Epiphany🤍🍒

BIG DADDY NAHIM Masterlist

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

stack definitely the type to bully you while you got his dick in your mouth

just talking shit while grinning and looking down at you

i feel like that nigga really would hurt his girl feelings lol 😭

he get carried away with the shit too telling you how you suck dick too pretty and then force it down your throat

he not a overly serious daddy dom like smoke is or mysterious daddy dom that keeps you coming back like Erik

i feel like he genuinely just be playing with you because he don't take shit seriously 😭 lol

like overly playful and doing to much and just overall disrespectful as fuck but the dick be hitting so you keep coming back

Confessions Restaurant & Lounge pulses with booming 808 basslines of UGK, Z-Ro & Trae Tha Truth. Thick Southern drawl in every Dirty South lyric that matched the crowd moving below. Brown skin, dark skin, copper skin, deep mahogany skin caught the strobe lights and threw it back in flashes. Gold hoops swung. Rings glimmered. Fresh lineups, silk presses, locs, curls, braids, and fades moved through the sea of black people like art in motion. Everywhere you looked, somebody was laughing. Heads tipped back. Hands slapped shoulders. You could see girls huddled and gossiping while sipping vibrant drinks that snuck up on them like a chill. Bodies packed the main floor, women in lace jumpsuits, tight dresses, skirts that barely covered ass, stilettos and platforms. Men wearing sneakers straight out the box, all the jewelry in their collection, grills gleaming like rainbows. Women twerked low to the southern beats while men watched from the edges with drinks in hand. 

Up in the private VIP section, separated by velvet ropes and a low glass partition that let the noise in but kept the space exclusive. Plush black leather couches lined the walls, low tables scattered with bottles of top-shelf liquor and ashtrays holding half-smoked blunts. 

Stack sat back in the center couch, one arm draped along the backrest, black shirt open at the collar to show the gold chains layered against his brown skin. His tailored pants fit sharp over his athletic frame, expensive loafers planted wide, rings catching the colored lights every time he lifted his glass. 

She sat right beside him, thigh pressed against his. Her dress clung like it was painted on, short enough to show the length of her legs and cut low to frame the curve of her chest, the fabric shimmering. She held her posture straight, shoulders back, chin lifted just enough to project that ice-queen distance she wore like armor. Her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room with cool assessment, and every time Stack leaned in, she answered with clipped words or a raised brow that dared him to push further. 

Stack watched her for a long moment, the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes narrowing as he read the attitude rolling off her. His honeyed, Mississippi drawl came low, meant only for her ear over the thump of the music. 

“You been runnin’ that mouth all night like you forgot where you at. Like you forgot who put you in this section, who decides how long you stay.” His free hand rested on her knee, fingers pressing just firm enough to remind her of the grip he could tighten. “You know who you belong to. You know what happens if you keep givin’ me that look, like you too good for a reminder.” 

She shifted in her seat slightly but didn’t pull away, her expression staying composed even as the tension between them rose. Stack’s thumb traced a slow line along her skin, his gaze dropping briefly to the way her dress rode up before lifting back to her face. 

“Keep it up and I’ma put you right where you need to be. On your knees in this booth…throat open while the music covers every sound you make…you think that attitude protects you out there but in here…it just tells me how bad you want the correction.” 

His voice always stayed smooth, flirtatious on the surface but edged with the control he wielded so easily. It made her pulse quicken despite the cool mask she kept in place. 

Stack fixed her with that sharp, amused stare. 

“Why the fuck you show up if you can’t stand me?” 

She crossed her arms, her posture stiff and eyes darting to the crowd beyond them. “I came for the music. That’s all.” 

He chuckled low at first, then let it roll out fuller, shaking his head like she’d told the best joke he’d heard all night. 

“Nah. Don’t play that. You knew I’d be here. So what’s the real reason?”

“Drop it,” she whispered, turning her shoulder slightly away. 

Stack leaned in closer, his gold chains catching the colored lights. His lips brushed her cheek, nose pressed against her hair, taking a sniff. 

“I don’t like being ignored. You hear me? Answer the question.” 

She stayed quiet, jaw tight, refusing to meet his gaze even as the tension pulled tighter between them. Her eyes flicked down for a split second, catching the thick outline pressing against his pants, heavy and obvious. She snapped her focus back up fast, but not fast enough. 

Stack caught the glance, his lips curving into a slow grin. He chuckled, the sound warm and knowing. 

“What you lookin’ at?” 

She shifted her weight, voice flat. “You know what I’m looking at.” 

Stack reached out without hesitation, catching her wrist and guiding her hand straight to the fat bulge in his pants. Her palm landed against the heat and solid weight of it, fingers brushing the shape through the fabric. She rolled her eyes hard, pulling her usual ice back into place like armor, expression bored and distant even as her hand stayed where he put it. 

Stack watched her face the whole time, reading every flicker she tried to hide. 

“Yeah, I see you. Actin’ like you don’t care, but your hand ain’t moving.” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges with that familiar taunt. “You gon’ keep playing games or you gon’ get on your knees and suck this dick?” 

The question hung between them just like that fat dick twitching hard beneath her hand, a sudden pulse that made the thick shaft jump against her fingers. Heat radiated through the fabric, intense and alive, the warmth seeping into her skin like it was trying to brand her. She could feel every detail—the fat girth stretching the material taut, the way it throbbed with a steady pulse that matched the bass from the club floor, the subtle ridge along the underside that hinted at its veined length. It was solid, unyielding, and growing firmer by the second under her touch, the warmth building until it felt almost feverish. 

She bit down on her lower lip, teeth sinking in to trap the moan that threatened to slip out. Her body betrayed her even as she kept her expression locked in that icy mask, eyes narrowed and jaw set like she was above all this. But her mouth watered anyway, saliva pooling at the thought of wrapping around that big dick, and her clit thumped insistently between her thighs, a dull ache that pulsed in time with the twitch she felt in her palm. Defiance kept her spine straight and her shoulders squared, but the way her fingers curled just slightly against the bulge gave her away, pressing in to feel more of that thick, warm weight. 

Stack’s eyes never left her face, noticing the way her breath hitched despite her best efforts. 

“That’s what I thought.” Stack whispered, shifting his hips just enough to grind the print harder into her hand.

Stack didn’t wait for an answer. His free hand went to his pants, unzipping with a quick pull that freed the heavy length of his dick. It sprang out thick and dark, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, veins pulsing along the shaft. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it, the sight locking her in place even as her fingers stayed pressed against the warm skin now exposed. 

Stack laughed low, the sound rumbling from his chest as he caught the way her gaze locked on, wide and hungry despite the stubborn set of her jaw. 

“Look at that face,” he taunted, voice thick with amusement and that Mississippi drawl. “Eyes all big like you ain’t never seen a dick this size before. You actin’ like you too good but your mouth’s damn near droolin’. Go on, admit it…that look says you want every inch down your throat.” 

Stack’s hips thrusted upward, positioning that fat dick straight up so it stood rigid against his stomach, the full weight of his balls hanging heavy and tight below. It twitched visibly, the shaft bobbing with each rush of blood, the warmth radiating off it in waves that she felt even from inches away. The head flared dark and slick, a thick vein running the underside that throbbed in time with the southern bass. 

Her defiance cracked right there. She gave in with a sharp breath, sliding down to her knees without another word, dress bunched at her waist, bare ass resting on her heels. Her hands reached to grip his thighs as her lips parted. The heat hit her first when she leaned in, that feverish warmth from his skin making her clit throb harder between her legs. 

Stack’s dick stood heavy and rigid in front of her face, a network of raised veins pulsing along its length. The fat head flared wide, shiny with a bead of precum that stretched into a thin string when she leaned in. Her mouth watered openly now, tongue flicking out to taste the tip before her lips parted and stretched around the broad crown, struggling to take the girth as she sank down. Saliva welled up fast, coating the upper half of his shaft in a glossy sheen that caught the strobe lights every time she bobbed. 

Stack’s hand rested on the back of her head, rings heavy against her hair. He let her work for a few strokes, watching her cheeks hollow and her throat flex. Then, he gave a short push that forced another inch inside. 

“That mouth tryin’, ain’t it?” He said, voice low and taunting. “You call that sucking, baby? Feel like you just holding it.” 

 She tried to take more, jaw aching, but he tightened his grip and eased her back until the head remained between her lips like she was sucking on a lollipop. A wet pop sounded when he pulled free completely. His dick swayed, slick and heavy, the veins standing out darker now from the suction. Stack tapped his fat head against her cheek twice, leaving wet marks and sticky trails of pre cum.

“Nah. Lick it proper first. Base to tip. Slow. Show me you want it.” 

Her tongue dragged along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein, saliva dripping from her chin onto her cleavage. Stack watched with half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth lifted, dimple peeking. When she reached the head and swirled her tongue around it, he let her suck the tip again for a moment before yanking her off once more.

“Greedy. You ain’t earned the whole thing yet.” 

Stack gripped the base with one hand, angling the thick length so the head brushed her parted lips but stayed just out of reach. She leaned forward; he leaned back an inch, keeping the distance. 

“Uh-uh. Ask nice. Tell me what that mouth is good for.” 

Her answer came out hoarse, “for sucking this big dick.”

Stack rewarded her with a single swallow thrust that barely stretched her lips before withdrawing again. Spit trailed from her lower lip to the head of his dick. 

