Dollia💘

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore was making his way back to The Blackline as the heat hung over the city, beating down on him something fierce. He had spent most of the day handlin’ business. A shipment needed confirming. Two men owed him money. A supplier on the east side had spent twenty minutes explaining why he was late and another ten apologizing for it. And Smoke was tied up seeing a man about hiring two new runners to travel from Mound Bayou back to Little Rock.

By the time Stack turned down an alley behind a butcher shop, he was ready for a drink and a quiet chair.

That was, until he heard it.

A sharp cry.

Stack stopped.

The sound came again

“Mrrrow”

Stack glanced around the alley.

Wooden crates. Broken barrels. A rusted tub. Flyers for the Dreamland Ballroom. Billie Holiday’s faded picture on the front cover.

Then, he spotted a flash of white beneath a stack of boxes.

Stack crouched.

“Well now.”

Two blue eyes stared back at him.

The kitten looked half-starved. Its fur was dirty. One ear had a small nick. It couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

The kitten immediately hissed.

Stack blinked. “That’s a mighty strong opinion from somebody the size of a biscuit.”

The kitten hissed again.

Stack chuckled. “Yeah. You tough.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the wrapped piece of smoked sausage from the butcher he’d bought earlier for a little taste until he’d gotten back to see what Aunt Pearl was cooking up.

The kitten watched every movement.

Slowly, Stack tore off a piece and set it on the ground.

The little thing hesitated.

Then, it darted forward and clamped it between its paws, pink beans dirty. It started munching, tiny sharp teeth nibbling away.

Gone in seconds.

Stack tore off another piece.

And another.

By the fourth piece, the kitten wasn’t hiding anymore.

By the sixth, it was standing beside his shoe.

By the eight, it was rubbing against his ankle.

Stack sighed. “Ah, hell.”

The kitten meowed.

“You done made up your mind already, ain’t you?”

The kitten looked up at him.

Stack pointed toward the alley entrance.

“You know I run a juke and brothel, right? Loud music. Drink fools. Women that’ll dress you in ribbons and bows.”

The kitten blinked.

“I ain’t got time for no cat.”

The kitten rubbed against his shoe again.

Five minutes later, Stack Moore was walking toward The Blackline with a white kitten tucked inside his jacket.

The first person to notice was Peaches.

Stack had barely stepped through the back entrance when she narrowed her eyes.

“What you got under there?”

“Nothin’.”

Something moved beneath his jacket.

Peaches gasped.

Cordelia appeared from nowhere.

“What is that?”

Stack groaned.

The kitten poked its head out.

“Mrrrow.”

The women erupted.

“Oh, Lord!”

“Look at that baby!”

“Where’d you find him?!”

“She hungry?”

“Can I hold it?!”

Stack immediately regretted every decision that had brought him to this moment. Within minutes, the kitten had been fed milk, wrapped in a towel, and given three different names.

Stack rejected all of them.

Smoke found them gathered in Stack’s office later that evening. He stepped through the doorway and stopped.

The kitten was asleep on Stack’s desk. Cordelia sat nearby sewing something. Peaches was scratching beneath its chin.

Stack was attempting to read paperwork.

Attempting.

Smoke stared. Then looked at his twin.

“You got a cat.”

Stack didn’t glance up.

“It got me.”

Smoke folded his arms.

The silence lasted several seconds. Smoke staring at the kitten with a peculiar expression. Then, he nodded his head once.

“That’s worse.”

Cordelia and Peaches giggled.

They would not stop hounding Stack about a damn name.

The kitten sat in the middle of Stack’s desk, licking one paw while half a dozen girls stood around staring at it. Even some of Stack’s muscle came peeking in to see.

“You gotta give it a name, daddy.” Peaches said.

“I don’t gotta do nothin’.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You can’t keep callin’ it ‘cat.”

“I damn well can.”

The kitten stepped directly onto one of Stack’s money books. Stack lifted it and placed it back on the desk. The kitten immediately walked onto the book again.

