And You Are Welcome, Your Welcome In This Place

Follower of Christ | Mommy | Dreamer | I love love

[myheartsaysyes]

Sinners Masterlist

Thank you @lizbehave for creating this for me. You are such a beautiful person inside and out! 🥹💜

ME

Someone Like You

Smoke x Annie

One - Two - Three- Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight

Remedy: The Series

Modern AU | Smoke x Annie

One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen - Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty - Twenty-One - Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four

Dead Air

Smoke x Annie

One - Two - Three - Four (coming soon)

Safe Hands

Smoke x Annie

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

The Mixtape

Smoke x Annie

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII (coming soon)

One Shots

Modern AU | Smoke x Annie

Remedy: Part I

Remedy: Part II

Worth The Wait

Clouded In You

Extra Credit

The Reintroduction

Grand Theft Helmet

Read It to Me

Eyes Closed. Guard Down

Modern AU | Smoke x Annie x Family

Where My Shootas

“I Ain’t Never Lost My Woman” — Famous Last Words

Love, Multiplied

Our First Christmas 🎄

Midnight Don’t Wait

Modern AU | Stack x Annie

Make Me Feel

[theethighpriestess]

Little Miss Innocent

A/N: Let me start by thanking the lovely @rollingmyeyesatyou for submitting this request and for being the epitome of patience while waiting for me to get my shit together and write it. You're a gem & I hope I did your request justice.

Pairing: Smoke x Stack x OC (Candace “Candi” Reed)

Premise: Smoke & Stack are obsessed with the thought of turning out their “innocent” classmate. Little do they know, she’s more experienced than she leads on.

Warning(s): 18+, MDNI, Cursing, Smut, MMF Threesome, Piercing Kink, Teasing, BDSM Elements, Domme!OCxSub Smokestack Twins, Supernatural elements (Because I can't help myself)

Word Count: 3.6K

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Candace “Candi” Reed was a lot of things. Genius-level smart, whimsical, occasional pothead, and was the owner of the juiciest pussy in all of California (according to a few particularly generous subscribers to her Sweet Like Candi website).

What she wasn’t was late.

Ever.

Deadlines could be finessed, and content could be scheduled in advance, but showing up late to class legitimately made her skin crawl.

“Fuck.”

She should’ve never accepted the custom request. Well.. That wasn’t entirely true. Two thousand dollars was two thousand dollars, and it wasn’t like it had been anything complicated. Her favorite regular, BlackMamba69, had paid double for an uncensored body piercing tour, which he wanted done while she had her vibrating anal plug in. She’d shown off her butterfly nipple rings and matching belly ring, her back dermals, and her newest edition, her Christina. Filming had stretched well past 4 am, and somewhere between editing, exporting, and uploading it to her site, she’d mistakenly silenced all of her morning alarms.

Now, here she was sprinting across campus in a too tight, too short yellow mini sundress that had all of her upper body piercings on full display. To make matters worse, she’d forgotten to remove the plug before sprinting out of her campus apartment, a fact that became more evident with each hurried stride she took. And unbeknownst to her, the remote to it had been tossed into her bag along with her vlogging camera and mic.

“Ancestors, if y’all love me, this man will still have the door open and still be taking attendance,” she prayed silently as the door to her Abnormal Psychology class came into view.

Per usual, her request was granted.

Candi slipped inside as quietly as she could, taking her usual seat at the front of the class.

“Cutting it pretty close there, Ms. Reed,” Dr. Jordan remarked, bourbon and honey coating the lustful baritone of his voice.

“I know, and I sincerely apologize, Dr. Jordan,” Candi cooed sweetly as she walked to her seat. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t happen again,” a teasing voice called from the back of the classroom. Elias Moore. Senior psychology major, basketball phenom, and one half of the duo that had been the muses to some of Candi’s most powerful orgasms to date. And sitting next to him was his twin, Elijah. The Smokestack Twins, as they’d become known around campus, transferred from Clarksdale, Mississippi, and had taken the West Coast by storm. All the girls wanted them and all the guys simultaneously wanted to be them. Candi just wanted to fuck them. At the same time. On camera.

“Shut up, Stack,” she replied with a playful eye roll before turning her attention to his twin.

“You in my seat, Elijah.”

“My lap’s available,” he returned with a sly grin. 

“Nah,” she purred, eyes flicking down for a split second to entertain the seat in question. “I’m cool.”

“Lying ass,” he mumbled under his breath before sliding over one seat.

“That’s a cute dress,” Stack admitted, dragging his eyes lustfully up and down her frame. “You should let me take it off you after class.”

“Careful, boy. You gone bite off more than you can chew.”

“I’m a big boy,” he boasted. “I’m more than capable of cleaning my plate.”

Candi bit her lip discreetly, clenching her thighs at the thought of him giving her back shots over the desk while his twin fucked her face. She shook the thought from her mind before taking the vacant seat between them.

As the rest of the class filed in and got settled, Dr. Jordan began the lecture.

“Today’s lecture subject is paraphilic disorders. By definition, paraphilic disorders are recurrent, intense, sexually arousing fantasies, urges, or behaviors that are distressing or disabling and involve inanimate objects, children, or nonconsenting adults, or suffering or humiliation of the person or a partner, with the potential to cause harm. According to the DSM-5, there are eight paraphilias that most commonly evolve into paraphilic disorders. The paraphilias are: voyeuristic disorder, exhibitionistic disorder, frotteuristic disorder, sexual masochism disorder, sexual sadism disorder, pedophilic disorder, fetishistic disorder, and transvestic disorder. While we’ll be covering all eight over the course of these next two weeks, today, we’ll be focusing on sexual sadism and sexual masochism.”

Candi leaned down to grab a notebook and pen from her bag. As she slid the notebook out, the remote to her vibrator clattered to the floor. 

“Now how did that—,” she wondered aloud as she bent down to pick it up.

“Hmm, what’s this?” Stack murmured with a raised eyebrow, snatching it from her hands.

“Give it back, Stack!” she whispered aggressively.

“Tell me what it is, and I’ll consider it,” he teased, holding it away from her.

“It’s the remote to my—my camera,” she lied.

“Camera, huh?” Smoke inquired. “Let me see that, Stack.”

He took the remote from his brother, twirling it between his thick fingers as he looked it over. He noted the buttons on the top and shot Candi a knowing glance.

“You sure this goes to your camera, Candace?”

The emphasis on her name made her insides quiver.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered.

“So you telling me, if I click this button,” he gestured to the plus sign at the top of the camera, “that it’ll activate ya lil camera?”

Candi’s eyes widened as his thick thumb clicked the button. The vibration sent a shockwave through her entire body, causing her to clench both sides of the desk to keep from screaming out loud. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose, and although she wanted to delve into the habit of pushing them back up, she couldn’t. Her hands were occupied with the thick wood of the desk. Her ankles shook beneath her, and her breath hitched in audible arousal that she struggled to keep at bay in a classroom full of students. 

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way,” Stack’s deep baritone whispered from beside her. “Little Miss Innocent, Know-it-All got a vibrator in during class. You a filthy lil’ thing, ain’t you?”

“Turn it off,” she whimpered, looking up at Smoke with needy, pleading eyes.

“Absolutely not,” Smoke teased. “We just found out you be doing more than vlogging with that lil camera. We about to make some content, baby.” 

Somewhere between the definition of autoerotic asphyxiation and the treatment of sexual sadism, Stack’s fingers had found Candi’s clit and were rubbing slow circles on it while Smoke controlled the vibrator in her ass. They were both amazed at how well she’d been able to contain her moans, but it was obvious that she was close to coming undone. It was even more amazing to them that she’d indulged them by setting up her camera to record it all.

“You coming back to the room with us after class?” Stack purrs in her ear, slipping a finger into her dripping entrance. 

“Yeessss,” she hisses softly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against her temple before pulling his hand away. Candi whined softly at the loss of contact, looking to Smoke for some type of reprieve. Out of her peripheral, as her body tried to come back down to earth, she noticed Stack licking his fingers discreetly. He hummed with a deep, primal baritone that sent a shiver up her spine. 

“Later, lil bit. Need you hot and ready when we leave here.”

This was unfair. A mutiny even. Candace was used to being the one in control and telling men what to do, yet here she was being brought to her knees by two Mississippi transplants. She had to get them back. She had to show them who was the true puppet master around here.

After an excruciatingly torturous hour and fifty minutes, the students gathered their belongings and started filing out of the classroom. Candace and the twins remained seated as they brought her close to the edge for the 5th time before pulling back.

“C-Can I have my remote back now? I have another class,” she whined.

“Aww, but we’re having so much fun, lil bit,” Stack taunted, slowly dragging his middle finger up her slick. “You sure you don’t wanna skip?”

“I can’t. I have a p–presentation.”

“Mmm, beauty and brains,” Smoke growled, increasing the intensity of the vibrator once more before shutting it off completely. “Go be great, lil fairy. We’ll catch up with you after practice.” He handed the remote back to her, and Candi watched in lustful awe as the twins made their way towards the gymnasium. 

The Moore twins had gotten entirely too comfortable thinking they could fluster her, and in public, no less. Somewhere between Elias' cocky grin and Elijah's maddeningly calm stare, they'd started believing they had the upper hand. Cute. Let them enjoy the illusion while it lasted. Candace Reed had built an entire career on reading men, finding their weaknesses, and making them fold with nothing more than an angelic smile. If the Smokestack Twins wanted to play games, she'd happily deal the first hand. They just didn't know they'd already sat down at her table.

Candace spent the rest of the afternoon planning and calculating. In between flashbacks of nearly cumming during her Abnormal Psychology lecture, she imagined all of the ways she’d have the twins all but drinking her bathwater once she was done with them. Under her innocent, good girl demeanor was a pleasure domme with an insatiable appetite for male tears. It made her chest swell with pride watching the biggest, toughest men turn into putty in her hands, oftentimes with little to no coercion. One of her favorite memories was with Keith Jones, the star quarterback. What had begun as an innocent study session on Sigmund Freud’s five stages of psychosexual development turned into Keith being cuffed to her bed with her pussy on his face and a vibrating dildo in his ass. She still couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to stimulate his prostate, but chunked it up to him being masochistic. Keith looooooved pain and bruising, and frequently visited her after winning games to boost his high. And each time, Candi happily obliged.

“I wonder if they’re into butt stuff,” she mused to herself as she made her way across the campus green to her apartment. Once inside, she lit her favorite vanilla shea candle and turned on her Bondage Sex & Cheerios playlist to set the mood.

“See, I just want your hands around my throoooat,” she harmonized with Ari Lennox as she made her way to the bathroom to shower. She lathered her skin with her homemade strawberry peach body wash before rinsing the day away beneath the steaming water. Once she’d finished, she moisturized from head to toe, spritzed herself with Good Girl Blush by Carolina Herrera, and slipped into a white button-up blouse tucked neatly into a black pleated mini skirt. She rolled a pair of black fishnet stockings over her chocolate legs before slipping on a pair of black patent So Kate Louboutin pumps. A gold rosary settled perfectly between her supple breasts, the cross stopping at the base of her black lace bra, while a few layered gold rings and tiny gold hoops completed the look.

