#sinners smut

[moopsoup]

“i ain’t lettin you in no more, remmick.”your voice barely holds. arms crossed. jaw set. like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. “can’t keep doin whatever this is with you.”

remmick leans on the doorframe, arms loose at his sides, head tilted just enough to look sweet. innocent. “you say that every time.”

“cause i mean it.” you said as simply as ever but you knew he could read you like a damn children’s book.

he hums low. slow smile curling at his lips.

“what if i fuck you real nice this time?” he says, voice like honey poured slow. “sweet n’ slow. how you like it. kiss every inch of you. let you sit on my face? hm?”

you blink. heart kicks. throat tight. “you think that’s gonna work on me?”

he shrugs. doesn’t even bother looking guilty. “i hope so?” he licks his bottom lip, eyes dragging over you like he already knows how this ends.

“c’mon, sugar. let me in.”

your hand’s still on the door. you should close it. really you should. don’t give in.

instead, you step aside. “come in.” you sigh

[solastarr]

I’m Grown

Sammie/Preacher's Boy x Black Reader

Genre: Smut with plot, Modern AU?(ig)

Warning: Smut, fingering, D in P, unprotected

Word Count: 3.8k+

Summary: You and sammie basically grew up together. Though you were only half a year older, you always treated him like a little kid.

Then college came, and you moved away. Now it's summer, and you start to realize the little preacher's boy you left...is a man now.

Writers note: I’m still new to writing fan fics, so i’m not the best, but i hope y’all still like it! I plan to keep practicing and getting better!!⭐️

In the past…

Your mother and Sammie’s mother were next-door neighbors turned best friends. They did everything together, meaning you and Sammie had to do everything together too. From Sunday school, choir, same school, clubs, sometimes y'all's mom thought it was cute to dress y'all up in matching outfits. 

Eventually  leading to you and Sammie to become besties. 

Now even though you were only a half a year older than him, you made it your soul duty in life to make sure he knew he was the baby. From calling him nicknames like little boy, baby, baby bro, and eventually preacher’s boy. 

Sammie had a deep hatred for these lame ass names, but it was you so he let it slide.

Over time as you and Sammie got older and the teasing continued but started to tone down, as your crush on him started to flourish. But you denied it with all your heart. 

“He’s too young for me. Plus he’s my best friend… and I doubt he likes me.”, you explain to anyone who’d ask about you and sammies relationship. 

But everyone else could see it– how Sammie would zone out to watch your smile across the classroom, the way your lips curl up when you smile at his jokes, how he’d analyze every curl that fell from your hair, the way your skin glistens when you run around the tract for P.E., and the way yall sound beautiful together when harmonizing during choir. 

Sammie had feelings for you–no doubt bout it, but both of you had too much pride, and too much love for your friendship to ever say anything. 

Jump to the end of  Senior year of high school…

You and Sammie are now done with highschool, and now it’s time for you to figure out what the world has to offer you. You and your mother had been going back and forth for months about whether you should go to college near home and out of state. You wanted to stay close to home where your family, friends, and childhood were. But your mother insisted that you’d go much farther in life if you went to a big college some states over. 

Eventually, you caved and agreed with your mother’s claims and chose to go to school out of state.

Now, the day you leave for school, and it’s time to tell your friends, family, and the person you dreaded telling the most goodbye… Sammie. 

Going from seeing each other everyday to seeing each other for only a few months out of the year was going to be rough. But there was no avoiding it now. 

You and your mother walked over to Sammie’s house, greeted by a long hug from his mother and some positive words from his father. You put on a brave face while  talking to them all, not wanting them to see the fear of leaving choking you in your chest to show in your face. You barely talked to sammie the whole time you were over, unsure what to say or even how to say it—avoiding conversation with him at all costs. 

Before it was time to leave, you slipped away to the bathroom, trying to think of what to say to sammie that won’t leave you in tears.

“He’s my best friend, I’ll know what to say…”, but as soon as you opened the bathroom door, there he was. Sammie. Waiting in the hallway like he knew you were hiding from him.

“Damn you already ignoring me you couldn’t wait til left?”, he says sarcastically, but you can hear the concern underneath it. You froze, caught off guard, not thinking your silence would make him think you were ignoring him. So, you immediately threw your wall up.

“Boy, I didn’t know how to let you down easy without leaving you in tears,” you joked, nudging his side. “Plus, don’t think a little distance could make me forget about my little bestie.” You gave him a warm—if slightly worried—smile.

The tension between you was thick as he stared at you, like he was trying to find the words too.

“Of course not. You know you can’t get rid of me girl”, he says with a smirk on his face. “And stop treating me like a baby, I've been grown. You just won't accept it.”

He nudges you back, making you laugh. “Nah,” you teased. “You’ll always be my little preacher’s boy.”, you pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. He held you back even tighter—like he didn’t want to let go.

You could both feel it—the warmth, the bond, the love between you. But the hug didn’t last forever. The tall, masculine figure in your arms would have to stay behind.

For a second, you wanted to say everything. That you didn’t want to go. That you wished things were different. That maybe, if you both had just been a little braver, things could’ve been more than late-night phone calls and unsent texts.

But instead, you just held him like a memory you didn���t want to let go of.

“Now gon on,” Sammie said, voice low and playful. “Before it gets too late and you miss your train.”. You nodded, eyes a little misty, and started walking toward the front door where your mom was waiting.

“Bye, Sammie. Don’t grow up too fast, now!” you called over your shoulder with a laugh.

He chuckled, just enough to cover up the lump in his throat. “Yeah, yeah. And you don’t get into too much trouble, little girl.” 

You turned around one last time and flashed him a mischievous grin.

“Let’s remember who the little one is here.”

Before he could reply, your mom’s voice cut through the moment, calling your name.

And just like that, you were on a train to Georgia…
…leaving Sammie back in Mississippi.

Now your back home for summer…

You hadn’t been home for more than 24 hours and already your mama was dragging you around town, making you run errands like you hadn’t just survived your first year of college. Between unpacking, catching up with cousins, and fake-smiling through “You don’ grown up!” comments from nosy church ladies, there hadn’t been time to stop and breathe—let alone see him.

But you finally slipped away… finally getting a moment to go visit your ole best friend.

You walked down the sidewalk in your old neighborhood, past the familiar houses with chipped paint and crooked mailboxes, past the corner where you and Sammie used to race on bikes. Everything felt the same and yet… you didn’t.

And when you turned the corner toward Sammie’s house, you definitely didn’t expect what happened next.

He was outside. Shirtless.

Standing in the driveway like a man who knew damn well he looked good. He was taller, broader, and his skin was glistening from the heat—golden brown, smooth, and definitely not the “little preacher’s boy” you left behind.

He was working on his car, arms flexing just enough to make your breath catch.

You tried to act unfazed...Tried.

“Boy, you still out here pretending to be a mechanic?” you called out, trying to sound playful.

Sammie looked up, wiped sweat from his forehead with a towel, and his lips curled into that familiar smirk—but there was something different behind it this time. Something slower. Deeper. Like he was seeing you for the first time too.

“Well well well…” he said, voice lower than you remembered. “Look who finally decided to come home.”

You swallowed hard.

His voice was deeper too, not just in tone but in presence. He moved slower, more deliberate. Like a man who wasn’t in a rush to prove anything anymore—just sure of himself. Of what he wanted.

He walked up to you, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every inch.

“You gon' give me a real hug or just stand there lookin’ surprised?”

You blinked, then gave him a tight hug, suddenly hyper aware of how solid his chest felt against yours. He held you for a second longer than expected, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“I’ve missed you, my little preacher’s boy” you say softly. 

He scoffed, stepping back a little, “Still calling me that, huh?”

You nudged his side, now more muscular and lean than you remember, “You know you love it.”

He smirked, wiping his hands on the towel. “Love it? Girl, I barely tolerated it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You would’ve cried if I ever stopped.”

“Cried? You forget who you talkin’ to.” He squinted at you, leaning in a little. “I’m not that lil boy you used to boss around, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” you said, glancing him up and down. “You done grew up a lil, huh?”

Sammie raised a brow, clearly catching the way your eyes lingered. “You tryna say I look good or something?”

Your throat went dry. You weren’t used to this version of Sammie—direct, confident, making it hard to tell if he was joking or if he really saw you now... like more than a friend and not just the girl who used to beat him in Uno.

“I’m sayin’ you don’t look terrible.” You shrugged casually, biting back a smile.

He stepped closer. “A year away and you still playin’ with me like we kids.”

“You ain’t ready for grown-woman compliments, preacher’s boy,” you teased, folding your arms.

Sammie chuckled and tilted his head. “Oh, so you grown now? One year outta town and you all woman now, huh?”

“Damn straight,” you smirked. “I eat my greens now.”

That made him burst out laughing, deep and from the chest. “Greens? Girl, you used to cry over broccoli.”

“Growth.” You lifted your chin proudly.

“Well, I like this grown-up you,” he said, eyes scanning you again, slower this time. “Confident. Mouth still slick. But I’ma warn you…”

You cocked a brow. “Warn me about what?”

He leaned just a little closer, voice dropping. “Keep teasing me like that and I might start actin’ like I’m grown too.”

You blinked, heart thumping just a little harder.

“Boy, hush,” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than expected.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, backing up toward his car. “That’s what I thought.”

You stared at him, biting your lip before shaking your head.

“Still cocky, I see.”

“And you still love me,” he tossed over his shoulder.

The next morning…

It was barely 10 a.m. and you were still in your pajamas— some old cartoon shorts and a stretched-out tank top—hair in a messy scarf, and attitude already on 10 because somebody was banging on the door, and you wasn’t expecting no guests. 

You lazily walked over to the door opening it with frustration all over your face. To your surprise it was Sammie. 

White T-shirt clinging to his arms, cargo shorts low on his hips, tool bag in one hand, smug grin in the other. Looking good as hell, unfortunately for you.

You froze.

He didn’t.

His eyes raked over you slowly—taking in your bunny slippers, your tank top with one strap hanging off your shoulder, and your scarf slowly falling off your head.

“Well damn,” he said, cocking his head, “did I catch you fresh out the bed or is this what grown looks like now?”

You crossed your arms instinctively, suddenly aware of every exposed inch of skin and how his eyes didn’t flinch away—not like before. It wasn’t teasing this time. It was... something else. He was really looking.

“Boy, what the hell are you doing here?”

He held up the tool bag. “Your mama told mine y’all kitchen faucet was leakin'. You know how they are. So my momma volunteered me like I’m the damn neighborhood handyman.”

You stepped aside with a sigh.

“She ain’t mention nothing about you coming over.”

“She probably knew you wouldn’t clean up anyway,” he teased, walking past you. “Or put on a bra.”

You threw a couch pillow at the back of his head as he walked past you, mortified. “Don’t play with me this early, Sammie.”

He laughed, easily dodging it. “I’m just sayin’. You had all that grown woman energy yesterday, now I pull up and it look like yo childhood fought you and won.”(damn sis)

“I’m still living out of boxes,” you snapped, following him toward the kitchen. “I couldn’t  find my good pajamas, so don’t start.”

“Right, right. Excuses.” He knelt down by the sink, glancing up.

You crossed your arms. “Fix the sink and shut up, Sammie.”

“I will,” he said, reaching under the counter. “Soon as you admit you missed me.” He smirked as he positioned himself under the sink to find the leak.

You rolled your eyes, smirking despite yourself. “Mmm. I missed peace. And silence.”

He chuckled, tools clinking under the cabinet. “Keep lyin’. You couldn’t even open the door right—you was too busy starin’.”

You blinked, your smirk faltering just a bit. He said it differently this time. Lower. Serious.

But before the silence could stretch too long, he flicked a piece of plastic from under the sink at you.

“You gon’ stand there or at least make yourself useful and pass me that wrench?”

Your fingers brushed his when you handed it over, and neither of you commented on how neither of you pulled back right away.

Trying to focus on literally anything except how his shirt lifted just enough to show the waistband of his boxers and the deep V line leading down.

Flashing that cocky grin.

“Dang you not even gon’ offer me a drink or wipe my sweat or somethin’?”

“I didn’t know ‘neighborhood handyman’ came with customer service demands,” you shot back, leaning on the counter.

He slid out from under the sink, sitting up on his knees. His eyes flicked over you again—longer this time. And it wasn’t funny anymore.

“Damn,” he muttered, looking you over like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. “You really grew up, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That surprise or disappointment in your voice?”

“Nah. Just… something i’m taking note of,” he said, standing up slowly. His shirt clung to his chest now, damp from sweat.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And then— “You missed me, didn’t you,” he said again, stepping closer this time.

You tried to laugh it off, but it came out breathy. “I missed clownin’ you. Big difference.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Nah. You missed me.”


A beat passed.


His eyes didn’t leave yours.You didn’t answer at first. You just looked at him—really looked. 

“You know I did,” you said finally, your voice lower now, honest in a way it hadn’t been all year.

Sammie stepped closer, “Yeah,” he murmured, “but I wanted to hear you say it.”


Then his voice dropped, that Southern drawl thick and heavy like honey on your skin.
“You just scared.”

That made your head tilt. “Scared?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer, that cocky smirk returning. “You missed me. You just don’t know what to do with me now that I’m not some lil boy followin’ you around.”

You scoffed. “Ain’t nobody scared of you, Sammie.”

He licked his lips, eyes dragging slow over your body.
“You should be,” he murmured. “I ain’t lil no more.”

Your pulse jumped. But your mouth moved before your brain could catch up.

“Then show me how much you’ve grown.”

You reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him in, lips crashing into his like you were done playing games—and he didn’t hesitate, didn’t ease in. He kissed you back like he’d been waiting to shut you up for years.

His hands gripped your waist like he owned it, like they’d been there before in dreams he wouldn’t dare confess. He walked you backward, not even breaking the kiss as you hit the counter behind you, gasping as his mouth dipped to your neck.

“Sammie—wait,” you breathed, your hand curling in his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his voice a low rumble.
“You made me wait long enough.”

Your tank top was halfway up before you could respond, his hands slipping beneath it, thumbs brushing the soft curve of your waist. His lips returned to your throat, to your collarbone, trailing heat with every kiss. One second you were in the kitchen, half-dressed and breathless—and the next?

Your back hit the couch cushions.

He hovered over you, looking down, eyes dark and sure. “Say you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

You didn’t say a word.

You just reached for him again, pulled him down by the collar of that stretched white tee, and kissed him like you were starving.

His hands slid down, slow and deliberate, slipping beneath your shorts to grip your thighs. You gasped when he lifted you slightly, adjusting your body beneath his like he knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. You felt him, hard and ready, pressing against the inside of your thigh, and it made your breath catch.

“You still scared?” he asked again, voice brushing the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips slowly into yours.

You tried to keep it playful. “I ain't scared of a little boy who had to listen to lullabies to go to sleep till ninth grade.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, then caught your chin between his fingers and tilted your face toward him. "That boy’s gone, baby. Been gone. Let me show you what replaced him."

Then he was pulling your tank top the rest of the way off, eyes devouring every inch of skin like it was the first and last time he’d ever see it. His mouth followed, lips and tongue tasting your collarbone, your chest, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch.

You moaned his name without meaning to. That only made him bolder.

His fingers slid beneath your shorts, teasing the band of your panties until you whimpered, rocking your hips into his touch. “Damn,” he whispered, "You already this wet for me?"

“Shut up,” you panted.

“Nah,” he said, voice dropping, teasing and full of heat. “I gotta teach you sum real quick.”

His fingers slipped between your pussy lips, slow and slick, finding your rhythm like he’d been studying your body in secret. You gasped, gripping the back of his neck.

“Sammie…”

“Now you know damn well I ain’t little no more, but you’re too fucking stubburn.,” he murmured, slipping one finger inside, then two. Curling them. Stroking that spot that made your thighs tighten around his wrist.

“Say it.”

You shook your head, breathless. “Fuck you.”

He smirked. “That’s the plan.”

He kissed you again—messy, possessive—while his fingers worked you open, coaxing soft cries from your throat. When he finally pulled them out, he looked at you like he was weighing a decision.

Then he tugged his shirt off, muscles flexing as he reached for his belt. Your eyes went wide when he freed his dick, thick and hard, no trace of that 'little boy' anywhere. He caught your expression and leaned down, lips brushing your jaw.

“Still think I’m playing?”

You swallowed hard. “Shut up and show me.”

He did.

He eased into your pussy, inch by slow inch, watching your face the whole time. You moaned his name again, louder this time, and his eyes darkened.

“Damn, baby,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “I know you’ve been wanting this.”

He started to move, slow at first, letting you adjust. Each stroke dragged long and deep, the kind that made your eyes roll back. His lips found your neck again, whispering filthy praise between kisses:

“Look at you… takin’ me so good.”

“Still think I’m that lil boy, huh?”

“Say it, baby. Admit it.”

You couldn’t form words at first—just moans and gasps, fingers digging into his back. But he didn’t stop. He rolled his hips with steady purpose, pushing you higher with every thrust.

When he lifted your leg and angled deeper, you nearly screamed.

“Oh my god—Sammie—” 

You started to pull back just a little, breath catching, heart racing. It was almost too much—too good, like you couldn’t handle all of him all at once. Your body wanted more, but your mind flickered with the fear of losing control.

“Why you running?” he laughed, dragging you back against him. “Take this dick like the woman you say you are.”

“You gon’ remember this every time you try to play me like I’m still a lil kid,” he growled, sweat dripping onto your chest as he picked up the pace.

Your nails scratched down his back. “Fuck, you’re grown. Fuck—okay?!”

He smiled against your skin, victorious and still not letting up.

“Say my name,” he growls against your lips.

His strokes are slow, deep, and strategic. Every thrust hitting the right spot again and again.

“Preac…” you almost say out of habit, but the way he grips your thighs, the scent of his cologne, the heat in his stare—it’s too much.

He slows just enough to lean down, lips brushing yours. “Say it right.”

You try to sass back, breath hitching. “Please—Preacher’s b—”

He stops.

Just like that.

Your body whines at the sudden emptiness.

He gives you a cold look, jaw clenched, voice low and cocky.

“Try that nickname again, and I’ll leave you right here—dripping and needy.”

You shoot him a look, trying to tell if he’s bluffing. But no—he’s dead serious. That playful glint is gone, replaced with something darker.

Hungrier.

Still clinging to a shred of pride, you whisper, “Okay, Samm…” You pause, catching yourself—desperate to bring back the friction. Trying to grind against him.

He tilts his head, starts to pull out again. “Try. Again.”

You squirm. “Sammie—please Sammie!”

He grins like the devil and slams into you again, making your back arch off the bed.

“That’s more like it. Now keep sayin’ it—so you never forget who you dealin’ with.”