“That’s better,” he said, feeding her another inch, then two, until her nose nearly brushed his trimmed hair. 

He held her there, feeling her throat flutter around the fat intrusion, then pulled her off completely. His dick glistened from root to tip, strands of spit connecting her mouth to the head. Stack slapped it lightly against her tongue, the weight of it making a soft pat-pat sound. 

“Breathe. Then try again. And don’t stop until I say.” 

She dove back in, lips sliding down the veined girth with more determination, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth. Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her but never letting her set the pace herself. Every few strokes he would ease her back, denying her the deeper reach she chased, his voice smooth and cutting above her. 

“Still half-assing it. Open that throat or I’ll do it for you.” 

That fat head popped free again, shiny and swollen, and he dragged it across her lips in a slow tease before letting her have it once more. She slid back down on him, lips straining wide around the broad crown, but Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair and he gave a low chuckle that held no warmth. 

“Nah. I don’t want that pretty dick sucking either. You hear me?” He yanked her off with a wet pop, dick swinging heavy and slick, thickness coated in ropes of spit that dripped from the tip down to the base where veins stood out dark and pulsing. His fat length twitched, shiny and obscene, Stack slapping it on her tongue again. 

“Open wider. Get nasty wit’ it. I want spit running down my balls, not this tidy little bob you think pass for sucking.” 

Stack fed that wide tip back between her lips but only halfway, holding her there while she sucked softly, then pulled free once more so his entire veined girth glistened and swayed in her face in a hypnotic dance. Her chin was shiny, drool sliding down her neck. Stack angled his dick so the head brushed her cheek, leaving a wet smear. 

“Look at that. You tryna keep it cute? Fuck that. Slobber on it like the greedy slut you is.” 

Stack pushed her face lower, making her tongue drag along the underside where a thick vein pulsed against her taste buds, then let her suck the tip again only to deny her the rest. Every time she tried to sink deeper he eased back, the fat crown popping free shiny and swollen, strings of spit connecting her mouth to his dick. 

“That’s right. Make a mess. I want it dripping off my shit ‘fore I even think ‘bout letting you choke on the whole thing.” His free hand stroked the base once, slow, showing her the full heavy length before tapping it against her parted lips. “Breathe through your nose and get sloppy. Or I’ll just fuck that throat myself.”

She stopped fighting the urge and let it happen, drool spilling freely from the corners of her mouth as she worked her tongue along every inch he allowed. Spit coated the full length of his dick, thick strands stretching and snapping each time she pulled back for air. Wet trails ran down her throat and soaked the neckline of her dress. Stack watched with a satisfied smirk, his grip in her hair firm. 

“There it is,” he said, voice low and approving in that mocking way he had. “Look how quick you got it. All I had to do was tell you once and now you making a proper mess. Easy, ain’t it?” He let her sink a little deeper on her own, the head of his dick nudging the back of her throat before he eased her off again. “Follow directions and this shit get simple. No need for all that fuckin’ attitude you walked in wit’. Just open up and slobber like I said.”  

Her tongue dragged heavy and wet under his shaft, spit bubbling at the corners as she tried to take more without being told. Stack chuckled, tapping his slick head against her lips before sliding it back in halfway.

“Yeah, just like that. See how much better it feels when you stop pretending? You can act like you run shit out there, but right here you follow every word, makes my job easy too.” 

His fat crown pressed deeper while spit poured down over his balls. The wet sounds filled the VIP space, louder than the muffled bass from the club floor. Stack’s free hand rested on her jaw, thumb stroking the slick skin as he held her in place for a moment. 

“Keep going exactly like that. No fancy tricks just the nasty shit I asked for. You do that and we both get what we want.” 

She kept at it without hesitation, her mouth working steadily over every inch he gave her. Spit ran in heavy streams down his thick dick and over his heavy balls, soaking the front of his pants where they hung open. Her tongue pressed flat and eager, dragging wet and thorough each time she pulled back before sinking forward again. No resistance left in the way she moved, just the steady rhythm he had set for her. 

“You really can’t stand me, huh? Always got that look like you wanna slap the smirk off my face. But here you are again, lips stretched around my dick like it’s the only thing that shuts you up. Every single time you swear this the last…you end up on your knees. Can’t leave it alone, can you?” 

He rocked his hips forward once, testing how deep she would take it on her own. She did, throat working around the head without pulling away. More spit bubbled out and dropped onto the floor between his feet. Stack laughed, thumb brushing the corner of her stretched mouth. 

“Look at this mess you making. All ‘cause you can’t stay away from what you claim to hate. I tell you to get sloppy and you do it like it’s second nature. Follow every word I give you, even when you glaring at me with those sharp eyes. You hate how easy it is. Hate that you keep coming back for more of this.” 

The club music thumped somewhere beyond the VIP curtain, but in here it was only the sound of her wet lips and his voice laying out every contradiction. 

“You walk ‘round like nobody can touch you, but the second I tell you to open up you turn into this. Can’t stand me, yet you can’t stop sucking me off every chance you get. Makes me wonder what you’d do if I told you to stop right now. Bet you’d keep goin’ anyway, just to prove you can walk away whenever you want. We both know better.” 

Stack rose to his full height, glass in hand, the ice clinking as he took a slow sip. He looked down at her on her knees, eyes locked on the way her lips stayed wrapped around him. 

“No hands,” Stack commanded. “Just that mouth. Work it like you mean it. All jaws, no shortcuts.” 

She adjusted without a word, hands dropping to her sides. Her jaw flexed as she pushed forward, taking more of him in one steady glide. She moved like she knew exactly how to angle it, cheeks hollowing on each pull, tongue pressing hard along the underside with every stroke. 

Stack watched her, drink still in one hand while the other rested at his side. 

“That’s it. Suck that dick like the pro you are when nobody’s watching. Look at you, throat working overtime. You act like you hate my guts when we in public but in here you swallow every gahdamn inch of this dick like it’s your favorite meal.” 

Stack rocked his hips once, testing her rhythm, and she took it deeper without pulling back. More spit spilled over her bottom lip and ran down his balls. Stack chuckled, low and rough. 

“Admit it. You love this big dick. Say it while you got it stuffed in your mouth. Tell me how much you love choking on it every time you swear you done wit’ me.” 

She refused to give him that satisfaction with words but her jaw worked harder, the wet sounds filling the space between them. Stack took another sip, eyes never leaving her face. 

“Come on. I wanna hear it. You can’t leave this alone ‘cause you love how it fills your throat. You love gettin’ bullied while you drool all over it. Say the words.” Her pace stayed relentless, lips stretched tight. Stack tilted his head, voice turning sharper. “That’s my mean girl, keep going. Admit everything. How you can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout this dick even when you give me attitude. Say it loud enough so I know you mean it.” 

Stack held still, letting her drive the motion, watching every bob of her head and every flex of her throat as she worked him deeper. The club noise stayed muffled beyond the curtain while he sipped again, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. 

“Good girl. Now keep that mouth moving and tell me the rest. How bad you need it. How you hate yourself for loving every second of this.” 

Stack yanked his dick free from her throat, gripping the base and started smacking the heavy length across her face. Each slap landed with a wet thud, the head dragging over her cheek, across her lips, up to her forehead, leaving shiny streaks behind. He did it slow at first, then faster. Her eyes watered but she kept them open, staring up at him. 

“I can’t fucking stand you,” she rasped, voice thick and broken from how deep she’d been taking him. “But I love it. I love all of it. This big dick, the way it stretches my throat, how you make me kneel and take it. I love choking on every inch even when I swear I hate you.” 

Stack let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and amused. He slapped his dick harder against her cheek, then dragged it down to smack her chin. 

“Look at this pathetic face. Sayin’ you can’t stand me while my dick all over it. You love it so much you drooling just from the words. Go on, keep talkin’. Tell me how bad you need this dick you claim to hate.” 

He kept the pace going, smacking the thick shaft over her nose and lips, the wet slaps echoing in the VIP section. Spit flew with each strike. Her expression stayed wrecked, mouth open, tongue half out like she couldn’t help chasing it. 

“That’s right,” he mocked, voice smooth even as he bullied her with his dick. “Admit it all. You sneak around just to get treated like this. Can’t get enough of how I make you feel like nothin’ but a hole for me to use. Say it louder.” 

She swallowed, throat working, and kept going between the hits.

“I love this big dick more than anything. I love how you make me do this, how you don’t let me use my hands, how you laugh at me while I beg for it. I hate you but I can’t stop wanting every second of it.” 

Stack grinned, dimples flashing, and gave one final slap across both cheeks with his tip girth before pressing the head against her lips again. 

“Good. Now open up and prove it.” 

She proved it right away. Her lips parted wide and she took him back in, sucking hard and sloppy like she was desperate for some prize at the end. Her tongue worked the underside in fast strokes while she bobbed her head, cheeks sunken with every pull. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her dress as she pushed deeper, taking more of him without any hesitation.

Stack felt his dick swell thicker in her mouth, the head pulsing against her tongue as he got closer. He groaned low and gripped her hair tighter. 

“You want my nut that bad, huh? Look at you workin’ for it. Tell me where you want it. How bad you need it.” 

She pulled off just enough to speak, voice hoarse and frantic between licks. 

“And want it so bad, Stack. Give me that nut. I want it all over my face, down my throat, anywhere you say. I need it more than anything right now. Please, just cum for me.” 

Stack chuckled again, mocking and low. “Hold still then. Grab my glass and don’t spill a drop.” 