Looking the picture of innocence, she allowed her mind to fantasize about the morning’s events. She closed her eyes and imagined Stack’s thick fingers pumping deep inside of her sex as Smoke toyed with the speed and intensity of the anal vibe. She remembered the delicious torture of each orgasm she was denied, mentally tallying the number she’d set for the two of them when the time came. A sinful grin spread across her face as she imagined Smoke on his knees worshipping her body like the fairy goddess she was. After a final once-over, Candi grabbed her tote bag and left her apartment.

The smell of strawberries and bad decisions trailed behind her as she climbed the steps to the second floor, the clink of her So Kates echoing through the breezeway. She adjusted the strap of the tote, her mind still replaying flashbacks of the morning. The teasing. The way they’d somehow exposed the crack in her armor. Stack’s charisma living in his mouth and Smoke’s gaze steady enough to make you submit without a second thought. 

She remembered how her eyes dropped to their laps. Two heavy, unmistakable ridges stretching the fabric of their joggers. But it was the unique blunt bulges that weren’t as identical as their faces. The bulges didn’t just point; there was a thick, curved silhouette that suggested a dick designed to specifically arc into the deepest, most sensitive parts of a pussy. All Candi could recall through the haze of her edging torture was the thought of what it would feel like to be stretched by those curves. To have them both so deep she couldn’t form thoughts.

It still irritated her. She was determined to make the Mississippi boys regret ever toying with her. By the time she reached apartment 2B, the corners of her mouth had curled into a devilish smile. Whatever they thought was about to happen when she knocked on that door, she intended to make sure they were wrong. Candace raised her hand and knocked three times, the sharp raps carrying through the apartment before she folded her arms and waited.

Smoke answered the door shirtless, the diamonds in his Cuban link choker catching the porch light just enough to make Candace pause for a second. He exhaled slowly through his nose, filling the space between them briefly with weed smoke. He didn’t hide the way his eyes hungrily drug across her frame, lingering a moment too long on the rosary before letting them drift back to her face.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he stared down at her.

“Toys. Wanna play with me?” she purred as she pushed past him and into the apartment. Her eyes found Stack manspreading on the couch with a blunt hanging from his lips. He was also shirtless, his chain nestled between his pecs. Candi mentally drooled. 

“So you came into the tiger’s den dressed like prey?” he growled, his thick Mississippi drawl amplified by the weed smoke.

“Is that what I did?” Candi asked, feigning ignorance. “And here I was thinking I just looked cute.”

“Cute ain’t the right word. Immaculate is more like it,” Smoke’s deep baritone called from behind her, caging her in between him and his brother.

“I asked a question that neither of you answered,” Candi noted, slipping from their clutches to place her tote on the coffee table.

“What kind of game did you have in mind?” Stack inquired, attempting to peek in the tote.

“The kind where the two of you bend to my every command,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elias threw his head back, the roar of his laugh echoing off the walls while Elijah tried his hardest to contain his dimpled smirk. Candace didn’t see the joke. In fact, it only fueled her lustful wrath.

“C’mon guys, it’ll be fun,” she pressed, rubbing a gentle hand down Smoke’s chest.

“Aight, sweet cheeks,” he purred softly in her ear. “I’ll indulge. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Candace slid her hand up his torso, stopping at the base of his throat. She squeezed ever so slightly before leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“On your knees,” she cooed, feeling the reservation in his body.

“Nah, I prefer to stand,” he challenged, carefully placing her arm back to her side. Candace only chuckled before pushing him down on the couch, the heel of her So Kate digging into his chest before he could process the action. Smoke’s lips curled into a dangerous snarl as he stared down at her foot, then back to her face. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn she heard a faint whimper escape the back of his throat.

Got him.

“Choose your next move carefully, lil bit,” Smoke warned as his dick strained against the fabric of his pajama pants.

“Ain’t nobody worried about you or your lookalike, Mr. Moore.”

“You sure about that?” Stack called from behind her. “You playing a dangerous game right now, ma.”

“I know,” she giggled softly. “But unlike the two of you, I’m going to win.” She drove her heel deeper into Smoke’s chest, watching the ragged breaths escape him in waves. He was ready to pounce, and she knew it.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you, Elijah?”

“I’m about to fuck you,” he corrected.

“You are,” she agreed. “But first, I want to have some fun.”

Candace’s heels clicked loudly against the hardwood as she disappeared into the dining room. Both twins’ heads snapped up when the scrape of furniture echoed from the darkness.

“Fuck she doing?” Stack muttered.

“Hell if I know,” Smoke answered, eyes narrowing as the scraping sound grew closer. The little fairy appeared moments later, dragging two wooden chairs behind her with surprising ease. She positioned them in the middle of the living room, nudging and positioning them until they sat perfectly back to back. Once the task was complete, she turned back towards the two confused men, an impish grin spreading across her innocent face.

“How do y’all feel about rope?”

Her fingers snapped before either of them could process what had happened. Not only were they both seated in the chairs, but their hands were tied behind their backs and to one another. Instinctively, they each tested the restraints, growing annoyed when the realization hit that they were moving in tandem.

“How the fuck you do that?” Stack growled, tugging harder at his restraints.

“Just a little fairy magic,” Candace replied with a nod. “Now be still before you give the both of you rope burn.”

As Stack glared at her lustfully, Smoke’s expression remained stoic. Though he was horny as fuck, there was no way he was about to be caught slipping twice in one night… Or so he thought.

2 hours and five delayed orgasms later, Smoke was about to burst. He stared up at Candace with awestruck eyes as she rode him like the mechanical bull at the county fair. He desperately wanted to touch her, to lock his hands around her waist and bounce her until they both exploded, but he couldn’t. She relished every second of it, alternating between fast-paced bounces and gentle slow grinds. Smoke was in heaven. Her walls hugged him like they were made for his curve, her slick coating his shaft in the warmest river of pleasure. She slid a delicate hand up his chest, stopping once again at the base of his throat.

“Papa,” she purred sweetly.

“Yeh baby?”

“What would happen if I did this?” His eyes widened as she gripped his chain, twisting so that it choked him ever so slightly. His hips bucked up into her, pulling a deep, guttural moan from the back of her throat.

“Mmm, I like that,” she cooed, twisting tighter.

“Candiiiiii,” Stack hissed, not sure if he would be able to hold back being brought to the edge for a sixth time. While Smoke had been buried deep inside of Candi’s sugar walls, Stack had been blindfolded and forced to listen to it all. His imagination ran wild with images of what could possibly be happening just behind him. 

While Smoke’s right-curving dick stroked deep into the back of her pussy, Candace ogled Stack’s neglected dick. That made her pussy clamp tighter around Smoke, causing him to groan. Both of them were almost as wide as her wrist, mapped with thick, throbbing veins that coiled around the girth like vines. Stack leaked pre cum while Smoke tried to maneuver his hips to thrust up, but Candace’s downward bounce left him immobile. She felt so powerful and sensual all at once. 

“Aww, both of the babies are on edge,” she taunted. “That’s cute.” She slowed her hips in Smoke’s lap before standing up completely, the loss of contact making him groan in defeat. “Good boys…now, just breathe. Stay hard for me. I want you to remember that I’m the one who decides when you get to cum.” 

“Look, we’re sorry for earlier,” Stack pleaded. “We was just fuckin’ around. Please just let a nigga bust.”

“And you promise you’ll never do that to me again?”

“We promise,” they replied in unison.

Candi giggled softly as she snapped her fingers again, removing their restraints. Smoke instantly reached out and grabbed her, positioning her back on his leaking tip while Stack settled in the back of her throat. He gripped her locs and fucked her face relentlessly while his twin rocked into her like a fuck doll. Candace was in sexual bliss. She’d never expected her fantasy to play out like this, and she also wasn’t mad at it. 

“Look at you,” Stack admired, stroking her cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You throating that dick like you wanna own it. You claimin’ my shit, Candi?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head as Smoke’s curve drummed her g-spot with expert precision. Stack smacked her face lightly to bring her back to reality.

“I asked you a question, Candi. You tryna make this your dick?”

She looked up at him with those big doe eyes, and for a second, his resolve slipped. Candace noticed, reaching up to wrap her hand around the base of his shaft. She stroked and sucked his dick to the pace that Smoke set beneath her, causing Stack to go wild.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he roared, thrusting his length deeper down her throat.

Candi pulled off with an audible pop, still stroking his length slowly.

“You close, Stack?”

“So fucking close, Candi,” he panted.

She turned her gaze to Smoke, whose bottom lip was swollen and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it.

“You too?”

“I hope ya IUD workin’ otherwise, you bouta have a Moore baby,” was all he said before a final thrust released his seed deep into her walls. The motion sparked a domino effect, with Candi squirting all over Smoke’s lower half while Stack’s unborn seed painted her esophagus. She swallowed it all, staring up at him with the most innocent, angelic expression.

“You dangerous, ma,” he chuckled, rubbing his tip back and forth across her lips.

“Just the way y’all like it.”

Tags: @blackpantherismyish @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theegoldenchild @imagining-greatness @soufcakmistress @lizbehave @myheartsaysyes @chromexbarbie @moundbayou @dashhoney25 @theogbadbitch @xeebop @tatelangdonsweater @aretasreads @omgffs @thickemadame @melodyofmbaku @adultinginheels @brownsuugahh @brownsugarcoffy @aizawash0e @blktinkerbell @tatelangdonsweater @thedutifulone @empressdede @midnightmemoirsofher

[moth2flamewriting]

Big Mama: Take Me Thru There

-hey yall, we got a part 2 of big mamaaaaaaa! Annie is getting put thru that mattress. And Smoke is the one putting her thru it. This just some good ol’ fucking. Credits to @dealore for the prompt. :) i hope you enjoy ittttttt, i enjoyed writing it. This is the final part for this so i figured I’d make it a treat. We picking up directly from part 1 so don’t expect no talking ;p

Also, do anyone wanna help me with a new master list? Sksksks im feeling lazy and dont wanna find all my workssssss omg. MINORS DO NOT FUCKING ENGAGE!!!

As always,

Enjoy.

“Fuck, Elijah,” he was eating her pussy like he’d been there before. Slurping and spitting on her clit, over and over. Her pussy was grasping at his tongue, her hips bucking to meet his mouth.

He held her legs up tight, pinning her in place. He licked from her asshole to her hard mound, sending a chill up her body. He moaned into her as he continued his assault. “This pussy taste so good,” he growled into her heat. Her legs shook as he brought her to climax. She gripped the sheets, her back arching hard off the bed. She screamed out, “You got this pussy cumming, Daddy.” Her body froze as Annie rode out her orgasm. Her back hitting the sheets.

Elijah rubbed the outside of her legs as he licked up what he could around his mouth. He looked down at her pussy, her hole was drooling. Creamy liquid dripping from her, he didn’t think twice to slurp it out of her. She threw her head back, her eyes shut tight from the overwhelming sensation between her legs.

‘Damn, he eating the fuck out my pussy,’ she thought to herself. She’d never been ate like this before. The way her payed attention to her sticky center. How he was gentle with running his tongue over her clit. The way he spit on her center and distributed the assault with his tongue, slipping through her folds. The way he gripped her thighs and spoke to her without coming up for air. He was driving her mad with it, she was going to be insane over this man. All because he licked her like it was his purpose.

