he let her neck go and spun her around. 

“Think you like pushin’ cause ain’t no nigga eva’ pushed back,” His hand was already reaching for her again, fingers re-wrapping around her neck, pulling her in until her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He was breathing deep, eyes so dark they didn’t look brown anymore. “By the time me and my brotha’ done wit’ you? All ‘dat brat shit? Gone be out the window. You gone be takin’ dick, swallowin’ nut, and talkin’ polite, like a real good girl.” 

She couldn’t think of a response before his mouth swallowed hers. 

The kiss didn’t start off gentle. Or slow. But it wasn’t sloppy either. It was demanding. Thorough.  Entitled. His tongue stroked into her mouth like it belonged there, like he was claiming her. Like she was already claimed.

He didn’t wait for them to create a rhythm, he set it instead. Head tilting, lips forming a seal with hers until she had no choice but to breathe in him and nothing else. They weren’t really kissing so much as she was being kissed — with such nasty precision she felt it in her pussy.  It made Annie moan — a sound that was swallowed before it could even be heard. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, wet sounds ringing out louder than the bracelets on her wrists every time the two parted and came back together. Every time his tongue fucked into her mouth with purpose. Annie moaned louder. All she smelled, all she felt, all she could think of was Smoke. Heat bloomed in her stomach, nipples growing hard and achy, tongue seeking out more of him, now that his mean ass had finally cracked. Her pulse thudded hard against the hand still locked around her throat —

And then a hand wrapped around her twists, the same ones swinging long and free, and pulled.

The hand at her neck dropped as Annie’s head was yanked back, the sharp sting making her eyes fly open, vision immediately filled with the sight of Stack smirking down at her. 

“You forget about yo’ favorite twin?” 

He closed in immediately — grip around her hair firm, angling her head until it turned to the side and then kissing her from where he stood behind her. Extra, wet, and nasty. She couldn’t even catch her breath, before it was taken again. 

Because that’s what the brothers did — took, possessed, and consumed. 

That’s what they were going to do to her. 

Stack kissed rough. Slick. And he tasted like sin. Sweet, dark, and addicting. The music their lips made was loud — greedy smacking sounds born from the way his mouth moved against hers. From how he used her hair to pull her mouth deeper into his one second and then to yank her away the next.  

“That mouth so sweet —” His stare was like lava when he pulled back, the same gold in his mouth flashing like a warning she’d already decided not to heed. “‘Dis how the fuck I want you greet me from now on. Straight tongue, none of ‘dat smart mouth shit.” 

He pulled her back in quick, like he was feigning for more already. Whimpers climbed out of Annie’s throat as their mouths moved together. As their saliva mixed, Stack kissing her deeply and then sucking on her tongue, as if he wanted to bottle her taste. It felt like he was trying to fuck her mind rather than her mouth. And it was working. Annie was dizzy. Was craning her neck for more when he finally pulled away, a long strand of spit keeping them connected before it broke off.

Her mouth was kiss swollen, lips and chin wet, body leaned back into Stack’s like she was unsteady on her feet.

“Yeah, my mouth good for something else besides talking shit, huh?” Stack echoed the words he’d read in her journal, kissing her rough one last time before he let her hair go. 

And as if they’d practiced the transition, Smoke stepped right back in. 

“Get ‘dat dress off.” No please. No hesitation. Just direction. Direction she should have been quick to follow, considering this was all she’d been wanting. 

Annie never did what was expected though. Wasn’t known for making things easy. 

Instead of complying, she let her heated eyes wander, from Smoke’s piercing stare, down to them lips she’d just felt for the first time. And then further, past his stiff shoulders and wide chest and big arms. She let her gaze drag all the way, right to them grey sweats. To the cotton that was stretched, soft fabric molded around something that looked lethal. That looked so lengthy and fat she felt her throat constrict. 

Smoke hadn’t touched himself. Hadn’t readjusted nothing. Hadn’t grabbed. Hadn’t stroked. And his dick was demanding attention. Sat heavy in a way he couldn’t hide. In a way that caught Annie’s attention. And then kept it. 

Stack was still behind her, all up on her, body hot and tone instigating. “Look at ha’. Ain’t even got her breath back and she still focused on the wrong shit. She so fuckin dick hungry.”

“I ‘ont care what she is. She betta’ get that dress off, for it get ripped in half.” 

That got her attention. Made her eyes jump right up to Smoke’s face. Made her lip sink into her teeth. Because she could feel that he was on the edge of showing her exactly what she thought she wanted. 

“He mean that too, baby.” Stack’s breath hit her ear. “And if he ont’ do the honors, I will.” It was crazy encouraging crazy. 

And as she stood between all that crazy, breathless and wet, she only grew wetter. Only had a stronger urge to keep pushing. To keep taunting. 

So, what exactly did that make her?

“I can’t get the dress off if y’all don’t give me space to move,” She attempted her usual tone — defiant, sarcastic, unbothered — but her voice came out too wrecked for that. 

And she didn’t get the chance for a redo. 

One second her dress was sitting pretty on her frame and the next — Smoke moved like a solider executing an order. No hesitation and no remorse as his arm shot out, hand clasping the front of her dress and then yanking — pulling the thin material down in one strong controlled movement.

Annie gasped as the straps of her dress were forced off her shoulders, burning her arms as her breasts bounced free — full, heavy, sitting up on her chest with just the perfect amount of hang. And then came her soft stomach, her prominent hips, that fat lace covered mound that sat perfect between her thighs. Every inch of her dark ebony skin was exposed in seconds as white fabric pooled around her feet. 

She blinked, like she was surprised or something. 

“Done repeatin’ myself to yo’ hard headed ass.” Smoke met her wide stare unflinchingly. “You gon’ learn how to listen.” 

“And we gon’ have fun teachin’ you. You see ha’, Smoke?”

Stack couldn’t have gotten a full look at anything yet. 

And he still sounded like he was starving. 

Acted like he was too. 

The palm against her ass came out of nowhere — landing on the side of one of her full cheeks with so much force Annie damn near lost balance. 

“Stack —” She said his name loud. High. Hand flying back on instinct as heat spread across her skin.

“You know what me and my brotha’ ‘bout to do to this ass?” Stack’s fingers locked with hers, his hands grabbing the one that’d flown back, not to comfort, but to move her out his way.

SMACK. 

His palm rained down again. In the same spot. Harder than before, like he couldn’t help himself. 

“What chu’ even got panties on for? They not covering shit. Lace ain’t doin’ nothin’ but gettin’ swallowed by this big ass.”

He moved a step back, got a better angle. 

SMACK.

Everything on Annie jiggled when his hand made contact with her again — thighs, ass, stomach, them full breasts Smoke was currently fixated on.

“Stack —” The sound that left her throat wasn’t really a cry this time. It was a moan, followed by Annie taking a half step forward — like she didn’t know what to do with the pleasure and pain twisting together inside her body — before she was promptly pulled back. 

SMACK.

Stack’s hand came from the left, bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he watched that ass jump. Deep voice washing over Annie in a way that drove her crazy.

“Don’t run baby. You know a nigga like me, like to chase.” His palm rained down again, the loud thwack of skin against skin echoing throughout the living room. 

“‘Dis the same ass you was bending over the otha’ day right?”

SMACK.

“Now you ‘ont wonna show it off? My lil slut actin’ shy now??” 

SMACK.

Annie’s throat was dry. Mouth wide open. Things happening inside of her body that didn’t even make sense. She was overheated everywhere. Overstimulated and not stimulated enough. Pussy clenching around nothing. Mind blanking as she was forced to feel that sting wash over her repeatedly. As a bow formed in her back, only serving to push her ass out further. 

Meanwhile, something was shifting inside Stack’s chest every time his hand connected with her. Something dark and primal. 

“You was ‘bout to give anotha’ nigga this pussy?” His dimples caved in as he spoke. “Let him see this perfect ass bent over, when you know daddy right next door ready to give you what you want?” 

His palm cracked down sharp. 

“Stack -”

“You gon’ make that shit up to me, Annie. Gon’ stand on all that shit you be talkin’.”

The bow in her back deepened, titties sitting high in the air as loud pretty moans fell from her mouth.

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Left cheek. Right cheek. Left cheek again. 

He wasn’t giving her time to warm up. Didn’t take baby steps. Didn’t pause in between hits and let her get adjusted. He just kept going, hand cracking down, eyes glittering like he was hungry. To feed. To fuck. To punish. 

And Smoke? 

Just watched.

Roamed his eyes over every dip and curve she had, studied the way her face twisted up when his brothers hand landed, the way she panted, the way them big ass titties bounced — hard chocolate nipples pointing straight at him like they was begging to be sucked. 

He eyed her soft tummy, how it moved in time with everything else on her. Took in her prominent hips next, them big thighs and long legs, that fat dripping pussy. 

Annie was moaning like it hurt. Puttin’ on a real good show. But that shine coating her thighs? The way they keep squeezing and rubbing together? 

Told a different story. 

SMACK.

“Look at ‘dat shit move. Fuck Annie.” 

Stack’s palm rained down again. And again. And again. Like she was his toy and he was entertaining himself.

“Stack — shit! Okay, daddy! Mmmm — baby, okay!” Her voice was thick, pleading. For him to keep going. For him to stop. For him to leave her ass alone and give some attention to the ache between her thighs. She went from a bow in her back to leaning forward — and that only gave him better access. Only allowed him to grip her forearm now and really lock in.

“Awe now you daddy’s baby?” He laughed at her. Dick jumped, angry and thick. Hand came crashing down again. 

“Oh my God. It feel so — !” Annie didn’t think it was possible to cum from this, but every time his hand connected with her full cheeks, the pain spread, everywhere at first and then directly to her clit. 

Stack would’ve kept going. Would’ve let her see just how possible it was. 

But Smoke put a stop to all that. On purpose. 

“Give ha’ to me.” He didn’t wait for her to be handed over. Was already reaching when Stack laid a parting smack to her ass, that loud clap mixing with Annie’s moans. 

“You gon’ drive me fuckin’ crazy girl,” Stack’s voice was guttural. He hadn’t slid inside her yet, hadn’t even tasted her, and still — he felt it. That greedy possessive feeling creeping down his spine. 

He pulled her up so she was standing straight, stepped back just as Smoke’s hands wrapped around her waist, moving in sync with his brother like they’d done this 100 times before. 

Annie was breathing like she’d ran a marathon. Skin achy, head spinning, legs unsteady. 

Smoke pulled her into him like he was ‘bout comfort her — had her titties pressed to his chest, his dick firm against her stomach, her forehead resting on his shoulder. He let her be for all of three seconds. And then he did what’d he been itching to do since she stepped into his living room. 

Her eyes flew open, a sharp hiss leaving her mouth when Smoke wrapped them twists around his hand and pulled till her head was upright where he wanted. He gripped her hair tighter than his brother had. Didn’t want her to be able to move unless he was directing it. 

He looked her dead in the face, voice hotter than a summer day in Mississippi, “You think you ready for us and you can’t even stand straight right now?” 

Annie was so busy trying to breathe, that she couldn’t answer. Smoke continued. 

“Stack playin’ wit’ you — nigga ain’t even got serious yet. I ain’t even started. And you already shakin’. Pussy damn near leaking on my floor. You ain’t ready for me lil girl.”

It was borderline condescending. 

Annie’s hips jerked anyways. Tongue came out to wet her lips. Big brown eyes glazed over, with so much want, so much need, that it made Smoke’s fingers flex. Made his grip on her hair tighten.

“And you ‘ont give a fuck. Don’t ‘een care what we do to you — long as we tend to that pussy, huh?” 

He said it like it pissed him off. Like it — she — was testing his control. And winning. 

“If you know that, stop making me wait.” Her words were drenched in lust and impatience. 

Because she’d never felt like this before. So small. So desired. So desperate. 

Annie was blessed with height that’d been intimidating people all her life. Had thick everything that only served to amplify her tall frame — soft arms, stomach, thighs, breasts. Had a mouth she let run. A stubborn streak that got on her own damn nerves. And while some men could handle it, most couldn’t. Not really.

Stack though? Smoke? Did it with ease. Handled her mouth. Her attitude. Her body. All without breaking a sweat. And it made her mouth water. Made her continue talking,  as she held Smoke’s glare. 

“Y’all supposed to be fucking me right now.”

Stack started, low and amused — “Pussy still got you talkin’ reckless.” 

And Smoke finished, eyes so dark she was damn near sinking into them. “Dat’s an order?“

The words came out so sharp they almost felt like a threat. 

And the obvious answer was to give no answer at all. 

“It can be,” Annie went a different route. Like she didn’t have a sore ass and Smoke’s hand tangled in her hair. Like her chest wasn’t still rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. “If that ‘s what’ll finally get you to listen Elijah.” 

Smoke’s eyes narrowed immediately and Stack let out something that sounded like a laugh behind her, “I know you tryna’ let her make it brudda’ but you gon’ have to show her somethin’. She beggin’ for it.” 

She was. And she was about to get everything she was asking for. 

Smoke’s arm flexed as he used her hair to tug her face closer. As he spoke over the low moan Annie let out. 

“You think ‘dis a game. Think this ‘bout to turn into whateva’ nasty shit you been writin’ in that book.”

Her lashes fluttered, brain going fuzzy from the sharp sting traveling through her scalp. From the feeling of Smoke washing over her.

“‘Dis ain’t no fantasy, Annie.” He remained unblinking as he catalogued every one of her responses. “ And you don’t run shit wit’ me.”

She was moving. Or rather, she was being moved. Went from leaning into Smoke, body frozen in one spot to being walked, forward first and then around the coffee table. 

“Smoke —”

“You that desperate for ‘dis dick?” He ignored her saying his name. Kept her body pressed to his. Kept stepping. Kept her braids wrapped his fist. “You gon’ learn how to ask for it. Can be Stack’s slut all you want, but you gon’ be a good girl for me. A good nasty lil bitch.”

The younger Moore liked the slick shit — the attitude, the mouth, the playing hard to get. It got his blood up. Had him damn near obsessed with Annie. 

Smoke though…Smoke liked obedience. Liked manners. Respect. And Annie was gon’ give him all that. Wasn’t gon’ have no armor with him. Wasn’t gon’ show no resistance. 

The two moved, Annie’s legs working to keep up with Smoke’s, a sharp groan leaving her mouth at his unrelenting grip. 

He didn’t let go until they reached the center of the room. Only let go because unbeknownst to her, Annie was about to be on her —

“Knees.” 

He didn’t have to yell for the one word to sound like exactly what it was — a command.  

Annie’s big eyes opened slowly. Skin buzzing. Scalp tingling. Pussy so wet she felt like she was one shift away from cumming. 

Stack had just bent her over and spanked her. And Smoke had just dragged her around this room. Like it wasn’t nothing. 

“Fix yo’ face.” She had the audacity to look shocked. To look even more turned on than she had a second ago. “I let you walk wit’ me jus’ now. You gon’ be crawling by the end of the day. Now get on yo knees Annie, for I put you on them.” 

She listened. For what was probably the first time today. It could’ve been the shock that made her act right. Could’ve been the look Smoke was giving her. Could’ve just been her pussy controlling her actions. But either way, she listened. And she didn’t look away from him once. Not as her legs started to fold. Not as her breasts bounced softly in time with her movement. Not as her knees finally hit carpet. She kept her pretty eyes locked with his. Moving graceful but with an edge. Blinking slow up at him like she was asking ‘this what you want daddy?’. 

6ft, clean fade, mean eyes, permanent frown — that’s what she was looking up at. That was the view Smoke provided as he looked down on her, hands at his sides, jaw jumping. 

Jaw always jumping in her presence.

“Ain’t got no business lookin’ like ‘dat. Sweet ass face wit’ all ‘dis fuckin’ body. You see what you do to me?” 

What she did to him couldn’t be missed.

“It look so big.” 

Big. Lethal. Dangerous. 

His sweats hid nothing. She could see how wide he was. How long. How hard. And just like earlier, she was damn near entranced. 

Smoke licked his lips slow. An action he wasn’t even aware of. “You ‘bout to take all ‘dat. Gon’ keep every inch in yo’ mouth ‘till I decide you can breathe. Gon’ swallow my nut like the pretty lil bitch you is. And then you gon’ thank me.” It all flashed in his head, every time she’d bounced over here smirking like she couldn’t be touched, every time she’d pushed, every smart ass remark that’d left her mouth. “Dis’ what chu’ been wantin’ from me ain’t it? What chu’ been waitin’ on?” 

“Yes.” 

She didn’t hesitate to respond. Because it had been what she waiting on. Because she felt like she deserved the dick. Because regardless of how she’d gotten to this point, she was here now and this is all she’d been wanting. As far as Annie was concerned — some hair pulling, some spanking, was worth it, as long as she was getting her twins. 

And that was her second mistake of the day. Thinking it’d gotten as…rough as it could get. 

Smoke scoffed, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. How fuckin’ needy she was. “Don’t nothin’ else tame ‘dat mouth, but you get some dick in front of you and know how to act? Shit not gon’ save you Annie. Don’t make up for nothin’.” 

Annie…was getting her bearings back. Wasn’t being touched or dragged. Was able to think now. To play. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” She looked back up at him. Almost sounded like she meant what she was saying too. Woulda’ been convincing, if not for the smirk on her lips. “You gon’ let me keep tryin’?”

Her hands moved on their own, smirk still on her face, fingers gripping the waist band of grey sweats and black briefs and then pulling slow. 

The dick popped out fast though. Had of mind of its own. Every single inch of it. 

Annie’s head moved back on instinct. Smirk dropped so fast it wasn’t even funny. Throat worked to swallow spit. Spit that she’d need in a second. 

The dick didn’t curve to the left or the right. Didn’t change shades half way down the shaft. Didn’t look like any part of it would be easer to take than the other. It was consistent — like its owner. Stood straight out. Had a wide mushroom head and an even wider base. Was thick. Heavy. Just like she’d predicted. And the tip was leaking already.

Annie just…stared. 

“Ain’t never seen her dis’ quiet, Smoke.” Stack’s voice rung out. Lazy and dark.

“Don’t need words for what she ‘bout to be doing.” Smoke. Studying her as she studied him. “Dis’ what chu’ been beggin’ for Annie. What you so sure you can take.” The older Moore laughed then. Short. Quiet. Layered with something thick and mean. “Shoulda’ jus’ stuck to playin’ in yo’ pussy lil girl.” 

-

Annie had dick in her throat. Spit running down her chin. Tears in her eyes. And Smoke didn’t even seem close to finishing.  

“Swallow dat’ shit Annie — swallow that fuckin’ dick — there you go. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.” 

Annie whimpered, peering up at him, lips wrapped tight around his shaft. It was obscene. How wide her mouth stretched. How her titties bounced freely. How every wet slurp was accompanied by a drawn out moan and some variant of, “It taste so good, daddy”, “Thank you, daddy” “This what I needed, Elijah” “I love this dick so much, Elijah.”

He’d cracked something in her. And it was written all over her face. 

When she’d started, she’d been in control — because Smoke allowed it. Had let her kiss the head, stroke him slow, work every inch inside her mouth little by little. And she’d worked it. Had been alternating between swallowing his length whole, sucking him in deep one second and then playing with just the tip the next.  Running her tongue over that big mushroom head, testing his sensitivity, and catching every drop of precum while her hands twisted around his base.

She’d been making love to the dick — wet sloppy kisses, tight sucks, controlled swallows of her throat. 

Smoke had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be teaching her something. Had gotten caught up in them big eyes and that mouth that felt like velvet. Had been swallowing down sounds, gritting his teeth, getting more and more worked up every time he thought about where she’d learned this shit. Every time she’d moaned around him, sending vibrations traveling up and down his dick. 

And Annie had been watching. Saw the way his lids started to close. They way his throat worked to swallow down a groan. It’d made her blood rush. Made her cocky. And she gotten just a little ahead of herself. Had slid her mouth off him with a loud pop, lids low, face wet, full lips splitting into a smile. And then she’d started talking. 

“Why you keep this dick from me again? Cause I can’t handle you? Or cause you can’t handle me?” 

That was all it’d taken. 

Smoke had gotten back in his body. Went from letting her suck him, to fucking her throat like it belonged to him. And he hadn’t slowed down since. 

“This throat feel like home. Think I’m gon’ keep you like dis’. On yo’ knees, hands behind yo’ back, mouth open, waitin’ for me to use everyday.”

Smoke held her head still. Grunting as her throat squeezed around him. As she took it like her breathing didn’t even matter to her no more.   

Because it really didn’t. Not when it felt so good to have Smoke carving out space in her throat. Not when she got to see his lashes flutter every time her tongue brushed one of them thick prominent veins he had running down his shaft. 

Annie’s body felt like it was on fire. And she kept her mouth wide and let Smoke continue to stroke the flame. 

He didn’t play with her. Wasn’t pulling his dick out and smacking the head against her tongue. Wasn’t making her chase it around. He was focused. Sliding every inch into her mouth, over and over and over again. With long, deep, thrusts. 

Annie gagged, a filthy helpless sound, and the hands around her wrists tightened.

“Lil slut would prolly like ‘dat. Wouldn’t you baby?” Stack’s voice fell over her and amplified everything she was feeling. Made her whine around the dick in her mouth.

The younger Moore was behind her. Bent a little at the waist, one big hand locked around both of her wrists. Pulling her arms back and away from her body. 

It left her feeling helpless. Completely out of control. And it was her fault. 

She’d tried to touch her pussy once. Had slid a hand between her parted thighs while Smoke used her mouth like a fuckin’ flashlight. Had just barely grazed her center when Stack came out of nowhere, snatching her wrists up and talking low.

“Nah, baby. Only thing you focus on right now is my brotha’. Get yo’ hands off that greedy ass pussy. That’s mine.”

He hadn’t let her wrists go since. And she’d been left with her mouth and only her mouth doing the work. 

“Answer my brotha’.” Smoke glared down at her. Almost mad at how good she was taking this shit. How good she felt. “You’d like that shit wouldn’t you?” 

He pulled out of her mouth, a loud wet sound filling the living room, long strands of spit stretching from the head of his dick to her now glossless lips.

Annie was panting. Chest just as wet as her chin. Thighs squeezing together. Every ounce of attitude in her body seemingly non-existent now. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Who you talkin’ to?” Stack sounded like he was smirking. “Me or him?” 

“Both of y’all.”

She was staring straight at Smoke as she spoke. Watching the way his head dropped to the side. Listening to how he grunted low. 

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll make that shit happen for my good girl.”

Her entire center throbbed. A high needy sound climbing out of her throat. Neck stretching as she leaned forward to suck him right back up.

She didn’t know what they’d done to her — what Smoke had done to her — but all she could think about was earning that nut. Tasting it. Tasting half of the SmokeStack twins. She wasn’t even fixated on the ache between her legs anymore. Not entirely. Because all she could focus on was pleasing them. 

It was something she’d have to unpack later. When she could think clearly. 

Right now, she let her brain turn off. Let her body lead and really — it was doing that already anyways. 

Annie dragged her mouth up and down his length. Tonguing his shaft. Swallowing every time Smoke’s head hit the back of her throat. She made it sloppy — made it nasty, hands free and all. And Smoke…Smoke was damn near ready to say fuck being neighbors and move her in forreal. Was ready to bust and give her what she was working so hard for.