She reached up with one shaking hand and took the glass from him, holding it steady while he planted both palms on her head. Stack drove forward, fucking her throat in hard, steady thrusts. His hips snapped towards her face as he chased his release, using her mouth like it was made for exactly this. 

Stack’s body tensed hard, his hips jerking forward one last time before he yanked his dick free from her throat with a wet pop. Thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head, the first heavy spurt landing across her cheek and splattering up toward her eye in a hot, sticky line. More followed in powerful pulses, each one shooting out in long, creamy strands that painted her face white. His load was massive, costing her skin in heavy globs that dripped down her jaw and onto the neckline of her dress. 

His face twisted in raw pleasure, brows furrowed deep, full lips parted around a guttural groan that built into a low, drawn-out moan. His deep brown eyes narrowed to slits, lashes fluttering as his chest heaved, the veins in his neck standing out while he emptied himself with a stutter of his hips. Stack aimed the next burst lower, letting the cum land directly on her wiggling tongue as she held it out for him, the warm fluid pooling there in a thick puddle before overflowing down her chin. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He rasped, voice thick and taunting even as his dick twitched through the last shots. “Look at all that nut on your pretty face. You earned every drop, didn’t you?” 

She didn’t pull away, instead leaning in to suck the remaining cum from his still-hard length. Her lips sealing around the head and milking him clean with slow, tight pulls until nothing more came out. Stack watched her with a smirk, his hand still tangled in her hair as he praised her through the taunts.

“Good girl, swallowing what you can and wearing the rest like a badge. Such a nasty little slut for me, huh? Bet you love feeling it cool on your skin.” 

She rolled her eyes at him from her knees, the gesture full of attitude even with his cum streaking her face. Stack burst out laughing, the sound rich and amused as he tilted her chin higher with one finger. 

“There she is. Always got that fire, even when she’s covered in me.” 

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I think I've asked you or another writer on here this question before but did you write that one Erik story about him having a bunch of subs and one in particular liked to do public scenes at her job in Walmart and an older lady caught them in the bathroom and she ate his ass while the sub sucked his dick

That is @hearteyes-for-killmonger series House Calls

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

They working him to the BONE

That second one 😩

[notdwntwnn00]

[lovefortvinc]

Michael B. Jordan for GQ Magazine 🤍 (2025)

[iconsghost]

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Every last one 🤤

[cinema-archives]

"Sinners" (Ryan Coogler, 2025)

[ruesdeluxe]

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

YALL FIND THE ASIAN MAN NOT GUILTY

But KARMELO GUILTY?

Okay.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I know Michael said he’s squeamish about blood, I wonder what his reaction would be if his girl started her period during sex

Hmmm…good question…idk he seems squeamish he might jump out the pussy 🤣🤣🤣

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

😍😍😍

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I want Mimi to fuck me. Just once. To turn me out and tell me I’m his

You want mimi to put that thang on you good, huh?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

How did you pick your major and what you wanted to do career wise ?

In high school I had to do a project in my tech class about a specific career. I knew I wanted to be in the medical field I just didn’t want to do nursing or be a doctor etc. so my mom suggest Radiology to me. I didn’t know what that was (the medical terminology) looked it up and saw it was X-ray. Did the project, been interested ever since. I stuck with it. Glad I did because I was ready to give up.

[laidback-vibes]

Visit Original Link

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Hoodoo Apprentice is coming this week! I’m excited!

Almost finished and can’t wait to share with ya’ll!

[lovergirlcinema]

Young Hoes Run Free

Older!Elijah “Smoke” Moore x young!black!reader

Summary: The adventures of Smoke and his wild and carefree, younger girlfriend. 

Warning(s): SMUT (18+, MDNI), unprotected sex (m/f), dirty talk, use of sex toys, overstimulation, spanking, bondage, mentions of creampie, harassment, misogyny (not Smoke though).

Lovergirlnote: This came out way longer than I expected y’all lol, but honestly I was having so much fun writing it. To all my fellow young hoes, this one is for y’all. Let me know what you think!🥹♥️

From the book of young hoe: Thou shan’t wear a coat if it doesn’t match the fit.

When most people met Smoke, they automatically assumed that they knew what type of woman he would gravitate towards. When they envisioned Smoke’s significant other, they pictured a woman who was modest, quiet, and poised. What they weren’t expecting was you. 

Now, no one would ever step to Smoke and openly say anything unkind about you. Not unless they wanted to be packed up like a can of sardines. Because one thing Smoke didn’t play about was you. 

Smoke meets you at the gas station of all places. He notices you almost immediately. It’s really hard not to notice you in your short dress that clings to your curves like it’s painted on, or the loud clacking from your heels that are definitely a safety hazard. 

Or maybe it’s the warm and sweet vanilla perfume that wafts past his nose and lingers in the aisle as you pick up snacks. Smoke assumes that you must be coming back from a night out based on how you look. Your movements are a bit sluggish, but still graceful as you pick up a bag of Hot Cheetos. 

You seemingly don’t pay attention to any of the patrons inside the gas station, whose eyes follow you like bugs to a porch light. You blow large bubbles with the gum in your mouth before popping it to repeat the cycle. 

Smoke hates the way that his body instantly reacts to feeling your presence behind him. Your scent overwhelms his senses like you’re imprinting yourself into every atom of his being. 

He spares a glance at you once he pays for his things. He finds that you’re already staring at him with a pretty smile and mischievous eyes. You wave your pretty manicured hand at him before stepping up to the counter. Smoke chuckles lowly before waving back to you and heading outside to pump his gas.

You slide the snacks across the counter as you smile flirtatiously at the associate, “Azim, how you doing, baby?”

Azim blushes under your gaze, “I’m doing good, my darling. Was it a good night out?”

“It was amazing, my girls and I danced all night. Free drinks too,” you reply, blowing another bubble. 

Azim starts bagging up your items before peeking back up at you, “I’m glad to hear you had such a good time. Anything else you need, my dear?”

“Let me get $20 on pump five.” 

Azim types the amount in the register before giving you your total, “That’ll be $21.00, my love.” 

You smile at him, “Azim, I know you’re undercharging me.” 

Azim waves you off with a soft chuckle, “You know you’re one of my favorite customers. I have to take care of you. Family discount.” 

You tap your card on the reader before smiling and blowing a kiss to Azim, “You’re the best, Azim. Let me know when your wife is making some more of that baklava, so I can come through.” 

“I’ll have her make you a special batch. Come by on Sunday,” Azim calls out to you. You reply with a quick ‘thank you’ before walking out to your car. You spot Smoke standing at his car, pumping gas, along with a few other guys who are crowded around one car. 

Truthfully, Smoke could’ve been done pumping his gas, but he chose to pump slower in hopes of catching you coming out of the store. 

You open the door to your car to throw the snack bag on the seat before moving to start pumping your gas. It’s not lost on Smoke how cold it is outside, and you, in your tiny dress, don’t even seem to be phased by it. 

In fact, you keep pumping your gas and blowing bubbles like everything is copacetic. 

Unfortunately, Smoke’s not the only one who notices how pretty you look tonight. The guys surrounding the car all wolf-whistle and make noise as they catch you passing by. Smoke can see the predatory look in their eyes as they drink in your appearance. 

His body immediately goes into protector mode. Feeling bold, one of the guys starts to yell out in your direction, “Aye ma! Aye ma! Lemme holla’ at you!”

You roll your eyes and keep pumping your gas. You chose to ignore the ignorant man, who clearly doesn’t have any home training. 

It appears that audacity is on sale as the man yells out to you again, “Aye, girl! I know you hear me talking to you!” 

Still, no response from you. 

“Well, fuck you too then, you stuck up bitch!” 

Smoke doesn’t know whose head snaps over quicker—his or yours. He can see the anger filling your pretty face as you finally stop chewing your gum. 

“Boy, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face with them cheap ass clothes and that fake-ass Cuban link. Wanna-be-rap-ass nigga,” you yell back. Smoke and all of the other men are stunned momentarily by the ruthlessness of your words. 

The wanna be who you just insulted doesn’t take the lashing well. Smoke catches the ugly expression that overtakes the man’s face as he moves around the car to start making his way to you. His homeboys have enough sense to try to stop him, but he roughly shrugs them off. 

Just as he’s about to make his way to you, Smoke stands directly in his path. The older man squares his shoulders and glares down at the younger man. The height difference, combined with Smoke’s quiet disposition, creates a sense of unease in the young man’s demeanor. 

“Nah, don’t get shy now. Whatchu’ was planning on doing, young buck? You thought you were about to put your hands on her?” Smoke questions, stepping up to crowd the boy’s space. 

The man in question opens his mouth to start stuttering. Smoke frowns, “Nah, don’t start stuttering on me now, boy. Tell me whatchu’ was planning. You wanna act bad in front of your boys, so let’s talk man to man. You wanna press her? Nah, you press me now, nigga.”

The man swallows harshly as Smoke can see the tremors racking through his body as he finally starts to recognize Smoke.

He holds his hands up, “S-Smoke, I ain’t meant nothin’ by it, man.”

“You ain’t mean nothing by it? Seems like you had your mind set before I stepped in front of you. You wanted to be a man when you were about to put your hands on her, but you ain’t a man now that I’m in front of you.” Smoke steps forward so the only thing that the young man can feel is his presence. 