He doesn’t let up. Just deep, calculated strokes. His voice low in your ear. “I’m grown now, baby… and preacher’s boy ain’t round here no more. But Imma help you remember—every damn time I’m diggin’ inside you.”

He fucked you like a man with something to prove—each thrust rougher, wetter, louder. The slap of skin against skin filled the room along with your cries.

You could barely breathe, let alone think, as his dick filled you over and over, your pussy fluttering around him, gripping every inch.

“Who's grown now?” he grunted.

“You,” you gasped. “You are—fuck, Sammie—”

Your orgasm ripped through you, blinding and hot, your body jerking beneath him.

He followed right after, groaning loud and low as he buried himself deep, hips jerking through his release.

For a long minute, the only sound was the rush of breath between you.

Then you whispered, "Told you I wasn’t scared.", as you smirked against his neck.

He kissed your cheek, lips curling. “You're too stubborn to be scared, but it’s alright. Imma break that habit.”

~ i feel like this was a bit out of character for sammie in the movie, but we can play pretend 😉. Hope yall liked it!💫

Taglist:

@heyyimmisunderstood @marley1773 @sajoi

@melaninbabyboo @hauntedfestivalluminary

@blackpinup22 @milesf4vg1rl @pinkpantheris

@iiiheartfayee @cosmicautomatonshark

@bluejay2503 @omgffs @anaiyaflys143

@pinkpillzsworld @jackierose902109

@serenedragonthought @condenhorn

@thesmutconnoisseur @katsleftnip

@sisi-pink0921 @woahthatshitfat

@cocooned-butterfly @motheroffae

@bumgyalworld @queenbumblebee777

@twistedsistas-stuff @ky1le

@kenziiie @queen-stars2 @sammiesprxncess

@ignotusumbra @goddessofthundathighs

@thickemadame

[bananafieldnotes]

baby love

★ abstract: bo chow’s engaged to the wonderful grace. but seeing you waltz into his shop after so much time apart may change his answer at the altar

content disclosure: smut, black!reader, allusions to segregation, dirty talk, unintentional grace slander, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, spit, canon deviation

author's note: the poll was extremely in favor of a bo chow x reader, and i was feeling inspired to write a little something lusty with a pinch of angst. deviates from canon of course, and the timeline is flexible. hope y'all enjoy! i wrote this quickly and skimmed through to proofread so apologies if i missed anything

Butter. A whole 'nother trip to the store because you didn’t buy enough butter. The cornbread would be nothing without it, and you had no business hosting Sunday dinner without it. And that’s why you pushed through the frustration of stepping back out into the sweltering heat once more, huffing only to yourself so people wouldn’t go around whispering about how grouchy you were. Word ‘round Clarksdale got around like wildfire, and reputations were hard to reconstruct. It’s how the twins kept their status on coldhearted gangsters, and why you kept your lips pursed.

Normally, if you weren’t in a time crunch, you go back to Jiffy’s Grocer on the further side of town. The prices were decent and they treat you like family down there. But it was a hike from your current neck of the woods, and you were racing the clock against the roast chicken you kept in the oven on your dash out the door. Just this once, you’d have to go to Bo’s store.

The people of Clarksdale loved his stores. Business was always booming, and his fiancée knew exactly how to work the whites only storefront. Oftentimes, they’re regarded as the perfect match— and that was exactly why you avoided them at all costs.

It all felt like a million years ago, but it was only eight short years ago when you were calling Bo yours. Every Wednesday for months, you’d swish into his shop, the Black side, ready with money in hand for his priciest vanilla and another sack of flour. He knew you and your grandmother were the ones behind the underground cookie business Mary was running. She got 10% of the profits just for being the face, so that white customers wouldn’t have to contend with the fact that their sweet tooth was being fed by Black women. It was lucrative enough for you not to care.

You were smart with your money, and Bo was too loyal to say anything to anyone. He admired your wit, your drive, your passion. It didn’t take him long to work up the courage to ask you out on a proper date, one with drinking and blues music and half the town watching his hand sneakily graze your derrière. It didn’t matter how different the two of you were under the scorching lights of Mezzanine’s— he was your Bo.

But you should’ve known it wouldn’t have lasted. Bo was too public facing to have a Black wife, and both of you knew it. His white customers would never buy from a Black worker, and he didn’t even like the idea of leaving you to brave the shop on your own. Things were changing in Clarksdale by the day, and he wasn’t gonna gamble on your life.

Choosing the store over you was the end of the whirlwind romance, and the beginning of the whispers from fellow patrons. It no longer served you to shop there, to be reminded of him and his annoyingly handsome face all of the time. And when your grandmother passed, you didn’t dare read the note he sent with the egregiously large bouquet he sent to the house. All curiosity died the second you saw him toting Grace around town, taking her to all the places he took you first. Clarksdale was small, and your only guaranteed respite during the early stages of their relationship was during your grocery shopping.

Crossing your fingers, your gloved hands gently pushed open the front door. It had been years since you last saw him, and today didn’t have to be any different if you were quick enough. You winced at the sharp ding! that alerted your entry. So much for slipping in unannounced. The store was crowded, customers whizzing through pockets of space around others and all the while concealing themselves; your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

There was a fridge of butter right near the checkout counter, and the line was short enough for you to get out sooner than you could’ve hoped. You grabbed a few extra sticks just to avoid the possibility of repeating history, and you kept your face hidden behind the rim of your hat.

“Here, I’ll take over. Next!”

It was unmistakable, that drawl of his. Goosebumps rippled across your skin as you lifted your chin to see him staring back at you expectantly. He was already searching your every feature when you locked eyes, recognition washing over him in a glacial wave of disbelief. His mouth was left ajar as you placed all the butter in front of him, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’ll catch flies that way, Bo.”

He stuttered, glancing around the room to see if anyone was watching the two of you. “Where did you go?” His voice was just above a whisper, the instability evident is his quiver. Eight years apart and that was the first question out of his mouth.

“You think I wanted to stick around and watch you two live happily ever after? I made changes.”

You were never this stoic with him. Bo was used to the you who couldn’t stand to be apart from him, who couldn’t help but giggle if he looked at you too long. He was used to you using any and every excuse to kiss him, touch him, lick him. Nothing about your cold distance was normal.

Except it was normal. The new normal. He has a new woman in his life to crave him, to love him, to intertwine with him. It couldn’t be you anymore because he’d made sure of that.

“Can we talk?”

You stuck out the exact change for your items, refusing to look him in the eyes again. His eyes were too powerful, their emotion too potent. You weren’t here for him, you remind yourself. Butter. Just butter. “I’d like a small bag if you have one.”

“___. Will you forget about the damn butter?”

You huffed loudly, dropping the money on the counter to grab the butter and make a dash for it. He couldn’t force you to talk to him, and you still had a chicken to baste. “Goodbye.”

Bo knew better than to yell after you. Grace would hear all about his improper power struggle of a woman she knew nothing about. He’d buried his past with you so he’d never have to revisit it; out of sight, out of mind. If only love were truly that easy to manage.

It was nothing but the grace of your ancestors that the chicken hadn’t dried out in the time it took you to get back to your secluded home. You still had about an hour left to prepare for your guests, and it seemed futile against the constant reminder of Bo. These dinners were something the two of you started together as a way of making extra effort to connect with your friends and loved ones. You loved hosting and you loved the glimpse of your future that it brought you. A lifetime of Bo Chow distracting you with kisses and sly touches, helping you clean up since he was a sous chef at best.

The scars on your memories ran deep, but you had mastered the art of pretending they hadn’t. Your friends were careful not to mention his existence which you were eternally grateful for. You healed, you grew new roots. New traditions. A new life, a beautiful one, without. You couldn’t help the Bo shaped storm cloud that lingered every now and then, but you could be ready with shelter.

Gumbo, cornbread, chicken and greens. A freshly baked pecan pie bubbling in the oven. The timer went off just as the first of your friends knocked at the door. You were expecting Sylvie since she was always the first to arrive, but the door opened to reveal no such thing. In front of Sylvie, Annie, Smoke, Simone, Albie, and Michael was none other than Bo Chow. Holding flowers, no less.

“I-I forgot about Sunday dinners.”

Your friends cleared their throats, making their way around him and into your home as he stood at the doorstep gawking at you. “What are you doin’ here, Bo? Don’t you got a store to run?” The hesitation in his response led you to believe Grace was running the store in his place, which only served to make the present moment feel that much more ridiculous. “Say something, don’t just stand there.”

“I shoulda never ended things with us, ___,” he pushed the flowers on you, stepping closer to you underneath the door frame. “Look, I know how this sounds. I know I look like a piece a’ shit comin’ to you like this, but I can’t make the same mistake twice. I still love you, dammit.”

The flowers were the last thing on your mind as he pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, sweeping you in his embrace like you were still his. Your friends were surely listening from just around the corner but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He was holding you again, confessing that he still loves you. Eight years vanished in an instant, all with the soothing sincerity of his voice and the soft juxtaposition of his calloused hands on your body. One dinner wouldn’t hurt.

“I tell ya, I ain’t neva seen nothin’ like it!”

The table erupted in laughter at Bo’s anecdote, silverware chiming against the plates in the background of his story. All was forgiven amidst the chuckles and tears of fellowship, at least it seemed that way. No one took notice of the way Bo was squeezing your hand under the table, or the way he’d whisper a compliment of innuendo in your ear when it was someone else’s turn to speak.

“I like this dress on you,” his breath against your ear made you shudder, eyes threatening to close from the intimacy. “You already know that, though. Bet you remember that night like it was yesterday.”

Time stood still at the memory. The twins invited anyone with a pulse to come celebrate their birthday, and Bo had just bought you a new dress. An elegant sea of lilac satin, squaring your neck and plunging ever so slightly in the back. It cascaded your curves perfectly, framing your physique in a way that made his mouth water every time you moved in it. You’d spent half the night glued to Bo, material of the dress bunched around your hips as he fucked into you frenziedly. Only Stack suspected where you disappeared off to when he plucked a twig from your slightly disheveled hair. You winced at the memory of being so young together.

You felt your nipples harden through the thin material of said dress, the flashbacks of your slippery thighs quivering around his waist too much to bear. It was like you were there again, even just for a fragment of space and time, returning back to the way he ravished you. His lips peppering kisses along the column of your throat, one hand massaging your breast underneath your gown. If anyone saw the two of you it would be the talk of the town, the kind of scandal that was life ruining. But it only fueled the fire between you, thriving on the nerves of someone wandering across you.

It was electric, and it was off limits to think about now. That Bo only lives in the corners of your mind now that Grace has a ring on her finger, and a quick declaration before Sunday night's feast couldn’t change that. It was all talk so far, and it had to stay that way until you saw the walk.

The flush left your face as you sipped on iced tea, pulling the hair away from your neck. Bo could tell you weren’t as unaffected as you feigned, smirking to himself as he took another bite of gumbo. The way you shifted in your seat told tale enough of how the memories had stuck with you, too. Annie chimed in to talk now, looking to Smoke to confirm the details as she drew out her own event.

Bo’s hand rested atop your thigh, discreet and comfortable as he continued talking to your friends. His thumb rubbed against this softer skin of your innermost part, inching dangerously close to the apex but remaining just shy of it. The right thing to do would’ve been to remove it, but you just couldn’t. Your heart hadn’t raced this way since you were last together, tracing every inch of his skin in effort to memorize him.

He slipped into helping you clean up, washing up while you stored away leftovers. Your friends were long gone by the time you finished, and you could feel your heart thrum at the realization that you were fully alone with him. In your house. Hidden under the cover of night, under the protection of magnolia that shielded you from outside judgment.

Bo, who had spent the better part of the night pushing your boundaries, stood across the kitchen towel in hand. The moonlight cast a halo over his bronze toned skin, the Mississippi sun baking him after long days moving shipment. Sun-kissed and lovestruck, he looked up at you.

“I thought my life had to look a certain way, that’s why my parents came to this country. But I don’t want any of that with just anyone, baby love. I’ve been wired to tick all the boxes, and I’ve been racing toward a finish line I don’t even wanna cross no more. Not without you,” he closed the distance between you, careful not to move too suddenly. “This could be our shot. We deserve a second chance.”

It was exactly what you wished he said years ago instead of completely restructuring his life around her. “What about your life with Grace?”

“I told her we were done the moment you left the store,” he tossed the towel over your shoulder to the sink, pulling your hips square against his. “I’d rather be single than with anyone but you.”

His lips ventured forward at a snail pace, eyes darting between yours and your eyes as he waited for you to protest. To push at his chest or turn away. Instead, your breath was baited, anticipating the taste of his mouth on yours again. The exploratory smack of his lips sucking at your bottom one, tugging at it before swooping in for a real kiss. He inhaled sharply as you melted into him, hands cupping his head as you arched against him.

The thin barrier of your dress did nothing to dull the feeling of his chiseled chest against your pert nipples. Something about the warmth of his body on yours clouded your brain with nothing but unholy thoughts, panties dampening as Bo hoisted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. His tongue swirled around yours as he unbuttoned his shirt, buff arms freeing themselves from the now suffocating article of clothing.

Shirtless under the soft glow of your kitchen lights was a sight for sore eyes. His hair was pushed back, slick with a mixture of product and sweat that made it glisten. “Let me make love to you, baby.”

Bo’s lips abandoned his wet suckling of your lips and trailed down your neck, between the valley of your breast and down your delicate stomach that flipped at the contact. His head disappeared underneath your dress, fingers hooking into your underwear to slide them down your legs. You didn’t know how you ended up sprawled across your kitchen with Bo Chow lapping his tongue at your dripping folds on a balmy summer night. How you went from forcing yourself not to think about him to now, with his head bobbing up and down as his tongue plunging as far inside you as he could reach.

He still knew your body better than anyone who tried to fill his shoes after your heartbreak— and he still derived pleasure from fulfilling you. His whiny groans into your pussy sent vibrations that rocked your nerves as you pulled him flush into the crux of your legs, basking in every lap of his tongue. “Bo” was all you could manage to cry out, gasping as he pried your legs apart to shake his head back and forth as he ate you.

Orgasm was imminent and he knew it in the way your hips rolled, impatient squirms turning into desperate twitching that only climax could subdue. He pulled away with arousal coating his nose and chin, not bothering to wipe as he kissed you just as messily as he was eating you out. You welcomed the kiss, palming him through his trousers as he leaned over your spent frame.

He unburdened himself of those very pants as your fingers thread through his hair, completely taken with the taste of yourself on his mouth. His cock grazed between your lips to gather your wetness before sinking into you, moaning against the side of your jaw. So wet, so warm, so tight. The slick heat of your pussy in the reunion he feared he’d never get.

With all the buildup from Bo’s ravenous slurping, the pressure of him brushing your g-spot tipped you right over the edge, climax pulling you under the current of waves of Bo’s making. The cabinet beneath you shook as he fucked you through the aftershocks, using the creaminess of your orgasm as extra lubricant. He dribbled an extra splatter of spit on your clit just to be safe before stealing forward again, hips rolling in time with his thumb’s circles against your pearl.

Bo was on a mission to make you see the stars, his own high nowhere at the forefront of his mind. “You gon’ cum for me again, honey?”

There were tears spilling out the corners of your eyes as you clawed at his back. “Bo, please, give it to me.” The wet slaps of his skin with each thrust rang throughout the kitchen, enveloping your ears in a vulgar symphony of depravity. He knew better than to switch up anything he was doing, knowing you’d fall apart as long as he kept doing exactly what he was.

And fall apart you did with one last kiss to your sweet spot, muscles tensing up just to go lifeless in the same breath. Bo kept you from falling over the edge of the countertop as your body convulsed with the current of ecstasy running through it. The wind was effectively blown from your lungs in the midst of your rapture, and you gasped for air as you finally cut through the hazy mist of bliss.

“Fuck, ___, I-I’m—” The intensity of Bo’s climax interrupted his own words, heat rippling from his head to his toes as he came in heavy spurts. Rivulets slipped out of you as his cum filled you up more than you could take, adding to the glossy mess that was already there.

He kept his eyes trained on your puffy pussy lips, watching the cum leak out of you as he pulled his pants back on. “D-Don’t…”

Your breath was shaky, heart pounding in your ears from everything he’d put your body through— and what the look on his face told you he was going to do. “Oh, c’mon, baby love. I just miss you ’s all. Lemme give you a couple more.”

And then his mouth was back to sucking at your clit, shamelessly swallowing the salty taste he’d left behind to pull another high-pitched scream from your throat.

Bo Chow was nowhere near done with you.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part Three

—

Desire to us

Was like a double death,

Swift dying

Of our mingled breath,

Evaporation

Of an unknown strange perfume

Between us quickly

In a naked

Room…

The illegal hooch coursing through Stack’s body faded away, bringing back his senses. He was able to smell the lingering fragrance of fried catfish, savory collards, and honey butter cornbread. His back felt stiff against the floorboards. His tongue was dry, dehydrated from drinking too much Irish Beer. The Mississippi heat engulfed him, even in the confines of the home his brother and Annie owned. 

Stack shifted his body to a more comfortable position, turning onto his left side, facing the wall. He shut his eyes, trying to capture sleep once more, but the sound of a bed frame thumping against the floorboards kept his eyes open and alert.

“Smoke…Smoke!”

“Get this dick in you!”

He’d been in this position plenty of times.

THUMP! SQUEAK! THUMP! SQUEAK!

Sitting up, Stack stretched his arms above his head. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to focus against the darkness. As his vision grew, he sought out Princess.

Only to find her bed empty.

Stack lifted to his feet. He made his way over to the door, moonlight casting sensual shadows against the muscles of his back. His fingertips brushed against the wooden door and he tapped it slightly to open it up. He peaked out, wondering where Amelia had gone to. The bedroom door to Annie and Smoke’s room is completely shut with light seeping from beneath the door.

Stack entered the room again, slipped his feet into his shoes and snatched his button down shirt from a chair. He didn’t bother to enclose the shirt, walking out into the main area of the tiny home. He could distinctly make out the sound of the kerosene lamp going out. Stack made his way out back first. He checked the time on his gold watch, tapping the face of it.

3:20 am

An unknown insect grazed his cheek. Stack swatted the air before making his way down the steps and into the yard. The moon casted a white glow over the ground, giving him enough light to see where he was going. Stack strolled over to the outhouse to relieve himself. He did a quick piss before using a wash bucket and some soap.

Out in the yard again, Stack shoved his hand into his left pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette. He pat his back right pocket and found his old lighter. Stack lit his cigarette and continued on walking until he made it to the front of the home. Puffing on the cigarette, french inhaling the smoke, he furrowed his brows.

No sign of Princess. Interesting.