Minnie pointed. “See? She got personality.”

“Or he.” Cordelia said, puffing on a cigarette.

Nobody actually knew. The kitten was too young to tell.

Peaches leaned forward. “What about Pearl!”

“No.”

“Daisy?” Another girl said.

“No.”

“Snowball?” Another girl said.

“Absolutely not.”

Cordelia laughed. “Angel?”

Stack looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

“Have you met this animal?”

As if on cue, the kitten swatted an ink pen off the desk.

It hit the floor.

Everyone watched it happen.

“See?” Stack said.

“Maybe Lily?” Peaches offered.

“No.”

“Magnolia?”

“No.”

“Sweet Pea?” Aunt Pearl called out as she walked past Stack’s office.

The look Stack gave her nearly sent Cordelia into laughter.

“What? She eaten my scraps I outta give my input, Elias.” Aunt Pearl argued.

“That cat ain’t sweet and neither are you.” Stack mumbled.

Aunt Pearl twisted her towel and swatted it at Stack. The girls giggled.

The kitten chose that moment to bite Stack’s finger.

It wasn’t hard but it was just enough.

Stack stared down at it.

The kitten stared right back.

Smoke stepped into the office. He took one look at the gathering.

“What ya’ll doin?”

“Namin’ Stack’s cat.”

Smoke looked at the kitten. The kitten looked at Smoke.

Then, for absolutely no reason, it hissed.

Smoke raised an eyebrow.

Stack pointed. “See? Mean.”

The kitten puffed itself up, all six ounces of attitude on display.

Smoke nodded once. “Mean little thing.”

Stack looked down at the kitten again.

The kitten looked up at him.

Then, it reached out and placed one tiny white paw on top of his hand.

Something about it made him grin. Not a big grin. Just enough.

“Trouble.”

Cordelia blinked. “What?”

Stack scratched beneath the kitten’s chin.

“That’s the name.”

The kitten immediately climbed onto his shoulder as if it approved.

Peaches laughed. “Trouble!”

Smoke nodded. “Fits.”

The kitten settled comfortably against Stack’s neck.

Stack shook his head. “Yeah.” Looking around the room, he added, “Besides, that what everybody call me when I walk through the door anyway.”

The kitten purred.

The name stuck.

Stack shook his head.

The kitten purred.

Trouble stayed. Nobody ever officially decided it. It simply happened.

A small cushion appeared beside Stack’s desk. Bowls for water and mashed up scraps the girls stole from the kitchen sat right outside of the office door. Smoke was talked into making a slot at the bottom of the back entrance door for the cat to come and go when it needed to relieve itself.

Trouble grew. Its fur became soft and bright. Its ribs disappeared. And despite an entire building full of people wanting its attention, it followed Stack everywhere.

It slept in his office. Sat on his desk during meetings. Occupied his bed when he was away. Curled beside him whenever he sat still longer than five minutes.

Every night after closing, Stack would lean back in his office chair while the cat occupied his lap like it owned the place.

Maybe it did.

One evening, long after the music downstairs had ended, Stack scratched beneath the cat’s chin while looking over the night’s books.

Trouble began purring.

Stack shook his head. “Everybody in this city wants somethin’ from me.”

Trouble blinked.

“You don’t even know who I am.”

Trouble stretched and settled deeper into his lap.

A smile tugged at the corner of Stack’s mouth.

For once, there was no business to handle.

No debts to collect.

No trouble waiting around the corner.

Just a small white cat asleep against him while the sounds of The Blackline drifted softly through the floorboards below.

It was the closest thing to peace Elias Moore had found in a very long time.

—

Just like every night, The Blackline was full to bursting. Folks were stacked three deep at the bar. Saturday night had filled The Blackline to the rafters. The poker tables stayed busy, the whiskey flowed without pause, and not a single chair sat empty in the house. Cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling while laughter rolled through the crowded room.