“You alright baby?” He pulled her from her thoughts. He trailed kisses up Annie’s body, stopped at her Naples and gently sucking and licking. Wetting her chest in her juices and his spit. She grabbed the back of his head to steady herself, even though she was lying down. “O-oh,”she whipped out as her traveled up to her neck. He sucked and bit into her, her body was in overdrive. She could feel his dick, nestled perfectly between her lower lips. He had to know what he was doing to her, how he was making her feel. The way he was taking care of a hunger she didn’t know she had.

Elijah was feral. This woman would be the very welcomed death of him. When he ate her, he got lost and was no longer doing it for his pleasure, but hers. She was sweet, and the way she leaked on his lips when he wrapped his lips around her? Her sweet moans and filthy talk while he ate her. The way her hips bucked and pussy grabbed at his tongue had his dick hard as a rock. He needed to be closer to her, needed to be inside her. His eyes were blown black and he could only think about the grip she would have on him. ‘She don’t even know what she’s doing to me,’ he thought to himself. He was giving himself to her without a second thought, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“That dick so heavy,” she moaned into his mouth. Her hips moving slowly back and forth, dragging her dripping sex across his length. Her arms wrapped around his neck, sliding her hips back ad forth more frantically, “Put it in me, Daddy. Fill me-OH,” he sank. Into her quickly. He sat inside her for moment, filling her deeply. Letting her adjust.

“You so fucking tight,” he strained. He had to hold himself from nutting in her right there. Her body convulsed around him trying to adjust to his size. He leaned back, getting a good look at Annie’s face. Her mouth hung open, her eyes barely open, head swaying back and forth faintly. The feeling of him inside her had taken over. She had no control over her body. She only knew that he needed to started fucking her soon before she fucking exploded. “Look at me baby. Tell me what you need Big Mama,” he spoke to her low and slow.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, her eyes not moving off of his. He with-drawled from her and fucked into her slowly. Dragging out of her at a dangerously slow pace. He was only fucking her with half his length and she was holding on for dear life. Her moans and screams were music to his ears. The way she clawed at his back, the way her pussy just opened up for him. She was so fucking wet, she was dripping onto her sheets. He was so deep inside her, her vision was blurry.

“Yes, Elijah! Keep fucking me, don’t stop fucking me!” That was all he needed, to slam fully into her until she busted all over him. He was digging her out. Giving her exactly what he said he would. Looking down at her as she took him full on, he’d never seen anybody more beautiful. She was taking his dick like a champ. She was made for him. He watched as she disappeared inside of her, in and out. He felt her tighten around him. “Daddy, I’m bout to cum,” she whined. “Keeping fucking me ‘Lijah, you gon make me fucking cum.”

“Cum on this dick baby, this yo shit. Wet me up,” he fucked her straight through and her pussy bursted coating his dick in a warm liquid. She squirted around his dick as the orgasm rocked through her, her body seized under him. She shook uncontrollably, her nails digging into his forearm. Her body fell limp as he pulled his still very erect monstrosity from her.

“I hope you don’t think I’m done with you,” he wasn’t going to give her anytime to recover. He gripped her legs, flipping her onto her stomach like she was rag doll. He spread her ass open and stuffed his nose between her pussy lips, sucking her swollen clit into his mouth. Her pussy leaked into his mouth, her hips pushed up, putting herself on her knees to give him better access. He took one long lick before he positioned himself behind her. His fat tip poking at her entrance. He brought his hung up and smacked her ass. Her ass shook, leaving him mesmerized. “Look at this shit,” he smacked her ass again, slipping the tip of his dick inside her, causing Annie to arch her back. He pressed her hips forward, settling inside of her halfway. Her head lifted up off the bed, her mouth gaped, she tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, trying to hold the moan that was trying to escape her.

He slapped her ass again, “Nah, let me hear you Anais. Let me hear what Daddy doing to you baby,” he heals her hips deeply. Surely there would be a bruise there when he was thru with her body. She opened her mouth letting the moan rip through her. She spread her legs lowering herself back to the mattress, face down ass up. The sight of her pussy and her tight asshole prompted Elijah to move. She was begging for him to beat her pussy up. He pummeled into her at lightening speed, not even giving her a chance to catch her breath in between strokes. Her legs bent up at the knees, her toes cured into a ball as he stroked her into oblivion.

“Dadddddddyyy, please,” she begged him to let up, placing a hand on the base of his stomach. Her slapped her ass and pinned her arm to her back, lifting up slightly to hit her at a different angle. “Let me have it baby, cum on this dick again and again til you begging for mercy,” he grunted as he hit the bottom of her busy. Then he just stopped and pressed his full length inside her, filling her completely. “Oh shit, baby you too deep.” She pushed her ass back into him not knowing if she wanted more or if she wanted it to end. Tears pricked the outer creases of her eyes. “Why you fucking me like this huh?” She turned her head to find his eyes. And when she did the black orbs stared into her mercilessly.

“So you don’t ever think you can find this, anywhere else.”

-

W’S IN THE CHATTTTTTTTT! Anyway y’all just suem freaky for yaaaa!

Lmk what you think :)

@bananajoeclone @blue4everrsworld

[digitalgawdess]

As MBJ video archivist (Low-key), I think about this scene & how much footage has been cut from his movies.

I've ran across so much alt footage that never made the main cut & I think about all the stuff that's sitting in the vault right now.

[panthergoddessbast]

I watched a whole cut of the movie that technically doesn’t exist and I AM FOREVER MAD WE DID NOT GET ‘you know I ain’t shit. Well maybe I ain’t shit neither’ like please let’s talk about how this boy actually hates himself. hides it well with beautiful clothes and a saccharine smile with the sharpest tongue

Just a little peek into his sad hot boy brain 👌🏾

[shereeluvssinners]

Wunmi ❤

[digitalgawdess]

SMOKE 💨

[everyday-cutephoto]

[myheartsaysyes]

⏳️⏰️

The divorce story, the next chapter to The Mixtape & Dead Air & something new by next week PLEASE & THANK YOU. The streetz are hungry.

By next week?! Lawd.. let me get up off this couch then, chile! 😭

Do some stretches

…and say goodbye to sleep! 🥴

[myheartsaysyes]

Following anon previous comment, hell yeahh we are waiting ⏳⏳⏳

Please I need that divorce one shot with Smoke and Annie pleaseeee

I KNEW that was the one y’all were talking about.😅 It’s coming, Anon! It’s pretty much done. The only problem is the smut refuses to smut the way I need it to. And it’s upsetting me and my homegirls! 😩

[saralance03]

Ight yall I came up with this idea a few days ago and started typing it out but I just finished it. I didn’t have anybody proof read it so read at your own risk😭 I’ll be finishing this in 2 parts I just wanted to go ahead and post something before I deleted it like the last few lil stories I’ve tried. Idk I like the drama in this one😂

TW : DV, lame nigga shit, paranoia

Word count : 1.9

Annie sat in the green SRT looking out the window trying her best to stay calm until she made it home. She knew if she could just get dropped off and ignore him for a few hours, Jeremih would calm down and see how ridiculous he was acting.

Everything was fine an hour earlier, he came and got her from her door and took her to dinner as they had previously planned. She smiled at the waiter too sincerely and his insecure ass just had to do the most. He accused her of being a hoe, too friendly, asked if she has been fucking that nigga and had the nerve to ask if that was why he only got charged for 2 appatizers instead of 1.

She made the mistake of laughing in his face because she honestly could not believe they were going through this again, AGAIN. They had gotten into a heated debate a week prior when he threatened to break her phone all because she liked and reposted a reel of method man. THE METHOD MAN, that man didn’t know her from a can of paint and she tried her best to explain it. She even said she wouldn’t repost any more men if he found it disrespectful but the only solution he could agree on was her giving him all the passwords to his social media which was a huge fuck no.

Annie text the groupchat to let them know Jeremiah was on bullshit once again, Grace immediately text back letting her know she was watching them live on life360. “You not gon say shit huh? You can’t wait for me to drop you off so you can go back up there and eat that nigga up right? You gotta suck sum for a damn appetiser Annie?”

She knew better than to answer, when he was like this anything she said would be used against her. So she sat quite and kept looking out the window, she jumped when he jerked the car to the right to pull into the gas station but calmed down once she saw he was just going to top off his tank. She knew what that was, he wanted to stay around her for as long as possible because he knew coming upstairs to her apartment was a non negotiable.

The worst part was he was on the floor right below hers which is where they met in the first place. She shook her head slightly thinking about how she decided to move into that particular complex last minute because they offered to do her first month free. “This nigga was not worth that lil $1500” she thought.

Jeremiah parked at pump #3 and just stared at Annie. She tried to give him a small smile hoping he would calm down faster than normal so she could still put her fresh wax to use. She made sure to answer every text and call this week, didn’t like anything too wild on Instagram, barely posted and even called him last night when she got off work and pretended to be scared so he could walk her to her door and feel like the big strong nigga that he wasn’t.

She got out of giving him some by faking a headache when he lingered at her door last night, she purposely waited out so he could put her through the mattress after their dinner date. All she wanted was her sweet baby back, when things were good they were great, but when they were bad they escalated so fast. Somehow the good sex always made her forget the bad that led up to it. “You still mad at me” she asked while rubbing the back of his neck the way she knew he loved. He shrugged her hand off while clearing his throat “Nah I’m coo, why don’t you go throw $20 in my tank since I took care of dinner”

Annie’s face dropped immediately, he had never asked her to handle gas. He didn’t let her pay for anything, that was one of the first things she learned to get used to when they first started talking. She laughed while getting out the car “you need to me pump it to” she said half way expecting him to say yes. Just as she reached the door she turned around again to double check the pump number. As she turned around all she could see was Jeremiah gassing it out of the parking lot.

She stood there with her mouth open blinking back tears. She couldn’t believe he just left her, thankfully the apartment complex was only a 15-20 minute walk but it was the middle of summer, dark as hell outside and all she had on was a romper and sandals. Just as she was about to call Grace she heard him rushing back into the parking lot. He pulled back into pump #3 and hopped out the car.

“You know damn well you don’t pay for shit around me, watch how you talk to me before I leave yo ass for good tho” he said as he opened the gas station door for her. Annie walked behind him still shook by the whole incident but even more frustrated with herself for being relieved he came back for her. She grabbed a Fiji water and trailed behind her man trying to brainstorm a few different scenarios to get their night back on track.

After he had paid for his gas and Annie’s water Jamal opened the gas station door slightly letting it fall on Annie as she hurried behind him. He looked up to see a Vapor blue Mustang parked next to him. He immediately looked back for Annie to see if she was watching the car the same way he was, she wasn’t.

She almost ran into the back of him when he stopped walking, he took it too far pulling off and he knew it but he also knew he would make it up to her as soon as they got back to her place. He just needed to kiss that sweet spot on the side of her neck how she liked and she’d cave and let him come in.

Just as Annie was about to hop in the car she noticed two men stepping out of the bluish car that had pulled up next to Jeremiah, she glanced at her man trying to see if he would open the door for her how he usually did but he was too busy staring the car down so of course she followed his gaze. “What up bruh” the first dude said with a grin “Whatupdoe” Jeremiah responded, the second guy got out the drivers seat with a simple head nod. “Twins” Annie muttered as she noticed identical faces staring back at her.