The twins started talking to her then, right over all that noise she was making. All that mess. 

“Yo’ mouth made for dis’.” Smoke. 

“Mouth made for suckin’ and body made for fuckin’. She need ‘dis shit.” Stack.

“You gon’ be my stress relief from now on,” Every time Smoke opened his mouth, he fucked into her mouth rougher. Controlled, mean movements. Her lips were kissing his pelvis every other second, as his nuts drew up tight. “You gon’ calm me down every time you piss me off. Gon’ do it just like this.”

“Takin’ me and my brudda’s nut. That’s yo’ job now, baby.” Stack’s thumb rubbed one of her wrist softly. Like his grip wasn’t the complete opposite of soft. Like her throat wasn’t being worked like a toy. The contrast made her see stars. “I think we gon’ keep you, Annie.”

“She already kept.” 

The words were final. So final, they should have worried her.  But her brain was clouded with Smoke. With Stack. And her mouth was busy, jaw aching, pussy so wet it felt like she could cum from this alone. 

Annie had spent the last few months wanting to be fucked. This wasn’t that. 

This was ownership. Possession. A reworking of her soul. And she wasn’t even really aware of it yet. 

“You think you deserve this nut?” Smoke watched her blink hazily, keeping all nine inches down her throat for one long beat and then forcing himself to pull out completely. The sound that left Annie’s mouth as he took his dick away, as he gripped the base of his shaft to hold that nut back, was one of pure displeasure. 

It made Stack smirk. Had Smoke that much closer to painting her throat. Had his hand sliding up and down his length in quick short movements before he could stop himself. 

If Annie was able to move forward and swallow him again she would have. Instead, she moaned out a long, pretty sounding, “Yess, Elijah.”

“You don’t.” His rebuttal was quick. Sharp. Harsh. But his eyes were heated. And his voice was tight. And his hand was still moving, stroking his member, something like a tingle starting at the base of his spine. “But you look so fuckin’ hungry for it ima give it to you. And if you spill a fuckin drop —” He shook his head, hand stopping right at the tip and twisting. “Fuck.”

He was close. Shoulders tense. Brows furrowed. Breath heavy. And something about seeing him like that — so close to losing control — woke up that impatience in Annie. The same impatience that’d gotten her in this shit in the first place. 

“I’m not gon’ spill it, Elijah. Give it to me.” 

It wasn’t a request. Wasn’t a plea. It was more of a demand than anything.

She was talking to him like she was in charge.  

Talking to him like she still hadn’t learned.

Smoke’s hand froze abruptly. With his chest heaving, and nuts drawn up tight, and dick throbbing angrily. He still stopped. Because even when he was on the verge of losing control, he still had it.

Annie frowned and behind her, Stack shook his head. Dropped her wrists. Mumbled something that sounded like, “Damn, baby. This ‘bout to be a long day for you.”

In front of her? Smoke had completely let his dick go, left it standing straight out, head leaking, shaft damn near pulsing. And then he stared at her for a second. Flexed his jaw and …smiled? 

“Stack,” He took his eyes off of Annie, to look at his brother. “Get the fuckin’ rope.”

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A/n - If you made it to the end I hope you enjoyed 😬😬😬. I couldn’t call this a drabble cause the shit 14.3k words butttt sorry if it feels a little jumpy and inconsistent? I do notttt have the capacity to write really fleshed out stuff right now. I feel like grief permanently altered my brain and I hate it so badddd y’all because I don’t be having the stamina no more (hence me getting sooo lazy in the second half 😭😭😭) Anyways, I may spin the block on this little world in the future when I can write normally again cause this was a little fun or w/e lmao, for nowww feedback is appreciated, Thank’s for rocking w/ me even when I when I fall off the face of the earth and Happy (late) Wednesday - Lil Bitt out 🫡🫶🏾

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Visionaries (not tagging my Smoke and Annie girlies b/c Stack all in the mix) - @lizbehave @thebumblebeesworld @shereeluvssinners @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @bananajoeclone @aellesa @atpeaceinthestars @underated345-blog @hotebonynearby @hdfen2474 @chromexbarbie @honeytoffee @mmbee675

Series specific - @theogbadbitch

[partylikemajima]

So usually the two Miis have to agree on the activity for it to be successful in what they want, this this case, moving in together. Smoke asked again to move in with Stack (and now knowing they can bring along who they are currently living with) I agreed.

They didn't agree on what they could do every day if they lived together, so i thought the chance was over.

But then Stack changed his mind and that let them live together!! 💖😂🥹🥹

So now they all live together in Elias & Pearline's house! apparently it was a given that Smoke was bringing Annie, i didn't have to select her as a choice. But Noah was a choice 😂😂 I brought him along!

[lilbitt]

Can somebody write vampire Stack x Annie pls? *sigh* I need that bad actually.

[aellesa]

So we can't nominate you right? Lol

[lizbehave]

I hereby nominate the President, CEO, and dare I say, Founder, of the Stack & Annie Fanclub @lilbitt to write this.

*Bangs gavel*

[lilbitt]

Not I’m tryna get some reading material and y’all on here tryna jump me!

LilBitt does in fact not volunteer to add this to long list of stuff she already needs to write. Matter fact — I ain’t even see this.

(Watch me end up writing the shit anyways.)

[thebumblebeesworld]

SILLY • OF • ME

modern!au annie x smoke

summary: there’s only so much you can do with hate, and after ages spent despising one another, smoke and annie finally give in. but what does that mean for those around them? and how can they keep their hearts from getting involved?

cw: smut, lil degradation, harsh language, use of the nword

a/n: i’ve been wrestling with writer’s block for over a month now, but this idea grabbed ahold of me and wouldn’t let go! i’m hoping to be back fully operational soon!

masterlist

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Cloying—the one word he’d use to describe her. 

Rich. Decadent. Too much of a good thing. But there was no way he’d start complaining about it right now. 

Fingers indented the flesh of her ass and thighs while nails pierced his shoulders, tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

They were supposed to hate each other. They were supposed to despise one another. She was his twin’s annoying best friend. He, her best friend’s uptight older brother who couldn’t help but turn his nose up at her short shorts and crop tops. But she wore them for him—just as he wore his low-hanging sweatpants for her. 

When she’d come over to the twin’s shared apartment, they’d parade around for each other: Annie in her booty shorts and tight shirts, Smoke in sweatpants and a tank, a chain if he was feeling particularly interested in her attention. He’d come out of his room “for a bottle of water” or “to ask about plans for later,” but he was really just trying to get a look at Annie’s long legs. And she’d roll her eyes at him and make smart ass comments just to rile him up, but she was always looking at him a little too hard, too. 

They hated each other for no good reason. For simply being around. For taking up space. For speaking and smelling divine and looking good enough to eat even though they knew they couldn’t have each other. 

And now—despite all that—they were tangled up in Smoke’s sheets, and Annie was sitting thick and pretty on his palate like a good meal when you’ve been starved for ages. 

“Smoke,” the young woman whined, clawing at his upper body. He had her thighs pried open and her legs thrown over his shoulders, and every time she attempted to catch her breath, he was halting her action by dousing her in more pleasure. She squirmed in his hold, but her efforts were in vain. The young man held on too tight, but even though Annie was struggling against him, she didn’t want to go too far anyway. He felt too good, fucking her with his tongue, sucking on her clit with those plush lips. When he practically began to swallow her arousal from the source, she shook against the bed aggressively. And just as she felt the wave begin to wash over her exhausted, needy body, the man stopped. 

A huff escaped his lips—gruff, angry, and resentful.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” Smoke growled, mind reeling from the delicious sound of her moaning his name and the too sweet taste of her on his tongue. He sat back on his haunches, but all that did was give him a better view of her bare body. The man rolled his eyes, growled once more from the sweat-slicked sight.

“Well, I can’t stand yo’ ass neither,” Annie shouted, propping herself up to get a better look at him.

They wore matching scowls, eyes full of contempt. Beneath the surface, their bodies were buzzing for a release that seemed too distant now, but Annie’s thighs were wet with her arousal—a puddle in the sheets—and Smoke’s length was throbbing with every glimpse he allowed himself to take of her.

The woman’s scowl turned to a wicked grin. And one glance at the time had her mind made up.

“Come on, Smokey,” Annie teased, crawling toward where Smoke had decided to land—at the edge of the bed with his back toward her. “You obviously need to let some steam off,” she hummed, hooking her arms around his neck from behind, “and Stack won’t be back from that li’l date for a minute. Stop bein’ pussy.”

She started kissing up the back of his neck, heavy, thick kisses that had his eyes fluttering shut. But her words were like ice, chilling his system and bringing that contempt back to the surface. He growled once—just once—then he grabbed her and swung her into position on his lap.

“I ain’t no pussy,” he condemned, smacking her ass and watching the way she tried her best not to flinched. He watched her grind her teeth, her hatred of him being just as strong as his for her. “And I don’ told you about callin’ me that name.”

“What? Smokey,” she threw in question, already knowing the answer. He’d said it time and time again, but that was what she used to successfully piss him off every time—she wasn’t about to stop now. Watching the man closely, she couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw tightened at the sound of the nickname again, and at that, she set her hips in motion.

Her wet arousal rocked against his—slow, teasing, angry. She did nothing to remove the sly grin on her lips. She let it melt into her skin and stay planted there as she indulged in the way the man’s eyes were rolling back from the feel of her.

Smoke gritted his teeth at the feeling of Annie’s clit sliding along his dick, and he did his best not to let the pleasure show, but she had moans escaping his lips and tears pricking in his eyes before he could stop it. His hands held her in place atop him, attempting to command the situation. But annoyingly enough, Annie was too good at maintaining control—over him and the task at hand.

“I hate seein’ yo’ stupid fuckin’ face when I come over here,” the woman huffed, rising up on her feet. She sank down onto his length, shuddering at the stretch, chuckling when he groaned. “You must don’t ever go out ‘cause you always here,” she added, breath quickening as her body began to move at a steady pace. Her words were laced with hatred, but beneath the anger, resided that small part of her that anticipated seeing him every time she came over, the part that chose her outfits according to what would turn his head the most, the part that was ecstatic to finally have him buried inside her and at her mercy.

Smoke shifted their position. He moved back up the bed, rested his body, planted his feet, lifted her slightly. He laughed at the surprised look that took over her face, but he immediately turned cold once more.

“You the one that’s always over here in my face,” he argued, pulling her in close. His nails pierced the flesh of her ass punishingly, and with his regaining of control, he forced her to meet his thrusts as he pounded into her from below. “You stay up in my house, bothering me. But I’m the problem?” Each word bit. Each statement true. But Annie wasn’t ready to back down.

“Yeah,” she choked, fuming in a unique mix of hate and lust. “Yeah, you the fuckin’ problem.”

Her hips snapped harsh. Her hands pressed into his shoulders as she rode him silly, refusing to let him win. And he wasn’t letting up either.

The air of the room turned dark and dense as the two fought to make the other crumble. They wouldn’t allow themselves to be the first to break—the first to cum, to show how much they desired the other—but someone had to be the one.

Meeting each other thrust for thrust, their breaths mingled, their tongues fought, their bodies began to shudder viciously. Annie’s teeth bit into the meat of Smoke’s bottom lip, and his palms claimed her ass with an ease neither of them would talk about outside of this room.

“You finna cum,” the man barked, waiting for an answer in the form of moans and trembling. He smacked her ass, fucked her with aggression.

“Hell naw,” Annie hurled back, queuing up her insults. “Nigga, this shit weak. But I know this pussy ‘bout to have you ruined.”

And ruined he was—right alongside Annie, too.

For the next few weeks, they poked at each other, prodded, towed that line between disgust and desire. When they saw each other, their eyes flashed with hatred, and when Stack turned his back, drifted too far away, they were on each other hot. They couldn’t deny the need. They couldn’t stuff down the craving.

That’s why they were back at it again.

Smoke’s bed.

Stack long gone.

Annie with her face down—ass up.

“You need this shit like a greedy li’l slut,” the man taunted, stroking her deep. Her arch became more pronounced as her arms slid forward and her mouth fell open. She couldn’t protest because when he texted her and said Stack ‘went out,’ she immediately jumped from her comfortable position in bed, slid her shoes on, and drove her ass over to that apartment. She was greedy—yes. A slut—absolutely.

Her hips worked to bring them both closer to the edge, falling back into his strokes because she was a pro at this shit now. They’d done it plenty of times: always here in his bed where they could be caught at any moment. She knew how he liked it, knew that when his mouth got slick he was close to burying himself deep in her.

“Smoke,” Annie slurred, words weak from all the wails he’d pulled from her tonight. Her hand wrapped around his wrist in an effort to seek out connection, and as much as he despised her, he let her have it. Their fingers intertwined, bodies creating a delicious rhythm. And they let go—together.

As they winded down from the effects of their orgasms, their hands remained connected. Annie’s thumb stroked the side of Smoke’s hand, working diligently to pull sharp breaths from him. He couldn’t push away that feeling she gave him: like he was going to eventually lose his life in her but that it would be worth it in the end. He shifted his position, turned on his side to watch her, but Annie was already looking at him.

“I gotta go,” the young woman spoke matter-of-factly. She dragged her body away from his, and as she sat of the edge of his bed, he watched her stretch. Her arms rose above her head, pulling her worn out muscles gently. She shifted to the side and he could make out the curve of her breast—delicate and hefty at the same time. It made his mouth fall open, but he soon gained the woman’s attention. “The fuck you lookin’ at,” Annie hurled in his direction. She began to pull her clothes back on, starting with her undergarments, but she couldn’t find her shirt anywhere.

“What we doin’ for real, Anne,” Smoke leveled, standing up on wobbling feet.

“We fuckin’,” she answered with a roll of her neck. “Duh.”

“This ain’t just fuckin’, and you know that,” he continued. He stepped in her direction, beginning to help in the pursuit of her long lost shirt. “If this is just fuckin’ then why you don’t wanna tell my brother?”

“‘Cause I don’t want Stack in all my damn business,” Annie turned quick. She shot through him with her eyes, but he couldn’t hardly take anything serious as she stood before him with her upper half nearly bare: her bright pink bra was the only thing covering her chest.

“But you tell Stack everything,” Smoke threw out—completely confused. She and his twin had been close for a long while now, and there was nothing the other didn’t know—except for this. He had also never been much of a liar, but since Annie insisted this remain a secret, he listened.

But now, the man was conflicted by his feelings.

He couldn’t fucking stand Annie, but looking at her big, brown eyes and having held her hand so dearly earlier, he was experiencing a new, rawer emotion.

He watched her continue to scrounge for her shirt as a way to not look him in the eye, but that didn’t mean he was done with his line of questioning.

“What you want from this? From me and you,” Smoke whispered. His voice was low, tone dripping in a seriousness that seemed to be plaguing him right now. Annie turned completely in his direction, her search for the shirt fully thwarted now. She crossed her arms under her chest and leaned against the dresser on the opposite side of the room, sighing with a strangled breath that seemed to not want to come out.

When she looked at him, her eyes were big and round, wet with emotion.

“It started as me wantin’ to prove something,” she shrugged, eyes stuck on his. “I wanted to prove that I was more than just a nuisance, that I could make you feel something other than your hate for me, that I could dive headfirst into this and walk away unscathed.” She shook her head, diverted her gaze. “And now,” she continued, words catching on the way out, “now I feel silly for lettin’ this continue for so long, knowin’ what you do to me.”

“Anne—” the man tried, but she kept speaking, kept spiraling.

“I’m just so stupid! Of course this was just sex for you,” Annie pointed in his direction before smoothing her hair down away from her face. Her body seemed to be vibrating, and Smoke’s fingers trembled with a need to reach out for her, but he knew that would only worsen the situation. “And now I’ve just made it weird because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check. And I can’t find my damn shirt no where!”

She searched frantically—high and low—but she came up empty every time. And as he watched her, Smoke stood there stunned. He didn’t have a clue what to say. Partially because he was still using that excuse of hating her. Partially because he was still oscillating between his difficult emotions. All he thought about now seemed to be Annie. Annie’s annoying voice. Annie’s annoying laugh. Annie’s annoyingly pretty smile. He continued to find himself trapped in their moments together, how easily they came together in his bed, how they could communicate with such ease at times before getting caught up in what they thought they were supposed to want.

He hated her. But her adored her. And he definitely understood what she meant about feeling silly.

When he noticed the tears falling from her eyes, Smoke finally let himself step forward. He reached for her in an attempt to calm her down, but the sound of keys in the front door halted that effort.

“Oh my God,” Annie breathed heavily, moving to cower in a corner. She had no shirt on, was crying like a fool, and was in her best friend’s brother’s room after fucking him behind the other man’s back. She didn’t know what to do, and one look at Smoke showed that he didn’t have a clue either. They remained quiet—didn’t dare make a sound first—but Stack’s words rang out loud.

“Aye yo’,” he laughed into the near quiet apartment. “Annie, where you at, girl?! I saw yo’ car in the lot!”

Their hearts sank to their feet, the inevitable finally coming face to face with them. Annie shook in her spot, terrified of the consequences of lying to the person closest to her, and as frightened as Smoke was as well, he forced himself to put on a brave face for her.

As Stack kept shouting her name, mumbling how she must be in the bathroom or something, the older twin tossed her one of his shirts.

In the living room, however, Stack was leaning back against the couch as a flash of color gained his attention. A bright baby blue crop top sat on the other side of the room, and without picking it up, he already knew who it belonged to.

He stopped speaking all together—because there had to be an explanation, because he was just not understanding what the situation was. His brother was here too; He had to be. Stack had seen his car parked in its usual spot, but maybe that hadn’t been his best friend’s vehicle at all. She had parked too far away, on the opposite end of the lot tucked into a corner. But he’d worked on her car enough times to recognize the unique dents and scratches.

And now, he was in his home, calling her name to no answer—from either of them. But there had to be an explanation, right?

Down the hall, a bedroom door, croaked open.

Two sets of feet set in motion. Slow. Trembling. Guilty.

Tears flooded one person’s eyes. Fear flooded another’s.

But there was no going back now.

Stack’s eyes bounced between the pair. From Smoke to Annie. From the shirt the woman wore to the one she’d obviously forgotten was in the living room all along. Confusion etched into his features. It was a strange type of understanding because of course he knew what this meant—Annie was wearing his brother’s shirt and they were both looking guilty as fuck—but how had this all happened? They hated each other. They had hated each other from the moment they first met.

The younger twin shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips. Then he laughed—disbelief shining through.

“Man y’all fucked up,” he cackled, tossing his head back. Standing to his feet, the young man continued to laugh and joke and admonish, and the embarrassed pair watched with wide eyes. He wouldn’t stop or let up, and they just had to stand there and take it. “This is what happens when you pretend like you hate somebody,” he continued, hands rising in the air. “You end up fuckin’ ‘cause ain’t shit else to do wit’ all that pent up energy.”

He turned toward the hallway, still shaking his head in disbelief, laughing to keep himself together. When he reached his bedroom door, he took one look at them. How they stood at an awkward distance from each other. How it seemed to be something else going on that he didn’t want to get into right now. Seriousness took control of his features, returning him to the moment he first realized something wasn’t right. With their backs to him, he sighed, and clearing his throat, he turned his doorknob and spoke once more before departing.

“All I got to say is y’all better get y’all shit together and not make me choose between y’all. For real though.”

The room fell quiet. With Stack gone, the pair were left to reckon with what they were doing, with the fact that their dirt had seen the light of day. Smoke, eyes picking up the glare from Annie’s long lost shirt, leaned forward to grab it. And as his fingers connected with the fabric, he reveled in the softness, the roughness, the unmistakable Annie-ness of the feel.

“Here you go,” he extended his hand. His volume was low, afraid to rustle the quiet air, and the woman thanked him in a tone just as soft.

Annie watched his eyes carefully, trying to find his lingering disdain for her, but there was none.

“I appreciate it,” she offered her thanks again, much more confident this time, and as a soft grin filled Smoke’s lips, Annie allowed hers to match.

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word count: ~3,200

a/n: i hope y'all enjoyedddd and thank you for readinggg

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

@brownskincheyenne @bigjh @zer0productions @devonda81 @raysogroovy @terayne-4 @hdfen2474 @mbjswife @iiiheartfayee @nifniffy @nuttyinternetprincess @chrome-edition @my-name-is-h-u-m-a-n @sweetalittleselfish-honey @theegyal @known-only-by-the-insane @nanak0matsux @thugger-wugger @voidlesslove @massiv3tr33p3rsona @thefutureemmywinner @thelifeoflagab @itstayleigh @shamansha @margepimpson @everlucivee @katezy2x @chknnwffls @juniooox @milkywayzard @bbymuthaaa @zunibugsiren @strawberrylemonades-stuff @rkiiives @kitesatforestp @saralance03 @wildcardmelaninfreak @thevelvetwhispers @queenofklonnie22 @wakandamama @numb1smokeanniestan @mayday39 @bl3ssyn @blue4everrsworld

[thebumblebeesworld]

@firmlysparklinglocket @atomicearthquakemusic7 @jasssdee1 @ehniki @littleboxcat @lilchubbs @cocochannelmoi @ladybugb0ng @nyifly22 @resurrectionist3 @rxscpctals @lsc72 @andacouldneversilenceme @dollysplace5 @mayday39 @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @babygirl-4986 @fadingbelieverexpert @blacktie47 @aimdraw @saralance03 @lexasaurs634 @cinnamonsonnyangel @mysteryuz @interzalactic @3tallions @nbanenefrmdao @irefusetobeacasualty @shereeluvssinners @myheartsaysyes @anniensmoke3 @blackgirlsrock444 @cardi-bre91 @comsiclvsh @dollys-world224 @bananajoeclone @storiesbyasl @diamondsinterlude @tatelangdonsweater @lyrik7 @lizbehave @psychicafrorainbow @aellesa @zzbaee @brownsugarcoffy @syko-jpg @firmlyshinyundertow @chromexbarbie

[lilbitt]

Extended version of Sweet Tooth coming this week btw. I don’t have the capacity for long pieces right now so it’s shaping up to only be around 15k but never the less it’s getting posted cause im tired of staring at it in my drafts lmao. I’m hoping for Wednesday 👐🏾

[lilbitt]

Can somebody write vampire Stack x Annie pls? *sigh* I need that bad actually.

[theethighpriestess]

REVISED MASTERLIST

Alrighty Tumblr loves, here's a revised version of my masterlist. As stated in the last one, I do not own the rights to any character or country names created by Ryan Coogler or Marvel. All OCs are my own & are typically chubby, black, & magical. Bold, red titles are smut. 18+ content ahead. Minors, do not interact! Banners designed by me! ☺️

--

HOE ASS ERIK - COMPLETED

What happens when Hennessy convinces Erik to become a male escort while they’re at MIT?Foolishness and smut galore!

MASTERLIST

CARNAL STIMULATION

Collab with @hearteyes-for-killmonger & @panthergoddessbast

O’Shea Powell is a young, successful business woman with an insatiable sexual appetite. After speaking with her boss, she’s referred to world renowned sex therapist Dr. Erik Stevens, but is she getting herself into more than she can handle?