On stage, Ruby Mae or “Big Beaver Mae” sat atop the piano in a sequined dress that caught every oil lamp in the room. Her voice slid through the Juke and Pussy Haven like warm sorghum syrup drizzled over cornbread. Speaking of, she had a hefty slice of Aunt Pearl’s sweet potato cornbread in her hand while she sung about a man with a hook for a pecker that ran off with her money. She earned whistles and applause from the crowd.

Meanwhile, Stack Moore was three hands into a poker game. He had a decent stack of chips in front of him and a man across the table sweating through his collar.

Then, Cordelia appeared.

Stack immediately knew that look.

He leaned back in his chair with a crease between his brows and a toothpick resting in the corner of his mouth.

“What?”

Cordelia folded her arms. “Don’t get mad.”

His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“It ain’t bad.”

“Cordelia.”

She pointed toward the stage.

Stack followed her finger.

Then froze.

There, perched on top of the piano beside the singer, sat Trouble.

The little white menace looked entirely pleased with himself.

Stack closed his eyes.

The poker players around him started laughing.

“How the hell…”

“He climbed up there.”

“Yeah but who let his little ass out my office?!”

Cordelia flicked her gaze away.

“Let me guess. Liza?”

“She said Trouble kept meowin’ wantin’ to get out—”

Stack shoved back from the table.

"That cat so little somebody could've stepped on him."

Cordelia followed as he headed across the room.

“He ain’t been stepped on.”

“Yet.”

By the time Stack reached the stage, Miss Ruby Mae had already spotted him.

A wicked smile spread across her face.

“Oh, look who’s comin’!”

The crowd turned.

Several people immediately started laughing.

Trouble stood, stretched, and sat right back down on top of the piano.

Miss Ruby Mae pointed dramatically. “Ya’ll know that cat?!”

The crowd answered at once.

“That’s Stack’s cat!”

“Hmm,” Ruby Mae laughed. “Just like Stack to surround himself with pussy, ain’t it?!”

“DAMN RIGHT!”

She laughed and slapped the piano. Then, she launched into an improvised verse.

🎶 I got a man named Stack, lord he dress so clean and fine… 🎶

The crowd cheered.

🎶 But his little white cat run that Blackline better than he run mine. 🎶

The room exploded with laughter.

Stack stopped at the edge of the stage.

Ruby Mae wasn’t finished.

🎶 That cat steal fish from the kitchen, knock whiskey on the floor… 🎶

Trouble meowed loudly.

A series of ‘aww’s’ filtered about.

Ruby Mae pointed at him.

🎶 And if Trouble don’t like your face, baby, don’t come back no mo’ 🎶

People were doubled over.

Even the piano player nearly missed a note.

Stack rubbed a hand over his face. “You encouragin’ him, woman!”

Ruby Mae laughed. “Honey, that cat don’t need encouragement.”

Trouble chose that exact moment to walk across the piano keys. A loud, awful cluster of notes rang through the room.

The crowd howled.

Stack finally stepped onto the stage and scooped the cat into his arms.

Trouble immediately started purring.

“You proud of yourself?”

The cat blinked.

Ruby Mae leaned toward the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give a hand to Mr. Elias Moore!”

The applause started instantly.

She pointed at the cat. “And the real owner of The Blackline!”

The cheering got even louder.

Stack shook his head while Trouble sat comfortably in his arms, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused.

As he walked away from the stage, he could still hear people laughing.

Cordelia passed by and grinned. “Trouble suits that cat just fine.”

Stack looked down at the little fluffy menace.

Trouble looked back at him.

Then, the cat had the nerve to yawn.

Stack sighed. “Yeah.”

The cat had been at The Blackline less than a month.

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—————-

Stack was nothing more than merely your best friend’s annoying ass twin brother. Far too cocky for your liking, and far too fine to let yourself get caught up. Reckless, smooth talker who would chase after the young women, or sneak in older women who wanted a personal taste for Ladies Night.