“Yea baby, double the trouble” the first one said as they turned to walk inside. She involuntarily followed them with her eyes seeing they were built the exact same but walked completely different. “Awe you love that shit, chip and dale got your hoe ass drooling” she snapped her neck to the left seeing Jeremiah stare holes into her while he pumped the gas. She opened the passenger door dropping in the car while reassuring him “I just don’t see grown twins often dassit, ain’t nobody stunting them”

“Stfu” he said slamming her door, “you know how hard it is trying to keep your hoe ass in line? I don’t know why I keep putting up with this shit you can’t help yourself can you?” Annie didn’t have the energy to fight back. She knew she was wrong but she also knew she wasn’t a hoe, she was as loyal as they came and he knew that. He just loved to belittle her and make himself the victim and she could only take so much. “Take me home Jeremih, nah you don’t gotta walk me to my door, come in, eat me into tears or slow fuck me until I go back stupid for your dumb ass. I’d much rather use my rose”

All Annie could taste was blood as she tried to register what happened. Did he hit her? He swore he would never hit her again. “Look what you made me fucking do bruh” he said as he tried to grab her chin to see the damage “Don’t even worry bout it let me get you home and clean you up” he said as he put the gas hose back on the pump.

“Aye bruh, you putting you hands on females” someone yelled as Annie looked up to see the set of twins fast pacing it to Jeremiah’s car, “I’m fine it was nothing” she said as she attempted to open her door to step out but Jeremiah stood too close. She knew he had done it on purpose and he lightly laughed.

“Nah man I’m not even that type of guy it was really just reflex, her mouth got a lil disrespectful but we about to call it a night and go home” he said as he tried to brush past the two men who refused to budge.

“What he do to you” the stern face one asked.

“He punched me”

Annie felt like she couldn’t lie to him, she felt like he could keep her safe and she couldn’t tell if her bleeding had snapped Jeremiah back into reality or pushed him further over the edge. What she did know was that he wasn’t letting her out of his sight anytime soon, whenever he took things too far he stayed extra close and she desperately needed space.

“Do you know this nigga?” Jeremiah questioned while looking down at her, “Why you running our business to dude”

“Nah she don’t know us, but I know a bitch when I see one” the friendlier one stated, at that moment Jeremiah turned to walk around to the other side of the car trying to avoid the twins “ight dawg imma let you have that one I’m not on bs tonight” he said hoping in the drivers seat”

Annie scoffed once again noticing how he could never meet another man with disrespect or dominant energy. It was always her, she got the aggression, drama and abusive tendency’s but he was such a Beta when it came to other men.

“What happened to reflexes when it came to disrespect” she thought as Jeremiah pulled out of the parking lot dropping his phone into the cup holder.

“Baby I’m sorry, I took it too far I been on one let me get you upstairs and help you clean up. Don’t worry I’ll leave immediately after” he said as he sat at the last light before their apartment complex.

Annie didn’t see a way out of it so she stayed quite, she text the group chat with a gif and very short recap on what happened letting them know to get to her apartment asap. She was hoping her girls could get to her within an hour that way he’d be forced to leave.

When he finally parked into his designated spot he ran around to open her door, he kept his hand on her lower back guiding her to the steps. Just as they made it to the first one they heard another car pulling into the complex, it was blue. Before Annie could say anything Jeremiah had pulled out his .45 from under his shirt that he carried everywhere “head upstairs baby”. Was the last thing she heard before she took off to her apartment full speed.

This is my tag list from the last fic I did for Valentine’s Day please let me know if you’d like to be removed! :

@lizbehave @sunshinerepublic @thebumblebeesworld @blue4everrsworld @brownskincheyenne @underated345-blog @girlmath101 @mai4u @lestatthelioncourt @hdfen2474 @thedutifulone @magnifique2be @solunaseira @sqnkiss3d @kcundercover0 @katezy2x @pastelprintessa @dollys-world224 @storiesbyasl @orchidwonder @chknnwffls @cocoagadgetsworld @reelwriter19

[myheartsaysyes]

⏳️⏰️

So… umm… (coughs nervously while tucking hair behind ear) Are you waiting for something, Anon? 🤭

[lestatthelioncourt]

The Faerie Forest

Story prompt by: @dealore !

Previous chapters: prologue and chapter 1.

Chapter Summary: Annie grows curious about the humans, but her grandmother warns her about them. Stack warns Smoke about going back, but they can't stay away from each other.

Disclaimers: Violence

A/N: AGH this took so long!! Thank you for your patience, and I really hope you like this chapter!

Chapter 2

—🗡️—

Annie returned to her grandmother's house that night.

“Annabelle, where have you been!” Her grandmother, Odetta, snapped, but when she saw the other fairy flinch. She let out a sigh. “I'm sorry… I was just worried sick, you don't usually leave for so long.”

“I'm okay, just have been out longer than I anticipated…” Annie said.

“Where were you?” She asked.

Annie always aimed to be honest with her Grandmother.

“...Well, I went towards the village.”

Silence filled the hut.

“You went to the village?” Odetta asked.

“Not past the gate!” Annie exclaimed.

“You think that changes a thing? Did anyone see you? You must be careful!” Odetta guided Annie away from the door and checked out the small window.

Annie watched with a worried expression, but she knew Smoke hadn't followed her. Why would he? She knew to trust him. “But Grandma—”

“No, I haven't told you.” She turned to Annie and walked over to her. “About the village, and their mean ways. How they might kill the things that we sometimes do, but to an excessive level. How they prey even on us. Harmless fairies. View us all as monsters.” She put her hands on Annie's face. “You better not make yourself known, they could hurt you. Kill you, and I… I can't lose you.”

Annie had heard a similar speech and had an idea how serious her grandmother was being. She had been raised isolated away, and she knew it wasn't for no reason.

Odetta took a moment to examine Annie, to scan her for any secret injuries. Any emotional pain. “You understand, child? I have been protecting you.”

Annie deflated in her hold, but nodded. “Yes, I understand, Grandma.”

She knew in her heart she couldn't avoid Smoke. Not at this point, but she’d try to keep her distance. If she could.

She saw her grandmother start to pack a small bag with the jewelry she had from the ogre, some herbs, and food. She then looked at Annie and put the bag aside.

“Where are you going?” Annie asked.

“I have to travel, Annie. I am needed somewhere else, but I will come back. I want you to hold down the hut here. You are old enough for me to help those abroad while you stay here.” She said.

“Yes ma’am…” Annie nodded.

“Don't ma’am me when I gotta go soon, baby…” She then pulled Annie into a big hug. “I love you.”

Annie melted into her grandmother's arms and nodded. Then rubbed her back soothingly. “I love you too, Grandma… I'll be okay.” She assured her.

Odetta nodded, and she moved from the hug and kissed Annie on the forehead. “I won't be gone for long, and I'll leave in the morning. Then return after a short while." She promised.

Annie nodded, “Of course… I’ll be waiting here, Grandma.”

—🗡️—

A week passed, and it was growing colder in the village, and Darius assigned Smoke and Stack only to watch the village's gates. Not moving into the forest, and coming back right before dawn.

Smoke was on strict instructions not to let anything happen to Stack. He knew he would be in deep trouble if he failed to keep him safe. On the contrary, Stack was ready for whatever else came his way. But he wasn't without his own concerns.

“Smoke, we need to be more careful,” Stack said as he gripped the handle of his dagger. “What happened was my fault. And I need to be vigilant.”

His voice was soft, but full of conviction. Smoke couldn't help but believe him. He knew now they both had to prove themselves and make sure their parents didn't feel they had weak sons. They could do it, and they didn't want to leave each other behind. They were two halves of a whole, and did everything together.

It's been a week since he spoke to Annie and held her under the trees. That was the most he ever felt in his life. Other than being discouraged and trapped, she opened a door to other possibilities. He wanted to see her again, and he hoped she was thinking about him too.

He was lost in his mind and didn’t notice that Stack was still talking.

“Smoke, are you okay?” Stack asked, and he put a hand on Smoke's shoulder.

Smoke nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'm okay,” he grumbled, but then he looked towards the forest. That had both of them looking in the same direction.

“Smoke,” Stack stared, but then walked to the front of his brother. “I know this is going to sound very odd of me to say, because I don't warn you not to do anything. It's mainly the other way around. However…” He looked behind him and heard the wind rustle the leaves and branches. Making them hit against the trees. As if talking back to him, and emphasizing his upcoming words.

“We can't go back there. It's a miracle how either of us even survived. The church said it was God that kept us here, and I believe it.”

He then guided his brother to look away from the tempting darkness that he was convinced drew him in. “We only focus on shit coming out of the forest, what we were taught to kill. I know that now.” He took a deep breath and gripped his healed side. “I should’ve died out there.” He muttered.

Smoke looked with a soft grimace on his face, and he wished he could tell the truth. Yet he didn't know when or even how to. He definitely shouldn't let him wallow by himself like this.

“Stack, we won't go into the forest. Not during nights at the very least, but we are sons of fighters, hunters. We don't back down, you hear me?” He then moved Stack’s hand from his side and moved it to his sword's handle. “You are strong too, don't forget that.” He said. Hoping his words would help his brother. Like Annie’s words did for him.

His brother paused and gripped the handle tighter. “Thank you, brother,” he muttered. His shoulders didn't ease, but the words did echo in his mind.

A snarl was heard in the distance, and both of them turned to the noise. Revealed to them was a small group of goblins that held spears and hatchets. Stack scoffed and looked at Smoke with a ready expression.

“Here's our test, Smoke!” He exclaimed before throwing his sword up. “Let’s take them down!”

Smoke nodded and made sure to charge first. He went to the nearest goblin and knocked the axe out of his hand using his sword. It didn't even have time to swing as he sliced its head off.

Stack went to another and kicked it to the ground before stabbing it through the chest. He retrieved his sword quickly and turned to a goblin approaching him from behind and stabbed that one as well. He gained a fighting style that was quick and would attack the monster head-on. While Smoke kept his guard and body upright, he planned each swing with finesse when the time was right.

Each movement from them was effective, because each goblin. Which ended up only being 5, went down one by one. Their blood stained the grass, and Smoke stabbed the last one through the chest. He even picked up one of the sharpest-looking hatchets.

“We could use this for wood.” He said

Stack chuckled, “You are so resourceful, brother.” He then patted him on the back despite the blood that stained his hands. Smoke grimaced at the touch. “That wasn't so bad, I still got it, huh?”

Smoke couldn't help but perk up at Stack, congratulating himself. “Yes, you still got it.”

—🗡️—

When they went back home, they saw their father look them over and nod. “See that no one is hurt.” He grumbled.

“Yes, Father, we are okay. A successful mission.” Smoke said and put his weapons to the side to clean later. Then removed his armor.

Stack was about to share the mission in detail with his father, but then their uncle appeared from the kitchen. He immediately closed his mouth and greeted him.

“Good evening, sir.” He greeted and even gave a respectful head bow.

The Priest, Jedidiah Moore, Darius’ eldest brother. He had become the head of the church through showing unwavering faith and handed the role years ago before the last Priest had passed.

He held a strict regime; everyone would follow the word of the Lord. Go among their lives as such. He had seen Stack lying on the bed, and in pain. Despite the sudden miracle he experienced. It was the talk of the town on how Stack survived such a barbaric attack.

He knew he had to guide him in the right direction.

“Good evening,” Priest Jedidiah said to Stack and then looked at Smoke. “You ain't gonna say hello?” He said with a stern expression.

Smoke tensed his jaw and gave a small nod. “Hello.” He said, and he heard his father smack his teeth.