MASTERLIST

YOUR ONLYFAN

Collab with @princessstevens

Mahari Khamisi Owens is an undergraduate biology pre-med student with aspirations of becoming a neonatologist. Reserved, and a lover of all things anime, her junior year at Oakland University takes an interesting turn when she develops a crush on the Graduate Assistant for her least favorite class. Erik Stevens is charming and charismatic, but is harboring a secret that changes Hari’s entire perspective on him and awakens a side of her she never knew existed. Can she keep this secret or will the obsession consume her?

MASTERLIST

SCREAM: A HALLOWEEN SERIES - COMPLETED

Collab with @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Erik & his girlfriend Vanity love Spooky Season, so when Erik’s friend Dominic decides to throw a Halloween party at his luxurious cabin in the woods, the couple is more than excited. What starts off as innocent role play between the couple quickly turns into a night of terror. Will they survive the night?

MASTERLIST

I’ll Take Yo Man

Carry On - From Wakanda With Love Submission

Dreams & Nightmares

When Your Plug A Girl Blurb

Kush & Anime

WHATCHAMACALLIT

Amina Brown has a one nightstand with world heavy weight champion boxer Adonis Creed. But what happens when she decides she wants more than one night?

MASTERLIST

BLOOD MONEY

Eden’s broke. Her rent’s late, her car sounds like it’s choking, and her dreams of making it as a singer in New Orleans are getting harder to hold onto. So when she sees a sketchy little ad offering big cash to be a “discreet donor,” she answers it. She tells herself it’s just money. Just blood. Just once. But the contract’s signed, the room is breathing, and Eden? She might’ve just stepped into something deeper than debt.

MASTERLIST

HEATHENS

After being turned into vampires by Stack’s old flame, Mary, brothers Smoke and Stack return to the Bayous of New Orleans to seek help from the woman they left behind: Hoodoo priestess Cécile Boudreaux. They want a cure, but Cécile’s not just holding a grudge. She’s carrying a secret. Stack is the father of her daughter. As old flames reignite and dark forces close in, Cécile must decide how far she’ll go to protect her child, her power, and her heart. But when a witch becomes a vampire, nothing stays buried for long.

MASTERLIST

Light My Fire

In Case You’re Listening

Baby Doll’s Sin (Collab with @nahimjustfeelingit-writes)

Puppet Master

License & Registration, Please

The Moore Christmas Chronicles

Last Time I Seen the Sun

Feeding Time <NEW>

Sunday Dinner

Payback

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Green Goddess (written for @hearteyes-for-killmonger)

Suddenly Stevens (written for @yaachtynoboat711)

Beauty is Her Name

It’s Complicated (written for @princesskillmonger)

I’m Sorry (written for @bidibidibombaclaat)

The Great Reveal (written for @thehomierobbstark)

Neighbors Know My Name (A Continuation to On the Hotline by @hearteyes-for-killmonger)

Sacrifice (1) (2) - written for @panthergoddessbast & @blktinkerbell

The Devil Speaks Xhosa - written for @blackpantherismyish

Mile High

Trap Card

Act Up - written for @princessstevens

Let Me Smell It - written for @princessstevens

Up Late - written for @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Cam Girl: Day Dreamin’ - @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Smut Challenge submission

Boo’s Dollhouse Chapter 2: Honey - @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Kinktober Submission

[lizbehave]

† The Priestess

Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.

Chapter 5

Contains: Explicit language, slow-burn/build romance, church respectability politics

Word Count: 13.3k

Masterlist

The train came to a stop with a sharp, metallic squeal. The Pullman porters stepped off first, men in tailored black uniforms and matching hats, setting up steps and opening cargo latches on the sides of the train cars. Cicadas buzzed, their screeching lullaby heard all the way from the trees that loomed over the tracks at the isolated train stop, just an hour outside of the busy Y & M.V. depot in Clarksdale. There were no musicians or folks hanging around here, just a small clapboard-sided building with a segregated ticket window, a single employee, and a dilapidated outhouse. 

The conductor stepped off the train to relieve himself. The comptroller made himself comfortable in the crew cabin while the station master strolled out of the ticket office, whistling and swinging his pocket watch in one hand. Watching. Waiting.  

One of the porters, a 19-year-old kid from Clarksdale slipped out from the back of the freight car and spotted Stack whose truck sat idling by a small loading dock just beyond the tracks that was hidden well by the tall blades of pale green prairie grass fluttering in the autumn breeze. 

Stack stood at the back of his truck like sin dressed in silk. He wore a sharp suit, a cream colored silk shirt underneath with a double chain hanging from his neck. Satin pocket square. Double holster secured just above his waist. He held a lighter in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. His cologne was strong— something clean with a hint of clove, the spice lingering in the air around him. 

He stood by closely while crates were loaded into the back of his truck one by one, the dry wood creaking underneath the weight of what was inside. Black newspapers—Chicago Defender, Voice of the Negro, Indianapolis Freeman, New York Amsterdam News—publications that the sheriff didn't like distributed around Clarksdale because they told the truth. Bottles of liquor—rum, whiskey, gin—all packed tight and padded up tighter so they wouldn’t clink together on the backroads, and some ammunition and military-grade firearms from up north. All packed under and between pounds of heavy textiles. 

Another porter was helping passengers off the forward cabins when he caught a glimpse of Stack and his coworker in the distance. He was younger than other porters, a bit more wide-eyed and curious. He strolled to the back, dust kicking off his boots. He leaned on the edge of the freight car flipping a coin between his fingers.

“Need somethin’?” Stack asked, lighting his cigarette. He raised a brow, taking a deep pull and letting the smoke blow towards him. 

The second porter shook his head, “No.” 

“Well, you can help then,” Stack shot back, holding up a crisp one dollar bill between his index and middle finger. 

The second porter went to grab it but he pulled his hand back, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You know what this mean, right?” he asked, holding the bill up again.

“No, sir.”

“It means you ain’t hear nothin’ and you ain’t see nothin’ — understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You heard of the SmokeStack twins?”

“Yes, sir,” the second porter said again.

“I’m Stack.” 

He put his hand on his hip to pull his suit jacket back, revealing the pistol sitting in its holster. The gesture made the kid straighten up where he stood. Stack looked him over thoroughly. He was sweating, no doubt caused by the heat and his stiff uniform and not nervousness. Stack’s gaze drifted over to the other porter who reassured him with a nod. He slowly lowered his hand, allowing the kid to take the bill from his hand.

Stack looked around while the crates were loaded. The station master lingered on the platform a moment, his gaze drifting over to Stack’s truck. He met his eyes, holding him there for just a moment. Stack didn’t flinch, in fact he flashed him a smile. A wide one at that. All golds, gums, and Southern charm. The station master turned on his heel back to his office just as the conductor walked back to the engine room none the wiser. 

Stack’s smile dropped instantly once he turned around.  “Y’all almost done?”

“This the last one.”

“Good,” he said, holding out a two dollar bill. “Got a tight schedule today. Got places to be.” He pulled out the handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. 

When the porters were done loading, they covered the back of his truck with a loose tarp and tied the ropes down tight. Stack straightened his suit jacket out and slinked into his car before peeling out of the train station and making the short journey back to Clarksdale.

First stop was the houses by the swamp. The ones with leaning porches and rotting clapboard siding that he had to walk on foot down muddy dirt paths to reach. Then the shacks on the plantations and the churches there. After that, he moved into the town. He stopped by the Chow’s, the cash store, the jukes, the barbershop, the drug store, the undertaker, the library, the Colored Knights of Pythias lodge and the gentleman’s supper club. The last stop was Luella’s Dressing Room to drop off the textiles. 

By the time he left town and headed home he only had his and Miss Della’s crates left, but the stack of money in his coat pocket had quadrupled in size. When he got back to the house, all that was left was Miss Della’s crate and a few others for the folks who would have to come find him themselves—the farmers, the planters, and folks from the smaller, surrounding counties.

Smoke’s truck was gone when Stack pulled up to the house, the modest cottage was quiet when he stepped inside. The spice of the smothered neckbones from lunch earlier still stuck to the walls. The meal that Smoke took the time to cook earlier that day when he just so happened to drop by the house and find little Miss Annie sitting at their table. 

Hmm. 

After lighting some incense and propping open a few windows, he walked out through the back of the house to the still that was partially hidden by the tree line. He checked the coil, stoked the fire, made sure the lid was set, and walked back into the house. He poured himself a drink, pulled out his ledger from the bookshelf and his stacks of cash and did what he did best. He started counting.

The front windows of Miss Della’s caught what little remained of the fading sun. A small glimmer of light reflected off the thick glass windows, piercing through the windshield of Smoke’s truck, cutting right through the passenger seat cushion. He put the car in reverse, watching the same sliver of light cut through the space he left behind as he backed out of the narrow alleyway, before thinning out completely. 

It wasn’t just the kiss that sat on his mind. 

It was the breath before. 

The hesitation. 

The way her lips lingered on his skin for a moment longer. The softness against his stubble. 

The single bead of sweat that trickled down between her cleavage. 

The crinkle in her bottom lip when she pulled it between her teeth. 

The way her eyes flicked up at him.

The way she climbed the porch stairs with that slow, hypnotizing swing of her hips that she probably didn’t even realize she was doing. He licked his bottom lip and shook his head trying to shake the thought of it. He couldn’t. 

Night spread across the sky as Smoke drove the short distance to his home in the Mississippi countryside. The sound of swamp frogs and the rotting, earthy, iron-tang of the Sunflower River reached in through his open windows like overgrowth claiming something abandoned.

When he reached his house, he cut the engine, the headlights of his truck blinking off with a cooling tick. The surrounding land went dark. Not the same type of darkness that cloaked the town with its street lights and candles in the window to soften the edges of night. The light from their porch lantern was nearly swallowed by the depth of pitch blackness that laid claim to the woods after the sun set. 

He kept the windows down. Reaching behind his ear, he brought the cigarette to his mouth. The lighter flickered to life. Open flame dancing in the darkness. He let the ember burn bright before he tapped the excess off on the outside of his truck door. He took a deep inhale of the tobacco blend Bo got him, then exhaled through his nose. He let his head fall back into the headrest and closed his eyes. 

When Smoke stepped through the door, Stack was still up. He found him at the kitchen table, sleeves rolled, two fingers of something brown on the table next to him. A red leather-bound ledger was spread open beside a candle burning low while he counted a stack of bills, writing numbers down in between. 

“Station?” Smoke asked, toeing his boots off at the door. 

Stack counted each bill meticulously, wetting his thumb in between. “Clean,” he replied quickly.

“Stops?”

He stopped to write down a number in the ledger, “Smooth.” 

Smoke crossed the room, sinking into the couch. “Who brought it in?” 

“Same kid. Jones.”

Smoke nodded once. “Anyone watchin’?” 

“Another kid looked curious,” Stack replied, nodding toward the bookshelf where stacks of crates draped in thick cloth sat on the floor. “Ain’t look stupid though.”

“Curious turn into brave real quick, when a white man start askin’ questions.”

Stack kissed his teeth, “Already handled it.” He finished his count, shuffled the money together neatly, and wrapped them in a rubber band. Then he stood, moving towards the back of the house to their stash. “Ain’t no problem.” 

Smoke crossed the room to the backshelf and grabbed the newspaper on top. He flipped through the pages as he walked back to the couch, relaxing back with a sigh. 

Stack walked back in the room, swiping the glass of whiskey from the kitchen table and sitting across from Smoke in a straight back chair. 

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, brown liquid catching the dim light in the room, a sly smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

He was ready to give his brother shit.

About Annie. 

About whatever happened while she was there. 

The remark was right on the tip of his tongue.

Then something made him pause, the glass of whiskey in his hand stopping mid-air. 

Silence sat between them for a moment. Silence that made Stack’s eyes narrow.

He looked at his brother. Really looked at him, his eyes sweeping over him thoroughly like he was checking for injuries after a fight. 

That’s when he noticed his jaw.

It wasn’t clenched. 

And his shoulders.

They weren’t wound up tight with tension like they always were.

Even the permanent crease that usually sat above his brow was softened.

He looked…relaxed. 

“You good?” He asked. His voice wasn’t soft, but the usual sarcasm it held wasn’t there.

“I’m straight,” he replied. He flipped the newspaper to the next page.

Stack raised an eyebrow. There was another beat of silence. This one was loud.

Smoke finally looked up, locking eyes with his twin. 

A second passed. Then two. Then he looked back down at the paper, and flipped to the next page. 

Stack’s smirk didn’t just return— it widened slowly like sunrise. It was a long, mischievous thing, one that showed off the gold on the side of his mouth.

He stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the floor, taking the rest of the whiskey to the head, and letting the liquid trickle smoothly down his throat until he could feel the burn everywhere like a fire lit deep in his chest. 

Annie stood in the doorway as the warmth of the house wrapped around her. It was a cozy space. Candles and oil lamps burned openly, their light tracing the shadows of the lodgers sitting in the front room. She took her boots off at the door, immediately dropping her basket and purse.

Her lips still tingled from where she kissed him. The taste of his skin lingered on her lips longer than the time it took to do it. She didn’t even mean to. It just happened— her body reacting before her mind could reel it back in.

The smell of molasses and whiskey brought her back into the room where the low hum of conversation hung in the air, the aroma of cornbread sitting heavy, and underneath it all, something slow-cooked and personal. She walked towards the warmth emanating—in both smell and feeling—from the kitchen.

“And I told him straight up,” she heard a man say, his voice drifting easily through the air like a Sunday morning. He leaned back into his chair casually, the wood groaning under his weight. “Faith ain’t always loud. Sometimes it sit quiet, waitin’ on folks to catch up.” 

Aunt Della hummed softly from across the table, hands laced around a cup of something.  Deep violet in color with a ruby red undertone, the drink shimmered in the kitchen, the hint of gold from its honey infusion catching the dim light. 

The man leaned back where he sat, his head tilted towards the front door. His eyes shifted sharply at her entry, landing on Annie like he’d sensed the exact moment she’d stepped through the door. 

“Evenin’, baby,” Aunt Della said, looking up. “Wash up. Supper ‘bout done.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“This here’s Reverend Carter. Reverend Carter, this here’s my great-niece. Annie.” 

He tipped his hat. He wore a thin silver band with a figurehead on his middle finger that he rubbed slowly with his thumb. “Call me Carter.” 

“Nice to meet you, Carter.” 

Something sparked there. Not romance. Not attraction. Not really.

Familiarity. A deep one. The kind that made her gut twist. 

Annie walked over to the wash basin and dipped her hands. She grabbed the bar of lye soap to create a small lather, moving the suds over her knuckles and under her fingernails. She felt the warm familiar tail of Felix wrapping around her ankle, his purring a calming vibration against her ankle. 

Supper was a warm mix of familiar and new faces, and light conversation. Every so often, Aunt Della’s eyes landed on Annie. 

“How was your day, baby?” 

Annie nodded between bites. “It was good. Lots of roots to sort through.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, passing the cornbread down the table. 

“Heard a car pull off when you came in.” 

“Yeah, Smoke dropped me off,” she replied quickly, forking collard greens into her mouth. She felt her aunt’s eyes on her. “He was just bein’ nice.” 

“Mmmhmm,” Aunt Della replied sharply, but she couldn’t hide the grin that pulled at the corner of her lips. 

Neither could Annie. 

Supper ended quietly and while some of the lodgers played cards in the front room, Annie made her way to the bathtub to wash up quickly before bed. 

Freshly bathed, hair oiled, and belly full, she said her good nights to Aunt Della and made her way to the staircase. It was a rugged, narrow thing, with steps that creaked loudly no matter how light you were on your feet. She shut the door to her bedroom and plopped on the bed. She quickly drifted off into a satisfied sleep, looking forward to what the next day would bring. 

Sunday morning. 

It arrived like it was dressed in white. 

Not the actual color white—but the respectability of it all, polished to a shine and worn proudly, like spiritual armor. Complete with neatly pressed linen, fancy shoes, and gloves folded in careful hands, this part of the morning held its own ritual.

Annie stood in front of the mirror in Aunt Della’s room while she pinned the last stubborn piece of her hat in place. It was a honey-colored straw-woven hat with faded blue grosgrain ribbon circling the crown that tied into a soft bow on the right side. A singular silk flower was stitched near the ribbon, small enough to feel sweet. The brim of the hat curved gently at the edges, casting a soft shadow over her eyes. Her hair underneath it was pinned carefully in a low bun at the nape of her neck with two loose curls on each side to frame her face. 

“Hold still.”

“I am,” Annie replied, although she was clearly fidgeting.

“No you ain’t,” Aunt Della said, playfully smacking the side of her arm.

Annie huffed softly through her nose but clasped her hands in front of her while Aunt Della stepped back to inspect her work.

“Just beautiful,” she breathed.

Annie wore a pale lavender Sunday dress with a lace collar, the cotton light enough for the Mississippi heat that still lingered at the edges of early October. It was clean and proper, the hem falling modestly just below her knees. Her ileke beads were pressed into the skin of her collarbone, tucked delicately under the dress. Her stockings stretched around her skin, her white gloves folded and resting beside her Bible on the bed. It was a modest one— small and leather bound. The cover was worn down to the hide that peeked through at the edges with little strings from the binding sticking out at the spine. The pages were almost see-through from time and use, with little notes scribbled in the margins like a glimpse back in time. It had belonged to her great-grandmother, a gift she gave Annie before she passed away.

“Wait,” Aunt Della said, stepping forward again to fuss with the collar of her dress once more. She exhaled, then nodded. “Okay. There. You look just darlin’.”

“Thank you,” Annie said, looking at herself fully in the mirror. 

Aunt Della turned, smoothing the front of her own cream-colored dress, her church hat already perched high and proud like it had seniority over everybody in town.

“You got your letter?”

“Oh!” Annie exclaimed, already retreating to her room. “Thank you. Can’t forget that.”

“Mhmm. Get it, and I’ll meet you on the porch.” 

Outside the town was already moving.

Rickety wagons, the occasional Model-T, and a sea of people moved along the streets. Church folk spilled onto the sidewalks in twos and threes, women balancing hats and children, men in suspenders and polished shoes, all of them heading in the same direction like a pilgrimage. The air held the smell of wet grass, pressed hair, and somebody’s breakfast frying three doors down. 

The building sat at the edge of Fourth Street like a symbol— a mark of authority, tradition, and refuge for the Black community. First Baptist Missionary Church rose from the soil like something determined to be seen and impossible to miss. Dark red brick looked brighter against the morning light, wide front steps worn smooth by generations of Sunday shoes, and tall windows thrown open to let in the heat and the Holy Ghost. A giant steeple with a brass bell sat on the top like a punctuation mark, towering over the modest faded wood and clapboard businesses surrounding it.

Ushers in matching suits flung the doors open. 

Voices, laughter, and the sound of a tambourine rattling somewhere in the back spilled outside, the low hum rising like the heat. 

Aunt Della walked beside Annie with the ease of somebody who had been making this walk for most of her life. Annie kept pace, eyes forward even while she felt others burning holes through her. She held a pan of bread pudding she’d made the night before firmly in her grasp. It was snug in a glass pan, wrapped in a kitchen towel embroidered with daisies. 

Women stood beneath shade trees, letting their conversations bend just slightly as they passed. 

A pause too long. 

A glance held a second past politeness. 

One older woman leaned toward another, saying something behind the fan pressed to her mouth. 

Annie kept her face forward. 

This wasn’t New Orleans. 

New Orleans was loud, fast, easily distracted. People there noticed, then quickly moved on. 

Clarksdale noticed. 

And it remembered.

“Smile,” Aunt Della murmured behind clenched teeth, without looking at her. 

Annie forced a smile. It wasn’t wide, her mouth parted just enough that Aunt Della’s jaw unclenched.

At the church steps, greetings came easy. 

Aunt Della answered what she wanted and ignored what she didn’t, moving with a grace that commanded respect above all. 

Annie stood beside her, shaking hands that came out to greet hers, nodding politely as she let herself be looked over like produce at a market. 

Eyes scanned her over, some genuine, some judgemental, all quietly judging the young woman in front of them. 

Was she pretty enough? 

Proper enough? 

Was she a perfect puzzle piece or a square trying to fit into a circle?

“Come on now, let’s get inside,” Aunt Della said, leading her from the steps. 

The back room of the church felt like a different world than the sanctuary. The sanctuary was all pressed linen and polished shoes. But this room was a space where women could laugh loudly and speak freely without too much judgment. The area was small, crowded, and smelled like perfume, powder, and wood polish. 

Annie stepped in carefully with the pan of bread pudding balanced in both hands, the dish still warm through the towel wrapped around it. 

“Set it there, baby,” Aunt Della said, as she moved near the long prep table arranging serving spoons like she was preparing for battle instead of Sunday service. “And if Miss Bernice asks, no, you did not use rum.”

“But I did,” Annie chimed in. 

“Then lie.” 

That earned a quiet laugh from somewhere close. Annie turned to her right. There, three young women stood near the side table, church gloves and hats firmly in place. 

One leaned against the wall. She was pretty and looked sharp. Her dark green dress was pressed neat, her eyes bright with the kind of trouble that wore makeup. 

“Well,” she said. “Is this her?” 

Annie blinked. “I’m sorry?”

The girl folded her arms. “Everybody been talkin’ about Miss Della’s Louisiana niece like you descended from heaven in stockings.”

One of the other girls sighed loudly, “Gigi.” 

“What?”

Annie fought back a smile. “It’s me,” she said, setting the dish down where her aunt instructed her. “In the flesh.” 

Gigi grinned. “Oh, I like you already.” 

Beside her stood another girl, softer in the face but no less present, adjusting the cuff of one of her white lace gloves with the careful precision of somebody raised to know exactly how women were expected to be seen. Her wedding band caught the light when she reached for a serving spoon.

“I’m Pearline,” she said warmly. “Ignore her. She think bein’ loud is her birthright.” 

“I ain’t loud, I just don’t mumble like some quiet little church mouse,” Gigi fired back. “I’m Georgia—Gigi—and that there’s Nellie.” 

She paused. “She real quiet,” she whispered loudly. “Like a little church mouse.”

“I heard that,” Nellie shot back.

“That was the point, dumplin’.” 

Nellie stood closest to the long table, fixing church fans into a neat stack like the fate of the congregation relied on symmetry. “Very nice to meet you, Annie.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

“So,” Gigi said, stalking towards Annie with a mischievous grin. “Tell us all about New Orleans.”

The sanctuary held heat differently. It trickled down from the corners of the vaulted ceiling, stretching across the congregation like morning dew. The air inside was thick with the scent of wood polish and old hymnals. Sweat and perfume. Talcum powder and fresh flowers near the pulpit trying their best to mask it all. Sunlight spilled through the stained-glass windows in long jewel-toned slants, catching dust in the air like holy hands.

Aunt Della moved them towards the middle pews, where women with strong perfume and tight lipped smiles greeted her with warmth only reserved for a woman like her. Annie followed behind, her eyes moving about the room subtly. Once to the left, then the right, then the back. She didn’t know why she expected him to be there. Maybe because church felt like the kind of place a town would require of a man like him. Maybe because after yesterday, some foolish part of her thought she might see him anywhere now. But Smoke wasn’t there, and neither was Stack. The absence sat with her longer than it should have, louder than his presence would have been.