He lowers his voice, “You listen to me, and I want you to listen real good because I don’t repeat myself. You ever talk to a woman like that or approach her like that again, ima beat yo’ ass as yo daddy should’ve. If I see you planning on pressin’ another woman, I’ll break every bone in your fuckin’ body and have you sippin’ on yogurt for the rest of your life. Don’t get yourself put on a t-shirt, boy. I’m sure Ms. Coretta ain’t prepared to put you in a casket. We clear?”

The young man is now openly shaking as he sees the darkness in Smoke’s eyes. It’s like he’s looking at something inhuman. He nods his head, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Smoke,” He responds, fear lacing the edge of his tone.

Smoke nods, “Now, I believe you owe her an apology.”

The boy looks in your direction, “I’m sorry, Miss. It won’t happen again.”

Smoke looks at him again, “Now, get the fuck out of here.” The young man scurries away with his homeboys in tow. Anyone in town knows that the Smokestack twins are the last men that you want to have beef with. 

Smoke turns to you before walking over. You blow a bubble before popping it, “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

Smoke smirks, “Yes, I did. What were you planning on doing if I hadn’t stepped in or been around?” 

You shrug, “I was planning on getting him with this bear mace.”

Smoke lifts his eyebrows, “You know that’s illegal.”

You blow another bubble. Pop! “So is harassment, but these niggas act like the First Amendment entitles them to a response from me.” Smoke chuckles in response. 

You look at him, “So it’s Smoke, I reckon?”

He nods, “S’just a nickname. My real name is Elijah.” You hum while still chewing on your gum. You’d vaguely heard of the Smokestack twins. Anybody this side of the Delta had heard about the two men, but you rarely paid attention when people would go into detail about them. 

You only cared for gossip when it was something that intrigued you. Two men who put fear in the hearts of men in the South didn’t intrigue you. Yet, with Smoke standing in front of you, smelling like a grown man, you were now thoroughly intrigued. It didn’t help the fact that he was fine in a way that gave 90s. 

Smoke catches your hand on the gas pump, “Let me finish pumping your gas for you. It’s freezing out here.” 

You step to the side and let Smoke take over. Who were you to deny the services of a man being courteous to you? Smoke takes a moment to look at you up close. 

You smile before leaning on your car, “You wanted to pump my gas so you could stare at me?”

“M’just wondering where your jacket is,” Smoke comments. 

“At home, it didn’t go with my outfit,” you respond as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“So catching pneumonia in the ass is worth the fit?”

“Yep, you haven’t ever heard the saying ‘fashion is sacrifice’?”

Smoke chuckles, “Can’t say I have. Now, would you pretty please go sit in the car while I finish pumping your gas?” 

You roll your eyes before smacking your glossed lips, “Fine, since you’re so worried that I’ll turn into a popsicle.” You open your door before sliding into the seat. From his view, Smoke can see you typing on your phone. He finishes pumping your gas and places the gas pump back on the handle.

He closes the cap as you turn on your car. You roll down the window just as Smoke steps closer to lean down. You flash another pretty smile at him, “Thank you again for your help, Mr. Smoke.”

“Just Smoke for you, sugar. Or Elijah. Whichever you prefer.”

“Hmm..I guess I’ll call you, Elijah, then,” You said, still chewing on your gum. There’s a beat of silence that’s filled with your soft chewing and music from your radio. 

You lean closer to him, “Are you going to ask for my number now?”

“You know I’m too old for you, right?”

You blow another big bubble and pop it, “So? I like my men a little seasoned. Just hand me your phone.” Smoke slides his phone from his pocket and unlocks it. You start typing your number in before calling yourself. You save his contact and slide his phone back into his hand. 

“Do you always give your number away at the gas station?” Smoke questions. 

“I give my fake number out all the time. You should feel lucky that you have my real number,” You respond, flashing another cute smile at him. Smoke admires the way that the light dances across your skin and the faint glitter that he assumes is from some lotion. 

“Consider me honored. Drive safely and let me know when you make it home,” Smoke states, looking you straight in the eye. 

You smack your lips, “You checking for me already, old man?” 

“I’d just feel a lot better knowing that you got home safely.” 

“I’ll text you then, Elijah.” With that, you smile before rolling your window up. You drive out of the parking lot with Smoke watching your car. 

He enters his own car and sets off to go home.

Later in the night, when he makes it home and showers, he’s lying in bed, and he hates to admit that he’s waiting for the text from you. Finally, his phone vibrates in his hand, and he sees your name appear on the screen. 

You

*image attached*

I made it home safely

Smoke eyes the picture for far longer than he’ll ever admit. His gaze scans across your baby blue pajamas and the matching bonnet. A cute smile graces your lips as you snap the picture. 

Elijah

Let me take you out tomorrow for brunch.

You

Straight to the point, I like you. 

I guess I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for you😉

Elijah

I promise it’ll be worth it. 

You

It better be. I’m not afraid to leave you at the table by yourself.

From that moment, you became Smoke’s old lady, and everybody knew not to cross you unless they wanted him on their necks.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt take the clothes from the dryer and put it in a pile; you’ll get to it later

The age difference between you and Smoke takes a little bit to get used to on both of your ends, but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. In fact, you keep Smoke on his toes every day that you’re together. It’s within the second month of your relationship that he learns that you’re a “young ho” as you had so affectionately put it. 

“Why you calling yourself a hoe?” He asked, a frown covering his handsome face.

You roll your eyes, “It’s not like that, Elijah. It’s more of a reclamation of a word for a positive cause.” 

“What I tell you about rolling your eyes?” 

You resisted the urge to do it again. The last time that you’d rolled your eyes at Smoke, he’d turnt you every way but loose in the bedroom. 

He chose not to elaborate on your new self-proclaimed title. He learned very early in your relationship that you were a real stubborn brat when you wanted to be. He liked to play the part of annoyed, but inwardly, he loved how much you tested his patience. 

Smoke was one of those guys who had a real strict program, and that program was applied to you, but he often let you off scot free most of the time. Stack would even fuss at him because of how spoiled Smoke had you. 

The next day, Stack and Smoke are sitting at the kitchen table together while you’re vacuuming in the living room. You cut the vacuum off, and Smoke expects you to walk up to the wall to take the cord out. 

But you don’t. Because young hoes don’t do that. Instead, you grip the cord and rip it out of the socket before dragging the piece over to you. 

Smoke and Stack both watch you. 

“Aye, why didn’t you just go pull it out?” Stack asks.

You smack your lips, “Why would I make all of those unnecessary steps when I can just do it my way?” You wrap the cord up and hook it onto the vacuum before leaving the living room.

Stack turns to Smoke, “You would end up with a young hoe.”

“So you know about it too?” 

“Yeah, it’s this new thing on Twitter and TikTok. Girls talking about stuff that young hoes typically do. Her ripping that cord out of the wall was a prime example.”

Smoke does typically watch you. It’s a habit, really, but now, he watches you closer for your young hoe habits. 

He comes over to your house on a Sunday and finds that you’re finishing up your laundry. You grab the warm clothes from the dryer in one big swoop and deposit them on the chair in the corner of your room. Smoke watches as you walk away without folding the clothes. 

“Baby, you just gone leave them right there?” He questions, looking between you and the pile. 

“Yes, Papa Bear, I’ll fold them later,” you respond. He wants to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that you’ll fold them, but he has to keep an eye on you. 

Turns out, he should’ve let the doubt win.

When he comes back over the following day, the clothes are still sitting in the chair. Wordlessly, he goes over to the pile to start folding the clothes into neat sections for you. He even goes the extra mile to place them in their appropriate places. 

You give him a surprised look when you come into the room, “Aww, Papa Bear, you didn’t have to do that.” You press a big kiss against his lips, your lip gloss staining his lips, but quite frankly, he loves the sensation. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Smoke is able to catch more of your young hoe antics when it comes to clothing. You volunteer to put his clothes in the washer because you love taking care of your old man. 

To his honest defense, Smoke believed that you could handle the task, and truthfully, you could, but just in your own way. He stands up from the couch to go grab a water from the fridge. Once inside the kitchen, he catches sight of you in the laundry room with his dirty basket of clothes.

Now, Smoke is a man of habit. There’s a precise way that he likes to have things done. Which is why he’s honestly gobsmacked when he watches you load the clothes into the washer without separating any of them by color.

To top it off, you grab his expensive laundry detergent and pour way more than what’s required into the washing machine. You turn the machine on, step back with your hands on your hips, and have the nerve to look proud. 

You turn and catch sight of him staring at you in the kitchen. He fixes his mouth to comment, but chooses not to when he sees the bright smile on your face. 

You point at the washer, “Look, I got you all fixed up.” 

Smoke can’t find it in his heart to take this moment from you, so he just smiles in response before walking over to press a long kiss against your lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Now, Smoke is old, but he didn’t think he was that old. But by the way that you’re looking at him and the ironing board, the nigga starts to feel like Morgan Freeman. 

“You don’t know what an ironing board is?” 

“Nigga, I’m not daft, I know what an ironing board is. I’m just trying to figure out why you would need one. Just iron on the bed.”

Smoke cuts his eyes in your direction, “No, the creases won’t hit the same.”

“Anyways. So what do you need this disinfectant spray for?” You ask, holding up the white bottle. 

“Baby, that’s starch.”

You frown and turn the bottle in your direction before reading it. You try to hide the embarrassed look that crosses your face before you hand the bottle back to him. You walk over to the ironing board that is still folded and fumble with it. 