Stack was too curious. Too invested in wanting to know where she’d gone. His size nine feet led the way through the trees and along a dirt path that led to Annie’s apothecary. He’d taken this walk plenty, so it wasn’t hard for him to find his way. After ten minutes of walking and searching, Stack caught the sound of water splashing. His footsteps slowed down until he stopped at a willow tree.

The inky pond was so dark that it was hard to see where it ended. The night sky was full of stars, but it revealed nothing of the pond’s inky depths. The serenity of it was a welcome respite from the vast, flat alluvial plain filled with plantations and little freedom.

Back stroking above it, was Princess.

Amelia. She waded through the water before disappearing beneath it. Stack watched her from behind the willow tree, cigarette burning down and long forgotten. His once dry tongue became a slippery appendage that he couldn’t keep hidden, constantly licking his lips at the stunning visual before him.

Amelia popped back to the surface wiping her hand over her face. She didn’t know he was watching her. She sang, caught up in the rapture of the warmth of the pond and how it carried her body.

“Blackbird, blackbird singing the blues all day right outside my door…Blackbird, blackbird gotta be on your way…Where there's sunshine galore…”

The water trickled down her chestnut skin and if Stack could lick every single droplet off with his tongue he would. She brought her hands into her long, wavy hair that sat flat against her scalp and back from the weight of the water. Full, round, breasts with a tan line. Hourglass waistline with the cutest navel.

“Make my bed and light the light, I'll arrive late tonight, Blackbird, bye, bye…”

Stack felt the wind knocked out of him. Breathless and lost for words. The vision before him stunned him. The usual chatty tomcat with a slick tongue rendered speechless. How was it possible to feel all the blood in his veins rush to the tip of his dick to his tallywags.

Princess splashed around in glee, a true ethereal vision. Like a fairy in her own world.

She swam closer towards the edge of the pond. Stack took a step back.

SNAP.

Amelia cast her eyes towards the tree. Stack had nowhere to run. She would see him.

“Who’s there?” Amelia says, looking around to see where the noise came from.

Stack cursed under his breath. He dropped his cigarette.

“…Stack, is that you?”

He hung his head. Fuck it.

Stack appeared from behind the tree. He pushed his hands into his pockets, locking his eyes with Amelia’s. She didn’t chastise him or even question his being there. Not put off in the slightest. The silence between them was unbearable. Stack had to say something.

“Uh…this what you do at three in the mornin’?”

Amelia tilted her head, studying him. Reading his body language.

“It’s what I’m used to. Did it all the time back home.”

Stack walked up to the edge of the pond. He stared down at her, hands still in his pockets. Amelia looked up at him, the tops of her breasts visible.

“Why you here, Stack?” Amelia asked with a soft spoken voice.

“Annie and Smoke woke me up. All that noise they was makin’,” Stack chuckled, “Then I seen ya’ bed empty.”

Stack crouched down. He picked at the grass and a few dandelions.

“Can’t remember the last time I been swimming,” Stack cut his eyes to Amelia with deep concentration, “water does look nice.”

“Feels great. Nice and warm…”

Amelia cupped some water in her hands.

“Why you ain’t get all jumpy when you saw me?”

Amelia shrugged, “‘Cause I ain’t.”

Stack squinted his eyes at her, “But you…you naked.”

Amelia giggles.

“Stack,” she shook her head, “I don’t care ‘bout that. Ain’t like ya’ knew.”

He chuckles, “Fair, Princess…you got a pretty voice.”

“Thank you.”

Amelia braced herself on the edge of the pond. Stack immediately jumped up to help her. He saw her towel and grabbed it before reaching out a hand to lift her out. She grasped his hand and pulled him in the water.

SPLASH!

“AHA!” Amelia laughed hysterically.

Stack broke the surface, wiping water from his face. His button down shirt was plastered to his skin and hanging from his shoulders. His hair for sure was fucked up, curling up into its usual coily fro. He glared at Amelia with a practiced scowl, but her continuous laughter made him cave. He couldn’t be upset with her.

“Ya’ sneaky, lil’ thang! Whatchu do that fa’?!”

“You said the water looks nice! Had to show ya’!”

Stack splashed water in Amelia’s direction. She tried swimming away, but Stack caught up with her. He circled his arms around her waist, trapping her. Beneath the water, Stack could feel her backside brush against his crotch. Dispite her skin being covered in pond water, the faint smell of sweet peaches lingered on her neck.

“Think you slick, huh?” Stack whispered in her ear.

“Slick enough to double cross a gangster…”

Stack loosened his grip around her waist. He backed away and Amelia paddled over to him. Water collected on his lashes, curling them. Brown skin glistening as liquid glossed his bottom lip. Amelia swayed forward, somehow guided by the water.

“Feels good, right?”

Stack stroked the water with his arms.

“Yeah, Princess.”

Amelia gave him a bashful smile.

Stack’s eyes fell to her lips.

“…I wanna kiss you.”

Amelia tucked her chin, “I’m sure you do, Stack.”

“Elias.”

Amelia blinked at him softly. She circled around, Stack following her. An evening wind picked up, blowing pussy willow into the pond. Some of it latched onto Amelia’s hair.

“I like Stack…rolls of the tongue real nice,” Amelia arched a brow, “No please?”

“C’mere…before I take it.” Stack said with a grin.

“You take often…”

Amelia glided over to him. Close. The flesh of her breasts feathered against his pecs. Stack sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

Amelia trekked her hands over his shoulders, “What about me makes you go crazy?”

Stack swept his eyes over her face. He wanted to touch her. Consume her.

“Can’t explain it,” He huffed, “You just…make a nigga weak. And I ain’t known you a day.”

“Crushin’ on me?” Amelia beamed, “Really?”

“Fuck you mean really. You gorgeous.”

Stack thumbed Amelia’s chin.

“You just want me to say it. Look at you, eating it up. Like a Princess.” Stack said.

“What can I say, I love praises.” Amelia bat her lashes.

She tired to swim away again but Stack gripped her elbow.

“Where you goin’?”

Both arms in his grip, he leaned in, face fo face with her, noses touching. Amelia stared into his eyes deeply. Her breasts fully flattened against his chest.

“Let me go, Stack…”

Amelia wiggled. Stack chuckled sinisterly.

Her breath hitched.

His pillow soft lips pecked her cheek. Amelia exhaled.

“See,” Stack locked his gaze on her, searing hot, “I got my kiss.”

He released her arms. Amelia tracked his movements in the water. Stack backstroked towards the edge of the pond. Fireflies began to commune, circling above them with their bioluminescence. Amelia swam over to him. Stack felt her presence, facing her. He flashed her a charming smirk with a single dimple.

Amelia draped her arms over his shoulders and then her legs around his waist. Stack’s thick fingers rubbed along Amelia’s waistline, outlining the flare of her hips and the dip in her spine. He was acutely aware that her vulva, pouty and rounded, was situated against his clothed dick. That made his dick jump. She was a true ethereal vision and the reverence in his eyes must've stalled any thoughts she may have had of him being a creep watching her.

“You were in the war,” Amelia stroked the circular dog tag hanging from Stack’s neck.

“Me and Smoke.”

“Must of been awful…”

Stack gave Amelia a one shoulder shrug, “I had my brother with me. All that other shit don’t matter. The war did teach us how to fight. How to fire a gun. But it reminded us that we still the same even to them foreigners…”

Stack flashed Amelia a charming smile, “this water gettin’ cold.”

“We can get out.”

Amelia tried to separate herself from Stack but he wasn’t ready to let her go so easily.

“Come back to my place tonight.”

Amelia arched a single brow, “You askin’ or telling me?”

“Princess,” Stack replied with a laugh, “C’mon, baby…let Smoke and Annie be. Unless you wanna hear them fucking all damn day and night.”

Amelia splashed water on Stack. He chuckled at her attempts at annoyance.

“So you can fuck me?” Amelia flashed Stack a knowing smile, “I ain’t one to be tricked.”

Stack let Amelia go. She swam to the edge and lifted her body from the water. The shine of the moon highlighted the beauty of her sinewy body. He stood still in the pond, watching the water flow down her body. Amelia rung out her hair while staring down at Stack in the pond. Everything on her body was a mouthful. That shape almost made him bark like an alpha.

“You comin’ out or what?”

Stack glided over to the edge and pushed himself up. Immediately he felt weighed down from his clothes being soaked. Amelia wrapped her towel around her body, hiding away all that mouth watering goodness. He’d never seen a pussy with hair like hers. A patch of swirls perfectly groomed above a puffy slit.

Amelia tossed him the towel.

Stack removed his shirt and pants. Amelia got dressed while watching the way Stack’s dick looked outlined by his white boxer shorts. He was good and solid. Annie’s words from earlier echoed in her mind. It’s been a while for her. And after catching a glimpse of what the SmokeStack Twins carried…

Definitely heavy artillery.

Nathaniel gave Amelia what she assumed was good dick. Most of their tryst were sneaky link ups, quick and easy. And boy, was Nathaniel a quick pumper. Couldn’t last long enough to make Amelia cum. Annie’s lips and fingers did more than Nathaniel’s pecker. Something about Smoke and Stack carried much more. She needed to experience it. Jezebel be damned. It was in the way Smoke held his pipe after lighting it. The way he tracked Amelia like a predator to his prey. Stack’s suave demeanor and toothpick–laden mouth. Attentive eyes and knowing hands.

“Race me to the house. If you win, I’ll come home wit’ you.”

“Now hold on—”

Amelia took off running. Stack cursed something fierce. He snatched up his shoes, socks, and shirt before sprinting after Amelia. She could hear his heavy footsteps darting toward her. She whisked away as fast as she could, between trees and blades of grass. The house came into view, and Amelia turned to look behind her.

Stack was on her heels. He picked up speed, Amelia screeching like a banshee. His arms captured her waist and Stack tossed her over his shoulder. Amelia saw the world upside down, eyes blurry from being spun around.

“You put me down, Stack!”

Stack lifted her in the air by her waist.

Just like in those romance novels Amelia read.

Amelia clung to his shoulders, staring down at Stack beyond her frizzy curls. His strong hands brought her down and she circled his waist with her thighs.

He excited her. Made her skin prickly with lust.

“Gimme some tongue before I change my mind.” Amelia ordered with a sigh.

Stack thrust his slick tongue into her mouth. His lips were moist and soft. Tongue warm and skillful. Amelia sucked on his lips and mixed her saliva with his. Stack’s thick fingers tangled in her curls. He groaned into her mouth and thrust his hips. Sloppy lips covered in spit. It was a heated kiss that left Amelia dizzy. Their teeth clashed and Stack hissed.

He broke away from her, “I win,” Stack exhaled, “You coming with me.”

Amelia simply nodded her head.

He wasn’t asking. He was telling.

Amelia hung her head against the car door. Stack stopped in front of a cozy home with a wrap–around porch and a tree swing. Tucked behind the home was a shed, and Amelia could make out grave stones. Stack killed the ignition and hopped out the car all improper because he did what he wanted. Like the world was his playground. He jogged over to Amelia’s side of the car and opened the door for her. He was halfway tempted to lift her out of her seat, but Amelia declined with all giggly.

Stack grasped her dainty hand in his calloused one and they urged forward. Amelia darted her eyes around the property, trying to make out the head stones and what they’d read. Stack tugged on her arm gently and she climbed the stairs to the front entrance. Stack unlocked the door and held it open for Amelia to enter first.

This rural home was more spacious than Annie’s. Amelia took it as the Twins needed a place to do business with more leg room. Amelia could tell that the home had been renovated and properly cleaned. Stack most likely hired someone to take care of the place while they were gone. Amelia slipped off her leather, ballerina flats, walking barefoot along the carpet that felt so soft and lush beneath her feet.

“Persian,” Stack emptied his pockets onto a heavy duty wooden table covered in playing cards, a pocket watch, coins, and a half drunken glass of whiskey, “Snagged it from my apartment back in Chicago.”

“It’s nice.”

Amelia sauntered over to a piano. She absentmindedly pressed keys, the different notes titillating her ears. She could feel Stack’s heat against her back. Amelia looked up and over her shoulder at him. Stack went in for another kiss and then he wrapped an arm around her curvy waist.

“Whose piano?”

“…My Pops.”

“You play?”

Stack scuffed, “Hell nah. When he was breathing, he ain’t like me and Smoke touching it. Used to get so fucking angry ‘bout it.”

“So, why you keep it?”

“Adds personality to this place. Might get Delta Slim to come on over and play a tune for us sometime,” Stack jokes.

“Delta Slim?” Amelia gave Stack a quizzical look.

“Harmonica man. Unc.”

“Okay,” Amelia slipped away from Stack, “Where you sleep?”

Stack removed his toothpick from his mouth and pointed behind Amelia. She whirled around to face a short hall that led to a room with the door left ajar. Amelia made her way down the hallway, Stack behind her. She pushed open the door, standing at the entryway.

“So…this you?”

“Is. You like it?”

“Pretty snazzy. Definitely all you.” Amelia replied.

Amelia took a seat on Stack’s bed and rubbed her hands against the soft quilt. Stack watched her closely, twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Amelia leaned back against her hands.

“I need to freshen up before we…you know…”

Amelia flashed Stack a timid glance.

“Got just the thang for ya’ princess.”

Stack reached for her hand. Amelia interlocked her fingers with his. Stack led the way out into the yard. It was nothing but overgrown grass. Amelia noticed that Stack was leading her towards two rectangular wooden structures. One of them had a crescent moon carved into it. The other a star.

“This here is the outhouse,” Stack pointed to the one with the moon, “right here’s the shower.”

Stack opened the door to the shower room. Amelia peeked inside. She was impressed.

“Water ain’t hot though. But it gets the job done.”

“Perfect…”

Amelia thumbed the thin straps of her lavender chemise over her shoulders before shimmying her hips to get the rest of the slip off. Once again, she stood deliciously nude before Stack. Amelia swept some of her hair behind her ear before stepping forward and entering the shower room.

Stack followed the sway of her backside, each cheek moving like jello. Amelia pulled a chain and the cold water hit her breasts, causing her to jump back.

“Told you, Princess.”

Stack shrugged his shirt off. Then his pants. Then his white boxer shorts that weren’t so white no more. His shoes came last, and then he stepped into the shower room behind Amelia. Stack reached around to open a little makeshift compartment that held linen rags and some Palmolive.

Amelia shivered like she’d been thrust into Antarctic waters. Her erect nipples sat rigid and uncomfortably hard while goosebumps decorated her chestnut skin. Her tangled curls were damp against her scalp again. Stack traded places with her to rinse off. He was used to the ice cold water. Amelia lathered her rag and began scrubbing away the algae and musk of being outside and swimming in the pond.

She allowed her curious eyes to sweep over Stack. Everything was identical to Smoke except for a long, jagged scar situated along the lateral side of his body. Amelia pressed her fingertips against it. Stack watched her. She was brought back to the present when Stack’s growing member tapped her hip.

“War scars. They run deeper. More so in Smoke than me.”

Amelia finished cleansing herself and offered to wash Stack’s back. He turned, placing his hands against the wall of the shower room. Amelia washed his broad back in a circular motion. She finished and rung out the rag before placing it neatly next to hers. Stack quickly rinsed his back off before turning off the water. There was a tub behind the shower room that provided water. It was nearly empty.

They left the shower room and Stack carried Amelia through the yard, bodies still soaking wet but warming up from the Mississippi heat. The air smelled like rain and the early morning clouds were a stormy gray. Stack put Amelia down and grabbed a towel from a folded laundry basket. She did a quick dry before tossing it to Stack.

The reality of what was about to happen settled into her bones. Her shoulders pulled back and her spine became stiff. Her stomach did somersaults. Her vulva twitched with anticipation. Stack tossed the towel and stared down at Amelia. She swallowed spit. He simply smirked at her.

“Nervous?”

Amelia poked Stack, “Why? you askin’? That make you happy?”

“It does. I’m ‘bout to show you why they call me Big Daddy.”

Stack hoisted Amelia up and forced her legs around his waist. The mingled heat of their sex caused her to burry her face against his neck. Stack peppered soft, reassuring kisses along her exposed skin.

They were back in his room, and Amelia felt the patchwork of the quilt against her back. Stack kneeled between her legs. He cupped both full breasts in his hands and mushed them together. His thumbs stroked her nipples.

“You got a body on you, baby. I just wanna eat you up.”

Stack feasted on her nipples. Amelia squirmed.

“I bet that pussy nice and wet right now,” Stack whispered.

Amelia didn’t have to guess that Stack was nice and solid because she felt that nine–inch pole poking her. Tension settled over her body once more. Stack could sense it.

“You ain’t no virgin is you?” Stack questioned with an elevated brow.

“No.” Amelia replied with a sigh.

“Aight then. So you know what typa’ time I’m on, Princess. Ain’t no patience ‘round here I’m tryna break you down.”

Amelia shivered.

“Open up,” He placed his hands on her knees, “Time to taste that sweet puss…”

How would Stack’s tongue compare to Annie’s?

Amelia spread her thighs and Stack settled onto his stomach. She opened up like a blooming flower, pretty pussy glistening before his eyes. Stack licked his greedy lips before diving in to devour her.

Amelia reached both of her hands up to grip the pillow beneath her head. She stared up at the ceiling, unable to bring herself to watch him eat her. She was missing out on an erotic visual experience.

Stack’s slick tongue did wondrous things to her pussy.

His lips, so full and succulent, glided across her slippery folds in a rhythm that had her moaning.

Not too hard. Not too fast.

She felt herself leaking.

Her hips began gyrating.

“Mhm,” Stack hummed with an egotistical expression.

Amelia dropped a hand to his coily bush and gripped the thick strands as best as she could. The part in his hair was somewhat visible. Amelia’s inner thighs began to quake and Stack wasn’t having that. He spread her wider.

“Fuck, Stack…”

He tongued her pussy so good Amelia felt tears brim her eyes. The closer she got to cumming, Stack rubbed his nose along her button. She looked down and directly into his eyes. If she’s the princess, then Stack is her servant.

“I’m on that spot, pretty baby?”

Amelia replied with a meek “Yes.”

Amelia tightened the hold she had on his thick hair and started feeding Stack pussy. He had her pussy talking, making gushy sounds of music. He was intoxicated from the taste and feel of her pussy on his tongue. Stack’s eyes were hazy slits and his mustache shined from her sticky juices.

“You ain’t too far, give me that shit…”

Amelia let go of his hair and sat up on her elbows.

“This my pussy, Princess?” He spoke between licks, “This my pussy.” He declared with a possessive smile.

Amelia replied with a drawn out moan.

Stack wiggled his tongue deep into her, the sensation tickling her navel with overwhelming intensity. She shoved at his forehead, but that neck was too strong.

“STACK! StackStackStackStack—I’m cumming for you!”

Amelia twisted her hips, but Stack’s grip on her thighs kept her right where he wanted her. Her continuous cries of ecstasy urged him to keep going.