She lowered herself into the pew, smoothing her skirt over her knees. Her Bible rested in her lap, her purse settling to her side.

Aunt Della opened her fan with a practiced snap. “You alright?” she asked, fanning herself.

Annie blinked. “Yes, ma’am.”

Aunt Della gave her a look that said she didn’t fully believe that, but Sunday morning wasn’t the place for an interrogation. 

At the front of the church, Carter stood near the pulpit speaking quietly with Deacon Lewis—the standing pastor. He wore a dark suit, pressed sharp, that same signet ring catching the light that poured in the windows whenever he lifted his hand. Even from across the sanctuary, something about him felt too familiar, and the unease from the night before crept through her like a tangible thing, making her frown where she sat. 

The organist struck a chord. 

Deacon Lewis raised his hands from where he stood at the pulpit, the room rising with them. The organ sounded again, the sound rising slow at first, then all at once. Voices layered over it, some young, some old, some skeptical, some certain. Aunt Della sang beside Annie in a clear alto that sounded older than the room itself, pitch perfect but haunting, like something ancient, and passed down came out without her trying. 

Annie stood perfectly still with her hymnal open in her hands, though her eyes barely touched the page. Her voice joined where it needed to, soft and practiced, but her attention kept drifting. To the strange feeling sitting just beneath her ribs like a second heartbeat. It felt both new and like a memory she hadn’t asked for.

The hymn ended in a rustle of old pages and the sound of bodies settling. Fans opened again like angel wings. A baby cried once and was swiftly carried outside. 

The deacon began the first prayer…

…and just kept on going. 

He prayed long and loud enough to make up for every sin committed in Clarksdale that week. 

Heads bowed and amens sounded when the prayer finally came to an end, shoes shifted across loose floorboards trying to shake out sleeping limbs from standing in one place too long. 

Deacon Lewis used his handkerchief to dab his sweat pooling on his brow, the droplets beading in the creases of his forehead. “Please be seated.”

Linen and cotton whispered against the old wood pews that creaked under the weight of generations. Fans clacked open, their methodical flutter echoing against the walls of the sanctuary. 

Deacon Lewis’s voice was like fire and brimstone, melodic and daunting all at once. 

“I’ve been hearin’ about a young preacher man,” he started. 

A soft Mhmm! Came from the crowd. 

“Heard he brought out great crowds, white and Colored, SAINTS AND SINNERS, men and women, all stations of life, the merchant prince and sons of toil, for one of the greatest old time fire and Holy Ghost revivals ever witnessed in this country.” 

“Amen!”

“Well, I found him. Brought him to the good town of Clarksdale…to lead the most MIGHTY spiritual awakening this town will ever see.”

More shouts from the crowd, a few stomps and tambourine jingles. 

“Can I get an amen?”

“AMEN!”

“Please rise, for the esteemed reverend. Give him a hand.”

The congregation erupted. Stomps, shouts, and hands flew up as Reverend Carter stepped forward with unhurried ease. He set his Bible down on the pulpit and let the room settle around him first, like his silence had its own authority.

“Now tell ‘em who you are,” Deacon Lewis said, his voice booming from the side. “Where you from.”

Carter paused. “Good mornin’, church.” 

“Good mornin’ Reverend!” A wave of greetings met him in response. 

“My name is Reverend Dr. Thelonius Carter. Born and raised in Houston, Texas.” 

Another wave of Hey Reverend Carter’s and grunts of acknowledgement filled the air.

“Got ordained at the First Missionary Baptist Church in Handsboro,” he continued. 

Aunt Della’s fan slowed once. 

Then resumed.

At the pulpit, Carter opened his Bible, then smoothed the crease gently with his palm. 

“Now, I been told y’all feed a preacher real well in this town,” he said, adjusting his cuffs. He rolled each side twice, slowly before he continued. “So, if this sermon run a little long, just know I’m workin’ for my supper.” 

Laughter moved through the room. Aunt Della smiled. So did Annie.

He rested one hand against the pulpit. “But this mornin’, I wanna talk about paths. Purpose.”

The congregation stilled. 

Carter continued, voice smooth as river water. “Now, everybody in here like to talk about blessings. Everybody like to testify about what the Lord brought ‘em to. But folk get mighty quiet when it come time to speak on what He brought ‘em…through.” 

He paused dramatically.

A few congregation members hummed in agreement. A sharp “that’s right” came from a church mother sitting on the stage next to Deacon Lewis.

“See, purpose ain’t always some…dramatic declaration.” He waved his hands around for emphasis. 

“It ain’t always thunder and lightnin’.”

“Talk to ‘em!” Someone shouted from deep in the pews. 

Sometimes it’s like a regular ol’ Tuesday mornin’, like a path you done walked a hundred times.”

“Until one day, it ain’t the same path no ‘mo.” 

“Until that path…become a crossroads.”

Annie’s gloved fingers tightened around the Bible in her lap. 

He held a finger to his lips, his eyes darting around the congregation. “Sometimes the Lord place a thing in your path,” Carter kept preaching. “And your spirit know it before your mind catch up.”

He grabbed the edge of the pulpit with both hands. “But we stubborn creatures, ain’t we?”

Sounds of agreement came from the crowd.

“We like proof. Permission. We like to pretend we ain’t heard what was already said.”

More scattered laughter flowed through the room, softer this time. 

Annie’s eyes stayed in place. Forward. Not scanning the room. Fixed. On the pulpit. On Carter. On how he pulled the crowd in like he was bewitching them. How he used eye contact like a weapon. On how he knew exactly when to whisper and when to shout. 

Carter smiled faintly, turning to a page in his Bible. 

“Book of Jeremiah. Chapter six, verse sixteen.” 

Pages turned instantly. The shuffle of delicate paper fluttering against leather and the sound of clearing throats and quiet coughs made its way through the church. Carter stood, patiently waiting for the sound to settle.

“Thus saith the Lord— say it with me.” 

The congregation joined in. 

“Thus saith the Lord, stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein.” 

He stopped, waited for the congregation voices to die out. Then continued, emphasising each word individually, his voice booming over the sound of the crowd. “And ye shall find rest for your souls.”

His finger tapped once against the page as a round of grunts, hums, and amens filled the air. 

Carter looked up, holding up a hand. The congregation went quiet.  

“Oh, I ain’t done,” he teased, a slight smirk on his face. 

“Folk hear that and think it mean safe. Easy.” 

His eyes flicked around the room. “It don’t,” he said flatly. 

“Verse sixteen goes on to say,” he started. “But they said, we will not walk therein.” 

“The right path will ask somethin’ of you. Might cost you comfort. Might cost you pride. Might cost the version of you, you most committed to protectin’.” 

A soft murmur moved through the church.

Carter leaned forward slightly on the pulpit. “And some of y’all,” he said, voice dropping lower. Gentler somehow. “Some of y’all already know exactly what path I’m talkin’ about.” 

Silence fell over the crowd. Not an empty silence, but one that felt full. Knowing. One that felt less like preaching and more like being told something you didn’t want to admit. He let the silence sit. Let a smile spread on his face. Easy. Disarming. 

“But I’m just a guest in this here church, and Miss Della already threatened me if I kept y’all too long, so I’ma leave the rest between y’all and the Lord.” 

The room finally broke. Laughter, a sound that felt like relief at the moment, echoed through the rafters. Carter stood at the pulpit, smile flashing across the sea of people like a man who’d done nothing at all.

Aunt Della leaned over just enough to murmur behind her fan, “That man dangerous.”

Annie’s nose wrinkled. “How come?” 

Aunt Della’s fan snapped once, the crack echoing in the laughter that had begun to settle into an earned silence. “Cuz he ain’t preachin’. He prophesyin’.”  

They stood for the final hymn. This one much shorter and softer than the first, like an exhale instead of a held breath. It let the sermon settle into the congregation. Let folks turn Reverend Carter’s words over in their heads quietly while they sang, so they could decide which parts would stay with them and which parts they planned to leave in the sanctuary. 

Annie stood beside Aunt Della, voice light, eyes fixed on the hymnal, her fingers toying with the edge of her glove until the seam pressed into her thumb. 

The hymn ended. Benediction followed. Hands lifted. Heads bowed. And just like that, holiness settled into a regular old Sunday afternoon.

The sanctuary came alive in a rush. Children were letting out pent-up energy by weaving through pews. Women adjusted the pins that kept their hats secure. Men rolled their shoulders loose under their shirts like salvation itself weighed heavy on them. 

Aunt Della was pulled into conversation before the final amen had fully landed. A small crowd of women formed around her, laughing as they traded gossip back and forth. Annie smiled politely and took a step back to relieve herself from the haze of heavy perfume and pettiness. Her eyes moved around the sanctuary. Towards the sides, the front, the back room. 

No Smoke. Not that she expected him now. Service was over. 

Still.

The absence still sat there anyway. 

“Lookin’ for somebody?” The voice came smooth beside her. 

Annie started to turn quickly, then slowed herself down. Carter stood there, hat in one hand, the other extended politely toward one of the church mothers getting up from her pew. 

“No,” Annie said too fast. 

One corner of his mouth moved. It wasn’t a smile, just a flicker of amusement. Or satisfaction. “Mm.” He let the silence sit between them just long enough for her to hear herself in it. Then he rescued her from it himself. “You sing pretty.”

Annie blinked, tilting her head. “You couldn’t even hear me.” 

“I heard you. Loud and clear.”

Annie let out the smallest laugh despite herself. 

“My aunt say you talk too much,” Annie blurted out. She folded her arms across her chest.

Carter’s eyebrows lifted. “Your aunt is a wise woman. I been tryna tell people that all day.” 

“She also say you dangerous,” she added, immediately wishing she’d kept that remark to herself.

That made him smile fully, intrigued now. The silver teeth on the bottom row of his mouth gleamed in the light. “Did she now?”

He adjusted his hat beneath his arm and leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping lower, but somehow gentler. “What you think?” 

“I think,” Annie said carefully. “You ask a lot of questions for somebody who already know the answers.” 

Carter looked down at his hand, pressing his thumb once to the face of his ring, then he looked up at Annie again. 

Aunt Della’s voice cut across the room. “Annie!”

She turned on her heel. “Excuse me.”

She crossed the room towards her aunt in a few long strides, feeling his gaze leave her slower than it should have. Aunt Della was gathering her gloves in one hand, her fan in the other. She was engaging in conversation with a woman in a butter yellow dress with a ruffled lace collar. “You got that letter?”

Annie half-jumped, reaching in her purse for the envelope. “Oh! Yes.”

“Miss Loretta works for the postal service. Her husband owns the Blackbird Cafe.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Loretta,” Annie said, eyes warm. She shook her hand before handing Loretta the letter and a coin for the postage. “Can you tell Mr. Hightower that I’d like to accept the position at the cafe? I can start tomorrow.”

Loretta received her warmly, letting her land linger on hers for a moment. “I’ll let him know. And I’ll make sure your letter gets back home.” 

“Thank you,” Annie said emphatically. 

Aunt Della took Annie, looping their arms through each other as she guided them to the church’s backyard.

Outside, the sun climbed higher. Brighter. More unforgiving. It pressed heat into the town’s Sunday best where it lingered, creeping into the seams of collars and where made sweat slick underneath stockings. Men loosened their ties like Jesus was no longer watching now that church had let out, and children ran wild in their Sunday shoes, shamelessly staining the polished toes with grass and Mississippi mud. 

The backyard of the church was set up with tables neatly covered with lace tablecloths that had been passed down and mended neatly throughout the years. Dishes covered the tables— fried chicken and fish hot off the grease under dish towels, deviled eggs dusted with paprika, macaroni and cheese and collard greens steeping in deep bowls. Sweet tea and iced water sat sweating in glass pitchers. Annie’s bread pudding—a rich combination of dark brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and the heavy sweetness of whiskey and rum-soaked raisins—sat at the end of the table, keeping the other desserts company. 

Annie stood behind the food table with a serving utensil and an anxious smile. Her gloves had come off, her Bible tucked away in her purse. The only thing left from the sermon was a full belly and sore cheeks. Her new acquaintances stood along her, Gigi, Nellie and Pearline spread out behind the long table of food, the line in front of the serving tables stretching nearly halfway across the church yard. 

Gigi slid another piece of fried catfish onto a plate while Pearline scooped greens beside it. 

“You keep givin’ Brother Jenkins portions like that, we gon’ run out befo’ the deacons eat,” Gigi murmured under her breath. 

Brother Jenkins, hard of hearing and entirely too closely hovering over the food, grinned despite not hearing a word Gigi said. 

“What was that?”

Gigi smiled sweetly. “I said enjoy your meal.” 

Nellie snorted so loudly, sweet tea always flew up her nose. “You gon’ burn in hell,” she mouthed. 

Gigi passed another plate down the table calmly. “Prolly. ‘Least I won’t be hungry.” 

Annie bit back a laugh as she reached for another serving spoon. The rhythm of the line settled into something easy. Scoop. Pass. Smile. Repeat. There were the occasional outliers. Church women with their judgment and heavy perfume. Children begging for an extra slice of cake. Men flirting horribly. Annie, Gigi, Nellie, and Pearline worked around all of it. 

Enter Claudine Thompson. She was a viper of a woman, with a daring smile that never actually meant that she meant well. She wore a frilly peach colored dress, a powder blue Sunday hat, and matching powder blue gloves. She stepped in front of Annie, who offered her a slice of her bread pudding. 

“You settlin’ in fast, ain’t you?” She asked, voice dipped with poison as Annie put a generous helping on her plate. The women around her laughed softly. Not cruel enough to challenge, but not kind enough to ignore. 

“I’m tryin’.” 

Claudine nodded slowly, eyes traveling over her hat, her gloves, the way she stood. “We noticed,” she hummed. 

Annie tilted her chin a little higher. “Well,” she said, voice even. “I’d probably be worse off if I wasn’t.” 

Claudine lips moved into a thin line, a rather reluctant smile. She looked Annie up and down again. “Cute,” she said with a slight dip of one of her shoulders. 

Before Annie could decide whether that was a praise or a warning, Aunt Della appeared at her elbow like she was summoned. “Be gone, Claudine. She don’t need no supervision. Especially not from you.” 

The silence that followed was brief. Then Claudine laughed like it had all been friendly banter. “Lord, Delilah,” she said, waving her hand. “Can’t say nothin’ round you.”

“And yet,” Aunt Della replied. “You keep tryin’,” she said with a head tilt and a sharp look.

The women laughed again. Claudine’s eyes snapped sharply to them before turning on her heel and stomping away. 

“Never think you need to explain yourself to a woman like that,” Aunt Della said as she helped herself to a generous serving of macaroni and cheese. “They don’t be askin’ cuz they want answers. They tryna check your temperature.” 

Annie exhaled through her nose. “I noticed.”

“Good,” she replied firmly. “Means you learnin’.” 

“Or maybe it just means church women are miserable and need hobbies,” Gigi said from a little ways down the table.

“Georgia.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Aunt Della shot her a look before leaving to sit with the deacon. “Behave.”

“Always.”

Gigi leaned against the table while Annie cut another square of bread pudding. “So Louisiana,” she started. “Y’all really got people walkin’ around speakin’ French down there?”

Annie nodded once. “And Creole.” 

“Say somethin’.” 

Annie laughed softly. “Why?” 

“Because church almost killed me from boredom and this heat ‘bout to finish the job.”

“Georgia Mathers,” Pearline gasped dramatically.

“What? Reverend Carter fine self already saved my soul this mornin’. I can say what I want ‘til Wednesday.” 

Annie shook her head, smiling to herself before saying something low and quick in Creole. 

“Well damn,” Gigi said. 

Pearline sighed softly, scooping another healthy serving of greens on a plate. “That sounded pretty.”

Gigi pointed at Annie with a pair of tongs. “If I learn another language, I’m only usin’ it to insult people.” 

“You already insult them in English,” Nellie muttered.

“That’s because the Lord made me honest.”

“And loud,” Pearline added.

The four of them dissolved into laughter again.

Another older church mothers drifted past the table slowly enough to make her presence known. “Well,” she said pleasantly, while Nellie poured her a glass of sweet tea. “Y’all certainly lively today.”

Gigi smiled instantly, the kind of smile that matched Sister Claudine’s a bit earlier. “Yes ma’am,” she replied sweetly. “We still young enough to enjoy life.”

Annie and Nellie gasped underneath their breath. The church mother’s lips tightened almost invisibly before she moved along the line. 

“You gon’ say the wrong thing to the right person one day,” Pearline said, letting out a breath through her nose.

“One day the right person gon’ ask the wrong question.”

Annie looked between the two of them quietly. 

“What?”

“You don’t get nervous talkin’ to church mothers like that?”

Gigi shrugged. “They already decided who I am to them. Might as well enjoy myself.”

The line in front of the serving tables had dwindled down now that most people were settling into the slow part of the afternoon. Behind the table the girls had switched positions, Annie refilling a glass of sweet tea, while Pearline cut a square of bread pudding with practiced care. Nellie was in charge of the fried chicken and fish which were almost gone, and Gigi dished out the sides. 

Nellie leaned forward suddenly, her eyes narrowing toward the far side of the church yard. 

“Oh Lord,” she muttered under her breath.

Gigi squinted, following her gaze. “What?”

Nellie nodded subtly towards a man standing near the pecan tree laughing with two deacons and a church mother, “Leroy.” 

“He over there sweatin’ right through that tired ass gray suit.” 

Annie and Pearline looked up, following their gaze. The man was handsome. Deep brown skin gleaming beneath the afternoon heat. His collar loosened just enough to show the thick line of his throat. His suit fit well across his shoulders. A little too well. And every time he laughed, a silver tooth flashed near the back of his mouth. 

“He do got a nice laugh,” Pearline said softly.

“And a wife,” Gigi corrected. 

“That don’t mean I can’t look,” Nellie chimed in. “Lord gave me eyes for a reason.” 

Annie raised a brow. 

“He also gave you discretion,” Pearline muttered while stacking clean plates. “And respectability.”

Nellie rolled her eyes. Gigi did, too. Annie laughed quietly to herself. 

“Oh, don’t act innocent, Louisiana. I know you got your eye on somebody already.”

“I never said I didn’t.” 

“Alright then. Who?”

“Never said I did either.”

“Well what’s your type?”

Annie shrugged. “Ain’t got one. I like what I like.”

“Hypothetically….”

“Here we go,” Nellie said, scratching her head.

“Hypothetically. Lookswise. Do you find any of these men attractive?” 

Annie blinked. “Sure.” She could already tell where this was going.

“So pick one.”

“Pick what?”

“A man.”

Pearline groaned. “We really ‘bout to play this game,” she muttered.

Annie huffed. “You want me to pick a random man? For what?” 

“Just a man you think is cute.”

Annie sucked her teeth.

“Ok hear me out. I’ll go first.” A group of young men passed nearby carrying folding chairs back towards the church building, Gigi’s eyes locked on one of them. He was tall. Dark brown skin. Slim waist beneath his suspenders, white shirt clinging damply to his back from sweat. It outlined the clean movement of muscle beneath it every time he lifted another chair onto his shoulders. “Mhmm,” she hummed approvingly. “That one right there.”

“You don’t even know him,” Nellie sighed. 

“I know enough.”

“What enough?”

“Look at how he carry weight.” 

“Well, if we bein’ honest,” Pearline said, pointing discreetly towards the far tables where an older man stood near the barbecue pit speaking with Reverend Carter. He was thick in the chest and shoulders, suspenders pulled low against his stomach. His hair was beginning to gray at the temples, his face carrying deep smile lines that deepened when he spoke. He looked solid. Steady. “That’s my husband.”

“See now Pearline,” Gigi said, her face twisting up like she just ate a lemon. “Every time you point him out I get sad.”

Pearline rolled her eyes. “Why?” 

“‘Cause he look like he read the almanac before bed every night.”

Nellie and Annie burst into laughter so suddenly they made heads turn towards them. Annie covered her mouth quickly. 

“He’s a nice man,” Pearline said, a little bit wounded. 

“I’m sure he is,” Gigi replied. “I ain’t say he wasn’t.” 

“He got nice hands,” Nellie said. “Big ones.”

“And big feet too,” Gigi added with a grin.

Pearline sighed and rolled her eyes again. “He take care of me.”

“I bet he do,” Gigi said, giggling under her breath and nudging Annie gently with her elbow. She laughed too.

“Your turn, Louisiana.” 

Annie shook her head, trying to hide the smile tugging at her mouth as she glanced out across the way. Men stood in clusters throughout the church yard. In their dark slacks and rolled sleeves, leaning easy against trees smoking cigarettes, or arguing over baseball stats loud enough for the whole congregation to hear. Her eyes drifted until they landed on a man sitting near the edge of the folding tables. 

He looked tall from where she could see him. His suspenders stretched across a white shirt that had gone soft with wear. His sleeves were rolled neatly up to his elbows, revealing long forearms darkened by the sun. He sat tipped back in his chair, balancing dangerously on its back two legs while he listened to somebody talk, one hand lazily rubbing across his broad chest. His eyes glimpsed towards Annie and she looked away quickly, but not before Gigi caught who she was looking at. 

“Ohh, she like the quiet ones.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” 

Pearline leaned to the side to look. “Mmm,” she hummed. “He is handsome, though.” 

“That’s Isaiah,” Nellie said, barely looking up. “Works for the railroad.” 

“Look at lil’ Nellie knowin’ every man’s occupation like she work for the census.” 

“What can I say? I like men with jobs.”

“And I like men who fine enough to ruin my life,” Gigi shot back. “Just a little.”

Annie barked out a laugh. “That’s how women end up cryin’ on porches.” 

“Or men end up gettin’ a root put on them.” 

Nellie snorted into her glass of lemonade. Annie shook her head smiling. “You always this dramatic?” 

Gigi leaned in towards her. “Only in public.” 

Annie found herself laughing harder than she had since she’d been in Mississippi.

After the buzz from the church, her newfound acquaintances, and Sunday dinner wore off, Annie found herself just looking for a peaceful place to sit. She padded to the porch, equipped with a few sheets of paper and her foraging basket.

Her shoulders sank when she got there. Men were out there slapping dominos, drinking, playing the harmonica. The sounds of late summer floated down the steps and onto the street that was alive with the after-church crowd. 

Way too crowded. She needed quiet. 

She sighed, rounding the front porch until she found a spot. She found one under the big magnolia tree whose branches scratched her bedroom window when the wind blew at night. 

She spread out her blanket in the grass. From her basket she took her roots, flowers and herbs and spread them out, organizing them by types. Then she went to the backyard and pumped a small bucket of water for cleaning. She started with the roots. Trimming and peeling back bits and pieces that weren’t useful. Running a damp cloth over them to clean, then laying them out carefully. 

Smoke stood on the porch of Miss Della’s boarding house with a crate full of her things and heat on his neck. He stepped into the front room, letting the screen door slap behind him. In the crate were copies of the Black publications sent down from up north and a small box that he promised Della him and Stack would pick up from Memphis.  The slap of the screen door caught Della’s eye and she nodded towards the lean-to in the back. He followed her outside. Once the door was closed, she lifted up the entrance hidden in the floorboards and guided him down the stairs. 