You look genuinely perplexed by the fact that it won’t stand up. Anyone else would be annoyed, but Smoke finds it cute. You look at him with that whiny pout on your face, “Your ironing board is broken. Probably because it’s from the 90s.” 

Smoke chuckles before taking the ironing board from your hand and standing it up correctly. You look at each other in silence before you nod, “I got it loosened up for you. You’re welcome.”

With that, you walk out of the room, and Smoke figures it’s best to just let you have the win. 

Besides, his baby girl gets whatever she wants when she’s with him. 

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt use Apple Pay for literally every expense. We don’t use physical cards or cash anymore.

Smoke is old school.

He still carries around a wallet of cash and his debit cards. He only sets up Apple Pay on his phone because you insisted that it was more convenient. 

It is, but he won’t admit that to you. For you, you never have to pay for things when you’re with Smoke. In fact, he finds the audacity of you paying for anything outrageous. On the small chance that he isn’t there with you, he makes sure that you have the funds available for your needs. 

When he tries to hand you his card, you genuinely look perplexed, “What’s this for?”

He squints, “For you to buy your stuff. No limit.”

“That’s cute, Papa Bear, but I don’t even carry my own card around. I use Apple Pay for everything,” You said. 

“Just add my card to your Apple Pay, then baby,” Smoke orders, sliding the card in your hands. 

“Okay, thanks, baby,” you said, kissing his lips a few times. In response, Smoke slides your body into his lap and watches as you type the card into your Apple Pay and save it. 

This isn’t the only incident involving money with you and Smoke. You’re about to head out for a night with your girls when he stops you. 

“Come here before you leave, baby,” He demands from the couch. He and Stack are watching the finals while you go out.

“Sup ugly,” You state, slapping Stack on the neck. He frowns and twists around to pop you back when you step out of the way. 

Y’all are about to engage in another childish fight until Smoke glares at you both. Stack smacks his lips, “You better get yo girl before we be outside tussling.” 

“Ima mace you too,” You quip, as you walk to Smoke’s side of the couch. 

“See, I don’t even wanna play with you because I know you’re serious,” Stack states before turning his attention back to the TV. 

Smoke runs his eyes up and down your body in the two-piece set. Your body shines from your rigorous body care routine. He grips your waist, “You look good, babygirl.” 

“Thank you, Papa Bear,” you respond, leaning down to kiss him. From behind him, Stack makes gagging noises while you stick your finger up at him. 

As you pull away from the kiss, Smoke grabs a couple of bills from his wallet and slides them over to you. 

“Uh, I don’t need this,” You said, a faint whine at the end of your tone. 

“Yes, you do. Your little Apple Pay can’t cover everything. What if your phone dies? You need to be prepared just in case. Here. Take a few quarters, you might need to call me from a pay phone,” Smoke explains. 

All of the argument leaves your body because he’s right and you know it. You slide the bills and change in your purse before leaning down to press your lips against his again. This time, however, you slide your tongue inside of Smoke’s mouth while his hand goes to your neck. 

“Man! Y’all gone with all of that,” Stack yells from his end of the couch. 

You and Smoke part with a few additional pecks. A honk from outside lets you know that your friends are here. As you go to leave, you peck Smoke’s lips again, “I love you, Papa Bear. I’ll text you updates throughout the night.” 

You start walking towards the door until Smoke clears his throat, “Grab that coat on the way out, babygirl.”

You huff and throw your head back, “Elijah..it doesn’t go with my outfit!” 

He gives you a hard look, and you stare back. For a solid minute, you both keep the staring contest going as Stack moves his head back and forth between the two of you.

Smoke goes to stand when you hold your hands up, “Chill! Chill! I’m getting it.” You grab the jacket and hold it up as if to say, “See.” 

In return, Smoke smiles at you, “Good girl. I love you too. Make sure that you text me.” 

Stack laughs, “Aha…my brother got you in check.” He turns and feels like he has the last word. He doesn’t catch you creeping up behind him until you lean down to whisper, “stupid hoe” in his ear and slap the back of his neck again. You’re already out the door by the time that Stack gets off the couch. 

He frowns and crosses his arms. 

Smoke takes a sip from his drink, “Y’all are some children.”

Later in the night, Smoke periodically gets updates from you about your location and condition. You send him tipsy pictures from the club bathroom. It’s not too long before he gets a notification from your Instagram saying that you’ve posted to your stories. 

Smoke chuckles at the picture, but he’s glad to see that you’re having a good time with your girls. Some people assumed that since you liked to go outside, it would be a turn-off for Smoke, but it was quite the opposite. 

He liked the fact that you were young, carefree, and enjoying your life. He’d never try to nag or change who you were. In fact, being with you taught Smoke that he needed to let loose a lot more and enjoy the moment. 

Hours later, he hears the sound of a car door closing and watches from the porch as you walk back to the house. You pout pathetically upon seeing him, “My feet hurt. Can you carry me, Papa Bear?”

Without hassle, Smoke scoops you up into his arms and carries you into the house. He waves at your friends as he closes the door. Your head lolls to the side as you lie on his shoulder. 

Smoke looks down at you, “You still with me, baby?”

“Mhmm.”

He raises an eyebrow, “So you gonna carry me up these stairs?” 

“Yeah, I got you, baby,” you grumble back. Smoke laughs to himself at your antics. Even in your tipsy state, you still swore up and down that you were the Incredible Hulk. 

Arriving inside the bedroom, Smoke gently sets you down while grabbing a big t-shirt for you. 

He helps you with getting out of the heels and your set. “Lift your arms for me, baby.”

You oblige as he slips his t-shirt over your head. He goes to the bathroom to grab some micellar water to help you remove your makeup. 

You grumble in sleepiness. 

“I know, baby, just a little bit more,” He coos to you gently. Once he’s finished cleaning your face, he tucks you away under the blankets. He slips your bonnet over your hair.

“It’s hot,” you whine from beneath the covers. Smoke walks over to the fan, flicks it on, and turns it in your direction. He’d never heard of someone sleeping with a fan on until he started dating you. 

He slips beneath the covers and pulls your body into his side. You cuddle your body more into his hold, “Thank you, Papa Bear. I love you.” 

“I love you too, babygirl,” Smoke replies, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

As he listens to your steady breath, Smoke rationalizes that there’s nothing better than being here with you.

If Stack were here, he’d clown him real bad, but Smoke doesn’t care. He’d gladly go out and get your name tatted to show how down bad he is for you.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt play the music about the guns and drugs, but shalt not participate in said activities

Smoke watches you in amusement as you pretend to shimmy in the living room, as “Off the Leash” by Gucci Mane blasts through the space. When he first met you, he’d assumed that you would like a lot of lover girl music, which you did. 

But more often than not, you were listening to music about drugs and guns, even though you were hands down a law-abiding citizen. The song changes to “All There” by Jeezy, and you start hyping yourself up more. 

You walk over to Smoke and start rapping the lyrics in his face, while grabbing money from his wallet to spread it down your arm. 

“So you’re a dope boy now?” Smoke asks, subtly nodding his head along to the music. 

“I’ve been trappin’ out here, Smoke,” You respond. He raises his eyebrows at the change of name, but continues chuckling as you make gun gestures with your hands. 

“So that means I should go get you a gun of your own now?”

You ball your face up, “No, thank you. You know I don’t like guns. Plus, I’d just be a menace if these niggas tried me.” You prove your point by making gun noises like you’re shooting

You really weren’t a big fan of guns. Even with the gun that Smoke kept in his house, you always made sure that he had it locked away, far from your sight. You didn’t even like the idea of him being near a gun, and he was a whole trained veteran. 

You take your phone out and start typing. You glance back at him, “I have a hair appointment tomorrow, so I may be MIA for a while.” 

He nods, “Okay, I’ll send you the money to cover it.” 

You lean down to press a kiss against his cheeks, “Thanks, Papa Bear.” 

When you mentioned getting your hair done to Smoke, he doesn’t expect you to be gone for that long. He checks your location, which states that you’re still at your braider’s house. 

His phone buzzes with a text from you. 

Babygirl♥️

Be home soon. 

I can’t wait for you to see my braids🙂‍↔️

He lets out a sigh of relief at the message. One thing that was always true, Smoke could be a bit overprotective, but it was only because he knew how the world operated. He knew how cruel people could be, especially to someone like you. 

You were smart and observant, but Smoke just preferred to be around to look out for you. In his mind, you were all bubble gum, sunshine, and sweetness. He’d hate to see someone trying to snuff that light out of you. 

Thirty minutes later, Smoke hears your car pulling into the yard. You get out, casually sipping on your Stanley Cup and walking to the house. 

He opens the door to greet you. You connect your lips to his while gripping his shirt, “Hey, Papa Bear. I hope you weren’t waiting up for me.”

“I was,” Smoke said, closing the door behind you. 

He goes to sit on the couch and crosses his arms, “What took you so long?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “It was mostly the braid length. You know I like to get my braids long.” You do a quick turn to show the braids off, and Smoke’s gaze travels down to how long they are. The braids’ length ends just below your butt. 

You turn back to him with a wide smile, “Do you like them?”

“Yeah, babygirl, I love them. You look beautiful as always.” He means it. There’s not one moment when Smoke isn’t thinking about how beautiful you are. 

Later in the night, he oils your scalp at bedtime. In return, you apply a clay mask to his face as he waits for it to dry. 