“S'il vous plaît!!”

Stack eased off her button, drawing his lips back slowly to kiss along her inner thighs. His lips trailed cum and spit along her skin. Amelia felt herself clench around nothing, walls anxious for big dick. She was more than ready with her wetness. Stack sank his teeth into her skin and sucked. His thick fingers rubbed on her button.

“Ouch!” Amelia replied with a giggle.

“You’re such a good girl, Princess.”

Stack lifted up and when Amelia got a look at his dick she almost choked on her own spit.

Nathaniel who?

She’d NEVER seen dick that big. Stack kissed her as a distraction. While Amelia slipped him some tongue, Stack’s arms circled her thighs and with his skills, he lined himself up with Amelia’s pussy, impatient hips ready to shove all that big dick deep enough. He wanted to feel all that candy–coated sticky on him. From tip to balls.

Amelia slipped away from Stack’s mouth when he began folding her legs back hard enough to lock her in place. She didn’t have time to catch her breath when he thrust in. Amelia squealed so loud from the intrusive nature.

“Ooo? You nice and tight!”

The girth of him tugged on her clit. Stretched her wide enough to invoke panic. Annie warned her. Amelia wasn’t prepared.

“Stop tryna push me out.”

Amelia clawed his biceps.

“Shit! I got myself a gripper.” He chuckled.

Stack sucked on Amelia’s neck.

“Stack, you so big…”

He pulled out to the tip. The fullness she’d felt disappeared. For a moment, she was able to breathe easily.

Stack stared down at her, “This your first big dick?”

The teasing lilt of his voice pricked her.

“It is. Look at the mess you made.”

Amelia glanced down between her legs. She painted Stack’s dick creamy.

“Bet you ain’t know you could do all that, huh?”

Stack’s fingers played in her cum–covered pubic hair. He gave her a second to catch her breath. He stroked between her folds before his tip sat at her entrance. Amelia shut her eyes. Stack slowly invaded her again.

When he started thrusting faster, Amelia almost screamed. Stack interlocked his fingers between her toes and plowed her into the mattress. The more he fed her wet pussy some dick, the more Amelia cried for more.

“DADDY!”

“That’s right, you used to this dick now, I see that little pussy!”

Stack was hitting that bottom. As soon as he did that, Amelia sprung a leak. She didn’t have a chance to register what happened because seconds later she was cumming so hard on his dick she lost the ability to speak.

Stack’s eyes shined with lust at the sight of her cumming on his dick.

He slipped out and Amelia opened her eyes, blinking to focus.

“You got some good pussy, Princess.”

“So I’ve been told,” Amelia replied with a smile.

“Taste you on this dick,” Stack pointed his dick towards her mouth.

Amelia licked her mess from his dick before sucking as much as she could.

Stack had her pussy wide open. So open.

“I want you on top.”

Amelia sought his gaze with her tongue in his slit. He chuckled at the look of excitement in her eyes.

“C’mon, Princess. Sit on your throne.”

Stack settled onto his back and kept his dick pointed to the ceiling. Amelia threw her leg over him and bent forward.

“Hold your cheeks open…there ya’ go, baby…”

Amelia gasped when Stack pushed into her from a different angle. When she was fully seated on his dick, Stack popped her on the ass to get moving. Her doe eyes connected with his while she rode the tip.

“That shit feelin’ good…squeezing on my tip like that…you nasty bitch…”

Amelia rocked back and forth until she could easily ride his length. Her thick hips jiggled from the momentum. Stack was meeting her with his own thrusts. Hands on her waist, he dug his heels into the bed.

“You gon’ make me cum! Woo, shit,” Stack popped Amelia on her rump, “Gahdamn!”

Amelia bounced, titties jumping, pussy gripping, hair wild.

“STACK!”

Stack plowed up into her. The bed rocked. He growled into her ear. Amelia cried out.

“That’s it, Princess! Fuck, I’m a cum!”

Amelia shot up off his dick and wrapped her lips around him. Stack palmed the back of her head and forced as much of his big dick down her throat as he could. Amelia gagged and coughed, his warm cum painting the back of her throat.

“Drank all that shit down!” Stack commands.

Amelia struggled. She pushed off of him, cum oozing down her chin.

“You cum a lot,” Amelia wiped her mouth off with her fingers, “my throat hurt.”

“That pussy hurt too, don’t it?”

Amelia swatted Stack’s arm. She was indeed sore, but beyond that, she craved more of him. She needed more.

“I wanna go again,” Amelia cuddled against Stack’s side, drawing circles along his chest.

“In a minute, baby. I’m tired.”

Amelia peeked at Stack. He had his eyes closed while stroking her soft back. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Amelia closed her eyes and drifted off into her own slumber.

Roosters crowed. The birds chirped. Bleats of sheep in the distance. Church bells rang.

Annie awoke.

Smoke’s obnoxious snoring pierced her ears. Annie lifted his heavy arm from around her waist as she climbed out of bed. Underworked muscles ached as she stretched her arms and legs. She slithered her feet into a pair of slippers and grabbed a robe from her wardrobe, securing it around her waist as best as she could. It fit her snuggly, large, pendulous breasts fighting to break through. Annie had lost her scarf in the middle of sleep, frizzy coils smashed to her head.

She made her way out into the main area of the home and sauntered over to the open flame. Grabbing a tea kettle, she filled it with water before placing it on a hook. Annie made a fire. The flame grew before her eyes. She entered the yard when she’d heard a sound.

The night men were late. They waved to Annie after collecting the waste receptacle from her outhouse, replacing it with a clean one. She took that opportunity to use the bathroom. After reliving herself, Annie prepared fresh bath water in the large iron tub on her back porch. It took her a minute to fill from a well in her yard, but at least she didn’t have to worry about it until the following day.

Still, Smoke slept. Probably the most sleep he’d had in a long time.

Annie took a quick bath standing up before drying off. She put her robe back on and covered her hair with a head wrap. She decided to prepare some ham and eggs for breakfast. There was still some left over corn bread as well. The tea kettle steamed, and Annie pulled coffee from her cupboard for Smoke. Cast iron skillets greased and ready to go, Annie went to wake Amelia.

She knocked on her door.

“Lia?” Annie called out beyond the door.

She tried knocking again.

Annie turned the doorknob.

Empty. Unkept bed. Forlorn blankets on the floor.

Annie pursed her lips. It didn’t take much to put two–and–two together.

Amelia and Elias were having their own fun.

She hoped Amelia would return for her lesson. But then again, Stack was probably fucking her so good she didn’t give a damn about her final learnings on Red Magick.

Annie shut the door behind her and went to prepare breakfast. As she pan seared the ham and fried the eggs, her mind continued to wander. The immediate desire between Stack and Amelia at dinner made her slightly jealous. She knew the effect Stack had on women. Hell, Annie was almost swept up into it.

Oven mitt in hand, she grabbed the cast iron from the flame.

Would she still want Annie’s pussy against her own?

Annie had wanted to try that with Amelia next. Rubbing pussies together.

The thought of her returning with Stack’s dick print molded into her lush walls stroked the green evil riding her shoulder. Annie NEVER felt like this for a woman. But she felt it. She couldn’t ward off the temptation. Annie pat sweat from her forehead before setting the table. Smoke’s tulips sat in a vase in the center of the table. Annie stroked the petals with a smile.

Her Smoke.

Annie made her way into their room. The sun shined through the window, igniting the body of her husband, still fast asleep. She looked down on him from the foot of the bed. Beyond the thin sheets, Annie could see Smoke’s morning wood. Annie slowly pulled the sheets away, revealing a mouthful.

She knelt one leg between his, and used her mouth to grab hold of him, sucking him down with a hollow of her cheeks. Smoke’s face frowned, eyelids fluttering open. He could hardly open his eyes, but his hand cradled the back of Annie’s head.

Slurping noises filled the room. The bed creaked.

“Annie, shit…”

His sleepy voice was so pleasant.

Smoke flexed his muscles when Annie swallowed him whole.

“Ahhh–huh–hhh…”

Annie fisted his big dick while sucking. Smoke poked out his bottom lip.

“I’m sensitive, baby—”

Annie knew this. But she kept on going. Smoke’s tight nuts sat against her chin the more she deep–throated.

“Fuck, Annie…”

Smoke’s hips stuttered out of control. Annie hummed, creating a sensation that had Smoke groaning.

She emptied his balls.

“Got me cumming already, huh?” Smoke said with a raspy voice.

Smoke gripped Annie by the neck. She stuck her tongue out and he sucked on it. She stroked him with both hands while they tongue kissed.

“You getting this dick, you know that?” He whispered against her lips.

Hand still around her neck, Smoke got between Annie’s legs. He snatched her robe tie off, both hefty breasts free and sitting fat. Smoke grunted, hiking her legs up in a frenzy.

“You want in this pussy so bad, look at you…”

Smoke locked eyes with her. He thrust forward and buried himself to the hilt in Annie. Her breath escalated and her eyes fluttered at the feeling of Smoke’s dick.

“So good, so, so, good.” Annie said between moans.

Smoke had his lip between his teeth and his hands all over her big titties, stomach, hips, thighs. Anywhere he could grab onto.

“Don’t make no gahdamn sense…”

Annie let her man dominate her pussy. Her elekes wrapped around her titties from how fierce Smoke worked her pussy.

“I missed my baby…I missed you Annie…”

All while making love to her so good Annie could only moan. Her sweet cries of pleasure.

“Elijah!” Annie squeaked.

He had a hold of her big tail with his strong hands.

“Don’t hold back, baby, cum on Big Smoke’s dick.”

His shit talking had her speaking Creole.

Annie coated his shaft with her cum.

“Ooof—SHIT!!!!”

Smoke erupted. He made sure to stay buried. Painting her walls.

“Baby, shit,” Smoke heaved, “Shit so good…”

Annie kissed Smoke’s fluffy lips before pushing him away.

“Got breakfast on the table.”

Smoke snatched up his boxer shorts. He slipped into them and went on the hunt for his smoke pipe. He found it, inspecting it before sucking his teeth.

“Shit need to be cleaned out.” He fussed.

“Stack left you pre–rolled cigarettes.”

Annie shoved on her robed and wrapped it around her voluptuous body before exiting the room. She walked on unsteady feet to the table. Smoke appeared with his dick poking the front of his boxer shorts. He left to brush his teeth while Annie went out to sweep the front porch. She grabbed one of her brooms and swept away, removing dirt, leaves, and any other debris.

She checked on her rue, rosemary, and St. John’s Wart before walking back inside to join her husband for breakfast. Smoke puffed on a cigarette, taking sips of his black coffee. His plate was cleaned off, nothing but crumbs and smeared egg yoke left behind.

“You goin’ down to the store today?”

“Yes. I have some bundles to prepare. If Amelia comes back, we gotta finish up a lesson.”

Smoke looked like a fire breathing dragon with the way the cigarette smoke billowed from his nose.

“She gone?”

Annie gave Smoke a look.

“…She left with Stack?”

“Mhm.”

Smoke scuffed, “That nigga couldn’t help himself.”

“Can you blame him?” Annie said.

Smoke ashes out his cigarette.

“She must got a pussy made of pure gold the way ya’ll acting.” Smoke argued.

“Thought you wasn’t gonna be all upset?”

“I ain’t upset. Just curious. Remember how you told me stories ‘bout sex demons?”

“Smoke, she ain’t no succubus.” Annie argued.

“She a floozy.”

“And? What’s wrong wit’ that?” Annie fired back.

“Getting all bent outta shape, I’m just teasing.”

Annie rolled her eyes, “Elijah, I ain’t for your games. I gotta get ready. You gon’ be here or no?”

“Not for long. Once Stack pull his tongue outta Amelia ass we got business in town.”

Annie cleared the table. Smoke got up, rushing over to Annie.

“I’ll handle this. Go on.”

He kissed Annie’s neck and slapped her on the behind.

Annie sauntered into the room while Smoke cleaned. Lit cigarette between his lips, his thoughts drifted to Amelia.

First his wife, now his little brother.

He felt an emptiness. Something he tried to shake.

That Louisiana Bayou swept little Miss Amelia to the Delta bringing hot pussy and babydoll eyes with her.

Last night, while Smoke was wedged between Annie’s legs and balls deep, he looked up and caught Amelia watching him. She locked eyes with him through the mirror, and Smoke smirked at her. She slipped away into the darkness, and since then, Smoke couldn’t get the visual of her face frowned and hand between her legs out of his gahdamn head.

He wanted to pull on all that hair. Treat her how she deserved for coming in and making a mess of things. She wanted dick and pussy? He was gonna give it to her. But on his watch. Teach her hottie–tottie ass a real lesson.

Hoodoo Apprentice turned Sex Apprentice.

Smoke’s feet carried him out into the yard where he allowed the dishes to dry. Annie appeared wearing a teal–blue dress that flared at the hips and hung from her shoulders. She wore a white headscarf and tiny gold hoops in her ears. Around her neck was a gold necklace Smoke gifted her.

“You look beautiful, baby.”

Smoke kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” Annie ran a hand over his mojo bag, “I love you, Smoke.”

“I love you too.”

They fell into a kiss. Smoke pressed his body against Annie’s, reminding her once again that his body never forgot her. Hard dick tickled her and his tongue mingled with hers. She broke the kiss with a shaky breath.

“I gotta go…”

Smoke bent forward and snaked a hand up the front of Annie’s dress, stroking her pussy lips. Bare pussy lips.

“This for me? I’ll come down there and bend you over…”

Annie knew the routine. No panties. When Smoke wanted it, no restrictions.

“Glad you know who you belong to…”

Smoke whacked her on the rump.

“Get on down to the store.”

Annie pulled away reluctantly. Smoke puckered his lips and blew her a kiss.

That made Annie blush.

He watched her walk down the dirt trail to the Shack until she dissipated.

Smoke returned inside the home and turned his gaze towards Amelia’s room.

He walked forward and opened the door.

Sweet peaches. Hibiscus.

It smelled so much like her. He took slow strides toward her vanity. The mirror there was shattered at the edges. Smoke puffed on his cigarette while using his other hand to open her jewelry box.

It was a music box. Soft lullabies filtered out. He lifted a pearl necklace with his finger, stroking it. Shutting the box, Smoke picked up a perfume bottle, sniffing it.

That’s where that sugary smell came from. He took another whiff before placing it back where he’d found it.

He glanced around her room before his nosy gaze fell upon her half open wardrobe. Smoke gripped the edge of his cigarette between his lips and opened the wardrobe with both hands.

Satin. Breathable cotton. Lace.

Pastels. Florals. White.

Nothing that stood out to him…except…

A pair of ivory cotton bloomers fell from its hiding place. Smoke took a step back and crouched down to pick them up. He removed the cigarette from between his lips, the smoke clouding his vision.

He gathered the panties in his hand and brought them to his nose to smell.

Tangy. Slightly sweet. Earthy.

His dick chubbed up immediately. Smoke felt a heat creeping up his spine. He tossed her panties back in the wardrobe and closed the doors slightly. As he moved over to a pile of books situated on top of a travel bag, the fragrance of her pussy lingered in his mustache.

Smoke sifted through an array of books until he came upon what looked like a journal.

Brown leather. Yellowing pages. Her name embroidered in gold.

Amelia Selene Broussard.

Smoke flipped the pages until he landed on the last entry.

Dear Diary,

This is a quick entry. He’s returned. Annie’s husband.

Smoke.

Chaos. Mystery.

As I move about, I can’t help but to wonder while also fear him.

Annie loves him. I can see it in her eyes. I can hear it in her voice.

I watched them make love in the shack today.

It was beautiful. And for a second, I got to see Smoke’s vulnerability.

I sense he doesn’t like me very much. Maybe he can smell his wife’s essence on my body.

This will be an interesting circumstance…

The sound of a car approaching caused Smoke to abruptly shut her Diary, placing it back where he’d gone snooping. Smoke left her room and walked towards the window in the drawing room.

Stack opened Amelia’s door for her. She clasped his hand and stepped out. Amelia tried walking away, but Stack pulled her back against him, trapping her.

They spoke closely, and then Smoke watched his little brother tongue Amelia down.

Amelia shoved Stack before sprinting to the steps. Stack caught up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist before climbing the steps.

Smoke opened the door before they could.

Two pairs of eyes met his.

It was after three in the afternoon.

Amelia was sleeping soundly.

That was, until she’d heard angry whispers.

Stack’s side of the bed is vacant. Amelia threw the quilt back from her naked body. She searched for her lavender chemise, unable to find it.

So she grabbed Stack’s white button down shirt.

Amelia did a lazy button job before she tip toed to the bedroom door. Opening it slow and steady, she could see Stack’s back at the entrance to the house. He waved his hands animatedly, clearly fussing with someone. Amelia entered the hall to make out the other voice.

She caught onto a feminine voice.

“Seven years, Stack! Do you understand how that made me feel? I waited for you! No letter! Nothing!”

“We found you a rich, white husband in Arkansas! You got what you wanted! Stop blaming me for what happened! We was never gon’ be together, Mary.”

Mary laughed bitterly, “Oh, Stack. You and Smoke forced me to Mary that man—”

“You grown enough to make ya’ own decisions! Hell, ya’ could’ve said no!”

“The both of ya’ll gave me no choice! You wanted to keep me safe, right? Do you know how hard it’s been to lay next to a man I don’t love? To fuck a man I don’t love?”

“But you spending his money. Eating that good steak. Driving his car! A car he bought ya’ ! So who’s unhappy?”

“My momma died, and all you can do is treat me like I ain’t mean nothing to you? What about all the times we shared? You forget that? Spending days in this house!”

Amelia scuffed.

“Listen to me, Mary. I’m a always love you. But—But this —this thing we used to have is long gone. You somebody else’s. It ain’t safe for you to be in the Delta. I’m sorry ‘bout your momma. She was a good woman. But…Mary, whatchu want me to say?”

Silence. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Then came the sniffles.

Amelia rolled her eyes with disdain.

Stack wasn’t even her man, and yet this entire situation irritated her. Clearly, he still had feelings for the woman.

A white woman at that. Amelia folded her arms and waited for Stack’s reaction to the rehearsal of tears.

“Mary…hey…c’mon now. Listen, I’m sorry. Sorry I hurt ya’…”

Amelia inched closer. She needed to see how this woman looked. She crept to the window, peeling back the curtain.

Peachy skin. Button nose. Rosebud lips. Shoulder length, bouncy brunette hair. Trim body with subtle curves. Dark brown eyes.

Mary wore a striped deep v-neck patchwork dress in black and white with a matching black cloche hat decorated with a white flower. White satin opera gloves with a lace trimming covered her hands. A tiny black purse in her right hand. Sheer pantyhose and black and white Olina pumps on her feet.