The space was expansive. Cooler than the surface. Della lit a series of oil lamps as she made her way through the underground space that was the length of the entire house. The walls and floors were lined with stone and mortar to keep the damp out, the floors smoother in the middle from constant wear. 

Shelves lined the walls from top to bottom, loaded with peaches, plums, oranges soaked in sugar and rum. Vanilla beans in moonshine. Nuts dipped in chocolate. Delicacies— pickled savory treats, candied sweet ones. Preserves and jams. Jars dusted with time stacked on top of each other. A thick, deep-purple syrup dripped from honeycombs into molds. Infused with a special blend of rum, it would harden into crystallized candy sticks and small square hard candies, or melt effortlessly into a smooth liqueur to stir into drinks. Small bottles with oils and dried flowers stood throughout the space too, along with some root vegetables and dried herbs. Cases of liquor, shelves of wine with bottles so old they’re covered in dust and cobwebs. 

Smoke put the crate in the corner by one of the rooms in the back. He took out the newspaper bundles and brought them to Della who instructed him to bring them upstairs with him. She looked over them for a second before patting him on the shoulder and looking him in his eyes. 

“Thank you for watching out for my girl yesterday.”

Smoke’s breath hitched a bit, enough for Della to notice. She gave him a little grin, “Mhmm. She ‘round here somewhere if you wanna say hi. Try some of her bread pudding. It’s in the kitchen,” she said as she moved around him and disappeared up the stairs. 

Back upstairs, Smoke enjoyed a serving of bread pudding topped with sticky rum sauce while he looked out on the porch for Annie. She wasn’t there. He finished his dessert, putting the dish in the wash basin before washing his hands and rounding the back to finish his search. He stepped out to the backyard and circled around to the side where a little patch of grass fanned into a grassy alleyway. The area was small but plush, the sun hitting it just right. A wire fence separated the boarding house and the house next to it. A magnolia tree stood in the middle, tall and proud, its branches hanging low like a veil over Annie’s head. She sat underneath it on a patchwork quilt, its colors vibrant, stitched with heat and history.

Annie was sitting with a quiet focus, tracing the edges of a plant on a piece of paper. She wrote the name at the bottom with a little detail about it on the side. She wore a sleeveless lace patterned dress— long, to her ankles—with a tan work apron overtop. A pair of brown ankle boots, scuffed at the toes, laced up her feet. A large floppy mesh hat crowned her head of coils, keeping the heat and sweat away. Her ileke beads sat tucked underneath the neckline of her dress, completing the look. Smoke approached her slowly, the grass flattened beneath his boots as he walked closer. He watched the side of her mouth curve up like she already knew he was there. 

“Can’t sneak up on me today.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to.”

“Smoke.”

“Annie.”

She dusted the dirt off her hands as he held out his hand to help her stand up. He looked put together. Effortless. Dark trousers and a faded shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. The sunlight caught the gold-brown of his skin in soft flashes between the shadows of the magnolia tree. 

“You hidin’?” he said finally, his eyes briefly drifting towards the quilt. 

Annie huffed out a quiet laugh, “Maybe.” 

He nodded once. He understood that completely. 

“Didn’t see you at church today,” she said, crossing her arms under her chest.

“Little busy.” 

“You too busy for the Lord?” She asked teasingly.

“Nah,” he said, stretching his arms. “He too busy for me.” 

“He ain’t never too busy for his…children.” 

“I ain’t on that list.” 

“Nah, I think you right at the top. Next to Peter and Paul,” she said, turning around to drop her blade down on the quilt. 

“Definitely ain’t no saint,” he said to the side. 

“That don’t make you a sinner, Smoke.”

A silent beat passed between them. A breeze blew by, making the windchimes on the front porch let out a low jingle. 

“That happen a lot?”

Smoke narrowed his eyes, “You got a lot of questions.” 

“And you answer almost none of ‘em.” 

A low hum, almost a laugh, left his chest. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Can’t threaten me with a good time.” 

Smoke looked down at Annie, his gaze dropping to her lips briefly, then back up to her eyes.

“Me and Stack went to my uncle’s church.”

And they did. Macedonia Missionary Baptist, their uncle Jedidiah’s church right on the edge of the Sunflower plantation. It was a small rickety building, white-washed with high wooden ceilings and low pews. They sat in the back row, in their whitest whites like they always did. After service, they helped distribute the allotment of wine their uncle got from the county every month for communion. Since prohibition started, he’d sell some off on the side for extra money to offset the quota that he wouldn’t fulfill, even with all the little ones he and his wife, Ruthie, had.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “So your uncle’s a preacher?” 

“That’s what he say, anyway.”

“Are y’all—,” Annie started to ask before noticing his jaw clench suddenly, “— nevermind.” 

She tilted her head at him. “Why don’t you come to one of the services in town?” 

“Habit.”

“Makes sense.” 

He paused. Took a breath, his eyes drifting to the quilt again then back up. “I used to go to the services in town. Before my uncle became a pastor,” he started.

Annie watched him carefully. “When’d he become a pastor?”

“Few years back. ‘Fore the war.”

“Oh,” she said, letting the sound of her voice fade into silence while he continued.

“We went every Sunday before then. Stack liked the singin’. I liked the quiet after.” 

The confession surprised her. Not because it was ground-breaking, but because he gave one. At all. “What changed?” 

Smoke got quiet like he was searching for the right words, his gaze shifting towards the road beyond the fence. “People.” 

Annie swallowed hard. People. Something about the way he said it made her chest ache unexpectedly. He pivoted quickly, like he could feel it too.

“Annie?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s all this?” 

“Drawings,” Annie said, sitting back down on the quilt, drawings spread out evenly across the fabric. Smoke cleared his throat, then lowered himself down beside her with the same quiet heaviness that accompanied everything about him. 

The sun was dipping low, throwing a veil of gold over the landscape. The sound of a guitar floated over from Fourth Street. Folks were sitting on their porches, enjoying the slight drop in temperature.

“I know that,” he tutted. “What they for?” 

Annie pulled a knee to her chest, absentmindedly tracing her fingertip along one of the quilt seams. “Helps my memory. Drawin’ things. Writin’ them down.”

“So you remember what they look like?”

“Kinda. So I remember what they for,” her voice drifted off as a loud buzzing sound got closer. 

A hummingbird. 

Its sharp beak poked at the gardenias clustered by the fence, their petals still closed. It floated from one flower to the next, searching for sugary nectar it could feed on.Annie’s hand touched a vial of water that sat on the quilt next to her legs. She picked it up, pointing the tip at her outstretched finger. 

“Watch this.”

A hummingbird hovered overhead, the flapping of its wings a dull buzz. It floated to her finger that she held up, its long beak piercing through the cap of the vial. Smoke flinched a little at the rapid movement of its wings, but quickly recovered. 

“How you get them to come to you?”

Annie shrugged her shoulders slightly. “They like the sound of my voice.” 

Smoke’s gaze went from the bird perched on her finger up to Annie. Her grin, her delicate finger, the way her chest moved with her breathing. The way the setting sun smiled on her skin. Smoke watched her as she watched pieces of sunlight flicker across the yard through the leaves. 

A breeze moved through the magnolia branches overhead carrying the faint floral scent down with it that mixed with the smell of freshly laundered cotton from the sheets hanging in the backyard, swaying gently in the breeze. 

Annie smelled sweet—like sugary vanilla, cinnamon, and rum from baking. Her sweetness wrapped around his senses, pulling him in like the song of a siren. He used to hear tales about them during the war. With their eyes and the sweet, sultry sound of their voices that were known to lure soldiers into a watery grave. 

Smoke didn’t believe in any of that shit. 

Not in ghosts, not in magic, and definitely not in no tall tales. But he couldn’t help but feel time slow down around her. At this very moment, right next to him, she looked—

“Smoke?” 

His vision snapped back into focus. He cleared his throat, swallowing the words he really wanted to say. “Hmm?” 

“You okay? Look like you were somewhere else for a second,” she remarked. 

Smoke comes back to himself. “Just thinkin’ bout that bread pudding you made.”

Lie.

“You had some?”

“Mhmm. Earlier. Your aunt gave me some.”

“You liked it?”

Smoke shrugged his shoulders, “It was aight.”

“Ugh!” Annie tutted, smacking Smoke’s shoulder playfully. “That’s how I know you a damn lie.”

“I thought you not supposed to be cussin’ on a Sunday.” 

“Not when you out here…insulting my cookin’.” 

“I was just playin’,” Smoke teased, his lips flattened to suppress the grin that was quickly spreading across his face.

The evening heat wrapped around them, creeping slowly up their necks. Smoke picked at a loose thread near the edge of the quilt while Annie studied him quietly. The roughness of his hands resting against the quilt. The slight tremor in his right palm. The heaviness he carried in his shoulders even when he wasn’t moving. The stillness. The tension underneath the stillness. For the first time, she realized how much of him always seemed braced for something. At this very moment, spread out on a quilt under a magnolia tree. 

The thought sat strangely in her chest. “You look like you always ready for somethin’,” she said softly before she could stop herself.

Smoke looked at her, immediately focusing on her face in a way that made Annie almost regret what she said. He didn’t look angry. Didn’t look defensive. The expression flashed behind his eyes before disappearing just as quickly as it had arrived.

Vulnerable?

Not quite.

Not in a dramatic way. But just enough to realize she was watching him. Had been watching him. And for Smoke? That landed hard. Because he hadn’t realized she was paying attention. Not like that. For a long moment neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Smoke looked away first, gaze dropping towards the quilt between them then back to her. 

“That so?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Annie nodded once, “Like you never really…let yourself settle.” “Or be settled,” she said, voice just above a whisper. 

The magnolia branches stirred overhead again, their shadows moving slowly across the grass beneath them. 

Smoke spoke again. This time, his voice carried something new and unknown in it. “Most people don’t notice.” 

“Most people don’t sit still long enough to notice a lot of things.” 

Smoke paused for a beat. This time it stretched longer. The cicadas screamed louder for a moment, filling the silence neither of them seemed interested in breaking. Annie looked towards the back of the house when she sensed movement. She relaxed when she saw somebody moving past one of the kitchen windows. Then—

“And you do?” Smoke asked finally.

Annie turned to face him. She shrugged softly, “Somebody got to.”

A faint smile pulled briefly at the corner of his mouth. 

The sun dipped deeper into the horizon. The sky darkened further. It was a smooth shade of black with a twinge of gold from the warmth spilling out of the neighborhood windows that caught against Smoke’s face. He leaned back on one arm, gazing up towards the sky. His hand drifted next to where hers was on the quilt. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat of him on her skin. 

“What you got goin’ on this week?” His tone was almost hesitant, like he shouldn’t be asking this kind of question, but decided to do it anyway.

“I start at the cafe in town tomorrow.”

“Blackbird?”

“Yep.”

Smoke nodded in approval. “What time?”

“Nine.” She took a breath. “Why? You comin’ by tomorrow?” 

Her eyes widened. The question slipped out before she could catch herself. Again.

Smoke watched her for a second, “Maybe.” 

The kitchen window above where they were sitting slid up suddenly. 

“Annie!”

Aunt Della’s voice. 

Both of them looked up. “You left these dishes sittin’ on my counter like they pay rent!” 

Smoke’s mouth twitched. Annie groaned softly under her breath, her head dropping back dramatically, “She soooo…” she groaned, already reaching to pack her things.

“She family. I gotta go anyway,” Smoke said. Like something came over him, his hand rose to find the small of her back, his hand moving up and down gently. 

The sudden burst of fragrance from the night-blooming jasmine that laced through the fence like roots and moonflowers that hung like little white bells wafted towards them as the crickets began their rhythmic chirping and the cicadas changed rhythm. 

Annie stopped what she was doing. The warmth of Smoke’s hand on her back made her turn towards him slowly, her face close enough to his that she could feel his breath on her collarbone and smell the scent of tobacco and spice that clung to his shirt. They locked eyes. Smoke held hers a second, not long enough to call it anything but long enough to feel it anyway. He licked his lips, leaned in, and kissed her cheek. His warm, wet lips lingered softly against her skin, sending shivers down her spine and warmth beneath her ribs. The silence after that stretched in a way that made it feel loud. Louder than the crickets. Louder than the heartbeat that thumped violently in her chest. 

Smoke shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Annie said quickly. 

Their faces were still close. He leaned in again and this time brushed his lips against hers. Just enough for Annie to feel the pressure of his mouth. Annie’s lips followed his, giving back that pressure so he knew she was feeling the same way. Their lips separated slowly, pulling away with a soft, wet smack. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” she said. Voice warm but with a hint of something else behind it. 

He stood up, grabbing her things for her while she folded up her quilt.

“Goodnight, Annie,” he said, walking towards the front of the house where his truck sat parked on the street. The side gate creaked open as he walked through it. 

“Goodnight,” she sighed softly as he disappeared from her view. 

Aunt Della’s voice cut through the romantic haze bubble that had her staring dreamily at the street. 

“Annie, get yo ass in here!”

The small, rusty shop bell above Blackbird Café didn’t really jingle. It clanked with an exasperated, dull thud like it was already over the day. It was Monday morning, the small space slightly busy with diners sipping coffee and tea and enjoying steaming breakfasts of scrambled eggs, fried meat, and fluffy biscuits. The first thing that Annie noticed was the sound. The scrape of chairs against old wood floors, the hiss of grease hitting hot cast iron, the sound of a knife moving against a cutting board in a familiar, practiced rhythm. It smelled like coffee grounds, hot grease, bleach, and lemon cleaner soaked deep into the walls over the years. Something lived-in, almost ancestral. 

Annie made her way past the hostess stand to the back room. Mr. Hightower stood near the kitchen doorway, broad-shouldered and already sweating through his collar despite the early hour. His suspenders stretched over a white button-up rolled at the sleeves, a freshly laundered apron in his hands, his expression serious in a way that older men often wore when they were actually amused. 

“Go change, washroom’s in the back. Then I’ll show you around.”

“Okay.”

Annie padded to the washroom. She wrapped the uniform apron around her waist and stared at herself in the mirror. Her forehead was still shiny from oil Aunt Della had anointed her with that morning. She wiped a small crumb from the curve of her mouth from the tea biscuit she had earlier, slathering vaseline balm on her lips before making her way to the kitchen for Mr. Hightower. 

The kitchen was hotter than the rest of the building by at least ten degrees. Two women worked the stove already, moving around each other like it was a song and dance they’d been doing all their lives. One of them glanced up briefly at Annie before returning to the skillet.

“That’s Loretta,” he said, putting his hands on the cook’s shoulders. “She’s head chef. Loretta, this Annie.” 

“Heyyy, Miss Annie,” Loretta said amusingly, tossing a skillet of onions and peppers together. 

“Nice to meet you, Loretta.”

“And this,” he said, moving to the woman thinly slicing tomatoes, “this Sheila. Sheila – Annie.” 

“Nice to meet you, Sheila.” 

“Mm,” Mr. Hightower remarked. “Try not to scare her off before the lunch rush.”

“Aint you Della’s girl?” Loretta asked.

“Mhmm, niece.”

Sheila snorted. “She from New Orleans, she’ll be aight.”

Mr. Hightower pointed as he talked, moving quickly like he expected people to keep up. “Coffee station here. Tea there. Carry plates confidently, even if you scared. Folks tip better when you check on them often.” He pointed out towards the swinging doors that led from the kitchen to the dining area, “And don’t let them blues men flirt you into forgettin’ things.”

“Blues men?” Annie repeated.

“Musicians,” Sheila corrected. That earned a laugh from Loretta. 

The dining area looked different once people started to fill in. By noon, smoke curled thickly near the ceiling fans, dominoes slapped against tabletops near the windows where men argued over cards, and the low sound of a guitar rolled through the room, soft as heat from the jukebox near the wall. 

Annie moved carefully through the cafe at first. Coffee pot full of freshly brewed chicory coffee in one hand, plates balanced in the other. She listened more than she spoke and watched how the room moved before taking action, observing closely which customers wanted conversation, which wanted speed, and which wanted to be left alone with their thoughts.  The work settled into her body quicker than she expected. There was a rhythm to it here, a sort of dance. Not a graceful one, but something practiced and practical. Not only with the customers, but between the other servers as well. 

“Behind you!”

“Door!”

Annie learned those phrases quickly, at one point narrowly avoiding a clash with another server when she didn’t register the meaning quickly enough. By the second hour, she stopped hesitating before moving through crowded tables. By the third, she’d identified who were regulars and who were just passers-by. 

“You catch on quick.”

Annie looked up from wiping down a booth. One of the younger waitresses, a girl named Felicia, stood beside her with a tray against her hip and a smile on her face.

“I got six brothers. I’m used to chaos,” Annie answered. 

Felicia barked out a laugh, “Oh, you definitely gon’ fit in here.”

Over by the stage, a guitarist plucked a few lazy notes while setting up for the later crowd. The sound rolled through the cafe, settling low and heavy in the air. Outside, Fourth Street buzzed beneath the muggy Delta heat. Inside, Blackbird Cafe dishes clattered, voices did too, and the sound of the blues drifted slowly through cigarette smoke. 

By three, the cafe had settled into its late afternoon lull. Annie wiped down the counter one last time before untying her apron. Mr. Hightower glanced up from his ledger near the till. “See you tomorrow, Annie.”

Annie folded the apron over her arm. “Tomorrow.” She smiled to herself, satisfied, as she headed towards the back door. Just as she reached it, Mr. Hightower’s booming voice made her pause. 

“Annie?” he asked, peeking around the corner. 

“Yes sir.”

“You did good today.”

Annie smiled faintly, “Thank you.” 

The sky began its slow shift into gold. The evening air wrapped around her warm and damp, carrying the smell of riverwater, fried food, and dust. Annie adjusted the strap of her bag against her shoulder and started down the sidewalk. 

A feeling started to hit her all at once. 

Exhaustion. 

She tried to wind her mind down, but her body was still acting like she was at the cafe. Moving quickly around corners and slower around blind spots, her mind counting things automatically. 

But beneath all the tiredness in her limbs sat something else, too. 

Pride. 

She made her way down Fourth Street, past men leaning in doorways, women talking on shaded porches, and children chasing each other barefoot through red dirt near the edge of the road. One man tipped his hat as she passed by. A man right next to him catcalled something ridiculous enough to earn a laugh. She walked past both of them without breaking stride.

She turned off Fourth and onto Issaquena. 

The sign hung just ahead. 

Luella’s. 

It was a worn, weathered sign that hung over the sidewalk from a wrought iron bracket and chains that swayed gently in the breeze. Pastel paint peeled slightly at the edges of the rectangular wooden plaque with carefully painted gold lettering in the center. A gold frame was tacked on sometime later to make the sign look more polished. Warm light glowed through the front windows, and inside were bolts of fabric, sequined accessories, and hanging garments of every color imaginable swaying faintly in the breeze that flowed through the window like they were alive. 

The floorboards creaked under the weight of Annie’s feet as she stepped through the door and walked down the stairs leading into Luella’s Dressing Room, bringing with her a whirlwind of humid Mississippi air. 

There were a few customers lingering, some by the spools of ribbon, some in the front where bolts of fabric were lined on shelves and piled on top of the large wooden workspace in the center of the shop. Curtains hanging in front of the store windows kept the sun from dulling their vivid coloring, along with bulbs hung from the ceiling that created a cozy, buzzing atmosphere. Glass displays with accessories—gloves, purses, stockings, shoes— lined the walls that were decorated with fashion plates and fading photographs as Annie made her way to the back of the shop. 

The heels of her Mary Jane pumps clicked against the wooden floors as she crossed the room to where Luella was looking at a dress posed on a mannequin, her glasses perched at the tip of her nose. She wore a chatelaine around her waist with small measuring tools hanging from the hooks, and stood with a tape measure slung over her shoulders, her expression perking up as soon as she heard the groan of the floorboards coming her way. 

“Annie,” she said, instantly wrapping her hands around Annie’s middle. 

“Miss Luella,” Annie replied warmly. “I’m here to get my measurements taken.” 

“Gimme a second, baby. Lemme finish up pinnin’ this dress.” 

The back room was fitted with two dressing stalls, a three-way floor-to-ceiling mirror, and a few velvet chairs and a settee for guests. Annie made herself comfortable on one of the chairs, taking a peppermint twist from the jar on the table next to it. 

After a few minutes, she was ushered through a narrow corridor leading to a private alcove flanked with damask velvet drapes, a small platform, and a set of mirrors. The smell of rose scented perfume hung heavily in the air, a pair of Dressmakers’ mannequin sat off to the side, displaying sequined fabric held up by pins. 

Luella gave her a robe, a washcloth and towel, then pointed her to the washroom where a basin full of warm, soapy water was waiting for her. When the door finally shut behind her she sighed. She stripped naked then lathered and dragged the soapy washcloth across her body, scrubbing away the smell of grease and exhaustion from the day. Once she was done, she shrugged the robe on, the feel of satin cool against her skin. 

She stepped out of the washroom freshly oiled with the scent of lavender on her skin and stood on the platform while Luella’s assistant, a quiet, young girl, took her measuring tape while Luella took the measurements down. 

“Hips 46.”

“Good child-birthing hips,” Luella remarked.

“Bust 44,” her assistant continued.

“And they just gon’ get bigger once you start poppin’ out babies.”

“What kind of neckline you want, sugar?” 

“Somethin’ I can tuck my beads into,” Annie replied. 

“Gon’ need a little bit extra to hold these up,” she teased.

Annie laughed quietly and looked at herself in the mirror as she felt the measuring tape tighten around her ribs. The breeze from the small fan by the curtains hit her exposed skin, the sudden chill giving her goosebumps.

“Waist 33.” 

“We usin’ that fabric you picked out last time?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Luella moved in front of Annie with a finger on her cheek in contemplation. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She tapped her cheek with her finger. Once, twice. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Annie looked at her assistant through the mirror who shrugged. Luella disappeared into the store, then returned excitedly with a bolt of a lush dark green velvet fabric.

“I was thinkin’ a straight drop waist, hem just below the hips. Plunging neckline. Maybe some scalloped detailing to frame it. Have them titties sittin’ up high. Decorate it with some silver fringe at the bottom. Like one of them flapper dresses. What you think?” 

“I don’t have the—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout the money. Your auntie said you can get whatever you want. Plus I been dyin’ to get someone in here so I can practice sewin’ a push-up bra.” 

“Push-up bra?”

“Mhmm—supposed to push ‘em in and up,” Luella said with a sly look, gesturing with her hands.

“So, you in?”

Annie nodded once, “I’m in.”

Luella clapped her hands, “I’ll even gift you a necklace and a coin purse to wear with it.” 

“A…necklace?” she asked, her hand instinctively going to her beads. 

“You can’t wear this ol’ thing,” she said, her face softening when she saw Annie slowly trace a bead with her fingertips. 

“It’s just for a night,” she said softly. 

“Okay,” Annie replied with a smile. 

“You should wear your hair down. Finger waves. I can sew a decal in the middle here a few inches above the hem. Mhmm, let the fringe hang from the bottom….” 