Quite honestly, Smoke had never been well-versed in skincare. That just wasn’t his thing. Now, he kept himself up and always kept his skin moisturized, but stuff like skincare was more up Stack’s alley. 

Since dating you, Smoke has a whole skincare routine that you and he do every night. He’s always had pretty good skin, but since being with you, you've elevated his skin to a new level. You both stand side-by-side at the sink, washing the masks from your faces. Smoke scoops you up to sit on the counter and grips your backside in his hand as you apply his serums and moisturizer for the night. 

You peek up at him through your lashes, “You so handsome, Papa Bear.” 

You grab his chin in your hand and pull his face down towards yours. Smoke’s lips engulf yours in a passionate kiss as he tongues you down. He slides your body closer to his as he fully steps between your legs. You roll your hips into his as his bulge presses against your wet core. When he steps back slightly, you whine in response while pouting. Smoke chuckles darkly before gripping your thighs to pull you off the counter. He effortlessly carries you from the bathroom to the bedroom and deposits you on the bed. 

He leans down on the bed to cover your body with his. He grabs both of your wrists in his hands and pins you to the top of the bed. He frowns when he moves one of his hands and hears a crinkle. Smoke looks up and grabs the item. A bag of Hot Cheetos crunches in his hands. 

He looks down at you while you give him an innocent grin. It’s only when he looks up that he notices all of the extra items in the bed like candy, your iPad, both of your chargers, and your Stanley. 

He’s about to open his mouth to comment when you stop him, “Before you start with all of that, I need this. These are my essentials. Don’t be trynna reach across me to eat my snacks either.”

He gives you a blank look, “I’m trynna eat you now, but if you want to keep the snacks on the bed…”

You move quickly to put the snacks and other items on the nightstand. 

You open your legs with a soft smile, “Okay, I’m ready.”

The only thing Smoke can do is chuckle, but he still gets on his knees regardless. His back may protest, but he’ll never give up the chance to put his mouth on you.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt not take any BS.

It didn’t take Smoke a long time to figure out that you were a bit of a hot head. In your honest defense, you just weren’t the type to hold your tongue, especially when something felt like disrespect. Which is why he often found it amusing when you and Stack would argue because you’d match his brother bar for bar with insults. 

However, it was all love between you and Stack. You were the younger sister he always craved having, so he’s delighted to have you around more often. 

As Smoke’s old lady, as he likes to refer to you as, your invitation to any family functions is automatically secured. You knew your spot was secured when all of Smoke’s aunts and uncles hit him with the famous, “That’s you, nephew?” 

You stood in the kitchen with Ardelia, Smoke, and Stack’s mother as you both conversed. 

“I’m so happy that you could come today, and you look so pretty,” Ardelia said, nodding her head in appreciation.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moore,” You said, grinning widely. 

“Ah, now what I tell you about that. None of that, you can call me mama.” 

You smiled even brighter at her comment. Ardelia had been nothing but welcoming to you since Smoke introduced you for the first time. You were nervous that she wouldn’t be accepting of you, especially with the age gap, but she referred to you as her daughter-in-law all over town. Now, a few of Smoke’s other family members weren’t as accepting of you, but they wouldn’t ever say it aloud. But you were well aware of the whispered comments.

‘He’s bringing that lil’ girl all up in here. She still got milk behind her ears.’

“He outta be ashamed. Bringing her around here when he could be back with Annie.’

‘Look at her outfit. Any shorter and them shorts will be some panties.’

’I heard she just with him for the money. Jill from down the street said she got a pattern of jumping from man to man and using them for money.’

‘Lord, that’s a shame!”

You rolled your eyes and took it on the chin. The last thing you were about to do was start an argument with Smoke’s folks, especially in his mama’s house. You knew how a lot of people viewed you, especially with how you carried yourself. There’d been rumors all over the place that you were a relationship hopper, which was far from the truth. You just weren’t the type to stick around in a relationship, especially if it didn’t serve you. 

Growing up as a little black girl in the South, you recognized that many black girls weren’t taught how to date. Most girls here felt that if they dated someone, they had to tie themselves down to the person forever. It was often frowned upon if you were dating more than one person or exploring your options. 

No, exploring your options was only something that was reserved for men. 

The fact that you weren’t the type to stick around in dead situations or entertain men made you stick out like a sore thumb in the community. They couldn’t stand to see a black woman standing strong in her boundaries. They would never catch you apologizing for that. 

You walk outside and sit next to Smoke, who is surrounded by a few of his uncles and cousins. It’s at that point in the evening when the conversations shift to more controversial topics, and the new school vs old school duke it out. 

You were already rolling your eyes as Marvin, one of Smoke’s cousins, opened his mouth to speak. He was the physical embodiment of red pill alpha male content. 

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t want my Queen out here degrading herself on these apps by posting seductive pictures and doing OnlyFans. I mean, look at the state of female rap, all they talk about is their pussy and what they can get from men.”

A few of the older traditional men hum in agreement. 

You frown, “Well, isn’t that a bit contradictory, Marvin? Men rap about pussy all the time. There isn’t one rap song that you can give me that doesn’t consist of some line of a man talking about all of the women that he’s slept with or the degrading acts that he makes her perform. To add onto your point, you’re complaining about the women making content, but you fail to realize that there wouldn’t be a market if men weren’t paying for it. Sounds like smart business women capitalizing on a rising market.”

Marvin cuts his eyes at you. You can see the irritation rising in his eyes, “See, I’d expect you to say that. You’re one of those new school women. You don’t have traditional values. A real woman knows her place in the home. She should be preparing the home for her King to come home to. She shouldn’t be out here selling pussy.” He glances over in Smoke’s direction, “Dang, cuz, you really switched things up with this one. At least Annie was taking care of her man.”

Marvin sits back in the chair, clearly pleased with himself. Beside you, Smoke hardens, and everyone can catch that look of murder in his eye. He’s about to address the situation when you place a hand on his chest. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got it. Marvin, I don’t take pseudo-intellectual men like you seriously. You be the same niggas hollering about being an Alpha male and you ain’t even graduated from community college. Last time I looked in the mirror, my breasts and vagina were still there, so I think we got the real woman part covered. You keep trying to take jabs at me about being a low-value woman when, last time I checked, I got two degrees under my name, and I’m well on my way to my third. Let’s not forget the high-paying job, and I own my house. We can go band for band if you want to.” 

You pause and snap your fingers, “I forgot, you don’t have a job, so your bands wouldn’t even match mine. What’s your occupation again? Wait…you’re still building your little YouTube with the ten subscribers, all of whom are your homeboys who can’t keep your dick out of their mouths. You keep talking about pussy, but baby boy, you wake up every day and look at a pussy in the mirror.”

You sit back in your chair with a demure smile. The backyard is silent as everyone turns to look at Marvin. He storms from the chair and walks towards the door. You all listen as his car pulls out of the driveway. 

“I like this one, nephew,” Tony, Smoke’s uncle, comments as he clinks his cup with yours. 

Smoke looks over at you in concern, “Baby, you good?” 

“Yeah, ain’t nobody stressin’ over Marvin. I know my worth, and I know what I bring to the table. I’m not about to let anyone feel like they pressin’ me.”

“Good, but I’ma still beat his ass later on for talking to you like that,” Smoke states, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“Thanks, Papa Bear.” You lean over to press your lips against his. You resist the urge to deepen the kiss because you still have to be respectful in front of his family. 

“Anytime, baby, you know you mean the world to me. Nobody in this world is ever gonna disrespect you while I’m around.”

Before you can comment, Stack leans over to dap you up, “That last line was a bar. Let’s go put that down in the studio.”

From the book of women: Always show respect where respect is due.

Annie Boudreaux. Formely Annie Moore. 

You’d met Annie in passing a few times, and you liked her well enough. You both got along, seeing as you were both important women in Smoke’s life. To others, they wondered if it bothered you that Smoke’s ex-wife still came around to family functions, but truthfully, it didn’t. 

You understood how important Annie was to Smoke and their shared history. It’d be selfish if you asked him to stay away from her. That didn’t mean that Smoke was taking advantage of the situation and disrespecting you. He’d always be open and let you know that he was going to see Annie. You’d always kiss him and bid him on his way. 

Today was the first time that you’ve ever set foot in Annie’s yard.  

You walk slowly towards the side of the house where baby Anais Moore’s headstone sits. You note the fresh flowers sitting at the headstone, no doubt from Smoke’s earlier visit in the week. You set down your own bouquet before willing away the tears that follow. 

Smoke talks about his and Annie’s little girl from time to time, but only when the moon shines low in the room, and you can’t see his tears falling. He’d laid his head on your chest and whispered all about his daughter, while you remained silent and rubbed at his head. 

“She was so beautiful and tiny. I was scared of holding her the first time,” He laments. 

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. You wish that you could take away all of the pain, but you know that nothing ever quite soothes the ache of losing a child. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” Annie comments from her place on the steps. You catch her eyes as they clock the flowers that you placed at the baby’s grave.

“I wanted to come visit you, and I needed to ask for your help with something.”

Annie gives you a long look before ushering you inside the house. She pours you a glass of tea as you sit across from each other on the couch. 

“So what brings you by?” Annie questions. 

“Can you teach me how to make that gumbo dish that Elijah likes. He mentioned that it’s one of his favorite meals, and I wanted to do something nice for him,” You said, nerves coloring your voice. 