Yet he knew he didn't say anything because he saw his own eldest about to speak. The look of an upcoming speech was shining in his eyes.

“You both may be my nephews, but I worry about you as my own,” The Priest began, and he went over to Stack. Feeling his head and nodding. “Good to see you standing and still doing the Lord's work. Fighting the beasts that Satan had brought onto this earth to haunt our forests. Protecting the children of God will forever be what is called upon you. He tried to strike you down, but now realized he missed with a Moore. God placed his hand on you and reminded everyone that our lives are in his hands.”

Stack nodded and closed his eyes as he let his uncle speak over him. His own belief rushed through him as he listened to his words. “A miracle… he made an example of me.”

A miracle it was, and Smoke didn't disagree. Did he believe in God? Enough to know maybe someone is fucking around with them. He found comfort in the protective side of it, though, because why else would Annie appear? Had to be God sending her, too.Yet if he said to his family that a Fairy healed them. Their ignorance would make her demonic, and a thing that was sent to trick them into a grand evil scheme.

The more time went on. The more conflicting this was becoming. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about her and the way they relaxed into each other's arms purely in conversation. She has become an anchor to his existence, and he was beginning to think she awakened a sign of obsession in him. Maybe it was unhealthy, but he couldn't seem to care if she was able to save his brother and himself.

“Let's hope another creature doesn't bring you to where you were ever again. You were blessed with the ability to kill what needs to die. You both kill what is unnatural on God’s green earth. That is meant for the animals, humans, bugs… but not those monsters. They all hold such darkness that can't be contained. Like the serpent waiting to tempt you in the garden of Eve.” Jedidiah spoke and finally let go of Stack's forehead. “I need you both to remember they ain't God’s children. They are Satan’s puppets, and I need regular attendance to service. Let everyone know you haven't forgotten about the church. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Stack nodded and immediately softly bowed again.

“Too many monsters have been trying to pop up. But we can make it more often.” Darius said.

Elijah was stuck on his he acted like the creature of the forest couldn't condemn. As if they couldn't feel. He knew Annie could, and that made him rethink a lot of what they knew. There had to be more like her. They could think and emphasize. That could heal and bring you a whole new life. A whole new feeling.

He missed her, and he never missed people. He didn't have many people to miss, and his parents always came back. They were in and out. He did not need to miss his brother; he was always beside him.

Regardless of the new plans they were making for him, he knew he'd still be able to go to the forest. He needed to go see Annie; it's been too long now. The many times the sun rose and fell, he thought of how she saw the same one. Maybe thinking of him, because he was thinking of her.

Yes, he was going to go see her tonight. That was decided before he even woke up that day.

“Yes, sir.” He quickly said, to make the Priest feel at ease and walk out of the house.

Yet he lingered; he always did when he visited.

“...Where is Elise?” Jedidiah asked.

“Hanging out with some friends of hers, most likely talking their ears off about wife shit.” Darius shrugged.

“Hm,” He appeared not pleased with the last word, but let it slide. “I guess she needed a break. A lot happened. Speaking of wives, I should get back to mine.” He said.

After that was said, he walked out the door.

—🗡️—

That night, Smoke went back to protect the gates. His mother and father have been watching Stack like hawks. Finally, giving him the true attention they needed from the start. Letting him rest more often.

He pushed that aside and knew his true plans were easy to take alone. He needed to see Annie, check on her after all of this time. He also needed answers.

After walking through the forest for quite some time, he was surprised not to hear any creatures screeching. Nothing disorderly. He wondered why he was taught that the forest remained unruly. However, there seemed to be a sense of peace tonight.

He heard a faint melody and decided to follow it. It was drawing him in, and it sounded familiar. The closer he got, the more he hoped he wasn't being led to danger. Somehow, he knew he wasn’t.

His footsteps were soft on the grass because he didn't want to alarm the peace. The more he walked, the more he saw flowers along the sides of the trees. In all sorts of colors, but mainly pink and white.

He saw a now obvious path, tan and marked to lead his way. He got on it and followed it. It was clear who was singing.

Annie was seated in the front yard of her grandmother's cottage. She was planting some herbs and flying around. A gnome was with her, helping pat the dirt around each plant as she floated to a new area.

She wasn't singing any specific words, but the tune was serene. A repeated melody that strung at the heart. He wondered where it came from, but before he could even make his presence known, it stopped. Her back was turned to him, and her wings still fluttered. Yet she knew someone was there. She quickly turned around and gasped in great surprise.

“S-Smoke?” She stuttered and held a plant to her chest.

The gnome didn't make a noise but scurried away behind some bushes.

“Annie.” He greeted and couldn't keep his eyes off her flowing pink dress. It was long and went to her ankles. For once, he cared about what could be under that and how her legs were crafted.

He never thought of a girl like that before.

“Why are you all the way out here?” She landed on the ground and walked closer to him. Her voice was filled with that usual sweet concern.

That made Smoke realize he didn't have a real excuse. He faltered softly, but then adjusted his vest and cleared his throat.

“...I heard a melody, and I followed it. Realized you were at the end of it.”

Annie never had her voice lead someone to her purely by sound. She was used to animals or creatures rolling by. She wasn't sure how to take it, but seeing him after all of this time was a nice surprise. Her cheeks began to feel warm, and she had a soft, uncontrollable smirk appear on her face. She was trying to hold back a smile, but failed terribly as she stared into his eyes. “Oh… wow…” Annie then giggled.

He watched her waringly, and then looked a bit offended.

“Are you laughing at me?” He asked.

“I’m sorry but I didn't know you'd hear it.” Annie grinned, and gripped his hand. “I am shocked. Was I somehow only calling for you? Isn't that sweet.” She hummed, but truly didn't try to catch his attention. She couldn't ignore how it happened out of chance either. “Do you wanna come inside?” She asked.

He watched her cute eyes flutter and he couldn't help but let her drag him inside. He let the slight offense leave quickly as he followed, and he learned quickly not to be too on guard while around her. She only meant well, and he knew that. Tonight he processed her slightly long but pointy ears. Maybe he already did, but his mind was drawn to them tonight.

As he entered the cottage, his attention was sent to all the decor made of nature. The wooden tables, clothed with white knitted yarn. He saw small pots of plants everywhere as well, and were near windows or along the wooden shelves.

It felt magical on its own, and fit along with what he knew Annie for. Which was comfort, and the ability to heal. He watched as she decided to pot the plant in hand on the floor. He watched it softly unwilt.

His mind floated back to when Annie healed Stack. They didn’t go inside but he realized they were nearby outside. The energy at the time was fueled by the nature around them.

—🗡️—

The night of the incident

Smoke had been following her for a short period of time, and was still recovering from the initial attack. There was fear instilled in his body over the critical condition he saw Stack in, and had to put all of his trust in Annie. A fairy he met tonight, but a part of him knew he had no choice.

She had saved them after all.

She would check up on him even as Stack's body floated along near her. She had emphasized during the walk that he was in a coma, but she had a shield around him. So floating wasn't going to disturb him. He knew nothing of the magic, and the bottom line was that he needed further assistance wherever they were headed.

“We are almost there.” Annie said, and took a left turn.

As he followed they were led into an open space. A smooth piece of rock that was big enough to hold a body was in the middle. The place was naturally protected by trees, and other plants. Annie let Stack's body descend into the platform, and she rushed to his side.

Smoke walked up beside Annie, and watched her continue to heal him, and then she turned to Smoke when she moved her hand away. The glow from her hands diminishing. She felt a little weak, but didn't want to worry him further.

She was done, and the rest was up to natural rest. That's all that mattered.

“He will be safe here…” She said, and then motioned for him to sit at a tree stump nearby. “Relax yourself… maybe you should lay down.” She fluttered her wings and floated to gather some leaves to adjust on the ground. Ignoring how he shook his head. She made sure it was adjusted right near Stack. “Don't even worry, I got you.” She nodded.

She then moved out of his way and guided him to relax on the ground she prepared. At this point of the night he didn't even have the energy to be stubborn. Because he felt a feeling he hasn't in a long time.

Security.

—🗡️—

Present

“Wow…” He muttered, and Annie looked at him and grinned. His eyes drifted to everything along her floors up to the ceiling. It was simple but loud with purpose.

“Wow indeed huh…” She had to hold back the urge to shout out her grandmother's style. So she just fluttered her wings and floated to the kitchen. “Want some tea?” She grinned back.

He nodded, and she went to the kitchen. He watched her and the way she floated away and then turned to sit at a chair. He carefully sat in one, and it reminded him that even if she was a fairy she wasn't tiny as described. It held his weight with ease.

As she went to fix his tea. She had to take a deep breath and her wings fluttered down behind her. She felt bad for already breaking her Grandmother's promise. Yet he knew where she lived, and she had helped him. Helping others was what she was taught to do as well.

He knew more than most and hadn't laid a harmful hand on her. She wasn't going to push him away now. Not only because she couldn't bring herself to. There was no need to.

—🗡️—

When she finished making the tea, she peeked out in the living room and saw Smoke on the singular chair. He seemed at home, and that warmed her heart. She then grabbed their cups and handed him his mug. They were made of ceramic so they could hold the hot liquid.

“Here…” she grinned.

“Thank you…” He sighed, and blew the top softly.

She sat beside him and found herself eyeing him. She tried not to stare at his strong hands, and how precisely he held the cup. A young man who cared about his twin more than anything. A part of her wondered if she could ever reach that level, and if they were friends?

“So does…” She felt her heart flutter as he lifted his head to listen. “...You finding my home means we are friends?” She couldn't help but ask.

He eyed her carefully, and saw how her eyes shifted to not stare back but anticipate his response. “I saw us as friends the moment you saved me and my brother. We are friends Annie, and you don't need to work hard for that.” He leaned forward and kept his eyes on her. They were intense, and she felt everything he was saying run through her blood.

Annie's eyes widened and she got a whiff of his natural scent, the slight musk but tamed by his attention to hygiene. She carefully sat up to seem unaffected by what she was feeling. So she just smiled.

“I'm glad we are friends…” She then sighed in relief. She reflected on how she hasn't had friends. For him to come around as her first really opened up a part of her.

“Me too.” He replied, and motioned at his tea cup “This stuff is really good.” He said and felt safe enough to give her a small smile. He watched as her eyes shined. His heart hammered, and he cleared his throat.

Annie tilted her head, “I'm glad you like it.” She finally took a sip herself, and savored the taste.

They both enjoyed the peaceful silence, and he put the cup down when he was done with the tea. He gained the courage to speak again.

“...I can't stay here long, and I hope I'm not over welcoming myself—”

Annie's wings shot up and fluttered softly behind her. “No way you are over welcoming yourself! You are fine!” She said quickly, because she didn't want him to think that way. Not ever.

Even if her grandmother's words rung through her head.

Smoke was reflecting on his own family's words.

They knew they had to be careful, and it was hard to admit when they were becoming magnetic.

“Annie…” He got up and sat on the couch beside her. He then gripped her hand, and looked into her eyes. “Remember what I say now, I will visit you when I can. But don't come visit me, never go near that gate again. Understand me?” He whispered.

Annie frowned but nodded. She remembered his initial panicked vividly, and gripped his hand back in return. “Yes I understand.” She muttered. “...How often do you think you can visit, I love our tea time.” She asked.

Even if her grandmother promised to be back in a week, maybe she could see this human was genuine. Smoke really cared about her and wasn't muderous as she described the whole village to be.