Luella’s voice began to fade away as Annie stood in front of the mirror. Her assistant continued taking measurements and writing things down while they circled around her, narrating her entire look for the harvest party. A twinge of nervous energy fluttered in Annie’s belly. Her gaze dropped to her stomach, the few rolls on her upper torso and pudge that sat underneath her belly button. She pulled at it through the robe, sucking in her stomach a bit and smoothing a hand down her torso before just letting it be. 

She’d always been taught to love her body, and she did. But this was Clarksdale, a small town with a lot more small people than she was used to, and she towered over a lot more men here than at home. 

What would a dress made for a short, skinny woman even look like on a tall woman like her? 

What would people say? 

Would they laugh? 

Would they sneer? 

Luella’s gentle hand rubbing her arm soothingly pulled her out of her thoughts. She had pulled a fashion plate from the wall of her shop and brought it over for Annie to look at. 

“What’s wrong, sugar?” she asked, handing Annie the sketch of the dress inspiration.

Annie looked over it carefully, then traced the edges with her fingertips. “Don’t you think I’m too…tall to be wearin’ stuff like that?”

Luella looked at Annie like she knew what she really meant to ask. “Don’t worry, sugar,” Luella whispered with a wink. She rubbed her arms from behind. “You gon’ be the prettiest one in the buildin’.”

Annie smiled, standing just a little bit taller. 

Taglist: @milkywayzard @bananajoeclone @myheartsaysyes @nika324 @brownsugarcoffy @soufcakmistress @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dealore @thedutifulone @lilbitt @kkbeauty86 @nyifly22 @brownskincheyenne @atpeaceinthestars @explodesallovertheplace @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @sweetarchivistsiege @zunibugsiren @blue4everrsworld @xeebop @hdfen2474 @girlmath101 @sintizc @chromexbarbie @theogbadbitch @shereeluvssinners @anniensmoke3 @og-goddesstrill @thebumblebeesworld @merrymaryfebruary @partylikemajima @numb1smokeanniestan @shamansha @nicanotnika @hotebonynearby

[lilbitt]

Genuinely need this injected into my veins. My favorite SmokeXAnnie everrrrrr

[lizbehave]

† The Priestess

Summary: Annie, an 18-year-old from New Orleans, moves to Clarksdale with dreams of building a life all her own. There she meets Smoke, a 21-year-old war veteran with a dangerous reputation. What grows between them is sweet, sticky, and Southern— a smoldering love set against a world of bootlegging, Hoodoo, and blues.

Overall Content Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, sexual tension, slow-burn/build, magical realism, supernatural elements, mentions of prohibition, reconstruction, Jim Crow, hoodoo, organized crime, ww1, etc.

Act 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 (coming soon)

[lilbitt]

Sweet Tooth

SmokeStack Twins X Annie | A Modern AU Drabble

The one where Annie has no problem taking matters into her own hands (literally) until she gets what she wants.

A/n — Ummm, I had to purge this from my brain because I literally couldn’t focus on anything else until I got it out. It’s short 👐🏾 and I wrote it in a couple hours 👐🏾. That is all. 😬

C/w — Masturbation, light degradation, light dirty talk, Annie is a menace, veryyy lightly edited because if I stare too long ima get shy and not post lmao

She didn’t even get the chance to knock before Stack swung the door open. Denim tears jeans riding low, diamond chain solid against his tee shirt, keys held loose in his hand. He was dressed like he was about to step out. Paused right then, like that wasn’t even a thought in his head now.

“Damn Annie,” his lips curved up to the side, shoulder hit the door jam as he leaned on it. “You was thinkin’ bout me, just as I was thinkin’ bout you, huh?” 

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout sugar,” Annie held the empty bowl in her hands up. Let her hip poke out, mean. “I need to borrow some.” 

His eyes — dark and disrespectful — were already trailing over her body slow. Like she knew they would. 

“Suga’? What you need that for? You sweet enough.” His gaze lingered on her thighs. At the way they were pressed together, full and soft, just left all out on display. “Shit, look like you is anyways.” 

“When you speak to somebody, it’s polite to look them in the eyes.” 

He didn’t rush to comply. Dragged his stare up her frame slow, instead. Did it Lazy. Pointed. Like he wanted her to feel it. Keeping that same filthy ass smirk on his face the whole time. 

Annie had sticky heat gathering between her legs by the time their gazes locked again. 

“If you wanted me lookin’ in yo eyes, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me in them lil’ ass shorts.” 

“I can wear what I want in the comfort of my home.” Her right hand landed on the hip that was still poking. Left hand raised the bowl higher. “Can I get the sugar? Or not?” 

Low, deep, knowing. Amused. That’s how Stack sounded when he chuckled. When he stepped to the side to let her in. 

“You know you always welcome baby.” That southern drawl wrapped around her slow as she slid past him. Wrapped around her and buried its way deep under her skin. 

“Done told you bout calling me that Elias. Watch yo’ mouth.” 

“Come watch it fo’ me.”

Her steps never faltered as she moved through the unit like it was hers. 

Entirely too comfortable. Slippers sliding against the hard wood floor. Hips swaying every time she stepped. Fingers brushing the wall like she was tryna leave a piece of herself behind. 

She turned the corner to the kitchen easy, had opened her mouth to shoot something back his way when — 

“Oh,” Annie paused like she was surprised. Like she hadn’t seen both cars parked outside on her 6 step journey over here. “Hi Smoke. I ain’t know you was here.” 

The older Moore, Elijah, was at the kitchen table, breaking down weed like it was a sacred craft. At her voice, his fingers stilled on the grinder, and all that focus, all that intensity, was aimed her way in seconds. 

Made that sticky heat that’d been building? Seep out slow. And she liked it — the mess she was making. That she could feel it. 

Smoke didn’t have a slick ass comment to greet her with. Smoke had a question. 

“Dats’ how you walk around outside?” His eyes followed the same path Stack’s had. Starting at her pretty face — dark shining skin, full lips, eyes so deep you could fall into ‘em — and then hitting the rest of her body. 

She wasn’t dressed in nothing elaborate. Had on lounge clothes. A loose cropped tee that had her fluffly stomach peeking out whenever she moved. That left just enough wiggle room for her full chest. And a pair of shorts — they were a simple black cotton material and too fucking little. 

Annie smirked. “You’re rude. My feelings a lil hurt, Smoke.” 

“Want me make it better?” That was Stack. Walking into the room behind her. Making the too small space feel smaller. 

“I want you,” Annie glanced Stack’s way as he moved around her. As he let his chest brush against her arm. “And you –“ she looked back at Smoke. “To stop commenting on how I dress around my house.”

“You ain’t in yo’ house.” 

Smoke threw some people off. With how short he could be. With how little his fuse was. All that did for Annie? Was make her want to push. Make her want to poke, until he finally poked back. 

“Okay?” She blinked slow. Petty. “I’m in y’all’s. And y’all ain’t nobody.” 

It was subtle. The way his jaw flexed at her words. But she caught it. It made her throb, right where she was leaking from. 

“Anyways, I’m here for sugar.” She stepped further into the kitchen like she was dismissing him. Headed straight for the counter, where they kept it. 

Behind her, Stack whistled. 

“Damn brudda’. She said we ain’t nobody.” 

“Walkin’ round this mufucka half naked like we somebody though.” 

Annie’s steps almost faltered. Lips almost curled. 

Stack talked good shit. Went back and forth with her, like it was they own special version of foreplay. 

Smoke though — he didn’t usually bark back. Not in the way he just had. 

It made her real giddy. Real wet. 

She kept walking like she didn’t hear him. Kept her hips swaying in that way of hers, as she stepped up to the counter. 

She set her bowl down. Took the lid off their jar. Reached for the sugar spoon they kept inside. Grabbed it. And then let it slip out her hand and hit the floor real casually.

The sound wasn’t loud. Just a soft clink of metal against linoleum tile. But it rang out like a bomb. 

She shifted. Felt her lips sliding together between her thighs. Let out a soft, barely there, sigh. 

“Damn,” she said that louder. Made sure they heard it. “My bad.” And then she was bending over. Legs held straight. Ass in the air. Shorts glued to her pussy print. 

Annie had four eyes on her. Watching. Like she was putting on a show just for them. 

And maybe she was. 

Silence filled the kitchen. Heavy, thick, charged. 

For once Stack ain’t have nothing to say. Was standing by the table, too busy staring at the way them shorts cupped that fat lil pussy from behind. 

And next to him, still seated in his chair, Smoke was doing the same. Watching the way that big ass spread. The way that weak ass cotton struggled to contain all of it.  

They were stuck. Dicks getting heavy. Smoke’s tongue tracing the top row of his teeth. Stack’s whole bottom lip sucked into his mouth. Heat climbing fast in both of their chests. 

Annie couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. That tension building, like a wire about to snap. 

She swept the spoon up with her fingers. Arched her back real gracefully as she rose and then took her time walking to the sink. Took her time feeling her hard nipples brush against the fabric of her shirt. Feeling her needy clit rub against the seat of her panties. 

She dropped the spoon in the sink. Glanced sly over her shoulder. “Y’all can wash that, right?” 

She didn’t even wait for a response. Was crossing the kitchen and opening the silverware drawer to get another spoon before either of them could protest. 

“You play too fuckin’ much Annie.” That was Stack. Eyes still boring into her. Dick thick in his jeans. That curve to his lips sharper than it was a few minutes ago.

Annie laughed. “Nu-uh.” She got her spoon. Went back to scooping her sugar. “I’m just gettin’ some sugar.” 

“Gone wind up gettin’ somethin’ else.” Smoke. Voice thick, low, controlled. Barely.

Annie just laughed again. Kept her back to ‘em like she wasn’t worried at all. 

“Y’all both sound so tense. Maybe you should smoke what you over there rollin’.” 

“Maybe you should come over here and give that lil pussy what she asking for. You got yo’ thighs pressed so tight together you can’t een’ stand straight Annie.” 

Stack had no manners. No decorum. 

She wandered if that’s how he’d be when he finally got her under him. Caught herself licking her lips at the thought.  

“Not interested.” Annie put the top back on the sugar. Turned to face them with her bowl in her hands. Met Stack’s eyes first — “— and watch how you talk to me.” Before dropping her gaze to Smoke. 

He sat straight in the chair. Legs spread, shoulders tight, dark gaze on her. Unblinking. Unmoving. 

It fascinated her. The control he had over himself. It made her want to see what he was like, when it finally broke.

Annie’s stomach tightened. Lashes fluttered as she blinked. Lips split as she smiled soft. Teasing. “Thank you for the sugar Smoke. Whenever y’all need to borrow something of mines, I’m happy to return the favor.”

—

Her hand was wet. Breaths coming out fast. Toes curled against her plum colored silk sheet. 

She had her legs spread, had two fingers buried inside her heat, and was about to cum way faster than she’d intended. 

But she couldn’t stop. 

Not when she kept picturing them — Smoke behind her, Stack in front, with so much dick between ‘em she wouldn’t know what to do with it. 

“Hmmmm — fuck.” 

Annie could see it. Could feel it. The way Smoke would stretch her out. The way Stack would force her throat open. The shit they’d talk while they did it. 

“Look at her. Struggling. She wanted this shit and she can’t een’ take it Smoke.”

“Nah. She gone take it. Ain’t you? Gone be a good luh’ girl.”

“She ain’t no good girl. She a lil slut. Daddy’s good lil slut with the wet throat.” 

“Fuck!” 

Annie’s fingers moved nonstop. Stroking her walls. Digging for that special spot. 

She brought her free hand up to palm her breasts. To twirl her nipples between two fingers while she leaked all over her bed. 

She’d just washed these sheets and now —

“Oh my god.” 

She’d have to swap them out again. 

When she left the twins and took the 6 steps back over to hers, she hadn’t planned to end up like this. Had entered her own kitchen, sat that bowl on the counter — next to her own full container of sugar, and started washing dishes. 

Her fronting hadn’t lasted long though. Clearly. 

“Hmmm Smoke.” Her hole fought as she yanked her fingers free. Sliding them right up to her clit. “Oh my god.” 

She was pulsing so much it almost hurt to touch. Hurt so damn good. 

“Look at ‘dat greedy ass pussy.”

“Ouuuu shit,” Annie’s voice came out breathless. Thighs opened and closed as she strummed her clit. As she slid her fingers back down to where she was spasming. 

“Lil slut. Always tellin’ somebody to watch they mouth. Now look at you. Throat full.”

Her hips jerked up off the bed of their own accord. Hand left her breast to play with her pearl while she stroked her walls.

“Stack please.”

Her mind kept flashing back to the way they looked at her today. To Stack’s smirk. To Smoke’s glare. To how heavy them prints looked when she left. 

“Ouuu I’m bout to —”

“Give dat bad lil pussy what she want.”

“Cum. And you betta’ make a fuckin’ mess.”

Annie broke. And there was nothing soft about it. Not the cry that left her throat. Not the violent way her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Not the amount of cream that gushed out of her in waves. She was torturing herself. Keeping her hand pressed to her button. Just firm enough for the shocks running through her body to keep going.  And she kept going, moaning loud like she was hoping they would hear, before her body finally gave out. 

Her hips landed back on the bed hard. Breasts bouncing in time with the movement. Mouth hanging open while she panted. Clit still spasming. 

Annie couldn’t wait tell they stopped playing. Tell they put her out of her misery. And ‘till then — she had a long list of shit she needed borrow to from them. 

Would be going over there for some flour later on. 

—

A/n — Soo this is what goes on in my brain on the daily basis lmao 😬 we’re back to the regularly scheduled program after this ☺️ Happy Wednesday!

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Visionaries (not tagging my Annie and Smoke girlies because Stack is all in the mix): @lizbehave @thebumblebeesworld @aellesa @honeytoffee @shereeluvssinners @underated345-blog @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @bananajoeclone @hotebonynearby @atpeaceinthestars @hdfen2474 @chromexbarbie @mmbee675

[lilbitt]

Surrender Part 1

(Previously titled ‘Say Please’)

Smoke X Annie | Modern AU 2Shot

Stack and Annie have been broken up for weeks — her call and his loss. She’s ready to move on, close the Moore chapter, and forget it even happened. Only problem? Stack is still playing and Smoke…well Smoke hasn’t even gotten started.

A/n : For the few of y’all that wanted Say Please back up, she’s hereeee. A different title, a lot of rewriting (7.3k words now), but generally the same story. Lowkeyyy everybody need to say thank you Liz ( @lizbehave ) because she clocked me the same day I took it down and that’s the only reason I had revisiting it in the back of my mind lmaoo. Anyways, enjoy 🫶🏾 or don’t 😬

C/w : Language, smut (oral, edging, dirty talk), Smoke is giving audacity with a side of delusion

Annie had been sitting in the same spot for ten minutes. Head down, fingers moving, and face gradually twisting into a scowl. 

You just said you were here 30 minutes ago Stack. I need to get my stuff. Why are you playing with me? Have I ever played with you like that?

662-431-1666 

I had to step out real quick my bad Annie damn. Stop acting like that. 

662-431-1666 

Idk why you in a rush to get that shit anyway. You know we gone be back. Know you miss me. 

The sad thing was, he really believed that. 

“I’m so tired of this shit,” Her words were sharp, cutting through the silence of the car, coated heavily in the frustration that’d been building since this morning. 

Today…today had been long — nothing but problem after problem. A missed alarm, frizzy hair, the battery in her car dying, too much traffic, her smoothie place randomly closing for ‘renovations’, the air conditioning going out at her shop, and now Stack.

They’d been broken up since the first. 

It was the fifteenth. 

And the patience Annie was forcing herself to have with him, had just about run out. 

She’d been trying to grab her last few items from Stack’s place for the past 2 weeks. Was being mature about the situation — texting to see when the best time for her to come by would be, promising to be in and out fast, asking to come collect her property nicely. 

And while she was busy trying to be mature, Elias Moore spent the last 15 days giving her the run around. Bulllshitting. Not responding to her messages, or outright claiming he never saw them, or changing the subject entirely to try and convince her to have ‘one more conversation’ before she went and ‘just ended shit’.

Annie already knew what he wanted. Another chance. A reaction. An attitude. Her energy. He wanted to know he still had her attention. He wanted her emotional. Because he was real good at manipulating emotions. At turning situations around in his favor if given enough time.

Annie didn’t budge. Had instead, been treating him as the child he was acting like. No responses if he wasn’t giving her a time she could stop by. No snapping back when he said something petty. No arguing whenever he conveniently found a way not to be home when she was in the area.

She’d been keeping her composure, because that’s how you had to handle Stack. You couldn’t give an inch, ‘cause he’d take a mile. Couldn’t be even a little soft, because he’d turn you to putty. Couldn’t start playing his games, because he was likely to win. 

5 months with him taught her that. 

And 5 months with Annie should have taught him that when she said something, she meant it. 

They were done. Not for play. For real. And no amount of slick talk, sweet words, or petty games was going to change that. 

When he’d responded to her text earlier — a simple Can I grab my stuff after work today Stack? It’s been two weeks — with a response that didn’t avoid the question or piss her off, she’d thought he’d finally accepted what it was.

And now that she was here, at the time they’d agreed on, he was nowhere to be found. Was on her line playing. Because that’s all Stack knew how to do. 

“He think he ‘bout to waste my gas and have me coming out here for no reason?” She was still talking to herself — crossing her arms, setting her jaw, shifting in her seat like she was about to settle in. ‘Cause she was. Decided, right then and there, that she wasn’t leaving here empty handed. 

And then the universe, for whatever reason, finally seemed to get on the same page as her. Chose that exact moment to let up after the horrible day she’d had. Chose that exact moment to give her a break.

Or at least, what she thought was one.

Annie recognized the car as soon as she saw it. Blacked out, 4 door, more classic than flashy — pulling into the complex, driving past her, and parking a few spots down. It was the same car that always occupied the spot.

It was Smoke’s car. 

Elijah’s car.

Annie blinked a couple times. 

Maybe she really wouldn’t have to leave here empty handed.

And then she was moving. Before her brain even had time to catch up. Killing the engine, grabbing her purse, reaching for the door handle.

Since one twin wasn’t here to let her in, she was hoping the other one would. 

A cool breeze wrapped around her as she locked her car —the kind that typically accompanies early fall. It was Annie’s favorite season and she was dressed for it. Leather skirt, soft sweater, sheer tights. New thigh high boots with a heel that clicked every time her feet hit the pavement.

Those clicks brought her right to Smoke, just as he was getting out the car. Her eyes flicked over him casually. Automatic. 

He had a duffle bag on one shoulder, beats in his left hand, grey sweats and white tee shirt sitting comfortably on his frame. A frame that was built different than his brothers. Smoke had shoulders that were a little broader than Stack’s, a chest that was a little thicker, arms that were a little more defined. And a permanent glare the younger Moore didn’t often wear.

“Hi Smoke,” His stare was already on her when her gaze reached his face. Them deep brown eyes of his carrying that weight they always did. The one that, when she first started coming around, gave Annie pause. Not because it made her uncomfortable. Just because… it could be a lot at first. All his focus on you at once. 

She’d learned over time, that was just Smoke though. Deliberate. Attentive. Was used to it now. Mostly. 

“Annie,” His head tilted a little in acknowledgment. Eyebrows didn’t raise though. Voice didn’t change from its same even timbre. Like he wasn’t even surprised to see her. “Thought that was yo’ car.” Lips, nose, brows, lips again — that was the path his gaze followed. Like he was checkin’ for somethin’. Like he couldn’t help himself.  “Wussup? You ight?” 

It was what he usually asked when they saw each other. Annie figured it was just him being polite and typically she’d give polite back. Answer with a vague ‘Yeah, I’m good. How are you?’

Today? Being polite and vague were the furthest things from her mind.

“I’m the opposite actually,” Her lips curled, but it wasn’t in a soft way. Her ‘smile’ was strained. Pulled tight in the corners. 

And Smoke caught it instantly. All of it — from her tone, to way them baby doll eyes was squinting, to the sharp cock of her head. It made something sit up in his chest. That same something that was always woken up around her. 

He shut his door, clicked the lock, came forward half a step. “Wussup? You lookin’ for Stack?” 

He hadn’t told a joke but Annie laughed anyways. The sound abrupt and sharp. Leaving her mouth completely of its own volition. 

“Stack wish I was lookin’ for him.” She shifted her weight, irritation thrumming through her body from just saying his name. “I’m actually looking for a way into y’all apartment. You going up right?” 

Smoke did give a little reaction to that. A careful blink, as he processed her words. “I am.” Lips, nose, brows, lips again. His eyes followed the same path from earlier before landing back on hers. “You comin’ up to wait for him?” 

“You being serious or you playin’ Smoke?” Annie fired the question his way before his words even had time to land. Shifted her weight again like he was irritating her now. 

There was a moment of silence. Another careful blink, before Smoke responded. Calmly.

“Why would I be playin’ wit’ you, Annie?” He could tell she was frustrated ‘bout something. Had a lil bass in her voice and all. It was probably the way she was used to talking to Stack. 

Annie blinked disbelievingly. “So, you saying you don’t know? I’m coming up there to grab my stuff. The same stuff yo brother been holding hostage since we broke up. He said he’d be here to let me in and I drove 25 minutes in the opposite direction of my house — with a fucked up car battery by the way — and now he’s nowhere to be found.” The words just tumbled out, drenched in all the impatience and aggravation that’d been building. 

And Smoke was listening. He was. But them two words she’d dropped at the beginning of her lil spiel were echoing real loud in his head. Demanding attention.

Broke up. 

“Since when?” 

He didn’t even realize he’d asked the question out loud until Annie frowned. 

“What?” 

“How long y’all been broken up? When ‘dat even happen?” 

Annie frowned harder. Lost some of the attitude in her voice as she really looked at him. “…So, you really didn’t know?” That was weird. Not what she expected. “I broke up with Stack like two weeks ago, Smoke. I been tryna grab my stuff this whole time.” 

Smoke wasn’t ever the loudest in the room, but there was a difference between him being quiet and him being quiet. If Annie was paying more attention, she may have caught it. The slight narrow to his eyes. The subtle flex of his jaw. It didn’t come across like he was angry. It came across like he was calculating. Putting 2 and 2 together, subtracting what didn’t add up, coming to realizations and then determining what those realizations meant. 

His brain was working and in his silence Annie continued pressing. 

“So, can I come up with you? All I wonna do is get my stuff. It won’t even take 5 minutes.” Her and Smoke were cordial. Friendlyish. But she wasn’t his brother. Annie knew Smoke probably wouldn’t want to get in the middle of whatever game Stack was playing. Annie also knew she wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Smoke didn’t make her wait much longer. 

All that processing he was doing, seemed to come to a halt. Like a decision had just been made. He came back online all at once — jaw setting instead of flexing, shoulders shifting to restore his perfect posture, deep eyes following their favorite path around Annie’s face — lips, nose, brows, lips again. And then he met her stare. 

“Yeah.” Smoke’s tongue swiped his bottom lip. Head jerked a little in the direction of the door. “C’mon.” 

Annie moved around Stack’s bedroom with purpose. Passed the half made bed, and wall of sneakers, and tv he always left on. She had one reason for being here and the sooner she was done, the sooner she could leave.