While Elijah was more quiet than Elias, taciturn, and took his time to speak with women than his fast-moving younger brother.

However, women often eyeing Smoke discreetly, they were drawn to his quiet nature, his strapping physique, and the women he kept.

Smoke never had a problem with women, and they loved the strong, silent type of men.

Women often calling them Devils In Twos and quoting that comes in many forms, even in midnight blue, not just crimson red.

At first, you didn't know that Eliana had two twin half-brothers…well, as she would explain it, two twin brothers. Their mother would say, “God didn't make half of anythin’ you hear? You are family,” and they took it to heart.

Their baby sister, Eliana with her breathtaking beauty, is a spitting image of their mom. She has brown skin, a button nose, dimples, plump lips, with bouncing curls down her back, and an hourglass body. Same traits as her big brothers, with a softer side.

Her nickname was Sage, which emphasizes her calmness that she brings to the sibling dynamic. The yin to their yang, and the créme de la créme.

The men? Either hunted down, beaten to death, or killed to be televised on the morning news for disrespect, breaking her heart, or looking her way, without any consequences to the brothers.

Overprotective as hell? Yes. Stubborn as hell? Yes. Soft spots for their sister? Yes.

You meet their sister in the neighborhood, where she moved into on the first day, casual talks about your jobs, movies, TV shows, dating, and music, various topics. You, and Eliana shared similar interests, views, and she could talk shit about her brothers frequently.

The Moore brothers had various business ventures, as proved by the papers on permanent ink. Stack worked on his popular club. While Smoke operated in the management, production, and high-end beverage business of his own, importing all over the world.

Smoke is investing in his own bar, Smokey’s Hub, right across from the strip club, which Stack owns for himself. Smoke objected to the idea, but Stack insisted on making more money, and Sage worked in the bar with Smoke, bartending to patrons.

Eliana felt safe, and comfortable around you. She had a real friend, not just someone who wanted to be around her brothers, or fuck them.

Who wouldn't?

It was pleasant to see that their little Sage was happy, smiling, and out of her comfort zone around you. Initially, you found her brothers attractive, but your interest was in getting to know her.

You had a strong friendship with Smoke, but Stack was occasionally a friend as well.

Stack had his moments, but your affection for the twins was evident, and they were aware of it too.

Sage and Smoke were vigilant of their brother’s mischief, including yourself. Who knows how many fake friends went after Stack, and left Sage in the dark, alone, in tears. Unforgiving of her brother.

They were either in their house or following behind his baby sister into yours, arm over her shoulder with that stupid grin across his face.

Stack would say that his television was broken, or needed to borrow some sugar, making various excuses just to see his sister, and you. He would try flirting, and sweet talk, while you hurl insults or bite back at him While Smoke followed behind him, smacking him upside his head.

His sister wasn't buying it. Sage replied by saying “You see me every day, go on and play with your little hoes,” as if he were a pimp from back in the day.

Sage was onto his game with you, and her. She warned you so many times about Stack, and you listened diligently to her, and Smoke.

However, one Friday night, you invited the twins over to your house for dinner, while you were cooking late at night, the men stood between you, carefully helping you prepare the meals, as they did.

You accidentally bumped into both of them, they stood before you, their eyes settled on you. Seductive. You didn’t say a word, and they only apologized for getting in your way.

Your mind created a nasty fantasy of you in between Stack & Smoke, you were on all fours, mouth full of Stack while Smoke fucked you from behind as he hated you, a man that deprived, in desperate need of your touch. Tears falling down your face, mascara running, twisting in pleasure.

Smoke & Stack had you in multiple positions, their big hands all over you, leaving no place untouched. Claiming you as theirs, kissing you, biting you into your skin.

The dream seemed so vivid that you attempted to fall asleep that same night. You couldn't sleep. Your fingers slipped beneath your panties, moving against your pulsating clit, and your fingers deep inside your pussy. Finger fucking yourself until you come over and over, leaving a mess over your sheets, yourself included.