Your wide eyes meet Annie’s, and you’re honestly scared that she’ll tell you no. Instead, she chuckles, “You came all this way to ask me how to make a pot of gumbo for Elijah? Come on, silly girl. You must really be in love.”

“I am.” 

For another beat, you both look at each other, and Annie runs her eyes across you. Unbeknownst to you, she can see the pink swirls radiating around your body with all of the love that you have for Elijah. 

She gestures for you to follow her to the kitchen, where she begins taking out all of the ingredients. She turns to you, “Go pick me some of those bell peppers from the garden.” 

You nod before setting out to the garden, where Annie has an assortment of fruit and vegetables. You navigate towards the bell peppers as you pick out the best ones. Inside the house, you hand the peppers to Annie as she washes them off. 

“I love your garden. I always wanted to grow one,” You said, leaning against the counter. 

“Tell Elijah. He’s good at starting a garden,” Annie responds. She ushers you forward as she grabs the flour and cast-iron skillet. 

“Now the roux is the most essential part of the gumbo. You mess up the roux, you might as well throw the whole pot away.” 

Together, you and Annie work hand in hand to craft the gumbo the way that Smoke likes it. Annie lets you take over for the most part, while she gently guides you. Soon, you’re both sitting at the table sharing a bowl of gumbo over rice and laughing like old friends. 

“Next thing I know, Stack is running out of the house. Yellin’ about some voodoo,” Annie states, to which you laugh loudly. 

Your laugh calms after a few minutes when you catch Annie staring at you. 

“Thank you,” She states. 

She doesn’t have to explain what she’s thanking you for. You already know. You slide a hand across the table as you tangle your fingers together. 

“I really appreciate you, Annie.”

“Likewise.”

She doesn’t mention that she can read your palms with your hands touching like this. She chuckles internally. She hopes that you’re ready for some twins in the future.

When Smoke gets home later in the day, he’s surprised at the familiar scent that wafts across his nose. For a minute, he wonders if Annie is inside the house with you. He walks inside the kitchen and takes note of you standing in front of the stove, stirring away at a familiar pot. 

You and Smoke are so in tune with each other that you sense him as soon as he enters the house. You turn around, “Hey, Papa Bear, take a seat.” 

Smoke sets his work bag down and takes a seat at the table. You fix his bowl of gumbo just the way that Annie mentioned he likes, along with a piece of cornbread on the side and a glass of tea. He takes a second to look between you and the bowl of gumbo. He notes the similarities in the gumbo, “You makin’ gumbo now, babygirl?”

“Mhmm..I had a little help from Annie today. I wanted to get it just the way that you like it,” You said, moving to fix your own bowl. 

“You visited Annie today?” 

“Yeah, you mentioned that her gumbo was always your favorite, so I went by to ask her how to make it for you.” You shrug at the end of your sentence like it’s no big deal, but to Smoke, it means the world. 

Before you can take a bite of your gumbo, he grabs your hand in his. 

“Thank you. You know I love you, right?” He said, eyes glistening under the light. It means a lot that you went out of your way to ask Annie how to make his favorite meal. 

“I love you, too, Elijah,” You respond before connecting your lips to his. 

As you both eat, Smoke eyes your empty ring finger and figures that he may need to change that pretty soon.

After the meal, Smoke offers to wash dishes, but you shoo him away.

“Just sit down, you’ve been working hard all day. It’s just a few dishes,” You said, turning the water on. 

Smoke expects you to plug the sink and let it fill up with soap and water, but you do the exact opposite. You keep the water running as you wash each dish one by one under the hot water. 

“Baby, you could’ve just filled the sink up,” Smoke comments. 

“Ew, I don’t want all of that food touching my hands,” You shoot back. 

Smoke decides to drop it and continues watching you wash the dishes. He already knows that he should expect the water bill to be higher this month. From the looks of the empty paper towel roll, he might have to just invest in the big pack from Costco.

From the book of young hoe: Always listen to Papa Bear.

It’s one of those nights when you and your girls are going out again. Smoke opts to stay in, but he’s already made sure that your purse is packed with all of the essentials. He knows how forgetful you can be. 

The sound of your heels clicking brings his attention to you as you walk into the bedroom. He hadn’t paid much attention to your outfit. You always did your makeup first before putting on your outfit, and then you’d give him a little show before leaving. 

Now, Smoke’s gotten used to some of your more risque clothing choices. Shoot, when he first met you, you were wearing a dress that had him drooling. He isn’t one of those guys who likes to police his woman on what she’s wearing, but he is very possessive of you. Smoke knows that you’re a baddie, so why would he stop you from being that?

However, he has to draw a line with this outfit, if you can even call it that. 

Smoke coughs past the smoke and snuffs out the joint that you rolled for him. “What you got on?”

You smile at him through the mirror, “It’s cute, right? I found it the other day!”

You had taken the definition of mini skirt to a whole other level. You’re well endowed in your backside, which hangs out of the skirt. You bend forward to check your makeup, and Smoke almost falls out. 

He frowns at you, “Go change. You ain’t leavin’ the house with that on.”

Naturally, the pout crosses your lips, “But why?” 

“Baby, I ain’t finna have these niggas out here eyeing my woman, and I’m not around.”

You huff in annoyance, “Elijah, it’s not that deep. It’s not even that short.”

He eyes the skirt again with a glare on his face. If he could set the skirt on fire, he would. 

“It’s not up for discussion. Go change into something else.”

“No.”

Smoke’s head whips around so fast that you’re surprised that his neck doesn’t break. That dark look crosses his face, “Babygirl, you sure you wanna cross that bridge with me? Take yo’ pretty ass back in there and get changed.” 

The urge to be a brat weighs heavily on you tonight. You square your shoulders and look him dead in the eye, “Nope, I’m wearing this.”

A honk sounds from outside, and you move to grab your purse. Smoke is openly glaring at you and challenging you, “You leave out of this house, I hope you prepared for the consequences later.” 

You shrug, “I’ll be back later on. I love you, Papa Bear.” 

With that, you walk your pretty self out the door, even though your stomach tingles with anxiety. As you step into the car, your homegirls turn to look at you. 

“Girl, Big Daddy Smoke let you out of the house wearing that,” your friend, Leilani, asks. 

You smack your lips, “He was making a big deal of it at first. Telling me that I need to go change. He don’t run me.”

Your friend, Omi, smacks her lips, “Sis, he gone tear you up when you get back. You know them old heads don’t play about all that.”

“It’s fine, y’all. He’ll be okay when I get back.”

“He gone kill her when she gets back. I’m puttin’ a sign on you that says ‘Dead lady walking.’ You might as well gone get your coochie ready,” your friend, Keisha, quips. 

When you all make it to the club, it’s turnt as usual. You and Stack lock eyes as you pass his section.  His eyes flicker down to your skirt before he starts shaking his head. He ushers you over, “You gotta be one of the craziest people that I’ve ever met. Does my brotha’ know you outside like this?”

“Yes, Smoke doesn’t run me. I can wear what I want,” You state, a frown crossing your face. 

Stack laughs. Not one of those low laughs, but the loud and annoying types. 

“Whew, I’m scared for you, girl. But I’ll keep an eye on you. Have fun now before you get home,” Stack said, continuing to laugh. He lets you and your girls come into the section with him and his boys. You know that it’s so he can carefully watch you. 

Whenever you go to get a drink, Stack stops you and goes to the bar himself. You and your friends go to hit the dance floor when Stack holds his hand up. 

“Oh my gosh, Stack, move!” 

Stack smacks his lips, “I’m just looking out for you. Gone dance, but if I see any nigga gettin’ too friendly with you, I’m on him like white on rice.” 

You give him a thumbs-up before following your friends to the middle of the floor. You’re having the time of your life and twerking like you aren’t on borrowed time. Stack keeps his eyes on you at all times like he’s watching a toddler, which he thinks may be true. He takes his phone out to record a video of you to send to Smoke.

Stack

*video attached* 

Don’t stress yourself out. I’m keepin’ an eye on her.

But I know you got something planned when she gets home.

*Smoke liked your message*

Stack takes a sip from his whiskey, “Lord, she in danger.” 

By the end of the night, you’re all danced out and sweaty, but overall, you consider the night a win. Stack offers to take you home and ushers you into the car. Your friends snicker because they know that Smoke is punishing you tonight. The only one oblivious to the fact is you. 

Pulling into the driveway, Stack turns to you with a smirk, “Good luck.” 

The lights are all off in the house except the porch light. Smoke stands under the porch light like a serial killer. You turn to Stack with a grim look, “Maybe, we should back out of the driveway really slowly.” 

“Nope. You wanted to be grown. Now, you gotta face your actions like a big girl,” Stack said. 

“I’m blinking twice for help. I’m telling a trusted adult!”

Stack shrugs, “Too bad I’m not a trusted adult.”

“Trick..” you mutter before opening the door to exit the car. Smoke nods his head at Stack, who reciprocates. 

“I’ll see you in a week,” Stack jokes, before backing out of the driveway. 

Like a scared deer, you walk unevenly to the porch where Smoke is still standing. As you approach, he blows out a big cloud of smoke before throwing the joint down and stubbing it out. You stand in front of him, “Hey…”

Smoke doesn’t say anything, but simply steps to the side to let you inside the house. You swallow loudly as you walk inside the house. The only sounds are the distinct chirps from the crickets outside, along with the subtle clicks of your heels. You and Smoke make your way to the bedroom. You go to grab your pajamas when Smoke stops you, “Didn’t I tell you to change earlier?”