She started at the dresser. Went from the dresser, to his computer desk; from his computer desk, to his bathroom; from his bathroom, to his walk in closet and by the time she made it back to home base she had everything — the couple of eye shadow pallets she’d left, some tee shirts, the slippers she’d brought to keep over here, a few random books she’d had in rotation and the rest of her curl crème (because that shit was expensive).

A handful of items. And it’d taken her two weeks to get ‘em. 

“Like, what chu’ tryna keep eye shadow for Stack?” Annie sucked her teeth as she glanced around one last time. Still very much had an attitude even with her belongings in hand, because it shouldn’t have taken all this. 

But at least now, she never had to see the inside of this apartment again. 

Her last look around confirmed she had everything and she wasted no time leaving the room. Had no regret or lingering feelings to make her hesitate as she flicked Stack’s light off and took the few steps back into the common area. She wanted to get home, shower, and sleep. Wasn’t even gone bother with dinner tonight. 

The twins’ apartment was a decent size. Open concept, big kitchen, bigger living room, a small office space off to the side. You could take it all in at once and as Annie’s heels clicked against hard wood, she made eye contact with Smoke.

He was in the kitchen, back against the counter, empty water bottle he’d just drained in hand. Was watching her — dark orbs following a different path than earlier as she walked. Lips, nose, brows, thighs, boots, thighs again. His face never changed once. 

Annie came to a stop at the big island where her purse sat. Wasn’t paying much attention to what his face was or wasn’t doing.

“I got everything.” She stated the obvious, taking her attention off of him to focus on fitting what she could inside her bag. “Thank’s for letting me come up real quick Smoke. You are officially my favorite twin.” 

Smoke didn’t laugh at the joke. A beat of silence settled in the space between them instead — not charged but not completely relaxed either — and he only bothered to fill it when Annie glanced back up. 

“You wonna talk about it?” Smoke sounded like his name. Had a voice that was the perfect blend of smooth and throaty. A voice he never had to raise to get attention.

He had Annie’s right now. Her hands paused inside her purse. Head tilted slightly. Words came out a mix of hesitant, dry, and amused. “Do I want to talk about Stack with you? ….I’ll pass. Thanks though?”

“Didn’t say nothin’ about Stack.” 

Annie’s brows furrowed, “So what you askin’ about? Me?” 

Smoke didn’t verbally respond. Just blinked. Crossed his arms like he was all ears. 

Annie shook her head, “I’m fine Smoke. You don’t gotta force a conversation ‘cause yo’ brother acting stupid.”

She wasn’t being a smart ass. She was being real. Her and Smoke had always kept conversations brief; hi, bye, how are you, have a good day. She didn’t need to start having heart to hearts with him now. 

“You ‘ont look fine.” Smoke didn’t even acknowledge the rest of her words . “Look tired. Pissed off.” 

Annie’s nose wrinkled, “Okay, so you’re rude.” 

“Nah. Just callin’ out what I see.” He followed his path — lips, nose, brows, lips again. Looked her dead in the eyes as he continued. “You too pretty to be walkin’ around muggin’ like that. Jus’ tryna make sure you straight.” 

He said it bluntly. Let the words fall like he had all the right in the world to say them. And after he said them, he let ‘em sit. 

Quite stretched as Annie stood across from him, face contorting in confusion, like she suddenly couldn’t understand English.

“Excuse me?” That’s what she managed when she found her voice. She studied Smoke, waiting for his thick lips to curl, waiting for the punchline to a joke he hadn’t told. 

None of that came. 

“You too pretty to be walking around muggin’ like that. To be carrying all that weight on yo’ shoulders. So, if you wonna talk, I’ll listen.”

Annie let out a bemused laugh. One that was real short. “Okay so, whatever y’all got going on —” her hands left her purse as they started moving with her words. “I don’t want no parts of it. This has been the day from hell. You and Stack can keep the weird shit over there.” 

Smoke’s gaze followed her hands. All that movement. All that attitude. 

“Stack don’t have nothing to do with me making sure you good.”

“But he does have something to do with whatever game you tryna’ run right now. Since when am I pretty, Smoke?” Annie knew she was pretty. What she didn’t know is why Smoke was suddenly commenting on it. Why he was looking at her close like that. Why he was still standing here talking to her, when she should have been out the door already. 

It had to be something to do with Stack…another game, more playing. Annie didn’t know what the point of this was — what it would or wouldn’t prove to the younger Moore — but nothing Stack did made sense these days. She wasn’t about to waste time trying to make it. 

And Smoke wasn’t about to waste time talking in circles. Was done wasting time when it came to her.

When he moved, it wasn’t fast. Wasn’t jerky. It was deliberate. A shift of his shoulders. A slow step forward. 

“You done always been pretty.” His eyes followed that path — lips, nose, brows, lips again. “Since the day I met you. So when I say I don’t like seeing yo’ face all frowned up, I mean it. Especially when that shit behind something that wasn't ever gon’ work in the first place.” 

Annie was trying to catch up. Tryna make sense of everything he was saying. Smoke didn’t give her time. 

“I ain’t runnin’ no game and I ain’t Stack. Whatever y’all had, that he fucked up? That’s on him. It don’t got nothin’ to do wit’ what’s ‘bout to happen wit’ us.” 

Smoke looked as serious as he sounded — wide jaw set, hooded eyes locked on hers, head moving a little with every word he dropped — like he needed to emphasize what he was saying. Like he needed to make sure she understood it. 

Annie didn’t understand a damn thing; what he was saying, where it was coming from, the weird flutter she suddenly felt low in her stomach. The heat that accompanied it.

She cleared her throat, blinked. “Am I missing something here?” She was crossing her arms over her heavy chest as a wrinkle formed between her brows. “What are you talking about? What us? And what you mean me and Stack was never gone work? Are you okay??” They were genuine questions she actually wanted answers to.

Smoke only concerned himself with one.

“Nah, I’m not okay actually.” His accent carried a rough edge. Feet brought him to the other side of the island, directly across from where she stood. “Been asking that nigga where you been at, he said you was just busy. Whole time, you walkin’ around like sin dressed in a skirt. Single as a mufucka’, huh?” 

This time she was paying attention. To the way his eyes slid over her thighs. To the muscle in his jaw that kept jumping. To how he held his body — muscles tight in a way that had less to do with good posture and everything to do with control. Like he was holding something back. Like he’d been holding something back. 

For some reason, it made Annie’s throat dry — his low eyes and careful steps and reckless words. Made her pulse stop and start even as her brain continued working, trying to unravel what was happening in real time. 

This wasn’t Smoke. 

Polite, distant, respectful Smoke.

Polite or practiced Annie? Distant or disciplined? Respectful or patient? 

She shook her head, “Smoke, what’s going on?”

The island might as well have not even been between them, with the way his words washed over her. With the way she could physically feel his stare. Hot, steady, unrelenting. 

“You remember when I met you?” He ain’t wait for a response. Didn’t blink as he continued. “Cornbread threw that cook out. I wasn’t even gon’ go. Was about to leave, when you stepped out wearing that lil ass sundress. Hair all curly. Smilin’. Walkin’ around like you knew you’d just made every niggas day up in there.” 

It’d been hot that day. At least 95. She’d still came through though. Had dropped off the dessert she’d made in the kitchen and then headed out back. Where the twins had been. 

“I felt you soon as you stepped outside,” Smoke was recounting. Stare growing sharp, like he was still there at the spades table, half ass paying attention, when Annie stepped out the screen door and shifted his whole world. 

“And you ain’t walk around 5 minutes before you felt me,” His body leaned forward unconsciously. Just a little bit. Annie always testing the tight grip he kept on his self-control, whether she knew it or not. 

“You rememba’ that don’t you? When you felt me?”

Annie couldn’t do nothing but swallow.

Because she did. 

Cornbread had told her it’d be a nice little crowd — good people, good music, good food, and good drinks. He’d told the truth — mostly. Except the crowd wasn’t all that little. Annie wasn’t complaining though. This was just what she needed; kids running around playing tag and jumping through sprinklers, men manning the grills — arguing over who actually knew how to throw down, women sitting back lookin’ pretty, talkin’ a lil shit, dancing in they seats when the beat washed over ‘em just right. Annie needed all of it. Needed time with her people, to decompress. 

And she was making sure she did just that. Already had a drink in her hand as she stood around with Giselle, Omari, and Lloyd. 

“I’m sayin’ GiGi, when you gone stop playing wit’ a nigga?” Omari was grinning slick, looking over Giselle slow.“You can come down here to visit me but won’t give me yo’ number?” 

Giselle laughed, popped her gum, gave Annie that look only best friends understood. 

“Boy, I came up here to visit my best friend. Nobody is thinking about you Omari. I don’t want what everybody and they mama done already had.” 

That was all it took for them to start; talkin’ shit, flirtin’ heavy, actin’ like they ain’t have no real tension building under all that playing.

Annie and Lloyd gave each other a glance like ‘damn I wish they’d fuck already’ before she tuned the back and forth out. She went to take a slow sip of her drink, something real sweet and real strong, just how she liked, when something made her pause. 

It was nothing around Annie that changed — the scent of grilled meat was still in the air, whoever was controlling the music still had that old T-pain thumping, Giselle was still smacking on gum and playing hard to get. But Annie felt it. Internally — a shift, a heightened sense of awareness waking up. That prickly sensation that came from being watched. Hard. 

She lowered her cup, head turning a little as her eyes flitted over the back yard. There was melanin everywhere. Black skin shining, white teeth flashing, the occasional glint of gold or diamond, from a grill or a chain. Nothing that explained what she was feeling. Until she found him — seated at a black card table, wife beater clinging to his bronze skin, low cut fade sharp, thick lips unsmiling, and eyes? Deep, dark, round — pointed directly at Annie. Piercing through Annie from all the way across the yard. 

Everything except her pulse froze. 

Giselle, Omari, Lloyd? The music, shrieks of laughter, heavy bass? All of it faded into the background. All of it ceased to exist as Annie felt what it was like to have all his attention on her for the first time. 

Her stomach tightened. Mouth went dry. Body heated up from the inside out. 

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked. They both just looked. For one beat. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seve—

And then out of nowhere, someone with the same face entered Annie’s line of sight. Forced the stare she’d been holding with the other man to break. The one coming towards her was slick, trouble. She could tell from the easy swagger he had. From the smirk he wore — cocky and satisfied like he already knew he would get what he was coming over there for. 

His name was Stack. And he was distracting. Loud. Demanded attention. Managed to get a few minutes of it from her before Annie was searching again. Peering over his shoulder. Trying to find the one that hadn’t approached her. But when she looked, Smoke was nowhere to be found. 

“Yeah, you remeba’.” Smoke’s voice brought her back to the present. To the kitchen. With him. And the way he was looking at her now. It was so familiar to how he’d looked at her then. To how, she was realizing, he always looked at her. Annie swallowed rough as Smoke continued. “What you felt, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout. That’s what’s going on. That’s us.” 

Annie’s thoughts were all over the place. Logic tangling with emotion — with confusion and whatever else was going on in her chest right now. Meanwhile, her entire soul exhaled, as if it was saying ‘damn, finally’. She didn’t know what to settle on —which thought, which feeling. So, she snapped at him instead. 

“You don’t even make sense.” Annie’s doe eyes narrowed. “You didn’t even say anything to me that day. Or the next time we saw each other. This is not — there is no us. Do you hear yoself? I just broke up with your brother.” 

“I ain’t have to say shit. Still got under yo’ skin. Still had you thinkin’ ‘bout me after I left.” He knew what he said was truth, because she’d gotten under his skin in the same way. He wasn’t asking her for confirmation when he spoke. He was just finally putting what they both already knew, out into the air. And he was no longer standing on the other side of the island. He was moving. “Stack stepped to you, I assumed you’d make the right choice. You didn’t. I ‘ont know why — and we gon’ deal wit’ that. But all ‘dis playing you been doin’? Wasting 5 months when you know damn well you too much woman for him? When you know he can’t give you what chu’ need? That’s dead. So I hope you got that shit out yo’ system.” 

He was serious. Was standing in front of her, so close she could feel the heat coming off of him, looking dead ass serious.

Annie’s mouth opened, “….” and then her mouth closed. She didn’t even know what to say to that. To any of it. 

His tone had the nerve to carry a current of aggravation  — like she’d done something to him. Like everything he was saying made sense, was a fact, was final — and she was the one tripping. 

“You keep saying stuff like that,” She tried again, eyes still locked on his, air between them heavy in a way it had no right to be. Something inevitable unfolding between them. “About what was never gone work for me, the kind of woman I am, what or who, you assumed I would choose — when I didn’t know either of you by the way. You sound crazy. What would you even know about what I need?” 

Annie was trying to work out what was going on out loud. Trying to process what she was feeling, what was happening, and what it all meant, while Smoke stood there running out of patience. He had done his processing already. Had spent 5 months playing the back — watching and waiting. 

He was done doing that shit. 

His feet carried him forward, brought him chest to chest with her. 

It made Annie blink in surprise. Made her exhale shakily as his scent — something warm and smoky—enveloped her.

“Smoke wha—” 

“I know eerythang ‘bout what you need Annie,” His gaze darkened, eyes followed his favorite path. Lips, nose, brows, lips again. “And when I’m done wit’ you…” He brought his stare back to hers. “You ain’t never gone ask that shit again.” 

Most people were eating dinner right now. Winding down. Jumping in the shower.  Getting ready for bed so they could repeat today all over again. 

There was one apartment though, one bedroom within the apartment, where sleep wasn’t even a thought. Where it wouldn’t be a thought, any time soon. 

“Smoke.” Annie gasped his name, soft Nola accent wrapping around the 5 letters like a curse and a prayer. She didn’t know how long she’d been like this —skirt rolled up to her stomach, tights torn off, legs spread wide in Smoke’s bed. Had no idea how long he’d been buried face deep — eating. Just knew that since he’d started, he hadn’t stopped, and she was a fucking mess because of it. 

Pussy leaking slow and filthy, strands of sticky wet all over her thighs, running down the crack of her ass, soaking Smoke’s face. 

You ever got yo’ pussy ate so good, it scared you?

That was Annie. Heart beating in time with her clit, hands gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles hurt, hips moving without her permission — arching higher towards the mouth glued over her pussy.

“Sm-oke,” Her voice was broken. Needy. Legs trying to slam close when his mouth locked on to her clit and sucked — mean and nasty. 

“If I gotta tell you keep yo’ legs open again, ima tie these mufuckas’ up Annie.” 

Smoke’s voice carried an edge — rough, impatient, hungry. Breath washed over her core as fingers sunk into the fat of her thighs to force them back open, to force them wide, so he could see everything. So he could reach everything. 

“A hard-head make a soft ass. Keep playing wit’ me and you gone see baby.”

It shouldn’t have made her wetter. The way he was talking to her. Handling her — like she was his to do with as he pleased. 

Her pussy didn’t quite get the memo. Pearl pulsed at his words, like being tied up, left at his mercy? Was exactly what it wanted. 

And Smoke saw that. The way that pretty ass clit jumped. Damn near started drooling, even as his jaw clenched tight. 

“You really got me fucked up.” He peered up at her from where he laid flat between her legs, looked past that soft stomach and them big heaving titties. Looked right at her face and followed his path — from her parted lips, to her scrunched up nose, to the deep furrow between her brows, and back again. “You kept this pretty shit from me for 5 months? This good wet ass pussy?” 

The fingers around her thighs pressed in deeper. Annie’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip as Smoke’s glare got meaner. 

“I’m bout to eat this shit tell my jaw lock. And you gone let me. Gone thank me by the time I’m done.”

Smoke was back in it before she could respond. Kept her legs forced open in a butterfly position as he started lapping at her center. Long slow licks from hole to clit and back again. 

“Ouuu shit.” Annie couldn’t tell you why she’d left her place tonight. Was no longer thinking about tee-shirts, or makeup pallets, or books. Could only think about Smoke and what he was doing to her.

Her entire body was hot. Over - stimulated. Sweat gathering at the small of her back, nipples hard and aching, titties bouncing, stomach contracting. Pussy loud and extra.

It sounded like they were sitting by a stream. One that got so much wetter when Smoke flattened his tongue, made it wide, and locked in. He went from long slow drags through her pussy, to gliding his pink muscle directly over her bundle of nerves. Again. 

And again. 

And again.

Annie saw God. Back arching unnaturally, hand pressing down on top of his head, mouth completely dropping open as loud drawn out moans rose out of her throat.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, mmmmmm Smoke.You eating this pussy so good. You eating this pussy so good Smoke. So good. So go-od!”

He grunted — jaw working, tongue sliding over her nonstop like he couldn’t help himself. Like he couldn’t get enough of her.

Annie’s thighs tried to close. 

Couldn’t. Smoke still had them locked down.

“What the fuck are you doin’ to me??” Annie felt white hot pleasure coiling in her stomach. Felt her eyes start to roll. Her pulse climbing fast. 

It was too much. Smoke’s loud slurps. That wet warm tongue making love to her clit. The low whimpers climbing over each other to fall out her mouth. 

She was about to— 

“I’m about to fuckin’ cum Smoke!” 

Pop! 

It was a wet nasty sound — his mouth releasing her bundle of her nerves. His lips pulling back from all that cream he was suctioned to. 

Annie’s eyes flew open — wide and dazed. Clit literally jumped. Hole spasmed around nothing as Smoke raised his head right before she tipped over the edge. 

“What the fu—”

“You ain’t think you was ‘bout to cum did you?” He was looking up at her, beard soaked, lids heavy, nostrils flared. “Nah. You don’t just get that, Annie.” 

Annie was still breathing hard, open thighs twitching, brain jumbled, the tightness in her stomach slowly subsiding the longer she went without Smoke’s mouth on her.

She blinked down at him. Once. Twice. 

“Nigga what?”

Smoke shook his head. Couldn’t wait to get that fuckin’ mouth together.

“You ‘bout to work for this nut.” One hand let go of her thigh, came to her center just to ghost over her pussy. Just to make her lashes flutter, even as she kept her face frowned up. “Gone beg for it. Gone wait, just like I had to.”

Annie’s mouth was already opening — to bark back. To tell him he’d lost his damn mind, when his thumb slid between her folds. Slow. Deliberate. Right up to where she was poking. 

The shit she was about to talk? Stuck in her throat. 

“You gone beg. Gone ask nicely. Gone say please.” It was an order. Not a request. “And when I feel like letting you cum, you’ll cum.” His thumb rolled soft over her button. Pressed down hard right after. 

Annie was fighting a losing battle. Tryna glare while her hips lifted, seeking more.

“I’m not —”

“Gone ask what I know ‘bout what you need,” he cut her off. Eyes flashing. Started alternating. A soft roll of his thumb then pressing down rough. Over and over again. “I’m bouta’ show you. You bouta see what you get when you fuck with the big brother.”

And Smoke was done talking. Was ready to get back in that pussy. Tongue first. 

“Gimmie this fat ass clit.” He was mumbling to himself — voice low. Guttural. Eyes focused back between her legs. Dick straining against his sweats. Mouth seeking her out before he’d even finished his sentence. 

Annie wanted to tell him she wouldn’t be begging anyone for anything. Wanted to tell him that if he was mad his brother stepped first, he needed to take that up with Stack. Or better yet, himself. 

How do you talk shit though, when you have hands sinking into your soft hips, pulling you up, right on to the tongue that’s breaking you and putting you back together all at once? 

You don’t.

Annie’s head fell back as Smoke started back up like he’d never stopped. Flicking her clit with his tongue. Sucking at it. Spitting on it and letting the saliva drip. 

“Look at all this mufuckin’ cream. I ain’t even let you cum yet and you makin’ a fuckin’ mess.” His words were sharp. Hard. Like he was trying to maintain control over her and losing his own as he stared at the puddle leaking out of her pussy. Out of his pussy. 

He left her clit alone — went right to that hole. The one that was spasming. The one dripping all that honey. 

“Smoke,” Annie breathed his name, hands leaving the sheets to squeeze at her breasts, as he drunk her down. As he devoured her.

He sucked slow and nasty. Tongue planted between her folds, hitting every spot. Like he knew her body inside out already. His hand went from her waist to her stomach, cupping it, squeezing, grounding himself.

“This good ass pussy.” His soft lips brushed her clit as he spoke. Tongue darted out to taste her. “This why that nigga don’t wonna let you go.” 

He slid one hand to her center, spread her pussy wide and just stared for a second. At that poking clit. At all that wet. He shook his head, laughed dark in a way that made Annie’s breath stutter. 

“Nigga didn’t even deserve to smell this shit.”

He rolled his tongue over her again. Slow and thorough, while Annie shuddered underneath him. 

“You eat this pussy like you made for it.”

Suck. 

“I eat this pussy like it’s mine.” His fingers went from spreading her lips to sliding down on either side of her clit. Playin’ with her. Making her groan. 

“Mad cause that nigga was holding some books hostage? You lucky I ‘ont hold you hostage.” 

“Smookeee,” she dragged his name out, eyes slamming shut as his words washed over her. As he continued eating while he talked — more than she’d ever heard. 

“I ain’t never seen pussy this wet.” 

Suck. Lick. Slurp. 

“You said I was crazy earlier right? You ‘ont even know. Let another nigga near my pussy again and see what happen.”

Suck. Lick. Slurp. 

“Had me waiting on this shit. Pulling on this dick at night thinkin’ ‘bout you just like this. Under me. A wet pretty ass fuckin’ mess.” 

That image — how wrong it was — that’s what set Annie off. 

“Oh my—”

Her thighs snapped around his head, breath caught in her chest, world started to tilt —

Before it was put right back on its axis. 

Smoke’s hands went back to her thighs. Head yanked away as he forced her legs open. As he forced her heat to sit there — unlicked, unsucked, and unsatisfied. 

Her stomach clenched painfully as she was denied. As she was forced to straddle that line between pressure building and sweet release. And then not allowed to tip over it.

Annie damn near threw a tantrum. Fists hitting the mattress, head snapping up so hard her neck almost dislocated from her body. 

“Are you serious??” 

Smoke met her heated stare head on —no remorse in his gaze. No give. His lips were shiny with her essence as he spoke, hands still keeping spread open. “What I jus’ say? You think I’m talkin’ just to hear my voice Annie?”

Annie wanted to scream. Wanted to get up and leave this damn apartment like she should have 20 minutes ago. Wanted to grab the back of his head and put him where she needed him most. 

“I’m not playing this game,” she sounded as stern as she could with her pussy out, spread wide right under Smoke’s mouth. “I am a grown ass woman. I don’t know what —”

“Done told you, I don’t play games.” His voice was stern. Made her pussy jump in the worst way. “I ain’t Stack. And you gone learn that when I say somethin’ — I mean it. And that go for everything.” 

Annie didn’t know what that meant. 

Smoke didn’t wait for her to figure it out. 

When he went down on her for the third time, he was talking less. Too busy cleaning his plate. Licking back up through her slit like he’d missed it. 

Annie was pissed — pissed and moaning so loud she was she sure this whole damn complex could hear her. 

“Ouuu you just —” her teeth were clenched. Hand going to the back of his head, ready to use his tongue since he kept taking it away. “You eat it so good. Why the fuck are you doing that???”