“I don't want to make promises and not keep them, Annie.” He then sat up. “But I'll aim for all of my solo watches. Which is every other day.” He said.

Annie nodded, and rubbed his hand. Her then she let her hands run along his arm. She was gonna miss him, and even if she was getting handsy. She didn't really notice how much it was affecting him.

“Alright then.” She nodded.

His mind was short circuiting at the feeling of her hand on his arm. He wasn't used to such contact, and didn't want to make her uncomfortable because he enjoyed it.

“I must get going,” He said, and slipped from her touch. Then he put the cup down gently. “You gon’ be okay?” He asked her and looked around the home.

Annie stood up as well and nodded. “Yes I am…” She chuckled, but her body warmed up at his protectiveness.

He relaxed only slightly as he remembered her abilities and he put a hand on her shoulder. “I wish we had a better means of communication if anything did happen.” He mumbled, but Annie only smiled.

“We will be okay. I'll follow your rules. I should be telling you to be safe as well. You humans are fragile.” Annie said.

That made Smoke snort. “You aren't wrong,” He took a moment to take her in before he even moved away. “See you later Annie.” He said and gripped her shoulder again. He then turned to leave.

He couldn't bear it but he had to go. She followed him to the door, and watched as he walked back into the spontaneous forest. He knew it but didn't make a scene about her following him up until she couldn't. The soft flutters of her wings returned to her place.

They would see each other again. They would make sure of it.

—🗡️—

Taglist: @dealore @hdfen2474 @underated345-blog @brownskincheyenne @lilchubbs @thebumblebeesworld @myheartsaysyes @partylikemajima (lmk if I forgot or you wish to be added!)

[graceandopulence]

[moth2flamewriting]

Big Mama.

Y’all give credit to @dealore for this prompt that made me want to actually write something down for once. I changed it up a little about how they meet and such. I made Annie;’s daughter a little psycho.. so yeah.. She not wrapped too tight at all. Anyway.. I hope you enjoy my take on it.

As always,

Enjoy :)

“Elijah fuck, you digging in me,” she clawed at the headboard, hoping to get a grip on anything. He thrusted into her hard, her knees slipping under him. “No, no, no, put it back where I had it Anais,” he snarled into her ear.

She couldn’t believe what she had got herself into. Her fucking daughter introduced her to this man. She was 38 years old, what business did she have fucking a man 10 years younger than her. Shit, that 28 year old was tearing her insides out. The night they met was literally a fluke. Her daughter, Amerie, had been ranting and raving about the new CEO at her job.

-

“Mama you gotta meet him, he’s just different. He cares about us, y’know? I never had a boss who actually cares.” The way her daughter’s voice lit up, it sounded like she had some type of crush on the man.

-

When they entered the fundraising gala that night, Annie’s attire stole everyone’s attention. The black dress hugged her breast just right, pushing them up perky and oiled up. Her hips were outlined as if the Gods themselves sculpted it. The 6inch pump that laced up her calf, showing off her dangerously long and thick legs. The men ogled the older woman, forgetting the ones standing right next to them.

“Mama, let’s get a drink or something,” Amerie led her towards the bar. “What do you want? It’s open bar,” Amerie asked looking back at her partially. “I’ll take a French 75,” Annie told her daughter. They got their drinks and made their way through the crowd. Amerie making sure comments on every person who has their eyes on her mama.

“AMERIE!” Their heads turn as they spot Chanel, one of her daughter’s coworkers. “Dang girl, you clean up nice,” she complimented her favorite coworker. “Chanel, hey girl! Thank you. This here is my mama,” Chanel’s eyes turn to Annie. Her face worth a thousand words, jaw dropped and eyes popping out of her head.

‘Nah, girl.. THIS CAN’T BE YO MAMA,” Chanel chuckled. “Well thank you Chanel, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Annie smiled politely.

Comments on how young she looked always gave Annie a little more pep in her step. She was already so naturally captivating and confident. She was successful and well off. But time slows down for no one and she was 38 before she could catch her breath. Amerie’s voice cut through her thoughts, “Have you seen Mr. Moore yet? I want to introduce my mama to him.” Chanel looked around in the direction she last pointed, “Last I saw him he was outside having a conversation with big money.”

Amerie didn’t hesitate to walk in that direction in search of the man. Annie couldn’t really understand why her daughter was so desperate for them to meet. He was her boss, they’d literally never cross paths. But she wanted to make her child happy. She spent so long waiting for Amerie to be passionate about something, and if this new boss was helping her find her passions then fine.

They reached the back exit, onto a large patio carved with marble and rose bushes meeting the edge. Smoke hung in the air as the men puffed on their cigars. A lot of expensive suits were on this patio. Armani suits and Cartier tie clips, Scotch poured into low rim drinking glasses. It wa almost as if Amerie spotted the man instantly. As Annie approached from behind them she took in the mans thick frame, his muscled cut through the tailored shirt he wore. The beard that ran down the side of his face, low cut with deep waves. Her mouth was dry before she even saw his face but then he turned. And her world stopped as his eyes connected with hers for a brief second.

“And who might you be?” he offered his hand out towards Annie. She took it. “Well that’s who i wanted to introduce you to Mr. Moore. This my mama, Anais Desson. Mama, this my boss, Elijah Moore,” Amerie cut in.

Amerie watched the interaction between them with a bitter taste in her mouth. He’s never even looked her way for more than a few seconds. She pushed the feeling aside as nothing, this was her mother for god’s sake. ‘What would a 38 year old woman even do with that?’ Amerie thought to herself. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he pulled her hand up to his lips, placing a warm kiss to the back of it. “Likewise,” Annie responded her eyes gone dark.

‘Elijah Moore.’ Annie thought to herself.

‘Anais Desson.’ Elijah thought to himself.

He thought about her the whole evening. Looking for her in every room that he walked into. ‘Who the hell was this woman?And what the fuck took her so long to get to me?’ He thought to himself. When he laid eyes on her, he was almost 100% certain that he was drooling on himself. A woman that fine should not exist. When he spotted her amongst the crowd her zoned in, making his way to her. Soon as he was in arms length of her, Amerie stepped in front of him. Eyes sparkling at him like he hung the stars. Elijah had seen that look before. The woman obsessed with what he appeared to be. Did it have to be the woman of my dreams daughter though?

All he had to do was get through this interaction with her, so that he could get to the trophy at the end of this race. The gala wouldn’t go on forever and it was already too much time lost between them already.

“Hey Mr. Moore, I just wanted to thank you for being such a gentleman with my mama earlier. Those are good qualities in a man,” her eyes hinting up for a response she would never get.

“Of course, Amerie. You’re a valued employee and well respected. We will always treat family members as if they were members of our team too.” Good response, Elijah. There was nothing leading about that at all. She should get the subtle hint and dropped this silly infatuation. That was not at all what the young woman heard from the man. He might as well have swept her up and kissed her, cause in her mind she was completely gone. Her face burned hot, her cheeks turning a deep red. “I appreciate that, sir.” Her attempt at appearing docile and meek was everything that embarrassing could be. She did not read that response right at all. He would have to deal with that later, he had to get back to her.

“Excuse me,” he sidestepped her and swerved through the people that gathered between them when he finally reached her. Sitting at the bar, her back outrageously up straight, her legs crossed under the fabric. His breathing heavier as he casually leaned up against the bar. “Yo let me get a whiskey, thank you brotha,” he delivered smoothly. His scent flooded her nostrils, dark and sweet, she inhaled sharply.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he whispered only loud enough for her to hear. “But I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since I met you over an hour ago.” Annie sat there frozen, shit she felt it too. She’d imagined a thousand times in the last hour what that mouth would feel like on her neck, those hands wrapped around her waist. But this was her daughters boss, she was about to be fucking forty, what the hell were these feelings.

“Mr. Moo-,” he cut her off.

“Elijah. You can call me Elijah, You the only person in this whole building who can get away with that. I’d surely die if I had to bear that this whole conversation,” he grinned at her. She tried it out in her mouth, her breath altering as she said it barely above a whisper.

“Elijah.” And their eyes locked. They both were holding their breath and knew exactly why. When she said his name it was like something woke them both up. It wasn’t surface attraction, if it ever was that. Chills ran up his body, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His body shifted towards her against his will.

“I been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he relayed it so seriously her body damn near went limp. ‘Thank god I am sitting down.’ She thought to herself.

“I-i,” she stuttered. The moment was broken by a cough, it was Amerie. Elijah stepped back slowly, making it seem as the space had been between them. ‘She cockblocking like a motherfucker.’ He sighed out lowly. He wanted this woman under him shaking, clawing at this back and releasing sounds that should only be meant for his ears. He wanted her lips on him, her warm mouth pulling and tugging at his lips. Fuck, he had to figure out how to get her between 4 walls and completely alone. He needed privacy for the fire she sparked in him.

Elijah had never seen a woman so beautiful, someone whose eyes made him feel like he was drowning and the only one who could save him was her. His world stopped for a few seconds when he met her. But standing here? At the bar? Hearing this outrageously gorgeous woman say his name. He felt more in that moment than he had with anyone in his whole life.

“Mama, it’s bout time for us to go. Cars out front,” Amerie shot out. She noticed the way Elijah looked at her mother. He couldn’t even make eye contact with her when he needed something done at work. ‘So the man can spare my mama glance but not me?’ Amerie was a ticking time bomb. She’d never have a man sidestep her so hard. And then of all people to take interest in? Her mama? She knew for one thing, her mama wasn’t going. That’s a grown ass woman who needs herself a grown ass man. CEO be damned! Little did she know that Annie was feeling something for this man that she hadn’t felt for a man in a long time.

The way something sparked inside her was something that was foreign. And at 38? That’s scary. Something so unknown and unexpected on something so damn fine. She wanted nothing more in that moment for him to have wrapped his hands around her face and swap DNA with her. She wanted nothing more for him to strip her down bare, and have his way with her. She wanted nothing more than to make her child disappear and not be calling her mama in front of a man who so obviously wants to take her the fuck down.

“Mama c’mon,” she insisted. She was growing impatient. When Amerie turned to Elijah, you couldn’t tell. She even put on a voice to go with it. “Mr. Moore, thank you for such a wonderful evening.” She held her hand out, Elijah felt obligated to shake it even if it was against his better judgement. Amerie batted her eyelashes at the contact and let out a small giggle. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.

She stood, slowly and hesitantly. Waiting for some sort of sign that he was going to stop her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moore,” Annie heard out her hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

-

As they made their way out of the building, she couldn’t help but look back and see if he was coming for her. ‘What the fuck am i doing? This man is 28 years old.’ She talked herself all the way out of it. Of what she felt less than 10 minutes ago. It was bullshit, it wasn’t real. It was a big party and everyone had to cling to someone.

“Anais,” her head snapped up. She turned quickly, his chest was rising and falling as if he just ran a mile. Thank the lord, Amerie was in the car when he came out. “You left this,” he reached to give her the purse. How the fuck did she forget her whole fucking purse? And with the purse came a small piece a paper that she quickly tucked inside.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a small smile on her face.

“Again, the pleasure is all mine,” he winked and smirked at her. They bid their ‘final’ goodnight and Annie got into the car.