You turn slowly to face him, “Yes, you did.” 

“And I told you that if you left this house, there would be consequences, but you didn’t listen, did you?”

“No….”

“Come here,” Smoke demands, voice soft. He doesn’t have to raise his voice to get his point across. 

You stay rooted in the same spot, partially aroused and partially scared. Smoke chuckles darkly, “You still ain’t learned? You know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You scurry over to stand in front of Smoke as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Stand right there,” Smoke orders. He walks off to rummage through one of the drawers. Your eyes widen as you see him procure one of his good ties. The heat from his body wafts onto yours as you become hyperaware of him standing behind you. Smoke grabs your hands in his and skillfully wraps the tie around your wrists so that your hands are bound behind your back. He tugs at the knot and hums in satisfaction. 

You try your hand at seeing if you can move and find that you can’t. Smoke moves to stand in front of you as he glowers down at you. He steps closer to press his chest against yours. For a moment, a soft look crosses his face as he cups your face in his hands. He leans down to connect your lips, and you moan at the taste of whiskey that lingers on his tongue. 

Smoke pulls back from the kiss as his eyes run across you. He trails his hands down your form until his cupping your backside in his hands. “You could’ve stayed home and modeled this lil’ skirt for me, but you wanted to go and show off what’s mine.”

You go to open your mouth to protest, but Smoke stops you, “I didn’t say I was done talking. Since you wanted to be a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” You let out a squeak when Smoke grabs you to throw you on the bed. Your body bounces before it settles. 

Gripping the corset in his hands, he cleanly tears it down the middle until the material falls away. You gasp in surprise as the cool air hits your nipples. Flipping you onto your stomach, Smoke hikes your hips up and flips the skirt over. 

He tugs your head back, “You owe me. You can either take my hand or something else.” 

The last time Smoke spanked you, you were left shaking on the bed. It was either his hand or one of those leather belts with his name on it. You were screwed either way.

“Your hand,” You said. 

Smoke nods, “Let’s tally up how much you owe me. 10 for the outfit plus 10 because I told you to take it off and you back-talked. Also, an additional 10 because you still left.” Your wide eyes meet his as you turn to face him, “But daddy, that’s thirty.”

Smoke chuckles, “Glad to see you can count, darlin’.” 

The first hit sends heat flooding through your body, along with feeling your cheek ripple under his hand. The second hit sends a flood of wetness to your panties. By the tenth hit, the tears are already running down your face. How were you supposed to count through twenty more?

Your entire backside is on fire once Smoke delivers the last hit. You’re fully shaking and hiccuping into the sheets, but you can’t deny how turned on you are. By now, you’ve soaked completely through your panties, which Smoke clocks. 

He takes two fingers and runs them up and down the soiled material, “My dirty baby. What am I gonna do with you, baby? You don’t know how to listen now.” 

“M’Sorry, Papa. I’ll listen to you next time.”

“I know you will because I’m gonna make sure that you do.” He flips your body around and grips your panties as he tears them clean from your body. Smoke maneuvers your body to the headboard before going to grab another tie. He loops the tie through the bedpost before securing your hands to it. 

Smoke walks over to the closet and rifles through it for a few seconds. You lift your head to get a good look, but his shoulders block your view. He walks over with a long metal rod in hand, “Do you know what this is?”

You shake your head. He laughs lowly, “It’s a spreader bar. I’m gonna put your legs in these cuffs, and you won’t be able to move.” Sitting at the edge of the bed, he removes your heels one by one before throwing them carelessly to the floor. He places your ankles in the cuffs and secures them. Smoke moves to stand in front of the bed as he grabs the metal in his hands. He can already see your glistening folds as your slick pools beneath you. 

He moves your legs from side to side, “See, this is a special bar, I made it myself. Every time you move babygirl, it’ll spread your legs more.” He jerks the rod, which loudly clicks as your spread apart more. You look at him in surprise. 

He grabs the box that he set on the bed and opens it. Your old man is a sex fiend, apparently, as he lifts various forms of vibrators out of the box. Smoke moves to your open legs and dips his fingers inside of you to collect your slick. 

He brings his wet fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices from his fingers. He takes one of the vibrators in his hand before the tip across through your wet center. You shiver at the sensation of the tip dipping into your entrance. 

“This one is special, babygirl. That special spot that I’m always hitting…well my little friend is made to specifically reach that spot.” He pushes the toy inside of you as you gasp at the fullness of it. 

Smoke coos gently at you as your wet eyes meet his, “There we go, baby.” He clicks a button, which brings the vibrator to life inside you. Smoke pushes the toy in and out of you as your walls cling to it. 

Your eyes widen when he holds up another toy, “My other friend is for that lil’ pearl up there.” He trails his fingers through the curls that cover young mound until he reaches your clit. Your body arches into his touch as he casually rubs small circles around your clit. 

“Please…” you whine into the room. 

“Please what, darlin’? I need you to be more specific,” Smoke said condescendingly. 

Your mind is venturing into that mushy territory where you don’t know what you’re asking the man for. 

He smirks, “You don’t even know what you’re asking me for. That’s alright. Take care of my other friend for me while I get done smoking.” 

He attaches the curved toy to your clit and clicks a button, and it buzzes to life. Your first reaction is to move your body. You wither across the mattress, pleasure consuming every inch of you. You go to move your legs, only for the spreader to click and spread your legs further. 

You gasp. 

Smoke chuckles before moving to sit in the chair in the bedroom. He grabs his early discarded blunt to relight. He inhales the smoke into his lungs as he casually watches you suffer. 

Smoke casually taps the button on his phone, which increases the vibrations on your clit and inside of you. Your back arches from the bed as your release climbs higher. 

Just as you’re reaching that sweet release, Smoke taps the button and turns the vibrators off. A loud whine leaves your mouth, “Please let me cum, Papa.” 

Smoke blows the smoke from his nose, “Since you asked so nicely…”

He eases up the level of the vibrators to the fullest level. A loud screams erupts from your mouth as your walls clasp around the toy and your orgasm consumes your body. 

Smoke leans forward, “That’s one. Give me about four more and we’ll call it even.”

You turn your head to him in disbelief. Before you can protest, he turns the vibrators back on. 

You’re a mess of cum, sweat, and tears. Exactly how Smoke prefers you. 

Your brain is complete mush at this point and you can feel the puddle that had formed beneath you. Somewhere between the second and third orgasm, you’d squirted. 

Smoke turns the vibrators off and throws his phone on the chair. He walks over to you and pulls your ruined face to his. Your expression shows how far gone you are. He lightly taps your face, “You still with me, babygirl?” 

Your tongue lolls around in your mouth, “Mhmm, Papa.” 

“So you can give me one more?” 

“Mhmm.”

He unties your hands from the bed. He runs his hand across your wrists and kisses them gently. Smoke pulls the vibrator from your core and observes the cream that forms around the base of the toy. He flicks his tongue out to slurp some in his mouth. 

Smoke pulls his shirt over his head before dropping his boxers. You eye his hardened dick and as tired as you are, you still need to feel him inside of you. 

Smoke lays down on the bed next to you and pulls your pliant body across his lap. He points his tip at your swollen entrance, “Go slow, baby. Papa will take care of the rest.”

You lower your pussy down onto his dick as you whine into his shoulder. You shudder as you feel his large tip brushing against that spot inside you. 

Smoke grabs your hips in his hand as he gently bounces you up and down on his dick. You turn your head to connect his your lips to his. Smoke slides his tongue into your mouth and gently sucks at your tongue. 

He gives a particular thrust that sends fresh tears to your eyes. “I know, it’s too much baby, but you’re doing so good for me. Cum for me one more time, babygirl.”

You nod weakly. 

Smoke plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting roughly into your body. Loud, wet noises fill the bedroom as your walls clench around his length. 

“M’coming Papa. Right there..”

Smoke feels his own balls tightening as his release nears. He smashes his lips onto yours as your orgasm hits. He swallows your moans into his mouth as his own orgasm starts.

Smoke holds your hips firmly to his as he fills you up.

You shiver at the feeling of his cum splashing against your womb. 

For a second, you both breathe in tandem as your heart calms down. Smoke runs a soothing hand up your back, “You good, Princess?”

“Mhmm, m’good Papa. I’m sorry.” 

Smoke chuckles, “I forgive you, baby. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

He gently slides from inside of you as you whimper softly. A wave of Smoke’s cum slides from you as it lands on the bed. Scooping you into his arms, Smoke walks into the bathroom and sits you on the toilet. 

You’d long since passed the stage of your relationship where you were shy of going to the bathroom in front of him. As wipe and flush the toilet, you raise your arms for Smoke to pick you up. 

He grabs a towel and applies warm water to it before wiping at your face and between your legs. Back inside the bedroom, Smoke gives you a pair of his boxers before sliding his shirt over your head. He slides a pair of briefs on before he tucks you into bed. 

He grabs a bottle of water before offering it to you. Once you’re done, you flop back on the pillow. Smoke slides in beside you as he pulls your body closer to his. 

“I love you, babygirl.”

“I love you too, Papa Bear.”

He presses a kiss to your neck as he closes his eyes. 

“Elijah?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you turn on the fan?”

He chuckles, “Course I can baby.”

End.

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