Smoke didn’t eat pussy like he was checking it off a list. Smoke ate pussy like that was the list. Like it was the only thing that mattered — using his tongue to plant his name on her soul.

Her clit was swollen. Puffy. Doing the begging for her. She was crying from her center. And Smoke drank it all down, sticky sweet strings of her essence coating his taste buds, nose brushing her clit, tongue fucking into her hole before dragging back to her bundle of nerves and working it. Twirling his tongue. Spitting nasty on her cunt and slurping it back up. 

Spit. Suck. Lick. Slurp. 

Spit. Suck. Lick. Slurp. 

Like he was tryna keep it for himself. 

He focused in that way only Smoke could. Eating like he had a vendetta against her pussy. Eating like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life.

“Sm—oke, I can’t —” She went from pulling his head in, to pushing on it. Trying to get him off, even as her hips raised. It was like her body couldn’t make up its mind. “Smoke — SmokeSmokeSmoke —” She chanted his name like she was at an alter praying. Pussy sliding against his face. Hand pushing on his head. Then pulling it closer. Then pushing it away again. 

And Smoke just kept going. Licking. Sucking. Worshipping.

You ever got yo’ pussy ate so good, you started hearing wedding bells? 

“SmokeSmokeSmoke—” The build up didn’t come slow. Her breathing was already erratic. Eyes already rolling back. Dark skin prickling. Pussy sensitive. Mouth moving without her permission. “This is too—” The words came out in a gasp. “It’s too much — Smoke please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease —”

Annie didn’t register she’d said the words tell they were out of her mouth. 

Didn’t care anymore. She just needed to cum.

And Smoke — when he heard her voice breaking, heard her begging so good — it made something primal unlock in his chest. Made his soul stir. Made his hands dig deeper into her flesh. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” Annie rambled, she was so close, was right there and then Smoke spoke. Said the words into her pussy. 

“Umhm,” his voice was rough. Gravel against her skin. “Go ‘head, baby.” 

Suck. 

Annie broke. Completely. Actually screamed as that tight tension coiling in her stomach snapped — there one second and shattering the next. 

Her pussy gushed — like a dam breaking. And her body bent like it was trying to get away from it — the pleasure, the heat, the tongue still twisting around her clit. Her back arched, hips tried to sink into the bed, thighs fought the hands keeping her open, fingers gripped the sheets so hard they were damn near off the mattress. 

“Ohmygo-odddddd!” Annie’s voice was broken. Lashes wet. Pussy spasming.

“Umhm,” Spit. Suck. Lick. Slurp. Suck. Suck. Suck. Smoke’s eyes studied her as he ate, the way her stomach moved in time with her thrashing, the way them titties bounced, the delicate curve to her neck as she threw her head back. “Won’t neva’ play da’ back wit’ you again. This mine. You mine. Look at this pretty pussy cum. Pussy know it’s home.” 

Smoke was trying to drain her dry. Had to be. 

It felt like every nerve in Annie’s body was alive. It felt like she wasn’t even in her body anymore — like she had no control of it. Shaking, twisting, forced to feel the pleasure rolling through her. It was everywhere. She felt him everywhere. 

Her pussy made a loud, slow, slick mess. Clit thumping, cream leaking, Smoke cleaning it up. All Annie could do was fall apart. And it felt so good while she did it…

It took…longer than usual. For her legs to stop shaking. For her dropped mouth to close. For her lungs to remember how to work again. Her brain came back online slow, lids fluttering open as her soul re-entered her body. 

The first thing Annie saw was Smoke. He’d moved up from between her thighs. Was hovering over her now. Hands planted on both sides of her frame, face wet, eyes sweeping slow — landing on her lips, nose, brows, and then her lips again. 

The first thing Annie felt when he met her stare, was too complicated to put into words. She was stripped bare — not physically. In a different way. In a way, she wasn’t sure she liked.

And the first thing she thought, as Smoke gazed down at her — jaw locked, eyes…not hard, but certain, like she’d just confirmed everything he already knew, was — Annie, what the fuck did you just do?

A/n : A part 2 is 100% coming. I’m in the middle of looking for apartments rn so I’m a little busy, but I’m locking in on this as far as writing goes, so hopefully it doesn’t take too long. Hope y’all re-enjoyed the first half. 🫶🏾 (side note 👀 Y’all she was NOT supposed to break I stg. And then she just did 😭😭 ) Also, I tagged who I could, Tumblr was tripping so if I missed you, my apologiessss.

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Visionaries : @lizbehave @thebumblebeesworld @shereeluvssinners @underated345-blog @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @bananajoeclone @hotebonynearby @atpeaceinthestars @hdfen2474 @aellesa @honeytoffee @chromexbarbie

Smoke Visionaries : @brownskincheyenne @meannaim @blue4everrsworld @thedutifulone @partylikemajima @ladychzzcake @shamansha @og-goddesstrill @naibaby

[solestella]

[miss-spiders-sunny-patch]

Here’s part 2 for y’all!

Smoke’s wide gait was eating up the distance between Annie and his porch steps. “Annie!”, his voice boomed across the yard. He was more irritated than any other emotion he had been feeling just moments ago.

The woman that owned his heart barely threw him a glance as she reversed out of the paved driveway. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing that needed talking about in that moment.

As Smoke watched her barrel down the road from the end of his driveway, he started to fuss.

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with that woman, pulling off on me like she ain’t see me out here“, he continued to mutter to himself as he made quick work of getting inside to his pack of cigarettes. 10 smokes sat loosely in the soft pack, which was good considering he’d bought them almost a week ago. He had been cutting back. From being able to crush a pack in 2 days, to now only letting the nicotine calm him twice a day.

“She got me fucked up. Thinking I’m bout to be chasing her, begging her to let me take care of her. I’m a grown ass man. I ain’t gon beg nobody to do nothing”, he grumbled roughly around a freshly lit Newport. “She’ll see. She gon be right back here, wanting to be taken care of. Watch.”

It had been 12 days since Annie drove away from Elijah. 12 days of separation that was slowly clawing away at the stoic man. 12 days of insufferable silence from the stubborn woman.

Smoke had called. Lord knows he called. Annie never answered. Sent a few texts, no dice. He even left a voicemail, and she never got back to him.

Now let’s be clear, Smoke wasn’t a man that cared about folks being mad at him.

Hell, with the amount of fists him and Stack had to throw growing up, the women that threw fits when he didn’t return their affections, and not to mention that Adam Moore was drunken rage personified.

Yeah, Smoke learned real early not to care about folks being upset with him.

Annie wasn’t just any ole somebody though. Annie was everything. From the time he laid his eyes on her he knew that he wanted to know her. He wanted to get close to that warmth that radiated from her like sunlight through sheer curtains. And from the moment she skirted out of his driveway, all he could feel was that quietly aching coldness in his bones that he carried before he ever knew her. At his wits end, Elijah decided to do what he knows best.

He was gonna go to her house, and Debo her ass bright and early tomorrow morning.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“Annie!”, Smoke bellowed roughly from Annie’s front porch. “Annie Jean Boudreaux, I know you in there woman, come open up this door now!”

As Annie slept in peacefully on the first day of her 3-day weekend, she was forcefully awakened by heavy banging on her front door. Sitting straight up in her bed, she immediately looked at the clock resting on her nightstand. 7:48am hazily stared back at her. Just as she stood out of bed and quickly reached for her steel baseball bat, she heard—

“Annie I’m not playing with you no more, come on now!”

“You must be so happy you got the calm and quiet twin”, she remembered one of Stack’s flings saying to her offhandedly. Calm and quiet my ass, he just as crazy as his brother.

Annie took her time getting to door. “Quit banging on my damn door like you the police, fool!”, she called out in her sleep roughened voice. Swinging the front door open with more force than was necessary, Annie started rubbing the sleep out of her left eye. Elijah’s throat went dry when he finally got to lay his anxious eyes on her for the first time in 13 days. Knuckles deep in her eye, scarf halfway off her head, sleep indentations in her face, her right breast almost spilling out of her tank top. Smoke couldn’t think of a time when she’d ever looked as ethereal as she did right then.

“Have you lost your mind? You gon wake the whole damn neighborhood up! Why you beating down my door like you ain’t got no sense, Elijah Moore?!”, she hissed at him.

He cleared his throat “You look real pretty right now, Angel.”, he said softly, a major contrast to the hooting and hollering he was just doing. Annie stopped rubbing her eye out of its socket and looked at him fully. “What?”, she squinted up at him making sure she heard him right. “I said you look real pretty Annie.”, he repeated just as softly as before but slower this time. He needed her to know exactly how he was seeing her in this moment.

“Pretty? You banging at my door at 7 in the morning to tell me I’m pretty?”

Annie really started to believe that this man had genuinely lost his mind. But Smoke losing his mind wasn’t her problem, especially not this early in the morning.

Before he could get what he rehearsed in order, she was taking a step back to shut the door. “It’s too early for all of this, Smoke”, her voice edged with agitation from being woken up so abruptly. He wedged his steel toed boot clad foot in the door before she could close it. His Debo plan wouldn’t work if he couldn’t even make it through the door. He needed to change his approach, and fast.

“I just wanna talk with you, Annie. Please? That’s all I’m asking for”, he said in that low rough voice that made it hard to deny him. He hoped that she could see in his eyes how he was pleading with her. “Hmm”, Annie hummed as she took a step back, widening the gap in the door, “come on in before you make my neighbors call them people on me.”

Annie was in her bathroom doing her morning routine. She’d told Smoke to wait for her in the living room while she got herself together before they had this “talk”, against her better judgment. It had been 13 days, and while the woman had cut ties with the man, she missed him something fierce. It would be a lie if she said that she hadn’t missed him. But she wasn’t sorry for how she felt nor for what she had said.

Those first 3 days after she left his place had been radio silent. She didn’t have anything to say to him, and from her understanding, he didn’t have anything to say to her either. That was completely fine by her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. On the fourth day, she received a text from him that afternoon.

“You been remembering to eat?” -Smoke Moore 12:37pm

She didn’t respond. Actually, she left him on read. Which was worse than not seeing it at all. She’d told him that he didn’t need to be concerned with her anymore and she was willing to stand on it. Annie was a woman of her word. He called the next evening, and she let it ring. The next day was the same. One call, no answer from Annie. On the 7th day, he left her a voicemail.

“I’m just trying to make sure you straight, Angel”, she could hear him taking a drag of a cigarette, “you ain’t picking up and that shit making my nerves bad. I know you mad, but you can at least pick up the phone…call me back”, he was still maintaining his pride but she could hear how defeated he was beginning to sound. She almost caved, hearing her big Bear sound so glum. Almost.

Annie hated causing the man stress, Lord knows he gets enough stress daily to last him a lifetime. She loved being a soft place for him to land, physically and emotionally. She loved taking care of the man.

More days than she could count, Elijah would just lay his head on her chest. Completely silent with his eyes closed, while she rubbed the back of his head and peppered his face in light kisses.

“You gonna have a heart attack if you keep on getting yourself worked up, Bear”, she said softly against the top of his head as she caressed the nape of his neck.

“Mm”, he groaned, not bothering to remove his face from her bosom. “If everybody did like I told them to, I wouldn’t have to worry bout no blood pressure”

“Maybe you need to start being okay with everybody not following your direct orders Lijah. The only somebody that you can control is you. Start putting some of that energy into taking care of yourself first”

He lifted his head to look her directly in the eyes, “I take care of myself just fine, baby. You take good care of me too, so I’m extra straight.” He nodded once as if to say “that’s the end of that”, before laying his head right back where it belonged.

Once Annie was done doing her morning routine and switching into some less revealing clothes, she slowly made her way towards the kitchen where she could hear movement.

Standing in the doorway, she watched Elijah move through her kitchen like it was his own. Her kettle sat on the side while he stood over the stove, removing bacon from the cast iron skillet before adding in the eggs he scrambled up.

“I already got your tea steeping over here. Eggs’ll be done in a second”, he said without looking up from the eggs beginning to fluff up in the hot skillet. Truth be told, he was nervous to look at her after how his mind went blank on the porch.

“You said you were here to talk. Last I checked, fixing breakfast and talking were two different things.”, she said in a guarded tone, even as she took a seat at the small kitchen table.

He didn’t say anything in response to that. He wasn’t going to let her bait him into turning this sour so soon. Turning the flame of the stove off and grabbing 2 plates, he began portioning their food. Smoke took slow strides toward the table and gently sat her plate and mug of tea in front of her. “Thank you”, she said almost bashfully.

“Ain’t nothing to thank me for, baby.”

Something about the way he called her baby made Annie’s skin heat up. Suddenly,she was bombarded with thoughts of his mouth caressing the syllables of the endearment. Those lips. How that Mississippi drawl wrapped itself around every word that left his mouth. Her mind was headed somewhere she couldn’t afford to go.

I got something he can wrap his lips around–

The sound of Annie clearing her throat sounded too loud for the cozy kitchen. Needing a distraction from her own brazen desires, she started inspecting the plate in front of her. Eggs scrambled hard, crispy bacon, and tea steeped just enough to get the full flavor profile but not strong enough to be overwhelming. Just the way she liked it.

Smoke watched as she cautiously picked up her fork and brought some eggs to her mouth. He wasn’t gaging her reaction to the breakfast he made, he knew what she liked. What he was looking at was her. Lining up what she looked like right now with what she looked like the last time saw her. Trying to see if anything had changed.

He missed this. Feeding her. Watching her. Taking care of her. Being near her. He was so entranced by Annie that he didn’t even realize that her mouth was moving and her eyebrows were doing that little scrunch in the middle. “—keep staring at me while your food getting cold, acting like you don’t hear me talking to you, Smoke?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“I wanted to look at you. Ain’t seen ya in a while…” he said while looking between his plate and her. The pair was quiet after that. Neither wanting to break the fragile atmosphere they found themselves in.

Taking a deep inhale, Elijah started up the conversation with one thing in particular that had been weighing on him. “Why you ain’t been picking up when I call?”, he said just as he put his last morsel of food up to his mouth.

With that one question, they were no longer standing on the edge of this conversation, they were in it.

“I said all I had to say. You don’t listen to me and I’m tired of repeating myself and it falling on deaf ears.”, shrugging her shoulders. “That wasn’t gon change over the phone.” Annie sat across from the man with her arms folded tightly under her breasts.

Smoke gritted his teeth at this. He wanted to be civil and get to some understanding but this woman, his woman, had already made up her mind.

“You the one that don’t listen”, he thought to himself.

“It ain’t been falling on deaf ears, I hear you just fi–“

“But are you listening to what I’ve been saying to you? Cause you can’t be. You hear me and then you go on and do whatever you please. That’s not respecting me, Smoke, that’s running over me”, she interrupted. The way her accent thickened let it be known that whatever patience she had with the man was lessening by the minute.

“I done respected your wishes, woman. You can’t sit up here and say I haven’t.” There were so many things Elijah wanted to do for her that he pulled back on. He wanted to take anything off of her plate that he could, but he always tried to make room for what she wanted in the midst of it. Maybe not as much as he could, but he did try.

“Yes the hell I can! What wishes of mine you been respecting around money, Elijah? Huh?”

She stood up from the small kitchen table. Clearly breakfast was over.

“I told you I don’t want you giving me money. You put it on the dresser anyway, you send it to me digitally, and then you went and snuck it in my purse like you thought you was slick.”, that thick Creole accent slipping from her tongue. “You argue with me about me taking care of my own hair appointments, nail fee, oil changes, tire rotations, and you think that’s you being respectful?”, she asked incredulously.

“I ain’t paying your rent. I ain’t paying for your utilities, groceries, or gas. If I didn’t give a fuck about your “wishes” I would be taking care of all of that. Like I’m how supposed to.” Elijah stood to his full height. The back of his hand smacking down into his palm, “I put money on that dresser when I leave here so you can do whatever you want with it. I send you money, and you send it right back. You don’t want it to go towards bills, fine, but it’s yours to use. I give it to you because I want you to have it. Damnit Annie, you don’t even spend the fucking money! You stuff it in that green canister underneath your bathroom sink.”

Annie’s blood ran cold at his revelation. Her mind immediately trying to do the math of how long ago he’d found it.

“Yeah, I know all about you holding onto it. All the money I’ve left for you in the past 8 months we’ve been together. Stuffed under the sink like it’s something to be ashamed of. You ain’t slick either.” Elijah hated having to talk to her this way, but she had pissed him off.

He worked his ass off, and he could spend his money however the hell he pleased. If she happened to be one of the main recipients of that hard work, then who the hell was she to tell him what he couldn’t do?

“Oh so you going through my stuff now?”, Annie took a step forward, feeling fired up at her privacy being invaded.

“Don’t try to change the subject, Annie.” he pointed a sharp finger at her as he sucked his teeth. “What you even keeping it for?”

“I keep it in case you want it back…”, the house held its breath at that. “I keep it because I don’t ever want you to hang “what you give me” over my head. I’ve seen how that plays out and I won’t have it.” Annie was breathing quickly now, her body trying to keep up with the emotions swirling through her.

“I’m not stupid Smoke, I know that everything costs something. And it’s all cute right now because we’re new, but what about later? When I ain’t your “Angel” no more? Just another obligation to carry on your back. What you gon want to take from me for all that you give me? What are you gonna feel like I owe you? My voice? My opinions, my happiness, my body?”

Annie felt her eyes well up with tears.

All those memories from her childhood coming at her full speed. Armor disguised as advice passed down through generations. Her grandmother, mother, aunts, older cousins all being in loveless relationships. Being told to stay. She always promised herself that she wouldn’t follow in their footsteps. No matter what.

“That man go to work and got a good paying job, and you talking about leaving him because you ain’t happy? Is you getting beat on? Do he got chaps and a flock of women all across town? No? Then be grateful for that stability. You can learn to live without being happy.” She could hear their voices as clear as day.

Smoke would never admit this to her, but in that moment he realized that he hadn’t been listening to her.

Annie had gone into herself. She was physically standing right there in front of him, but she had completely gone somewhere else in her mind. What he saw now as he looked at her wasn’t pride and stubbornness, but fear. Annie was afraid, and it broke his heart to see her this way.

She was afraid of how their dynamic would be impacted further down the line if they took a step in this direction. Afraid of what it would cost her to rely on him. Once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it and that changed everything.

“Angel, I ain’t trying to take nothing from you. I want to do all this because I care. You take care of me too, baby.” He felt so cared for by the woman that he couldn’t help but want to return it tenfold. Smoke took one small step toward her. “Annie, you my woman and I’m gon always find a way to do for you. You mine. Done always been mine…you gon always be mine, and I take care of what’s mine”, he said in a hushed voice just above a whisper.

Annie felt like she was being drowned by her own inner turmoil. She was at an intersection with no clear path that she could see all the way through.

Do I take the path that’s been handed down to me and betray myself?

Do I forge a path of carrying everything on my own in the name of self preservation?

Or do I take a leap of faith and let this man be a pillar I can lean on?

Elijah is different.

I’m sure everyone else thought that about their man early on too.

So Annie did what scared people do…she dug her heels in.

“We’ve only known each other for less than a year anyway, Smoke. You don’t understand me, and that’s okay. It’s obvious we can’t get passed this so let’s not waste anymore time. You’re here talking like we’ve been knowing each other our whole lives.” She chuckled softly but there was no humor in it. Annie turned away from him, not wanting him to see how much this was taking from her.

Elijah hated the distance between them, but he understood that he couldn’t crowd her right now. He inched forward, far enough that she had breathing room, but close enough that she knew he was here.

“You know I ain’t talking about time, Annie.”, his voice rough with emotion. “I feel you…you in my bones. You my heart.”

Annie couldn’t stop her body from turning towards him. Elijah Moore wasn’t a man of many words, so him laying himself bare like this… It was the most beautiful thing.

He advanced towards her, closing up most of the space between them. Slowly he reached for her wrist softly, pressing her hand flat against his beating heart. “So what you wanna do? Leave me for loving on you? For wanting you to be taken care of?” He cupped her jaw gently as she leaned into his touch.

Annie’s breathing slowed at the contact. His steady presence anchoring her momentarily.

“That ain’t gon work for me baby, and I know it don’t work for you either. I’ll tell you what, you can not be my woman all you want to, but I’m your man. That ain’t changing.” Smoke spoke softly as he pressed his lips ever so gently to her cheek.

“I don’t know where to go, Bear. I don’t want to make you confused just because I’m all fucked up.”, she took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to think I don’t care about ya…”, he had never hear her voice so small and helpless. It made him feel useless to not know how to fix right this second.

Smoke knew to contain his relief at the nickname she bestowed onto him.

“I know you care about me mama. I can feel it.” He pulled her pliant body into a full embrace now, cradling her in his arms. Smoke pressed his full lips right against her ear, fighting against pulling her lobe into his mouth.

“I want you to have the kind of life you deserve. Whatever you need I’ll make sure you have it, because you got me. All of me.” He started trailing slow kisses from her ear, down to her jaw before placing small pecks to her neck. “My time, money, attention, love, hell I even got some act right for you if that’s what you needing”, this pulled a giggle from Annie as she cradled his head. The sound of her laugh was music to his ears.

She was letting herself embrace the feeling of having him so close to her again.

“You a mess. What I’m gon do with you Lijah?”, she asked as she tried to contain her laugh.

The two lovers were beginning to feel the tension that they’d been holding onto for nearly two weeks ooze from their bodies, only being left with a sense of hope that they would make it through.

“You can tell me how you want us to go about this moving forward. Talk to me, baby. Tell Papa what you need,” he mumbled between the sweet kisses he laid upon her neck.

Smoke was fighting everything in his body to keep his hands at the small of her back. He wanted so badly to reach further down and knead the flesh of her backside in his hands. It’s had been almost 2 weeks and the man felt like he was dying from not being this close to his Annie.

Annie was quiet as she tried to push everything in her mind away to make room for a solution.

“I need you to be patient with me, Elijah. You gotta listen to me when I tell you to slow down.” He hummed against the base of her throat to show that he was listening, “And maybe we can come to an agreement about what I’ll let you take care of and how much you give me.”

“I can do that, Angel. We’ll get it sorted out.” Smoke picked his head up to meet her big brown eyes with his heavy lidded ones. “I need you to do something for me, too”, he said softly.

Annie nodded her head, urging him to state his request.

“You got 6,400 dollars stuffed in that canister under the sink” Annie averted her gaze at the mention of the exact amount of money she had been hoarding in her bathroom. He gently took chin her between his thumb and index finger to put her eyes back on him, “I need you to go put that in the bank, mama. You ain’t no dope boy.”, he told her sternly.

Annie let out a cackle at that.

“I will Papa Bear, first thing in the morning.”

She nuzzled her face at the base of his neck. He was glad to have her back where she belonged.

“Lijah?”, she called hesitantly.

“Yeah baby?”

“I need…”, her throat tightened at the thought of asking him for something. But true to her word, she was going to try.

“I need you to hold me for a little while.”

“Anything you need, Angel.”

AHHHHHHHHHHH! It’s 11:48 so technically I had this out for Friday night like I wanted😏

4,200 words and whew, I don’t know how y’all do this. This was a little challenging for me, but I’m kind of proud honestly. Thank you to everyone that liked the first part, I really appreciate all of you! I hope you enjoy!🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