She rubbed tears from her cheeks. Amelia was staring a bit too long. Mary turned towards her direction, and her eyes caught Amelia staring.

Her face immediately went from agonized to outraged.

A pretty octoroon.

“Who was that!?”

Mary tried to push past Stack at the door. Amelia remained against the wall.

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I saw someone at the window. A woman.”

“Mary, ain’t nobody here!”

“Don’t lie to me, Stack! Move,” Mary shoved Stack, “Let me in!”

Mary whacked Stack with her purse and pushed her way inside. Amelia stood frozen.

Mary faced her with vengeance.

This was not a part of the plan. The plan was to get some good dick. Not get caught up in a forbidden love triangle.

But didn’t Amelia always?

Stack shut the door while rubbing the side of his face where Mary’s purse struck him. He cut his eyes to Amelia, appearing apologetic.

“Who the hell is this?” Mary questioned grumpily.

“I’m Amelia. I take it you’re Mary?” Amelia replied with a jaded expression.

“I am,” she fixed Stack with a chagrined smile, “this your new piece of ass?”

Amelia lifted from the wall defensively. She appeared in front of Mary, hands on her hips, staring her up and down boldly. Mary’s hands curled into fists at her side and she rolled her shoulders back, chin up like she was better.

“Aight now, Mary, time to get!”

Stack reached for her arm but Mary pushed him away.

“Go to hell, Elias!”

Amelia fluttered away with a roguish smile.

“You think this bitch can replace me?”

“MARY!”

Amelia was unfazed. She sat on one of Stack’s arm chairs, crossed one shapely leg over the other, and reclined back like she owned the place.

Doe eyes be damned, Amelia could easily drag Mary by her uppity hair, but what was the point? Not her business. Not her man. No fucks given. Stack was clearly a man that did what he wanted. From what Amelia overheard last night, he was selling ass in Little Rock. Probably did the same shit in Chicago. Hell, he could have a baby or two somewhere.

“Fine. FINE. I’m leaving!”

“Shoulda been left!” Stack shouted.

Mary regained her composure before fluffing her hair. She strutted to the door, Stack opening it for her. Mary turned her eyes onto Amelia.

“Enjoy it while you can. He don’t stick around too long.”

Her derisive attitude did little to make Amelia feel any type of way.

“I will.” Amelia replied with a rapturous smile.

Mary turned her nose up before stomping away and down the stairs. Stack waited for her to drive off before shutting his door.

Awkward silence.

Amelia stood, quietly walking back to Stack’s room. Stack followed her with his eyes, watching her peel his shirt from her body. The sway in her hips and the cuff of her ass had him drooling. Amelia propped herself up in the doorway to his room, creating strong lines with her body, emphasizing her curves. An alluring smile painted her pouty lips and her doe eyes glistened with arousal.

“You coming in to finish fucking me or what?”

Stack took long strides to his room. Amelia ran inside, climbing up on his bed. Stack followed the sensual sway of her body. Arms above her head, waistline moving in slow motion, Stack watched her like she was on stage. He was her audience.

“You break hearts, Elias,” Amelia spoke in the middle of her erotic dance, “Don’t you?”

Stack licked his lips.

Amelia turned, poking her ass out. She swayed back and forth, looking down at Stack. He started taking off his pants, no boxer shorts on just dick and balls.

“You must’ve fucked Miss Mary so good before you left. Seven years of reminiscing on how that dick touched her heart in ways her husband couldn’t…”

“You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’…”

Amelia climbed down from the bed. Stack curled his finger for her to come to him. She did, gliding her hands up his chest.

“I woke up without your dick in me…why?” Amelia asked with a soft, whiny voice.

That did something to Stack.

He picked Amelia up, pointed his dick at her wet cooze, and slammed her down until she was filled. Stack had two handfuls of ass while he fucked her standing. Amelia bounced, arms circling his shoulders to hold on for the ride. Stack was hitting her bottom so good she was delighted. A smile stretched across her lips.

“Fuck this pussy, Stack! Fuck me!”

“Hot damn, baby! Tight ass pussy! Fuckin’ love this pussy!”

Amelia gleamed before a string of moans escaped her mouth.

“Take your pussy! Yes, Daddy!”

“You used to this dick now, huh?” Stack picked up the pace of his fucking, “I’m all deep in this wet shit…I’d fuck you all day if I could…good pussy…fuck, Princess…”

Amelia could feel him pulsating inside of her. The stretch and the way he continued to kiss her spot with his tip, she felt herself come undone. It was so overwhelming. He didn’t stop. Stack had her in a bear hug.

In and out…in and out…

More slip. A better glide. Increased sensation. She could feel it all. And it felt so good. He was close. Stack pressed his sweaty forehead against hers.

“You close, Daddy?”

“FUCK!”

Stack snatched Amelia off his dick and she dropped to her knees. Amelia poked her tongue out and stack sat his tip against it while jerking. He came all over her lips and tongue.

“You so nasty wit’ it, baby…”

Amelia cleaned him off.

“Satisfied?” Stack asked with a smirk.

“I could always use more…but you need to take me back to Annie’s.”

Amelia found her lavender chemise beneath the bed. Stack could go for another round.

“Annie be aight. She can hold it down.”

“I’ve had enough of you for now. My pussy need a good herbal bath. I’m sore.” Amelia said.

Stack locked his arms around Amelia’s waist. She tried to wiggle free.

“Let me go, Stack,” Amelia giggled from his kisses to her neck, “Stop it!”

“How you put that pussy on me and expect me to act right? Answer me that, gorgeous.”

“You’ll never get this pussy again if you don’t take me back to Annie’s! It’s late!”

Stack groaned before releasing Amelia.

“You lucky I got business wit’ Smoke. Otherwise, you’d be seated on this dick again.”

“Uh-huh.” Amelia rolled her eyes, “Let’s go playboy.”

A crack of thunder evoked fear into Ameila. She covered her ears and looked towards the window in Stack’s room with panic–stricken eyes.

“I don’t much like thunder…can we go?”

Stack’s probing eyes searched hers. The change in her demeanor concerned him. He grabbed a clean tank top and slipped into his white button down shirt. Pants secure and belt around his waist, stack put on his loafers before quickly leaving his room. Ameila put on her ballet flats and grabbed her handbag. Stack snatched his keys from the table before guiding Amelia out of the house with his hand on the small of her back.

It was windy and the sky was dark and cloudy. They rushed inside of the car and Stack drove off. Another crack of thunder pierced the sky. Amelia jumped in her seat. Stack placed an arm around her shoulder while driving with one hand. Ameila rested her head against his shoulder, nervously fiddling with her hands.

“We here…”

Stack slowed the car down to a complete stop. The thunder had gone away, but the sky still seemed gloomy.

A storm was expected.

“Thank you…”

Stack trapped Ameila against the car.

“You know we opening a Juke?”

Ameila tilted her head, “I do.”

“You coming I hope.”

“Maybe,” Amelia pushed at Stack’s chest, “get out my way, Stack.”

“That’s not so polite, Princess. Where your manners?”

“Long gone. Move before I bite that lip!”

“Do it.” Stack challenged with a gruff tone.

Ameila chomped at him. Stack gripped her chin and slipped her some tongue. Amelia couldn’t help but melt into the kiss. Their heads swiveled, Stack feeling up on Amelia’s behind. With him distracted, Ameila was able to shove him back. She made a beeline for the steps.

“I’m a get you!”

“Ahhhh!—”

Stack carried Amelia up the stairs with one arm.

The door opened.

Amelia’s breath hitched. Stack tilted his chin in greeting.

“What’s shakin’, nigga? Hope you don’t mind I stole this dame for one night…maybe more…”

Ameila whispered, “Stop.” Before drifting her eyes back to Smoke timidly.

“Made her feel welcome I hope.” Smoke said.

“Sure did. You know I got real good hospitality.”

Smoke kissed the back of Amelia’s hand.

“See ya’ soon, Princess. Go on in there before you melt.”

“Bye for now, Stack…”

Ameila fiddled with her dress before quickly entering the home. She brushed past Smoke, grazing his arm.

“I’ll catch you in about an hour or so. Gotta get this hair slicked up.”

“Don’t take too long, Stack. We got shit to do.” Smoke argued.

“Nigga, I know.”

Stack climbed back into his car and drove off.

Alone.

Ameila paced back and forth in her room. The rain beat down on the rooftop aggressively. She could hear Smoke moving about the house. She could smell the tobacco from beyond the door. Amelia nibbled on her bottom lip anxiously.

A bath would definitely help, but not with Smoke here.

She walked over to her vanity and took a seat. Ameila grabbed a brush and parted her long, thick strands before brushing out the tangled hair. A frizzy mountain of hair that reached the middle of her back.

Dewy–eyed and twitching with nervousness, Ameila made her way to the door again, opening it and entering the hall. She moved quietly out into the main area. No Smoke in sight.

That was, until she’d heard the sound of water sloshing on the back porch.

The rain hadn’t stopped, blanketing the garden. The droplets bounced off of the porch heavily and ferociously. A misty breeze picked up and tickled her skin the closer she got to the back door.

Curiosity always got the best of her.

She’d already been caught last night.

Annie and Smoke’s fucking kept her up. Stack was so tired and wasted from the beer, but Ameila assumed he was probably used to it. Ameila sat up in bed, listening to the two of them have sex. She climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Stack.

She left her room and snuck over to peek inside theirs.

And when she did, Smoke caught her eye.

And he smirked at her. Snidely.

Like he was silently telling her “Yeah…this my woman…let me show you who fucks her right.”

Ameila could never take that away from him.

He did fuck Annie right indeed.

And she stroked her clit to it. Openly.

Like a submissive little slut.

Showing him that she understood her place.

That Smoke was in charge.

Ameila’s stomach muscles warped at that memory. She peeked her head out and found Smoke taking a bath. He had his head reclined back with a cigarette between his lips. Smoke’s biceps bulged imposingly as they draped over the edge of the tub. His hair was covered with a press cap.

Amelia cleared her throat.

Smoke paused with the cigarette at his full lips. He slowly turned his eyes on Ameila. Seemingly displeased with her standing there and interrupting his bath.

“Sorry….I was just—just wondering if—did Annie mention anything about me going to the Shack?”

Smoke didn’t answer her right away. He took a hit of his cigarette first.

“She did…said you have a lesson to finish up on.”

“Thank you, Sir—I mean—thank you, Smoke.”

Ameila flashed Smoke a cowardly smile. Smoke’s stark face and perturbed eyes had such an effect on her. It made her want to obey.

“You good at cleaning pipes?”

Amelia flicked her gaze towards him, abashed.

“Cleaning pipes?”

“That’s what I said. I need my pipe cleaned out. Think you can do that for me?”

Smoke waited for her response. A devilish grin appeared on his lips.

“You ain’t got no clue what I’m talking bout?”

“No, sorry—”

“My smoke pipe.”

“Oh!” Amelia fluttered with a laugh, “I can do that for you.”

Smoke furrowed his brows, “Whatchu think I meant?”

“Not sure.” Amelia replied.

“Mhm,” Smoke motioned towards the door, “It’s on the table in there.”

Ameila disappeared inside the house. She found Smoke’s pipe and went on the hunt for Annie’s cleaning supplies. She knelt down on her hands and knees, searching the kitchen area. Ameila found some pipe cleaners and a cloth.

Back outside, Ameila situated herself on the chaise. As she cleaned, thoughts of Annie flooded her mind. The rain slowed down, sunlight attempting to break through the clouds.

Smoke began washing off. Ameila tried to focus, but she was clearly losing the battle. Her eyes raked over his upper body. She rubbed the same spot on his wooden pipe in a circular motion, caught in a trance. Smoke could feel her staring, because he turned to look at her.

Ameila dropped her attention to cleaning the pipe again.

But her heart raced.

Her breathing choppy.

She inspected the pipe thoroughly before standing.

“Good as new.” Ameila smiled.

“Let’s see how good you did,” Smoke motioned for her to come to him.

Ameila slowly approaches him. She extended her hand and Smoke grabbed the pipe.

The soap suds in the water swirled around his crotch.

“Almost look new. Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.”

Ameila accepted the pipe back.

“I’ll place it on the table for you.”

“Yeah, do that,” Smoke eyed her up and down.

Amelia backed away.

She exhaled, making her way over to the table. Ameila sat the pipe down carefully. Birds chirped as the sunlight rose over the yard. Smoke appeared, towel sitting low on his hips. Amelia gawked at him before quickly regaining her composure. She busied herself with pouring a glass of water from the icebox.

“You was at my door last night. Care to explain that?”

Ameila’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t even take a sip of water.

“Smoke—Smoke I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“What are you?” Smoke questioned firmly.

“What am I?” Amelia replied with a quizzical expression.

“Ain’t that what I asked?” Smoke fired back.

“I’m a woman. I’m Annie’s friend. I’m…I’m Amelia.”

Smoke glared at Ameila. She cast her eyes to her feet.

“That ain’t all you are, darling. You see, I know about you. All about you. How you fucking my wife. Fucking my brother…”

Ameila ogled Smoke.

He did know. He’d known since the moment he laid eyes on her. His disgruntled eyes made her feel apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, Smoke, please…it wasn’t Annie’s fault. Don’t blame her. Blame me.”

Smoke crinkled his nose as his eyes dragged over her body.

“Please…I tempted her–I–I wanted her…”

Smoke narrowed his eyes at her.

“Despite all that shit…I can’t get you out my head.”

Ameila was visibly stunned by his words.

“What is it about you that makes them go crazy?”

Ameila was tight–lipped. She didn’t know how to respond to that. He was visibly agitated and hostile yet inquisitive and enthralled.

Smoke’s chest muscles flexed as he inched closer. Ameila gripped the edge of the table for balance. She mustered all her strength to look him in the eyes.

“What are we gon’ do ‘bout that?”

Smoke reached up and stroked Amelia’s chin with his thumb. A searing look crossed his face and it had Ameila spellbound.

“I…”

Her grip on the edge of the table tightened painfully.

Suddenly, he had her by the chin. Ameila gasped.

“Sluts like you get what they ask for…it’s best you tell me the truth…you want a taste of what Annie getting?”

Ameila’s bottom lip trembled, “Smoke—”

“No, no, no, no. You answer my question.”

“YES.” Ameila replied hastily.

“What make you think you deserve this dick?”

“Because I’m on your mind. Seems like you want it as bad as I do.” Amelia replied sassily.

Smoke wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled. Ameila hissed.

“Bad mouthing me? Watch ya’ mouth…”

“I’m sorry!”

“You ain’t sorry…turn around.”

Ameila faced the opposite way. The sound of his towel hitting the floor caused her to chew on her bottom lip.

“Smoke…”

Ameila quivered. She felt her pussy jumping. Pulsating with need. Smoke sat his dick between her cheeks. Ameila’s jaw dropped.

“Let’s see what we got here…”

Smoke’s fingertips lifted her chemise over her ass. The cool air brushed her pussy from behind, leaving goosebumps in its tracks.

With one powerful hand, Smoke nudged Ameila against the table. Cheek planted firmly, smoke pinned her arms behind her back with one hand securing her wrists.

“You smell like fresh sex.”

Ameila felt his fingers stroke her vulva from behind. She whimpered pathetically. Smoke found her button and rubbed it in a circular motion.

“Feel like it too. My little brother fucked you good I see,” Smoke pushed two fingers deep, “Uhuh…nice and wide.”

He didn’t hesitate finger–fucking her. Ameila felt tears roll over her nose and to the table.

“I’m digging in this pussy with my fingers, slut?”

“Yesssssssss….”

“Had my wife tongue all up in this shit…”

Smoke’s fingers slipped out. Ameila whimpered with need.

“Get up.”

Ameila stood on shaky feet.

She still hasn’t recovered from Stack’s dick putting a hurting on her cooze.

“Turn.”

Ameila faced Smoke. Her eyes fell to his dick.

Fat. Long. Curved to the left.

“Now,” Smoke forced his fingers with her pussy on it into her mouth, “Suck.”

Ameila sucked her mess off. Smoke’s fingers rubbed along her tongue and when they slipped from her mouth, a trail of spit followed. Ameila waited patiently for his next command, keen eyes slick with arousal. Smoke stroked her pouty lips with his thumb, memorizing the shape of them.

“Go take a bath.”

Amelia’s eyes filled with despair.

Smoke walked off, leaving Ameila alone and under his spell.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @alexbabyyyy @readingaddict1290 @thedondada05 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @sug3rco0k1es @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @blossom3010 @kykylovesblog @desthefanfc @jeurden23janise @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @goddessofthundathighs @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @mynameisnikkinik @girlsneedlovingfanfics @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @pinkprincessluminary @rissa21405 @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @massivewolfslimeturtle @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @intellectualassholee @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @mysteriouslycertaincherrybl-blog @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[mcondance]

stack the type to use really sickeningly sweet pet names on you while he’s denying and teasing you.

he’s murmuring “aw, sweetheart” at your whining and squirming as you grapple at his belt buckle, but he keeps you pinned down and his hips pulled just far back enough to keep you from being able to make any real progress.

a croon of “hey, sweet thing,” floats over your ears when your eyes start to fill up with tears, your chest heaving as he slows his movements inside you to a sick, evil goddamn drag, pulling your soul out and fucking it back in with every cycle of his hips. “don’t be like that, baby,” he smiles, vile, lewd, beautiful.

[fastasyoucant]

𐙚⋆.˚ tailor-made lovin’ | annie moore oneshot.

cw | suggestive. black fem!reader. wlw. MEN DNI. she’s not with smoke. tiny mention of homophobia. allusions to cunnilingus. lowk reader act like preacher boy @ the end oops :3 word count: 1.4K

The Mississippi sun had been tucked away in the thick clouds, and a hush rolled over the shop, creating a soft, illuminated look to the room. The familiar scent of sandalwood incense clung to the fabrics surrounding you. Business has been slow this week, ain’t no orders. Ain't a wandering eye in the windows. The scuff marks on the floor reminded you that it would get busy again; time just needed to stretch its legs.

And maybe it heard you.

Because just as you turned your back toward the counter, the bell chimed. “Welcome in.” You nodded, the once furrowed brow lifting with curiosity.

"You the seamstress that I'm always hearing good things about?" Her eyes stayed on yours, letting the calm energy speak words she didn't need to.

“I’m hopin’ I can be that seamstress fo' you! What you need?” A tingle ran through you, realizing your service was essential. You needed the money for sewing materials, food, and a roof over your own head.

“The chest area on this dress here, s’a little tight. I just need it to be expanded or somethin'. You think that could be done?”

“I don't see why not! That’ll be ten.”

“Ten?” The woman laughed, not cruel but knowing. “Naw baby, I ain’t rich.”