You changed the sheets and took a shower. Despite that, the wet dream remained engraved in your memory. And you wanted to make it happen, and you've had a little crush on them.

Obviously, you didn't tell Sage that, when she would only jump to conclusions, and make accusations. Admit that you've never been a real friend to her at all.

Stack & Smoke was your next-door neighbors in the neighborhood, with its prestigious reputation nestled in a grand location where they paid extra for security, camera surveillance, privacy, and were squeaky clean in every way.

Still, Sage was becoming suspicious of you, and Stack together. The longing glances, flirting from him mostly, and you flirting back.

She trusted Smoke wouldn't do the same, and you were discreetly looking his way without her noticing, mainly because he was quiet and didn’t talk much.

Though Smoke was silent, it doesn't mean he’s not sneaking around or out-going like Stack. Hell, Smoke might even be fucking a woman or two, turning her whichever way she pleases.

People often underestimate the quiet ones, expecting little of them.

Eliana lay sprawled across the large pink couch, eyelids closed gently, a pink woolen blanket draped over her body. Softly snoring, as your eyes flickered toward her, and then back to the television screen, showing an episode of Living Single.

You lay slouched across the second couch on the right side of the spacious living room. Relaxed, relishing in the silence for a moment.

She was getting some rest after a hectic night at Smoke’s bar, and either he or Stack would usually ensure she got home safely on his days off since they lived in the same neighborhood as you.

She frequently came by to chat all day and could sleep through anything, yawning softly, blinking twice before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Refreshed, yet still slightly fatigued.

“Y/n?” Sage mumbled, her voice soft yet raspy from sleep.

You hummed in response, smiling softly. “Hey, sleepy head,” you whispered playfully, waving at her.

“Girl, work has been so stressful with Eli lately. The bar was packed,'cause Elias brought in half naked bottle girls from his damn club,” Eliana spoke unsettled, half asleep, half-awake. Her southern accent spilling from her speech.

Your brows creased at her sleepy speech, as the image you created in your mind appeared like magic. Your hand smacked over your mouth, stifling a laugh.

The vibration of your laugh tickles your palm, with one hand over your stomach. The pain inside crept through. “He’s so crazy, I can see him doing that,” You added, clearing your throat.

Eliana chuckled coyly, with a slight grin. “Smoke almost blew a fuse at him but it brought in more business for us. They asked about you," She says halfheartedly, rolling her eyes.

You blinked twice. “They did? How are they?”

“Unfortunately, yes. They are always asking about you, and wonder how you're doing. I don't like it. You like them?” Sage asked casually as if it took away the unease.

“Sage, you’re barking up the wrong tree here, ask them, yourself,” You shot back, your voice held an edge that barely concealed your frustration with this tangled situation.

Sage waved you off, with a defensive nod, before you caught that eye roll from her. You squinted at your friend and you scoffed coyly.

“You think every girl you're friends with is gonna fuck your brothers, even me?” You asked, accusing her, your voice in a strict tone.

Sage rose from her spot on the couch and snatched her blanket as if to cover herself from shame. Trust issues, fear of facing the same cycle again. She knew she shouldn't have said that to you, but you knew Sage was thinking it. Ruthless.

“You’re thinking it, but you won't say it.” You snapped, your head shook gently.

“Y/N…please. I'm sorry,” Sage whined softly, her lip poking out.

Spoiled rotten. Always used to get what she wanted, but that didn't include friends.

“No, you’re not.” You snapped in a calm tone, eyeing her up, and down.

Sage didn't say a word, speechless. Her face softening, with guilt, anxiety, and lament. Her lips fell into a frown, her shoulders slumped faintly. You could see it in her.

“Okay. I know you, and you're my friend. I don't want to lose you like this. I'm so fucking sorry!” Sage exclaimed worrily, her arms wrapped around you, her face buried in your neck. Overly clingy.