“Whatchu forget mama?” Amerie asked, she was obviously agitated. “My purse. That was nice of him to return it to me,” she replied. ‘Yeah, sure was.” Amerie thought to herself through a lens of judgement.. She decided she was going to ruin the thought for Annie. A mother wouldn’t pursue someone who had interest in her daughter?

“Isn’t he amazing Mama. And he’s so handsome and smart,” she gushed. It made Annie sick to her stomach. Had she been so wrapped up in his charm that she hadn’t noticed? Was she just so dizzy in his presence that she completely missed it? She could hear that admiration in her daughter’s voice. Surely, something had to be said for that to come about. What Annie didn’t know is that Elijah hadn’t shown any interest in Amerie. Hell, he hadn’t really shown any interest in anyone until he saw Annie.

Annie clutched the purse tight into her abdomen, trying to forget the piece of paper that waited so patiently for her to read it.

-

The rest of the car ride was silent and slightly uncomfortable. Amerie dropped Annie off at her apartment with a swift ‘Night Mama’ and rushed hug. Maybe she did sense something between Elijah and Annie. Maybe she didn’t make up the connection. She wracked her brain the entire thirty minute ride.

When she got in the house she wanted nothing more than to wash of this ridiculous night and it’s ridiculous emotions. But she sat on her couch, clutching the purse, hesitant to open it. When she did every single doubt left her mind.

I’ll never stop thinking about you. Elijah

951-7768

She pulled her phone out and called the number. The buzz that ran through her body felt like kisses all over her skin. His kisses, and she hadn’t even felt that.

“I was waiting on you Anais.” He said as he pulled on his freshly lit joint. Her breath hitched. Before she said anything she needed to clear the air about her child. If she was to do this, she had to be sure. She had to be certain there was NOTHING there.

“What’s the deal with you and my daughter? Whatchu’ trynna run a game?” She asked confrontationally. She puffed her chest up as if he could see her.

“I’m gon’ be real honest with you, I couldn’t even tell you what she does at the company. The most I’ve talked to her is tonight.” He was honest and upfront. He knew who he wanted right now. And it was not Amerie.

“You wanna keep talking about her? or do you wanna get to the reason you called?” He cut through sharp bringing her out of her head. His voiced vibrated through her body like a sound wave. The hum he gave her when he spoke quite literally made her dizzy.

“I don’t know why I called.”

“Yes you do.” He shot.

She didn’t even fight it. How could she with the way her blood was pumping through her.

“I haven’t stop thinking about you either. And that’s confusing for me,” she confessed. She settled back into her couch, letting out a deep breath.

“Let’s deal with it face to face,” he took a shot in the dark. He was holding his breath, gearing up for rejection.

“Okay.” Why should she deny herself this? She’s allowed to see people, right? Allowed to engage?

“Send the location.” She sent it immediately.

“I’m 30 minutes out, I’ll let you know when I’m close.” He confirmed with her. He hadn’t thought twice, he was going to see this woman.

-

Annie rushed to prepare herself for this very welcomed visitor. She showered and put on her backless night gown. She sprayed herself with a heavenly perfume. That stayed in the air, no matter what way she moved. Her phone chimed, making her hyper aware of everything that seemed to be out of place in her home. She rushed to fluff pillows, straighten picture frames that seemed crooked and smoothed out her attire. She wanted to appear prepared, when in reality she was shitting bricks.

Elijah wasn’t too far off from that same feeling as he approached the three-story townhouse. His heart was in his ass. But, he came here with a mission in mind. And that was to at least to convince her to think about giving him a chance. So, he was young but h was grown and he could handle a grown woman. As he approached her home, he took slow and measured steps getting to the front door. Trying not to seem like he was in a rush to get there. He played cool with three even knocks on her door. Annie took her time opening it but, she knew he would not knock again.

When the door opened, Elijah released a deep breath at the sight of the woman. Standing there with a slip on that accentuated her curves and left nothing to the imagination. Her nippled standing at attention, her neck exposed and shining. Begging for him to mark his territory.

“You gon just stand there?” Her eyebrow raised.

“I ain’t heard you doing no invitin.” He countered.

She opened the door wider, ushering him in with her arms. She instructed him to leave his shoes at the door. She had a strict rule of wearing shoes in her house. She guided him into the living room. Sitting down at the furthest end of the couch. Distant couldn’t keep this heat contained too much longer. The way he looked. The sweatpants hanging low on his waist. The white t-shirt with his muscles busting through. His scent, the way he filled the space. Such a big, strong man. ‘Fuck, don’t start salivating.” She straightened her posture, pushing her aching breasts into the air. He noticed.

“You don’t think I’m worth the trouble? Cause I’m young?” He posed the question innocently, there was no sexual charge behind his words, yet.

“I think that I’m 38 and I’m not looking to be distracted by young shit.” She wasn’t going to tiptoe around it. She had her worries and concerns. Especially with the situation at hand. “I’m young but ain’t shit young about me woman. I’m straight forward with my shit, I rarely fuck around. I saw you, I wanted you and I made that clear. That sound like a man who do ‘young shit’?” His eyebrow arched. She cleared her throat. What the fuck was she supposed to say to that. He hadn’t played at all. He was sitting in her house after only knowing her all of 6 hours.

She stood up slowly, approaching him with heated caution. She stood in front of him breathing heavily, with her hand stretched out. Inviting him further into the house and into her bedroom.

-

She led him to the loveseat at the end of her bed.

Elijah sat, impatiently patient. A goddess was standing in front of him so close, he could melt into her. “Come here,” he beckoned her. Annie crawled into his lap slowly. Placing her thick thighs on the outside of him, straddling his lap. Her pussy sitting directly on top of his bulge. “You think you know what to do with all this,” she whispered hovering over his ear. He groaned at the pace of the slow assault on his lap. It was almost painful. “You gon be begging me to get up off of you,” his lips met hers in a fiery passion. A moan worth a thousand words escaped their lips. Their tongue battled for dominance, swapping slow wet flicks of the tongue. Whimpers coming from him sucking her bottom lip. Her pussy clenched around nothing and his dick grew painfully harder. the more passionately they kissed, the harder Annie grinded, Elijah meeting her hips with his.

His hand reached around kneading her ass, spreading and squeezing her plump cheeks. “Mmmm, feel on this body,” she moaned into his mouth. She was drunk off his kiss, she never wanted it to end.

Elijah was fighting for his life, he wanted to rip her clothes off. He took his time finding and exploring her neck. Looking for a sign of pleasure, he sucked and bit at her soothing by wrapping his tongue around the sting. His hands found her titties, he pulled and brushed over the hardened nipples. Dragging the front of her nightgown down, her breast fully exposed to him. His mouth got wet and before he could think his hot mouth wrapped around her peaks. Annie moaned and let out a string of cuss words lost in the pleasure. Her pussy was leaking in the seat of her panties, surely leaving a wet spot over his erection.

“Elijah, please,” she breathed out. She needed him to touch her. She needed something, a release.

He lifted her up placing her in his spot on the seat. He hovered over her, locking lips while he spread her legs open. He kissed down her body leaving and path of heat across her skin. He came face to face with her wet, covered center. “Fuck, that pussy crying. i ain’t even touched her,” he whispered into her heat. He ran his strong hand over her center. Her fat clit poked through the fabric. He rubbed slow circles over it. Her back arched and hips rolled, begging for more contact with whimpers and sighs. He wanted to taste her. He ripped the panties off her, “Now don’t go ripping shit you don’t pay for.” He didn’t dignify it with a verbal response. He put his tongue right at her opening, lightly flicking his tongue in her gushy center. Her pussy clenched and wept at the contact.

He licked up her slit taking her fat mound in his mouth, covering it in spit. He licked her pussy sloppy and fully. “Oh my Godddddd,” she grabbed the back of his head, spreading her legs wider. His tongue fucked her whole until she was begging for a release, “You like the way I eat this fat muhfucka,” he growled from below, sending shocks up her spine. She thrusted her pussy closer to his face, pulling and gripping the back of his head. Encouraging him to just climb inside her and live in her. Her looks shooks with the build of her first orgasm, “Baby please keep sucking this pussy, I-I-I’m boutta fucking squirt all over you,” she whimpered looking down. Her pussy clamped down on his tongue as her body went limp, she locked him in place and she rode it out. He licked her slow until she came down from it. Her chest rising and falling heavily. He scaled her body, squeezing her sides as he came in for a kiss.

“That’s one.” He grinned. “You taste so fucking good.” The kiss deepened, Annie tasted herself on his tongue, the taste had to bea drug. Her head swirled and her body tingled. His dick sat hard, pointed straight at her stomach. She trailed his stomach, feeling his hard stomach on the way, until she felt the front of his pants, gripping him hard. She stroked him teasingly, spending time rubbing his tip. She slipping her hand into his waistband making contact with the dick for the first time. He was huge from what she could feel. Veiny and long, and so fucking heavy.

“Pull that dick out Big Mama and see what you won,” he stood up over her. She pulled her sweats and underwear down in one tug, freeing the monstrous cock from its cage. Gosh, he was beautiful. She drooled at the sight of the magnificent penis. She stroked him slow, in awe of how her hand barely wrapped around him. How soft her touch was, even though she was jerking him hard. She leaned in without permission, swirling her tongue over the tip f his cock. She licked the bead of precum and hummed. “Mmm, just how i thought you’d taste,” she swallowed him whole.

His dick hit the back of her throat and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He spit and jerked him like she’d done it before. She was a professionally, for sure. She moaned around the head, how was he getting fucking harder? “Just like that baby, suck that dick just like that,”he guided her head until he realized he was throat fucking her. Not that she wasn’t complaining. She liked having her throat used by him. Loved it even. He pulled her off for air but she said, “Why’d you stop?” He groaned at the sight of her, covered in so much spit that it dripped down her chin.

Her pussy pulsed at the way he fucked her mouth. She couldn’t wait until she was being drilled by that big mean dick.

“Cause if I keep going, I’m not gon get to the good part baby. Come lay on the bed.”

-hey yallllll :) im so happy to put something out that im really proud offf! Again s/o @dealore for the prompt!! Lmk what you think!! Am i like.. back?? Some typos and shit but fuck it yolo!!!

[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 9 Desire—A Night-Blooming Flower

“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.” Perfume - Patrick Süskind

Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.

“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”

“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.

Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” 

Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm. 

“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.

Annie turned her head to Pearline.

“Uhh, I-I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.

“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.

“I am sure.”

The answer settled into the room.

“You scared?” The question came from Verity.

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?” 

Annie hummed in thought. 

“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.” 

She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?” 

She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.

Verity spoke up.

“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Mhmm.”

“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.

Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”

“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”

“None.”

Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.

The next day…

A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.

Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration. 

She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”

“Mrrp,” he meowed.

Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”

“Mrrrrrrrrp.”

“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”

Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.

“Le pauvre,” she teased.

He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.

“What you do?”

“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.

“Felix.”

“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”

“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”

“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.” 

“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”

Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.

“Delilah!” Loretta squealed. 

“Loretta!” 

They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen. 

“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”

Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?” 

“You got a letter back.” 

Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin. 

“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”

Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled. 

“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her. 

“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.

Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.

Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it. 

Blue lobelias. 

They were her favorite.

It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child. 

Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.

Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again. 

The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.” 

Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.

“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.

“Mrrow,” he purred.

“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room. 

“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.” 

“Thank you again,” Annie said.

Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word. 

For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it. 

Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.

“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.” 

She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.

The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t. 

The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal. 

Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.

Annie was in her head.

Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood. 

She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.

Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.

Annie smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?” 

“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest. 

Better now, she thought to herself. 

The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.

Smoke noticed it all. 

The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her. 

The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way she tried to hide it all. 

That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions. 

Then she did something unexpected.

Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.

“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”

Stack. 

He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.

But neither of them seemed to care. 

They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.

Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove. 

His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.

So he took a chance.

He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.

“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.

Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”

“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”

“It looks ready.”

“I mean during supper. At the table.”

“I just wanna taste.”

Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”

Stack reached again.

“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.

Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.

“Girl!”

“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”

Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”

“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin. 

“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time. 

Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”

Stack smirked.

Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.

“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.

Smoke finally moved. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.

Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry. 

“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.

Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.

“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”

Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her. 

Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine. 

The twins walked in last.

Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.

Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.

He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table. 

The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.

Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.

“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.

“Was waitin’ for you.”

“You ain’t gotta do that.”

He grabbed her hands. “I do.”

Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.” 

“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”

Annie giggled softly.

“Whatchu want?” 

“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”

Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”

Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank. 

Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t. 

Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.

By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered. 

It wasn’t from the food.

Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows. 

Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. 

Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something. 

Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.

But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away. 

She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The kiss started softly.

The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields. 

They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.

Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.

Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night. 

Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air. 

Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there. 

His blood sparked hot. 

His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.

“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.

Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.

“Why’d you stop?”

The question cut through the silence. 

Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.

The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze. 

And she felt the same way. 

Famished.

Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.

“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat. 

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.

He looked away.

He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.

Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her. 

But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.

She’d never been touched. 

Not like this. 

And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.

Guilt.

It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did. 

“I know,” Smoke said finally. 

Annie looked away.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t look at him at that moment. 

Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes. 

Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.” 

The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them. 

Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“You ‘sho?”

For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt. 

The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

“You mine?”

Annie grinned, nodding once. 

“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”

“Creole?”

“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.

Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.

“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold. 

“Ou m’ap pèm?”

“What’s that?”

“You mine too?”

“Teach me how to say it back.”

“Mwen se ou.”

“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.

“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up. 

Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”

“Mwen se tout ou.”

“That too,” he grunted.

Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”

“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”

He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.

“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.

Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?” 

“To tell you.”

“That you a virgin?”

Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?” 

Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”

Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment. 

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm. 

“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”

“What you think?”

Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.

“How you want it to be?”

Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Don’t be scared.”

Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.

He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”

The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs. 

Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.

She could hear the promise beneath the words.

And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.

“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”

Lie.

Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”

Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching. 

“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”

She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him. 

The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.

“What you was thinkin’?”

Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.

“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing. 

“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.” 

“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.

Annie fidgeted nervously.

“I don’t remember.”

Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?” 

She hesitated. 

“‘Cause….”

“‘Cause what?”

“How I felt.”

“How you feel?”

The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now. 

“Full.” 

The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper. 

Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks. 

This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.

“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”

Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound. 

“You scared of Aunt Della?”

“Yes.”

Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside. 

The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream. 

Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.

The end.

The signatures.

She read it with shaky hands.

All our love,

Papa & Maman

Nana

Junior

Vernon

Leroy

Raymond

Maurice

They were all there.

Except one.

Uriah. 

He was her closest brother.

Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.

She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home. 

She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul. 

Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless. 

She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood. 

She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.

Salt for protection and peace of mind.

A pinch of soil.

A Mississippi river rock.

His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her. 

A half-burned taper candle.

Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.

Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.

She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.

“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room. 

“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.” 

She paused, taking a shaky breath. 

Then she laid her offering.

“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.” 

The candle flickered violently. 

“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.” 

Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.

She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp. 

Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie. 

After a while, she spoke again.

“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.” 

The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it. 

Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”

The flame finally settled into itself. 

Only then did she blow it out. 

The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen. 

She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.

“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.

Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie. 

“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”

Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused. 

“Dressed for what?”

“Your fittin’ today!”

“Oh my Lord!”

Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.

“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”

“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”

“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk. 

Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You welcome.”

Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper. 

Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”

The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford. 

“Pearline?” He called after his wife.

She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Alright.”

The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.

The Harvest Party.

LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS

“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie. 

Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins. 

Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown. 

Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor. 

Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive. 

Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed. 

Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.

Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?” 

Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.

Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.

“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe. 

It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke. 

Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.

Polite.

But barely there.

They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.

“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.

Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.” 

“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table. 

“Every single day?” Pearline asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”

Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them. 

She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.

“I can’t touch ‘em?”

Annie shook her head no.

Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?” 

“Cuz they blessed.” 

Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”

Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”

“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones. 

“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.” 

Pearline’s eyes softened.

“Told me never to take ‘em off.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.” 

She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”

Pearline smiled. 

Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.

Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”

Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”

She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options. 

“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.

“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.

The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them. 

The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.

Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.

Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world. 

The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop. 

The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through. 

They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice. 

They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.

🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine

I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine

'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵

Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.

The memory hit like a freight train.

Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.

She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.

She instantly got chills.

“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”

The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom. 

Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.

She could tell she was only halfway present.

She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin. 

“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted. 

“Why not?”

Pearline sighed. “My husband.” 

Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line. 

Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County. 

He was protective over Pearline when it mattered. 

She found it sweet at first. Endearing. 

But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.

And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water. 

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip. 

“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.

Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.

“You happy?”

Pearline took a full minute to answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”

Pearline gave her a weak smile.

A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi

Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.

He didn’t like any of it. 

Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.

He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.

The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right. 

They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons. 

A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.

Door 14. The Roulette Room.

Laughter slipped out the open door. 

The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork. 

A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space. 

The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either. 

And most people present weren’t there to play. 

Not really.

Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.

Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.

It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable. 

And that was just from a distance. 

Smoke’s lip curled up instantly. 

Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face. 

“Chill out, nigga.” 

Smoke grunted.

When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.

They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right. 

It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to. 

They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons. 

Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.

Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.

When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them. 

“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.” 

“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said. 

He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.

“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?” 

Stack answered. “We been up North.”

“Where to?”

“Harlem.”

“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”

Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.” 

“I know,” Jim replied.

“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.

Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”

“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added. 

Both twins looked at Jim.

Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul. 

Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.

Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface. 

The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees. 

Jim and his posse were long gone by now. 

Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs. 

Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago. 

Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.

Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor. 

“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.

Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”

“Big Jim.”

“I ain’t.”

Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.

Stack grumbled under his breath. 

“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted. 

“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”

Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”

Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about. 

The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out. 

Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm. 

He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was. 

He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull. 

“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….” 

Big Jim’s words echoed in his head. 

And Stack’s. 

He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam. 

And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him. 

But this one—

“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs. 

A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.

“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”

Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.

His thoughts turned to Annie instead.

To the confession she made.

The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges. 

Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way. 

But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.

I ain’t never…

She looked vulnerable. Timid almost. 

His chest tightened at the thought. 

Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared. 

It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.

It was deeper than that.

It was fear.

Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her. 

He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard. 

She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see. 

She gave that to him. 

And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again. 

Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now. 

Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.

It felt like Annie.

Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.

The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around. 

Night-blooming jasmine. 

That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces. 

That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.

It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat. 

Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.

Annie was the opposite of all of that. 

While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.

Then another one.

He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.

“Got somewhere I wanna take you.” 

Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road. 

The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.

“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.

Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”

“Everybody doin’ good.”

“Good.”

Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully. 

Smoke noticed and started probing.

“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”

“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.

“How your brothers be?”

Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.

“Hmm. And what they do?”

She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him. 

Annie was her parent’s seventh child.

He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.

“What was his name?” he asked.

Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material. 

Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks. 

Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.

The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”

Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”

“The war.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”

“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”

“The closest.”

Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.

The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water. 

The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees. 

On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island. 

A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.

It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water. 

A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother. 

The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.

Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.

The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand. 

His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.

Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.

The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows. 

Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.

“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.

She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.

“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed. 

But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. 

The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.

“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.

Smoke smirked.

“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”

Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”

“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.” 

“Why, thank you.”

Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice. 

“What?” 

Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar. 

“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”

Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”

Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.

Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”

Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.

Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”

Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”

“Here.”

She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves. 

Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”

“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.

Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.

“Trouble.” 

“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”

The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.

“You come out here often?” she asked.

Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”

“For what?”

Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.

“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”

Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.

“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

The front room was dim. 

Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.

Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers. 

“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”

“A cow,” Smoke said easily.

“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”

“What? Lemme see that…”

Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.

“It's a dog.”

“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”

Annie swatted him with the newspaper.

“What was that for?”

“For bein' a smart ass.”

Annie set the newspaper down.

“Givin' up already?”

She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.

Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”

“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.

Smoke sat back.

Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.

Not because he was scared.

He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.

But because he cared.

He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive. 

And Annie loved it.

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.

She melted into him.

He kissed the back of her shoulders first.

Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.

His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.

And Annie could feel everything. 

His kisses became closer together. 

Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her. 

She finally let out a word that wrecked him.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.

A sharp, sudden intake of breath.

It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.

It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.

She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.

Their faces met first.

They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses. 

“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”

He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.

Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.

They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.

Almost.

But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.

Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.

The rumble of an engine. 

Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.

Stack.

Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.

“He's back.”

Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.

Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway. 

Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.

Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.

He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.

He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face. 

“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.

Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.

Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch. 

“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”

Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket.  “Leavin’ so soon?” 

He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm. 

“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her. 

“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner. 

Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.

Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe. 

The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” he said quietly. 

The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them. 

-

-

*Song by Bud Spires

<- Chapter 8

-> Masterlist

Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!

@myheartsaysyes @nika324 @brownsugarcoffy @soufcakmistress @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dealore @thedutifulone @lilbitt @kkbeauty86 @nyifly22 @brownskincheyenne @atpeaceinthestars @explodesallovertheplace @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @margepimpson @sweetarchivistsiege @zunibugsiren @blue4everrsworld @xeebop @hdfen2474 @girlmath101 @sintizc @chromexbarbie @theogbadbitch @shereeluvssinners @anniensmoke3 @og-goddesstrill @thebumblebeesworld @merrymaryfebruary @partylikemajima @numb1smokeanniestan @shamansha @nicanotnika @hotebonynearby @dollys-world224 @waitingtobreatheagain @theegoldenchild @swuchiwa @bananajoeclone

[myheartsaysyes]

I love this fic soo much! 🥰

I know Smoke was cheesing hard as hell later that night after Annie told him she wanted him to be “her first.” He was in his bed dreaming about tearing that azzzz up! 🤭

[librababe7]

everyone knows smoke is a girl!dad and is obsessed with his wife annie.

so when they have their first daughter it was a no brainer that their daughter was gonna be annie jr.

their daughter looks like smoke (he couldn’t deny her even if he wanted too) but she got her softness and prettiness from her momma. but smoke would side-eye anyone that said she looked like him bc his baby is her momma twin.

whenever someone said “your daughter is so cute/pretty” smoke would always be like, “pretty just like her momma” and their daughter is a mommy’s girl, ofc she loved smoke and wanted to be with him also but nothing was like hanging with her momma, and she was annie’s shadow, always watching annie get dress, cook etc always wanted to match with her.

when shes a bit older, saying she looked like her dad was like saying she looked like a boy, she didnt understand that she can look like her dad and still be a girl. someone could be like “you look just like ur father” and she’ll be like “nooo, i look like my momma, my papa says im pretty just like her” and smoke would just be grinning and co-signing “yeah baby you do!”

and thats the type of husband and father smoke is.

[cosmicanger]

Phyllis Hyman