Usually, you don’t make deals with clients, but you understood the struggle. She looked like someone who worked hard for every dollar in her pocket— She knew labor.

“Alright, seven fifty?” You tried a lower number, but tried not to play yourself.

“I can make that work.”

A smile had been crafted on her face when you took the deal. The lady unfolded the item that needed altering, a well-sewn, orange, cotton-rayon dress.

"If you don't mind, I need to take a few measurements." You grabbed the measuring tape from the small coffee table that rested behind the register, placing it around your neck.

"I don't mind at all. You gon need me to put it on right? There's a zipper on here that I always tussle wit'. I'm gon' need a bit of help."

You took in a sharp breath, your body beginning to buzz, thinking about helping her slide on that beautiful dress. You remembered the old ladies in the church, whispering about women like you-- folk they said were sinful, unnatural. Folk they pretended didn't belong.

“That’s fine by me.” You nodded your head. “I just need you to sign your name here!” Your hands snatched the loose paper and pen, placing the notepaper facing her, handing the pen to her faithfully.

She leaned onto the counter to write her name. You hoped the gulp wasn't audible. Your eyes gazed down at her chest; you were no better than a man. "Thank you, ma'am." The once blank paper had a soft signature that read 'Annie'. That name sounded familiar, and now that you thought about it, so was her face. You had seen her before. When the mundane smell of incense had been introduced to your senses once again, that's when it clicked.

"You the one wit’ that Hoodoo shop? Down on Terrance Road?" When she heard you realized who she was, those big brown eyes found a sparkle in them.

"Mhm," Her head nodded with the syllables.

"I was waitin’ on you to notice, I ‘member you coming in and buyin’ that sandalwood not too long ago." That nostalgic feel to the way she spoke only made the memory clearer.

"That's right! Usually I’m good wit' rememberin' faces. Everythin’ going well down there?" You started up conversation.

“As well as it could.”

Her shoulders fell after shrugging, she most likely didn’t want to speak about work when she was off. So you didn’t impede. “I ain’t tryna rush you, Miss Annie, but whenever you’re ready, the dressing room is that white door.” You tilted your head in the direction of it.

When Annie turned to see where she needed to go, you stole sinful glances at her. Her frame was perfect, the plaid sundress complimented her complexion. “Alright then.” She nodded and made her way to the dressing room. She didn’t spare any time trying to get the dress on. You didn’t want to ask because quite frankly, you weren’t sure if you could hide the desire to see her undraped. Then you began to hear her grunt, shuffling herself around into the dress.

“Miss Annie, you need help now?”

“Yes please.”

Slowly dragging in air, you headed towards to room. You carefully opened the door. “Zipper always givin’ me sum trouble.”

“S’alright,” Your jaw clenched, that orange against her brown skin could make flowers bloom in the winter. You began to tug at the dress’s zipper. it was almost as if it was glued in place.

“Damn, this zipper ‘bout stubborn as hell.”

“Ain’t it.” Annie huffed as you yanked continuously until it zipped up.

“Okay, let’s hurry up and get your measurements so you won’t be uncomfortable for long.” You held the door open for her. “You can gon ‘head ‘n step on that platform fo' me.”

She got on the podium, standing in front of the mirror. You were too busy staring at her to notice her looking at you through the reflection. Her lips curled as she noticed that lingering look.

“Do you mind liftin’ your arms?”

Without a word she raised her arms, keeping her sight set on you to hold eye contact. You told her what to do but she was in control. The flimsy measuring tape had made a quiet flick as you quickly took it off your neck.

You wrapped it around her bust, and the tape gently stretched around her body. You met the ends of the tape and pulled it snug.

“Thirty-eight and a half.” You muttered under your breath as you went to write her bust measurement right next to her name. “You can go back and change! I got a hanger waitin’”

You tidied up the register, throwing away wrappers and old receipts. You hadn’t heard that much movement from Annie. “Ma’am, you can—”

She was turned to you, one hand perched on her hip.

“Don’t you think I’m gon need some help gettin’ it off?” With one raise of her brow, you were quick to your feet. You followed behind her, acting like the sinful shadow. No mojo bag could keep you from her.

She walked into the dressing room, waiting for you to get yourself situated. Another breath was taken from the atmosphere when your hands found the zipper again. “Lemme know if this hurt, Miss Annie.”

You made sure to not yank the zipper, keeping every moment more gentle than the last. You got it down to where she could pull it on her own, but she wanted you to do it. She led you to the water; she just needed you to drink.

And you did.

You swiftly unzipped the rest for her. “Um— Anythin’ else I can do for ya’?”

“Mm’, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, the sundress slung around her shoulders. Annie kept her modesty in check, holding it by a thread. “You always this sweet?” A chuckle left her lips, and she toyed with the beads on her necklace.

“Um… I dunno ma’am.”

She turned to face you, her stare seductive and dominant. “You’ve been staring at me like that the entire time I done been in here.”

Your throat went dry.

“Annie— I ain’t mean nothin’ by it.” Your eyes widened as she stated the obvious fact: you were staring. More than you should’ve. And if she slapped you across the face right now, you wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Ain’t nobody say I had a problem wit’ it.”

Annie’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your head so your eyes had nothing else to do but meet hers. "You gon' keep starin'," she hummed, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, "or you gon' do somethin' 'bout it?"

Your breath hitched. You leaned into her warmth. The kiss was careful, you were getting a feel of the shape of her lips, something that you would never forget. But when she kissed you back, she gave you all the permission you needed.

Soon enough, your hands were resting on her waist. Her mouth opened just slightly and you sighed into it, near dizzy from how sweet she tasted. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish now." Annie rushed her words in between the sentences, hungry to get her lips back onto yours.

"I know the way of a woman." You became bold in a blink, her presence was intoxicating. Then you lowered down onto your knees, you looked up at her through your eyelashes.

"Can I show you?"

[risingoftime]

TWO STEP TRAP | SMOKE STACK TWINS X F!READER |

You are one of the best dancers at the Midnight Blues joint in Chicago; it was only a matter of time before you encountered the Smoke Stack Twins. Their names linger in the club like perfume and cigars. If you are in the scene, you know them… and of course, they knew you.

contains: 18+ mdni, prequel to sinners, dancer!reader, porn with plot, smut, oral (Stack is a eater), threesome, p in v, pet names, man handling, body worshipping?? talking you through it, fingering, fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time.

You picked up your pace as you looked down at the watch on your wrist. It was nearly ten pm, and Marcus would threaten to lock your ass out if you didn’t arrive on time. He knew better though, you were the one that everyone came to see. Word spread quickly in the streets of Chicago, but there’s a place folks whisper about but rarely name out loud for fear of the White man hearing. It ain’t on any map called The Last Two Step, but if you know the right knock and carry enough heartbreak in your shoes, it’ll guide you behind an unmarked door at the edge of South Parkway Boulevard. In the joint, velvet smoke curls through the air, and every note from Ambrose’s piano drips slow and sticky, like honey off a blade. The Last Two Step is where time forgets itself in the sway of hips and the clink of glasses filled with bourbon. Nobody stumbles in by accident. If you find yourself there, something or someone wanted you to. And once you cross that threshold, baby, the night decides what happens next.

At the corner of your eye, you could see a slightly older, light-skinned woman shimmying her body down the alley to the hidden doorway of the club. “Miss Felicity! Wait up & hold the door, will you?” You hollered. Her head whipped to look behind her in alarm, but her glare softened once she saw you quickly following after her. She laughed at you as you tried to steady your breath.

“When will you learn your lesson and stop rushing at the last minute?” Felicity shook her head as you hurried inside and double-checked to see if anyone followed after y'all.

You flashed her a grin and said, “Probably right after you stop pretending you don’t love the thrill. Chaos builds character. Have you ever heard that?”

“Girl, you’re practically asking for trouble,” she muttered. Ambrose and the boys were still setting up the stage and tuning their instruments when you passed the wooden dance floor towards the changerooms in the back. Their eyes tracked the way you walked and paused to sneak a peek at your backside when they thought you wouldn’t notice. They were never slick enough to avoid getting caught. “Y’all are no better than little boys!” Felicity swatted at them as she climbed onto the stage and straightened her skirt. Felicity’s voice carried throughout the establishment even when she wasn’t singing and harmonizing with the band.

“Can’t blame us for admiring!” one of them defended.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed into the changeroom, more like a storage closet the dancers used to store their things and prepare for the night. Soon enough, the floor out there would be packed with sweaty bodies, hungry eyes, and a swanky beat that was hard to resist. And you? You’d be right in the middle, moving like a snake, soaking up the spotlight like it was poured just for you. Showing off your sultry moves, enticing the eyes of whoever looked upon you.

You weren’t just entertainment. You were a magnet. Marcus, the owner, knew it too. He would give you some of the shares to keep the crowd thick and thirsty, which is why he called you “eye candy.” A walking advertisement, you were good publicity for his juke joint. The three other girls in the room with you, Jacqueline, Deborah, and Ann, had the same deal. They didn’t care for me much, never had been. You drew too much attention, and it didn’t help that you didn’t come from the same background as them. You were the daughter of sharecroppers or “cotton pickers,” they say. Your skin was dark and smooth, shimmering in the light and under sweat. Your full lips, tantalizing gaze, and body that bloomed too fast for your age made you all the more unforgettable. Slim, sultry, and curved just right were the words used to describe her.

Looking into the handheld mirror as you finished the last touches to your makeup, you could see Marcus in the corner of your eye. “Baby, I ain’t paying you to doll yourself up and hide away!” His tone was playful, but there was an edge to his voice, and you knew that if you said the wrong thing, Marcus’ temper would appear. That is probably why he still ain’t been able to keep a woman. He’s only truly satisfied when he's drunk.

“Geez, what’s the hurry?” you whined as you hiked up your skirt higher to show more of your bare legs and patted down any stray hairs on your head from the finger curls.

“I gotta handle some business with the twins. Show ’em this is the kinda spot they wanna put their money in,” Marcus said, smoothing down his vest with a wink. The mention of the twins made your ears perk up. Smoke & Stack weren’t just names; they were similar to legends, stitched into the underbelly of Chicago. You didn’t just meet the Smoke Stack twins, you survived an encounter with them. If they were sniffing around Marcus’s place, it meant money was about to flow, and trouble wasn’t too far behind.

The music thrummed through your body and travelled to your chest as you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm and blues. All around you, a sea of Black bodies moved as one to the voice of Felicity and Ambrose’s band. In the night, they became a living and breathing entity under the heavy and melliferous air of the juke joint. The outside world slipped away in this moment, and all that mattered was the here and now. This is why you always answered the call of The Last Two Step, chasing the high of being free and being a person who is looked up to and not down upon. So far, there were no signs of the twins, and Marcus was growing more antsy by the minute. He’s resorted to pouring you more alcohol than he could offer, anything to make the party look wild and enticing to anyone who came inside.

Anticipation is the sweetest form of torture, and when the identical twins strolled through the entrance, it seemed as though the room truly came alive. Your eyes met with one of them. It wasn’t easy to tell them apart. He flashed a crooked smile, revealing a set of grills over his canines and front teeth. You twirled lightly, letting your waist roll slowly and deliberately. A glance over your shoulder caught the twins approaching Marcus at the bar, who suddenly looked boyish beside their commanding, muscular forms. Marcus was tall, handsome, and fit, but the twins had a figure that only one could have achieved by working hard in the fields.

Jacqueline broke you out of your thoughts when she walked beside you, “If one of those twins so much as smiled my way, I'd be slippin' outta my panties without a second thought.” She looked at the group of men with hungry eyes, drinking them in. You couldn’t blame her, but you’d be damned if any of the other dancers got a taste of the twins before you did. If the rumours were true, the twins were hung like a horse and knew how to eat a girl out so well that she could start humming in colours she had never seen before.

You watched as Deborah and Jacqueline positioned themselves near the twins and got brutally ignored. Better them than you. It’s better that you learn what not to do through them than make a fool of yourself. Moments passed as you danced amongst the crowd, and the music began to slow into a two-step dance, and people began to couple off. Scanning the crowd, you could see a man making his way to you. He’s been ogling you for most of the night and didn’t look too rough. Shit, one dance won’t hurt, right? It’s not like it’ll be your first or last.

Mid-stride, one of the twins drawled, “Ease up, kid,” bumpin’ his shoulder with a grin. “I’ll take it from here, see?”

The young man screwed up his face, about to give the southern gentlemen a piece of his mind but thought better of it when he saw the twin flash him a crooked smile. Smoothing out his button-up shirt, the young man puffed out his chest and recovered quickly. “No worries, boss.” He gave me a once-over before nodding his head in dismissal. The unnamed twin didn’t even bother to turn his head to ensure he was gone before extending a hand in your direction.

“May I have this dance?” His smile revealed the notorious grill the twins were famous for, shining faintly in the dimly lit venue. You couldn’t recall whether it was Smoke or Stack who wore it. Ultimately, did it matter? You paused and accepted his hand. His warm, large, and calloused grip completely enveloped your hand. Aside from counting cash, your thoughts drifted to what else his fingers might be good at. He instantly pulled you in closer with ease. Your bodies were flush against each other, now chest to chest. You peered up at him.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” You countered. The chuckle that left his throat vibrated throughout his whole body. It didn’t help that when you took a breath to calm your erratic heart, his cologne and natural fragrance evaded your senses. As the two of you fell into rhythm with the music, the thoughts running in your head were anything but holy. It was rare for a man to elicit such a response from you on the first encounter.

“A lady always has a choice,” he rebutted, voice like molasses slow drippin’ off a spoon.

“Who said I was a lady?” you challenged, chin tilted and your cheeks filled with heat. Once it slipped out of your mouth, there was no snatching it back. You've always been reckless with how words leapt past your lips without permission. He didn’t as much as blink at your question and didn’t smirk either. Just stepped in closer, real close, until the scent of smoke, cologne, and something else curled in your nose again. His thigh rose between your legs, stopping just shy of making contact with your center, enough to make your breath catch in your throat, dipping you down and pulling you back up in time with the strums of the guitar that played aloud.

“Then I reckon I ain’t gotta treat you like one,” he murmured, voice pitched low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I do like a woman who talks back.” You swore your knees might buckle right there. “S’wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” he joked to lighten the obvious tension that grew quickly between you two. You could hear your heartbeat over the hum of the blues and chatter surrounding you. His thigh lingered, firm and deliberate, almost making you forget your damn name. But you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely.

Leaning in just a little, with parted lips and sharp eyes. “And what do they call you, stranger?” your voice came out strong and daring like you weren’t already trying to keep your head on straight.

He didn’t answer right away, dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lips, then down to the space between you that barely existed anymore. “They call me Stack,” he finally said, a slow smile began curling at the corner of his mouth. “But you can call me Elias Moore.” He said it like a promise as he lowered his deep red fedora hat, his eyes never leaving yours. His name hung in the air, impossible to ignore. The kind of name a woman didn’t forget, even if she wanted to. The Elias Stack Moore stood before you. Being his girl could open up more doors for you than you could count.

“Come on,” he drawled, his hand brushing the small of your back. “Dance floor’s gettin’ too damn crowded for what I got in mind.” You felt him guide you, firm but unhurried, through the sea of moving bodies, past the haze of cigar smoke and spilled bourbon. Nobody paid y’all any mind. Juke joints were built on secrets and sideway glances anyway.

The changeroom door creaked as he pushed it open with his shoulder. The low bulb above our heads flickered like it knew what was coming. Inside, it smelled like lavender powder and dust. The old velvet curtains were draped over crates, hiding booze and our valuables. The crooked mirror watched us from their respective corners. He closed the door behind you with a click that felt louder than it was.

He leaned against it for a beat, arms crossed, watching you like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or ruin you slowly. “Now,” Stack’s voice dropped to a sinful hush, “where were we?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. This boy must’ve lost his goddamn mind if he thought the two of you were going to get hot and heavy in this sorry excuse of a change room. You weren’t a lady, but you had class and respect, very little of it, but it was there nonetheless. The two of you stood in the quiet room, and the silence stretched thick with possibility. Stack pushed off the door and lazily strolled toward you like he had all the time in the world. His boots barely made a sound on the old wooden floors. Every inch he closed made your skin feel tighter.

“You always this quiet when you want something?” he asked. Stack stopped shy of touching you, his hands at his sides like he dared you to lean in first. The nerves in your body buzzed like a live wire. You were all too aware of how your desires practically had you ready to drop to your knees. But you kept your face unreadable, and it was your best defence. You’d been raised to survive men like Elias Stack Moore. The smooth talkers with heat behind their eyes and a storm tucked inside their smiles.

“Depends on what I want,” you finally said. “And whether it’s worth the noise.”

“Oh, I’m worth it,” he replied. Stack threw his hat on the dressing room counter to reveal his face. But I ain’t cheap.” You gave him a steady look up and down. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his skin. Everything he wore appeared nicely tailored to his physique, too.

“Neither am I,” you shot back.

Stack was now an inch away from your face, his warmth wrapped around you like steam off a kettle. His hand reached out, not to grasp nor to grope, but to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, rough fingers grazing your cheek like an invitation.

“Trust me, sugar, you keep carryin’ on as you do, and Chicago gon’ be hollerin’ your name louder than they ever did mine or my brother’s.”

“Well then,” you said, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers trailing the buttons of his shirt like you were counting sins, “guess it's a damn good thing I don't mind how my name sounds in another’s mouth.”

Shifting your hips just enough to make your intentions loud and clear without a single word more. Stack’s breath hitches just a little, but you caught it. You always did. You knew that taking it further would be a reckless mistake, but Lord, it’d feel like salvation. The end of a prolonged drought, giving in, would feel like the first rainfall. Wet, overwhelming, and too damn good to stop. Stack’s eyes told you he was ready to drown in it, and hell, you might just let him.

She didn't have to speak, just the slow roll of her hips were enough to knock the wind out of him. She knew how deep she could cut without drawing blood. His breath caught in his throat, bare and ragged. God help him. He wanted to ruin you in a way that leaves a mark and memory.

Stack knew better. He knew this would get messy. With a glance at your slicked thighs, Stack knew you'd provide no mercy.

Leaning in close, lips just shy of his ear. “Still quiet, Stack?” you whispered in a sweet and teasing voice. “I figured by now you'd know how to beg.” You loved turning his words and spinning them against him. His raw reactions were entertaining to see.

Stack’s jaw tightened, but his eyes didn't waver. “I don't beg, sugar,” his tone changed to a quiet and threatening one. “I take.”

You flashed him a wicked smile and hooked a finger around his belt buckle. “Then come take it.”

He didn't wait, with his hands on your waist, before you could exhale. His rough palms and fingers dug in as if he meant to claim something, or he already had.