You didn't cave in, able to resist her. Pushing her away. Her face turned sour, while your face remained neutral. “Don’t you have a home to get to?” You shot back rudely, your hand gestures to the front door.

That cute shit isn't going to work on you, not now. Sage sighed in defeat, nodding in agreement. “I need to go home, I need to clear my head anyway.” Sage mumbled, her lip fell into a frown.

Sage says farewell to you. She stepped out with quickness and closed the door firmly. Hours later, you heard footsteps thudding against the concerte, fading away.

Your phone vibrated on the coffee table, your eyes flickered toward it, just after grabbing it. Your eyes focused on the screen, it was your best friend, Jaelyn. With a press of your thumb, you held the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Jaelyn. How's your evening going?”

“Hey, girl! It's going good, how about you?”

You sucked in a shallow breath, before your fingers tugged at the tussels of your pillows. Your lips fell into a tight line, frustration with your current feelings, and your choice.

There was no time to be adamant about your feelings, and you knew what you wanted.

“You remember Eliana’s twin brothers, Smoke & Stack? The same ones I've introduced you to a couple of weeks ago?” You mentioned knowingly, gesturing to them as if they were in the room.

“Yeah? The two fine twins? And their bratty sister?” Jaelyn drawled, blinking twice, unaware of what you were asking.

You knew that Jaelyn wouldn't judge you, or make a mockery of your feelings. She's been through similar experiences as you. Best friend since elementary school.

“Yup, those two. So I had a freaky dream about them a couple of nights ago…” You dragged along, your eyes glued to the ceiling.

“Ouuuuu! You did?! Girl, did they have you in a threesome? Did you suck their dicks? Doggystyle? Missionary? From the side? Cowgirl? Reverse?” Jaelyn exclaimed, her voice seductive, almost frantic.

“Yesss that, and they did! Every single one! It felt real to me, too.”

Jaelyn gasped softly, her hand over her chest. Her mouth parted slightly as if she moaned from the image. “Let me guess you want to fuck them?” she teased, grinning.

Your fingers dug deep into the fabric of the pillow, bringing your knees to your chest. Your lip poked out, “You know I do,”

“Then what's stopping you? Sage? You?" Jaelyn asked boldly, her head tilting.

“Nobody?” You drawled, biting your lip.

“Exactly! Why do you care for Sage’s opinion, or her thoughts? She'll have to deal with it or leave, somehow. Everyone wants to fuck her brothers,” London says, shrugging it off.

You sighed in relief, chuckling softly. “Preaching to the choir, boo!”

“We both know you don't want to be friends with those niggas. I'm 100% sure they like you. I see how they look at you, like they’re ready to tear that ass up! Simultaneously!" Jaelyn exclaimed, laughing on the other end of the line.

“Simultaneously is crazy!” You cackled loudly, eyes snapped shut.

You, and Jaelyn burst into laughter, you hand over your stomach, the sound echoing through the house. Head thrashing across the pillow, your palm hitting the cushion, thudding softly.

“Shit..I would fuck the brothers too, and I wouldn't give a single fuck, you hear me?” Jaelyn added, exhaling to stop herself from laughing.

“I hear you. I appreciate this shit so much, Jae!”

“Of course, girl! I'm here for you, just like you're here for me. All shade but I'm your real friend!”

“Girl, I love you but you're making my stomach hurt—”

You almost flinched at the sound of a sudden knock, pondering on the identity of the visitor. “Shit!” you mumbled, your eyes flickered toward the door in caution. "What's wrong, are you okay?” Jaelyn asked in concern.

“Yeah, but someone is at my door,” You say, carefully rising from the couch.

Silently wishing that it wasn't Sage. Swiftly checking your phone, you caught a glance of your Ring Camera live feed.

Stack & Smoke appeared on the screen, with Smoke acknowledging you with a chin raise and Stack displaying a self-satisfied smile.

“Girl! It's Smoke & Stack!”

“Ouuu! You’d better go fuck them! You got this!” Jaylen encouraged, winking at you.