“You sure about this?” He muttered against your neck, voice hoarse. Hot breath dragging over your skin. “Cause once I get started, I ain't stopping till I’ve wrung every drop outta yah.”

“Make good on allat talk,” you replied. That was all it took. Stack kissed you like he was desperate. Teeth and tongue felt like a little too much and not nearly enough. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed you up against the old brick wall, grinding against you with slow, punishing friction. His hands found the hem of your skirt, bunching it up, and slid a hand underneath with practiced ease.

“Fuck,” Stack groaned when he felt how soaked you already were. Two fingers slipped along your folds. “You tryna kill me, baby?”

“I ain't even started yet.”

He dropped to his knees like he'd been praying for the chance. Pulling your thighs apart and pushing your back against the cool wall. With a tongue hot and desperate, he licked up your pussy, groaning like you were his last meal. Your hand shot to his head, gripping tight, guiding him just as you liked it. He didn't need much. He was already lost in you. Every moan sounded like praise.

“That’s it,” you hissed, rocking yourself into his mouth. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

“I won’t,” Stack promised. Not until your legs were shaking, and his jaw was slick with you. Not until your pretty moans turned into curses and your body tried to escape, then pleasure only could chase you.

When he finally stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you, a man completely undone. Stack spun you around like it was second nature, pressing you into the wall with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head. His belt clinked open behind you, the soft grating of his zipper loud in the stillness.

"You sure you can take it, girl?" he muttered. Looking back, you could see Stack grip his thick length in his hand, pumping it up and down before lining his dick against your soaked entrance, teasing but firm. "Ain't no holding back tonight."

“Give it to me like you mean it,” you snapped.

Stack slammed into you in one cunning and possessive thrust. You gasped when your forehead hit the brick. He didn't give you a second to adjust, just wrapped an arm around your waist and started working his hips in a relentless tempo. The room echoed with sounds of skin meeting skin, moans, and his low curses. His other hand found your clit, and began rubbing small circles to make you fall apart all over again.

“You feel that?” he panted in your ear with pride. “This pussy is mine.”

You cried out, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy. “Stack… fuck—” was all you managed to get out before he began grinding himself deeper inside.

Your orgasm was intense and all-consuming, tearing a high pitched outcry to escape your lips as you clenched your walls around him. Stack’s thrusts began to be uneven and passionate as he chased his own high. And just when he was on the edge, body trembling, and his muscles taut against yours…

“Well, goddam!”

Both of your heads snapped to the door. Stack froze inside of you, jaw clenched, with wide eyes at the sight of his twin brother.

Smoke stood there, curtly closing the door behind him and leaning against the doorframe like he walked in on a business deal instead of his brother balls deep in another’s soul.

“I come lookin’ for Stack and come to find this.” He gestured between the two of you with an amused look. “Y’all ain't even had the decency to lock the door?”

“Get the fuck out, Smoke,” Stack sounded feral.

Smoke smirked in return, kissing his teeth. “Don’t let me interrupt,” his fingers slipped behind him to turn the lock on the door. “Finish where you left off.”

Stack didn’t pull out. He didn’t even make a move as Smoke’s laughter faded. His grip on your hips tightened like he was claiming you harder now that he’d been seen. He was practically primal, yet there was a hesitation, a shift between the three of you.

“Good. Thought I might stick around this time.”

“You got one fuckin’ second to turn around,” Stack growled, still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back.

“Relax,” Smoke said, voice smooth as whiskey and twice as dangerous. “Ain’t here to fight. I just figured if you were gonna fuck her like you mean it. You’d also let her choose who she wants.”

You turned your head slowly, pulse thrumming like a drum. Smoke leaned in the doorway again, one brow raised, hunger in his eyes like he already knew the answer. Stack’s jaw flexed. His hands never left your skin.

“This ain’t a game, Smoke.”

“Never said it was.” His gaze dropped to where your bodies were still joined. “But I seen the way she looks at me, too. Don’t play like you didn’t notice.”

It was the truth, they were identical twins after all. The thought had crossed your mind if they were also the same down there. Smoke had always been the smoother one. The devil that smiled back at you when you flirted with danger. And now, with Stack buried deep and your body still trembling from the last orgasm, part of you wanted to see what it’d be like to be stretched between both of them.

It’s up to her,” Smoke said, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Ain’t it?” Stack didn’t speak. His silence was a storm ready to break.

You turned to face them both, hips still pushed back. You looked at Smoke through your eyelashes, and said, “You better double check that the door is locked this time.”

Smoke jiggled the door handle before focusing his sights on you, bent forward as if committing the sight to memory.

“ Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Didn’t expect you to be so generous.”

Stack remained silent. He just thrust into you once, hard enough to make you gasp and grip the wall again.

“She ain’t yours,” Stack burst, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew what this was. I knew it wasn’t just about possession.

“Ain’t tryin’ to take her,” Smoke replied, stepping near.

His hands were on you before you could think, one sliding up the nape of your neck, the other tilting your chin to face him. He kissed you softly at first until you deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, feeling Stack start to move again behind you, his speed staggering with every second.

“And you’re just lettin’ him have all the fun?” he mumbled against your mouth.

Stack growled low in his throat. “You want a turn, Smoke? Take her mouth. But you better be sure she can handle both of us.”

“Oh, I can,” you whispered, drunk on the moment.

Smoke stepped out of his clothes, his dick already thick and ready. He guided you down to your knees with his hand. You opened your mouth, lips wrapping around him just as Stack banged back into you from behind.

The stretch of both was overwhelming, one in your mouth and one buried deep. Stack fucked you harder now, his hold bruising on your hips, while Smoke let you control the pace with your tongue until he lost his patience and started to thrust into your mouth.

“Look at you,” Smoke groaned. “Takin’ us both like it’s what you were made for.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you moaned around him, the vibrations making Smoke’s jaw clench. Stack was close, you could feel it in the way his rhythm stuttered and his breathing picked up.

“She’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” Stack gasped. “She’s gonna make me—fuck—” He pulled out just in time to spill across your back, thick ropes of cum marking your skin while Smoke slid out of your mouth and lifted your chin again.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Smoke growled, hauling you into his arms like you weighed nothing. He laid you down flat on the velvet covered crates nearby, pushing your knees back and plunging into you with a groan. The angle was brutal and somehow filthier. His eyes locked on yours the whole time, making it impossible for you to look away.

Stack leaned nearby, watching, still catching his breath, chest slick with sweat.

“Don’t think she’s ever been full till tonight.” Smoke said between thrusts.

You cried out, the pressure building fast and hot, your nails scraping down Smoke’s back. He fucked you through it, didn’t stop even as your body shook and your thighs tried to close. You came again loudly and broken open for Smoke to finally bury himself and release inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound was your breath and heartbeat, all three of you covered in sweat and something that felt dangerously close to obsession. Then Stack muttered lowly, “This doesn't change shit.”

“Oh, it changes everything, brother.” Smoke chuckled, pulling out slowly, the evidence of what you had just done dripping down your thighs.

taglist: @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax

➴ feel free to send me more thots

[ebodebo]

trouble never lies dormant…

pairing: remmick x preachers!daughter reader

word count: 1k+

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, maybe a little dubcon vibes, reader is religious on account of her dad being the town preacher and all, masturbation, multiple orgasms, religious speak & imagery, vampirism, vampire/human, somewhat of an established relationship, but like i’m using the term relationship very loosely, biting, slight pain kink, vaginal fingering, mentions of god, low-key, but kind of high-key corruption kink, porn without plot, implied virgin reader, unhealthy relationship dynamic, location change, probable historical language inaccuracies, a slight varying interpretation of the vampires in the movie, ie., they can spawn anywhere if you let them, manipulation, & no use of y/n.

author’s note: everybody cheer! everybody clap! i’m finally on my sinners writing shit. @sceletaflores’s amazing fic shed your knuckle velvet torn, on my teeth inspired me to write for sinners! that fic changed lives and altered my brain chemistry. go give her some love, she deserves it! anywho, i hope you enjoy this horny mess!

divider by @strangergraphics !

A monster lurks where the divine dwells…

Perspiration is gathering on your forehead, as your hands move quickly, willing it to fall down your cheek.

Your moans come out as small whisper as your fingers plunge in and out of your dripping cunt that is covered by a mere cotton sheet.

The cross that hangs around your neck sways with each desperate swirl, each attempting to chase a high you can feel down to your toes.

Your Bible by your side, serving as a vessel of guilt that you swallow as you feel warmth blooming in your lower stomach.

You know that eyes are watching you, not just the picture frames that hold the judging gazes of your kin, including your father, the town pastor down here in Tuscaloosa.

These are different, peering at you just beyond your window.

These were much more carnivorous.

Sinful.

They had lost their humanity, a trapped soul caught between Hell and Earth.

“Remmick…I beg of you to come in,” you beg, fingers plunging into your soaked cunt, fingers grasping at the thin sheet beneath you.

You could feel the unholy presence wash over the divinity of your room. The creaking of your wooden floor makes your eyes snap up to see him, with maroon eyes and a hung smile.

“Making a mess of yourself, aren’t ya?” he comments, eyes closing momentarily, taking in your scent. Your sweet arousal is rushing his system, sending his brain into overdrive.

“It feels incredible,” you whisper, trying to hush your enjoyment. Even with guilt clawing up your throat, your fingers coax around your clit, unwilling to stop. “I cannot stop.”

“Greed is liberating,” he adds, paying no real attention to his words. Drool leaks from the corner of his lips down his chin, watching you pleasure yourself. “Your greed is…a sweet temptation.”

Your eyes are hazy, hanging lazily as you stare at him. He is baring his teeth, sharp fangs gleaming. His tongue drags across the edges before licking away the spit on his lips.

You come with a small whimper, your arousal now leaking onto your sheets where you lie. Your body shakes with relief, chest heaving, attempting to collect more oxygen.

His eyes shut roughly, nostrils flaring as he takes in your scent, before they snap open, glowing red. “I need to taste ya,” he says, moving over to where you lay, still coming down from your high before ripping off your thin sheet and sinking to his knees to swipe his tongue across your glistening cunt.

“Dear, God…” you murmur, body twitching from sensitivity as your fingers grip the sheets tightly.

He lifts his head slightly, his glowing eyes boring into yours as his lips gleam with your arousal. “There ain't no God here, babydoll,” his lip quips. “Just me.”

Your body heaves forward, as his tongue swirls around your clit. “It’s too much,” you choke out, your hypersensitivity catching up with you.

He brings his head up. “It’s never too much, dear,” he says. Though, he does maneuver away from your cunt. His hand reaches out for your ankle, pulling it towards him.

You let out a yelp, body sitting upright, before he stands. He hovers over you ominously before his hand brushes against your cheek. “Sweet girl, you will learn to take what is given to ya,” he rasps as you nuzzle your cheek into his palm.

He beckons you to stand before he bends down, his nose moving against your neck to smell your skin. His lips press a kiss to your flesh, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips.

Without warning, his curious fingers find your cunt, easing in and out of it with ease. You grip your thigh for stability, as his lips suck on the skin of your neck.

“What would your savior have to say about this?” he mutters into your neck, fingers moving fervently. “Me suckin’ on the same very flesh he created?” he tacks on, as his other hand moves to grip the fat of your hips. “Fingers swirlin’ in this drippin’ pussy that your dear ole’ daddy has condemned,” he spits with agitation.

You grip your thigh tighter, your nails digging into the flesh. You’re rocking yourself against his fingers, mind whirling. “God…will take you…he’ll—he’ll heal you,” you mumble.

He laughs into the crook of his neck where his teeth are bared, mere inches from skimming your skin. “I’m not God’s to take.”

Your toes curl against the cold floor, and you can feel yourself edging closer to another sweet release.

His fangs hover over your neck. “Life could better for ya…for us,” he reasons softly, fingertips looming across your aching clit. “Let me take ya, sweet girl. I will let ya be whomever ya want,” he promises, his teeth prodding against your flesh.

Your teeth press into your bottom lip. “I cannot be—ah—led into temptation,” you say with a moan, though he can see the break in your resolve.

“Ya already have,” his tongue comes out to lick a stripe up your neck. “Ya ain’t like the others. I could smell your hunger through these very walls,” his finger gives your clit a slight pinch. “You’re sin wrapped up in one of them pretty bows, but I see right through ya, babydoll. No one will understand you. Not like I do,” he growls into your neck. “You’re all mine.”

“Take me! Please, take me with you!” you plead, feeling your climax overtake you.

You feel his fangs pierce your flesh, only adding to the erotic sensation. His hands move to grab and hold up your body as it slumps from exhaustion, and he feeds on your blood.

He pulls away, your blood staining his teeth, lips, and chin. “You will find this life is…simpler,” he whispers, easing you onto the bed.

You suddenly fall onto the sheets, unconscious for only a moment before you rise, feeling rejuvenated. Your eyes wander to Remmick, whose tongue darts across his lower lip to collect more of your blood, before you feel an urge to look at the framed picture frames.

You softly close your eyes, grasping the cross around your neck before whispering a silent prayer. “I am sorry, Father, for I have fallen into temptation,” you pray.

Remmick's hand reaches out, beckoning for yours. You grab his hand and walk out of the sanctity of your home to wander through the night, not bothering to bid your father goodbye.

And, although yes, your father may have lost his obedient sheep, a subservient follower, the night roared with delight, for it had captured a creature overflowing with unfulfilled desires and unpacified greed.

mini author’s note: me, personally, i would let him take me too. unfortunately, i have no shame.

[remmickslvt]

Soaked In Sin (NSFW 18+)

Warnings: detailed descriptions of sex, blood, gore, spit, violence, stalking 

I'm writing this while sitting in my barn LOL, helps with the visual, ya know?

Thick mud splattered up your legs and coated your boots as your feet pounded the soil.  Torrential rain soaked your hair down to your scalp and plastered long strands of hair to your neck and shoulders as you ran through the trees.  As the woods gave way to a clearing, a looming structure emerged into view.  An abandoned barn standing solo in the middle of the meadow.  You tore through the low hanging branches, ignoring the snags catching your sundress as well as your slick skin.  You broke free of the forest after what seemed like a never ending tunnel of swirling darkness and brush, not bothering to check if anything had followed.  Your sharp pants of exhaustion burned cold in your lungs, the pain searing through your chest as you pushed forward.  You practically slammed against the huge sliding door at the front of the barn, your hands slipping against the dripping wood as you struggled to heave it open.  As soon as you were able to grab hold of the edge and allow a gap big enough to fit through, strong fingers elongated by thick claws gripped your waist, forcing you to the floor.  A large weight pinned you down as you gasped to regain breath, and a hissing, teasing voice cooed in your ear.  

“You can’t outrun me, darlin, although your efforts are cute.”  You couldn’t reply even if you wanted to, your face was held down to the gritty floor by the mans clawed hands at the base of your head.  His deep exhales faded into faint growls as he then pulled you forcefully to your feet and spun you around to face him.  The rain had soaked through his white button-down, accentuating his broad chest and wide shoulders as the fabric clung to his body like a layer of skin.  Water dripped off his jaw, mixing with thick trails of drool and blood.  His front was smeared with more of the red substance, a stark contrast to the whiteness of his shirt.  His mouth curled into a sneer, his long fangs glinting in the emerging moonlight as well as his glowing red eyes.  His shoulders rose and fell with each ragged breath, the predatory instinct clouding every sense.  His claws gripped your arms tightly still, unforgiving as the tips dug deep into your skin followed by droplets of blood.  Your thighs were slashed from the underbrush of the forest, the cuts stinging as trails of water began to seep from your dress.  You drew in a shaky inhale, shivering from both the cold and fear.  Seemingly feeding off your terror, the man let out a husky growl and came forward, so your faces were just inches apart.  His musk consisted of cigarette smoke, the sharp odor of blood, and a days' worth of sweat.  He chuckled softly and brought his glistening lips to the crook of your neck, right along your jawline.  “I promise I won’t bite too hard.”  With a sudden jerk of his movements, his jaws clamped onto your shoulder, piercing through muscle and grazing bone.  You threw your head back and gasped sharply, white creeping in the corners of your vision as he drained you of your blood.  It poured out of the fresh wound, soaking both yours and his clothes.  You felt yourself fading out of consciousness. 

You awoke to the sensation of hot breath on your inner thighs, as well as saliva and blood running down your skin and pooling on the dusty floorboards below.  You strained your neck upwards with a groan, the sight of the man between your legs lapping up leftover blood awakening a whole new side of you yourself never thought you’d see.  Floods of memories swirled around your mind, although they didn’t belong to you.  From this, you now knew the man's name to be Remmick, which you thought might be important since he was now sucking so close to your core.  You growled and sprang up, sending Remmick onto his back and you hovering over his soaking body.  

“Welcome back, lass.” he sneered, drinking in the sight of you as you narrowed your eyes.  

“What the fuck did you do to me.”  You demanded, grabbing hold of his blood-soaked collar with long white claws of your own.  

“Only made you mine for eternity, darlin’.  You needn’t worry, this is the best outcome.” his sneer widened, and he brought a hand up to the back of your neck.  With a roar you shoved yourself off his body as he clambered to his feet.  You rushed forward and forced him outside, the driving rain instantly soaking both of you to the bone.  As you briefly fought for dominance, you tore his bloodied shirt open and latched your mouth onto his chest, biting down with such force that elicited a hitched growl from his throat.  He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked, blood now running down your chin and dripping from the corners of your mouth.  Your eyes glowed as you licked your lips, tasting each drop of thick black blood.  Your gaze met his, his lips parted in surprise at your sudden desperation.  You both then suddenly collided in an embrace of pure primal passion, bloodthirsty lust that sent shivers down your spine.  As his pelvis pressed against yours, you could feel the hardness growing with every kiss, which only began a twisting and burning knot in your abdomen.  You shoved him to the wet grass beneath, the blades like soft feathers grazing your skin as you landed on his lap.  Your claws traveled to his hair and you pulled his head back, your teeth lingering as you nipped his bottom lip.  Remmick groaned and gripped your ass, guiding your hips to roll into him as he laid onto his back.  He then moved to hastily unbuckle his trousers, exposing his hardened length as you sat back on his thighs.  Without hesitation you moved forward and lowered yourself onto him, the mix of blood and rainwater providing a natural lubricant as he inserted his entire length deep inside your slick folds.  You threw your head back and moaned, rocking your hips against his as he once again guided you through riding him.  

“You’re taking me so good, sweetheart.  Just like that.”  He breathed through gritted teeth, thrusting up into you with each forward movement.  With each wave, his cock hit your cervix with such a driving force that you felt your mind cloud with pleasure.  You clawed at his chest as your rising climax burned like lapping flames in your core.  Your moans meshed and were instantly drowned by the storm.  Balancing on the edge of ecstasy, your nails raked into his skin, rooting deeper with each upward thrust.  Remmick was practically strangling your hips, gripping so hard you thought he would tear off pieces of flesh.  He yanked your body downward, so you were laying against his chest, once again sinking his glistening fangs into your neck and lapping up the tainted immortal blood.  You responded by latching your fangs onto his shoulder, matching his sucking and enjoying the taste of his livelihood.  Then suddenly your orgasm came crashing into you with the same rhythm as the pounding thunder above, and you straightened upwards again and moaned into the night sky as rain splattered onto your bloodied face.  The sight of you riding your high sent Remmick over the edge soon after, rutting into you with slamming thrusts and deep, guttural groans as he stuffed you full of his seed.  Your movements turned sloppy as you milked him of his cum.  Your body spent, you slumped onto his chest, your walls still clenching around his throbbing cock.  He wrapped his strong arms around your dainty figure, holding you against his pounding heart and heaving lungs.  You knew that after this night, you belonged to him.  Forever. 

[foreid]

smoke and stack come into the shop looking for bo chow only to find y/n at front desk and bo chow discreetly under her hehe

anon i love the way u think! one eater chow blurb coming right up :3

your hair was a mess, curls sticking up through every end and frizz spiking through its texture.

lips parted letting strings of whines as your husband was kneeled down in front of you, tongue lapping slow stripes against your slit.

the day was slow, only usual customers coming in and barely even meeting you at the counter.

bo thought he could use it to his advantage, missing the taste of your every aspect against his lips.

forearms holding you up against the counter, legs trembling from behind it as you hid moans between your lips.

“b— bo… someone’s comin’.” you gasped out, nails digging into the edge of the counter as he started to suck against your clit, knees buckling beneath your dress the more he continued.

he was humming in content, devouring you with full lips, his entire upper body hid by the fullness of your skirt.

your hand quickly covered a moan trying to escape your mouth as two men stepped through the doors, the jingle of the bell alerting you back to reality.

they walked sternly towards the counter, they were broad and a lot taller than you, staring down at you as they stood a respectable distance from the counter.

you swallowed dryly, the extra bodies in the room seeming to not stop bo at all.

“h— good evenin’, how ca— can i help ya?” a chirpy yet cracked voice, as if a moan was threatening to escape past your words.

the twin wearing red sort of just stood there, staring around the market curiously.

the other man, wearing blue, stared for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.

“we mean no harm, missus, jus’ lookin’ for bo chow.” he spoke to you and his voice was low, gruttal, but he looked like he meant business, intimidating you for just a moment.

“is he here?”

only for a moment did you almost forget about the sensation between your legs.

and just as you thought, bo was not about to let you go through this without a fight.

before you spoke up, you felt a digit teasing your entrance, and as you were opening your mouth to speak, he was shoving it inside of you. knuckles deep.

“he’s— oh!” you perked up, gasping and quickly slapping your hand against your mouth.

you stared up at the two men, eyes wide as if even you were shocked at the noise you just made.

they both just looked at you with an insane amount of concern in their eyes.

you held a finger up, signaling them to give you a second as you swallowed dryly. clearing your throat.

when you tried speaking up again, all you did was choke up. so you decided to just expect your fate.

shaking your head ‘no’, and they seemed to get the hint.

one of them slowly nodded, a cocked up brow as if he was trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

“well. in that case, tell ‘im smoke needs t’ talk to ‘im.” with one last nod, as if to say ‘thank you’, he and his twin walked out the clear doors.

when their figures discarded out the stores line of view, you slammed your forehead against the countertop, letting out all the choked moans you’ve been trying to hide.

your hands grabbed at whatever was near, lips parted as bo started to fuck you with his fingers, plunging an extra one inside.

his tongue didn’t stop, and your hips started to rut against his face, your clit bumping against his nose, adding onto the pleasure.

he somehow managed to fit two digits knuckles deep inside of you, curling them against the plush of your walls.

that was it. he hit a familiar spot and you came undone against his lips.

your moans were unhinged and loud, legs feeling weak and knees practically giving out.

bo let you ride out your orgasm against him, letting you come down from your star-seeing peak.

one last moan of his name and a string of curses, your upper body became slack against the counter.

he appeared in front of you at some point that you couldn’t recollect because of the state of euphoria the orgasm had you in.

you managed to pick yourself back up, eyes meeting with a very proud bo chow.

his lips were glistening, eyes low and full of nothing but lust.

the look of frustration on your face made him chuckle, his hand reaching to your lower back in order to hold you close.

“did s’good, darlin’. taste j’s as good.” he murmured against your mouth, pressing his lips with yours.

lewdly tasting yourself momentarily. you still had a brain of putty, melting into the kiss as easy as ever.

“‘m give it to ya s’good tonigh’. my pretty lil’ wife.” he hummed as he broke off the kiss, hands grabbing at your ass through the dress, somehow simultaneously pulling you closer.

his words and actions screwed a quiet giggle out of you, fingers curling around his suspenders.

“i’d like that. maybe.” you teased, staring at your fingers as they played with the suspenders then back up into his eyes.

his head tilted a bit, grinning against your mouth again. “yeah? tha’s what ya want, peach?” before you could even respond, he was kissing you again.

this time with more fever, a hand grabbing beneath your knee to hold your leg against his side while he devoured your lips.

this is exactly what life was about.

a sexy husband who loved everything about you,

and that's exactly who bo chow was.

[restinslices]

Remmick and Vampire!Reader fucking after a recent hunt

Blood covering both your clothes and faces, smearing as your tongues enter each other's mouths. There's a dead couple nearby but who cares about them when Remmick's hands are on your hips and you can feel his erection pressed against your clothed cunt, begging to be inside you

Remmick leaving bite marks on your neck and shoulder. They'll heal, but he loves how they look now. Bloody, raw, deadly if you were still a human.

Remmick wetting his fingers, moving your panties to the side and prepping you to take him. Usually he'd be gentle and slow, but his eagerness gets to him. He needs you ready now.

Remmick, whos eyes roll back when his dick is finally inside you. Warm and wet, your insides molded around his cock perfectly. Squeezing him as you ride him

Remmick who leaves blood covered kisses over any part of your skin he can reach, a gentle contrast in comparison to how deeply and roughly he's fucking you.

Remmick whispering "give it all to me" against your lips.

Remmick, loving that he has you to himself for eternity.

[leopar6eyes]

everytime he comes on the screen, i do too🧎🏻‍♀️

credit: r9vish

[bananafieldnotes]

beg for me

★ abstract: it’s ‘70s chicago and stack’s a single man on the prowl for his match. you’re about to give him more than he bargained for

content disclosure: smut, technical age gap, black!reader, fem!reader x stack, dirty talk, public sex, fingering (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, canon deviation, ongoing series

author’s note: hello! this is my first ‘sinners’ fic of what i hope to be many! i’m not new to writing fanfic but this is a fresh blog, and my first time writing fic about a film. i wrote this blurb with the intention of turning it into a series so feedback is so appreciated!! i’m very open to asks and requests as well :) i had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it

You’d heard all the stories from your creole cousins about vampires, how they walk amongst the living without detection. That there were even vampires that could walk in sunlight unharmed by its rays. None of it scared you. In fact, it served as the opposite; it excited you. The danger of being caught under a vampire’s thumb brought you an indescribable rush of adrenaline and excitement and not even a pinch of fear. You wanted the gift they spoke of.

His hands cupped your ass, kneading the cheeks apart as your teeth pulled at his earlobe. The bathroom door was only so thick but neither of you cared, cloaked in the haze of sweat, cocaine and Marvin Gaye as you shed whatever layer of clothing you could get your hands on.

As his lips made their way back to yours, it suddenly hit you that his kisses were vintage, that he’d probably travelled the globe kissing hundreds of people in various ways at his heart’s desire. The thought spurred you on, a fresh wave of arousal glossing your panties. “Stack?” The smoky film over his eyes was back as he pulled away to look at you, fangs retreating before you could see them. “Hurry up and fuck me already.”

The tug of a smirk let you know that you were in for a rough ride. “You want it now?”

Stack’s hand snaked beneath your dress to stroke your clit, fingers gliding without protest through your sodden folds. Your head nodded eagerly at his question even though you knew he was reveling in the pleasure of your desperation. His fingers, deft and thicker than yours, pushed experimentally past your entrance, eyes locked on your face as you exhaled a moan of relief. Two digits working in tandem to curl against your sensitive walls, marveling at how wet you were. Your essence dripping from his fingers. It was the most turned on you’d ever been.

It felt too good. His hot breath fanned across your face as he pumped in and out of your gummy walls, licking at your neck like he was playing with his food. All of it was so erotic that it drowned out the music just beyond the door and dulled the way the concrete sink pressed against your tailbone. “You want it but can you take it?”

The low rumble of his voice made your pussy clench around his fingers, eyes screwing shut to bask in how lewd it was. His thumb curved up to massage your clit as his fingers worked you open, and he laughed at the way your hips bucked wildly. “I-I can take it, please, Stack!”

He was so quick to undo his belt that you didn’t even hear it, cock wrapped in his hands as your eyes drifted open sleepily. His dick was just as pretty as him; thick, long, and just the slightest bit curved. You wanted to bend over and lick the single pearl of precum leaking out of his tip, but he was already using it to tease your entrance. A shockwave rippled down your spine as he bucked once, twice, teasing you mercilessly until you grabbed hold of his cock to finally slip him inside of you.

The stretch felt delicious despite his size being so… overwhelming. Your body welcomed him like it was made for him, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out. Your hands clutched to the front of his shirt, breathlessly awaiting his next move.

Stack watched you in amazement, your greed astonishing to him. It’s been years since a human could match his passion, his unquenchable thirst. And here you are in front of him, licking your lips and staring at him like you were ready for him to fuck you dizzy.

His hips undulated slowly, studying your expression meticulously for any signs of discomfort. As if you could read his thoughts, you wrapped your arms around his torso and flicked your hips to match his motion. You could take it.

“You feel that?” Stack drew his hips all the way back until just the tip remained inside of you, sliding forward in one swift move again. With your stomach pressed against his, he could feel his cock reaching unexplored depths with every thrust. “Feel it.”

He brought your hand to hover right near your belly button, pushing down gently enough for you to feel the friction from the outside in. Stack was staking his claim to your body, ensuring that you’d chase the high of this moment for the rest of your life. It made your eyes roll back, pleasure consuming your every thought, nerve and muscle. Your soul was only concerned with tying itself to his, ardently clawing at the nape of his neck to bring his face closer to yours.

His fangs appeared instantaneously, the rush of his hormones making it harder for him to hide his true nature. You were putting weakness on his knees as you taunted him with his sustenance, your blood pumping succulently beneath your skin’s surface. “Do it,” you moaned out, sensing his hesitation. “Bite me.”

You knew. You knew and you didn’t care; or rather, you cared because you knew. It got you going, it was possibly the only reason you seduced him. He knew nothing about you… how could he have assumed he had you all figured out?

Asking him deterred his desire altogether, his interest in your motives deepening as he watched you. He couldn’t acquiesce without knowing more. Even though he was more than happy to reap the benefits, Stack never asked for any of this. And if you, as gorgeous and alluring and enthralling as you were, wanted this willingly…

He needed to know more.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

This makes things more interesting in regards to the amount of pussy licking implied in Sinners 😂🥴 that shit was heavily frowned upon! And I love how this period was a turning point for women’s exploration!

So to conclude, I will be having lots of fun writing Sinners smut 😭😂 going REAL TABOO!

[mcondance]

Smoke with barely legal virgin reader who he makes ride them for their first time since they “wanted to be grown” and “was talking all that slick shit at the juke joint”

don’t hate me but i feel like this is more elias than elijah sorry friend tw big ass age gap, reader is quite literally freshly 18 so talks of that, elias is a nasty man, reader is a virgin, uses of “girl”, written in a southern accent

oh my god yeah.

just turned 18 a little less than 3 months ago, can still smell the milk on your breath when he’s close enough. can still see that sparkle in your eyes, the same sparkle you look at him with when you’re talking shit that gets his dick hard and so obviously trying to make yourself look older than you are.

elias can see through it all. with those wild eyes, he can see straight through that silky little dress and right on through to your body underneath it, the body you slink over the counter top in a vain attempt to gain his attention.

unfortunately, fortunately, for you, elias has never been the twin to make the rational decisions.

“she a baby,” smoke tells him, ducked off in the corner the day elias starts to give in, but elias is chewing on a toothpick imagining what he could do to you.

“shit,” he starts, “that girl know what she wan’. can’t give her nothin’ she ain’ been askin’ fa’.”

“gon’ give that girl what she askin’ for and see how that work ou’.”

elias ain’t never listened to his brother when it came to women, and he don’t plan on starting now. not when you ‘bout the easiest lil’ thing he’s seen in a long time.

he don’t know how it happened and you don’t either, but someway you end up at the little place he bought with straight cash, that little green dress he’s had the eyes for decorating the body he’s soon to have his way with.

he isn’t your first kiss, but he’s your first kiss like this. he don’t care that you haven’t been touched, he don’t care that the way he’s kissing you and licking into your mouth is definitely too much for a virgin like you, he don’t even care that you’re obviously overwhelmed and biting off more than you can chew.

he loves this shit.

he don’t respect you enough to take your clothes off, and he damn sure don’t respect you enough to even lead you to his bed. right on the couch is how he’s gonna take it from you, thighs spread under you while you grind on him and think to yourself about just how you’re gonna take all of it.

“ay, girl, get this up,” he slurs against your lips, pulling at your dress before he reaches for his belt buckle. desperate and willing, you meet him there and help him loosen his belt and then you’re reaching into his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. overzealous little thing, excited, eyes bigger than your cunt.

“you grown, girl?” he asks, rubbing himself through your oh-so abundant wetness, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, golds shinin’ like his blown eyes. you nod, whining as you feel his tip glide against you like cold whiskey down your throat. “yeah?”

you feel grown right now. grown as hell. growner than you’ve ever felt before.

“lemme see how grown you is, then. baby talkin’ all tha’ slick shit at the joint, lemme put that money where that mouth is.”

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. but stack’s so fine and it’s now or never, you can’t go back on your word after all you said and done. you wouldn’t go back even if you wanted to. you ain’t letting this go.

elias fucks you like you’ve been takin’ dick for years. hands wrapped around you, big hand pressed to the middle of your back, he stuffs you full and has you choking on your words, has your thoughts jumbling and folding in on each other. green fabric slips down your shoulders and leaves your whole chest bare for his disgusting eyes.

elias feels powerful, and vile all the same. goddamn cradle robber and he don’t feel nothing but pride and power.

“you just a baby, girl, don’ know nothing. but i’ll teach ya’. i’ll teach you good, girl. learn you everythang you wanna know.”

[strangerexee]

ᴍɪᴄ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ, ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ | ꜰᴀᴍᴏᴜꜱ ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ!ꜱᴀᴍᴍɪᴇ ᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝙰𝚄: 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 | 𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚁&𝙱 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚎

Pairings: Sammie Moore x black!reader

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : (𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜)

You were embarrassing.

You knew it.

Sweating under the stage lights, your phone gripped in both hands like your life depended on it, scream-singing along to every word like your soul might exit your body from pure, unfiltered thirst.

Because Sammie Moore was right there.

Fine as all hell.

Dripping sweat.

Voice deeper than sin itself.

His chain glittered under the stage lights, swinging every time he leaned forward and dragged those thick, ringed fingers down the mic stand. His shirt was half open. His skin glistened.

And God help you, you had no dignity.

You were screaming so hard you couldn’t even record.

Voice cracked. Makeup surprisingly not melting. Hair sticking to your neck.

But it didn’t matter.

Because you were at the front.

At a Sammie Moore concert.

And you’d never wanted a man more in your whole damn life.

The crowd swayed like ocean waves behind you, arms raised, girls crying, some throwing bras. Sammie walked slow across the stage, drinking from a bottle of water, that voice of his curling around lyrics like smoke. Like velvet dragged over your spine.

He looked good.

Too good.

Painfully good.

And then — Lord, then — he stopped singing.

Paused, lifted his mic.

“I got one question,” he said, deep voice rich like heat.

The whole crowd screamed.

“Who want a kiss?”

Bitch.

The way every hand shot up — like a coordinated attack.

You raised yours too — screaming like your life depended on it, half laughing, tears in your lashes from sheer embarrassment. Your phone was long forgotten. You were just pointing up, jumping like a damn idiot, yelling:

“ME! ME! OH MY GOD, ME PLEASE!”

He looked around. Took his sweet time. Eyes dark. Smiling low like he knew he had y’all wrapped around his finger.

And then — oh my god.

His eyes landed on you.

Not just glanced. Locked.

And that smile —

The cocky, tilted smirk with the dimples and everything —

That was for you.

“You.”

He pointed.

“Come here, baby.”

The security guard was at you before your brain even registered what was happening. You gasped. Sputtered. Let yourself be helped up and over the barricade while the entire front row screamed.

You were shaking.

You were sweating.

You were convinced your soul had just left your damn body.

Sammie watched you walk up — real slow — and you swear you almost tripped on air when he leaned down with the mic and whispered into it —

“Don’t be shy now, baby. C’mon.”

When you made it to the stage, he stepped forward and took your hand.

His palm was warm.

His fingers curled around yours like it was normal. Like this wasn’t the craziest thing to ever happen to you in your whole damn life.

He leaned in close — way too close — and brushed his lips near your ear.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

You told him.

“Mmm. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The crowd was SCREAMING.

You were DEAD.

And then — then.

He cupped your cheek with one hand, tilted your chin up, and kissed you.

On the mouth.

Not a peck.

Not a polite little brush.

No — Sammie kissed you like he meant it.

Like he’d been thinking about it.

Like it wasn’t just a stage bit.

His lips were warm. Slow. The kind of kiss that melted your knees. His hand slid down to your jaw, holding you in place, and his mouth lingered—just long enough to steal your breath — he had you squealing against his lips.

When he pulled back, your eyes were wide and glassy, and his thumb brushed under your lip like he wanted to memorize the way you tasted.

He still had the mic in one hand.

“Y’all saw that?” he asked, turning to the crowd. “She sweet as hell.”

You covered your face, sobbing. Literally sobbing.

He laughed.

Real, deep, low in his chest.

Then leaned back in.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered against your ear, so low it didn’t even hit the mic, “I’b be crying too.”

When you were led back down to the crowd, every girl around you looked shook.

You couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Your lips still tingled.

Your hand — he held your hand.

Sammie winked at you once more before turning back to the mic.

And you?

You were a goner.

Js wanna say thank y’all for 1k followers — just got like 900 more strange-babies — preciate all the loveeee — all yall comments and reblogs bring me so much motivation…I love you guys especially the anons and my moots🫶🏽💕 and my wife (she don’t know we married on the low — @pinkpantheris )