You chuckled at your bestie’s nasty encouragement, and winked playfully at her. “Thanks, boo! I'll give you the details later!”

“Anytime, and yes, please! I can’t wait for the tea!” Jaelyn quiqqed, smirking with mischief.

With a push of your thumb, you laughed it off, and ended the phone call.

Your face lit up, until you swung the screen door and door, open. Revealing Elias in a grey oversized hoodie, and matching sweatpants, crisp, white Air Force Ones, on his feet. While Elijah opted for a black hoodie, and sweatpants. For the biting chill of fall, your favorite season.

You chuckled lightly, before letting them inside your house, stepping aside. “Hi Elijah, Hi Elias, Why are y’all here?” You asked, pushing the doors closed, locking them shut.

The men scraped their shoes outside and gently kicked them off into the shoe basket beside the door.

The twins loomed over you as Stack leaned in, with your hand pressing against his chiseled abs. Warmth spread through you, as your hand glided over his abdomen, pushing him back a few. Stack stumbled back, grinning, while you rolled your eyes.

“We can't see you, now? Hm?” Stack hummed, his hands mushed your face, gently shaking your head from side to side.

“Stack, stop playing..” You snapped, squinting. Your palm swatted at his arm, Stack hissing with a smirk.

“But it's cute you act all fuckin’ tough,” Stack winced, his voice playful.

“Nigga, you play too much,” Smoke gritted, cutting his eyes at him.

“Nigga, you just jealous,” Stack tutted, matching his death glare.

You strode off toward the couch that faced the television, and gently plopped down, as the twins followed behind you. Smoke sat beside you on the right while Stack sat on the left side. Sandwiched between them, just like the dream. Their cologne is spicy, woody, possibly a hint of dark cherry, and cinnamon. Fuck, they smelled really good.

Your body shifted, thighs pressed together. Stack & Smoke sat manspread, his knees brushing against yours on purpose yet Smoke’s arm rested over the couch. Stack’s death glare cut at Smoke, yet his big brother smirked impishly. Panties pooling from the closeness, the rush of heat flowed through you.

“I've finally had a day today, and another couple of days off tomorrow, which is good. I need a damn break,” You say with a sigh, your head falling back on the pillow.

“Folks ‘round there stressin’ you out too much?” Smoke asked gently, the rasp crept in.

“Yes, I've been there for 3 years now, and I don't plan to stay long. Being an assistant to a corporate boss in the office is not what I thought I was.” You complained, shrugging.

Ideas floated through their minds, hoping to provide a solution to your problem, an escape for you.

“If you don't want to keep workin’ over there, then would you be open to workin’ in a bar? I've got security, good music, decent folks in their right mind, and good food,” Smoke spoke, sincerity in his tone.

“Or would you work in a strip club? Bartendin’ if you want,” Stack chimed in, careful with his time.

Thankfully, you’ve already had a bartending license, and on-the-job training. You knew how everything occurred from start to finish.

How could you say no to good music, and good food? Decent folks in their right mind? Sold. Yet, bars, and strip clubs always attract weirdos. Smoke would be there 24/7, Stack would be there too.

“Honestly, I do need a new job, and I'm so fucking exhausted of my current one. My boss is such a bratty bitch,” You grumbled, rolling your eyes.

Humming lightly, your head snapped in the direction of Smoke. “I'll work in the bar then, Smokey Bear!” You exclaimed with a grin, batting your eyelashes at him.

Smoke’s lips curled into a big smile, lips still closed shut. His heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

“Good to hear,” Smoke whispered.

Stack snickered at the nickname you've called Smoke. His hand over his mouth. You laughed but stopped yourself immediately, you thought it was cute for Elijah. He offered an incredible bear hug, reminiscent of a bear…cautious, caring, and powerful.

“Smokey Bear? Y/n, you tellin’ me only this nigga can prevent wild fires?” Stack asked, still belting out hysterical laugh.

“The fuck you laughin’ for Stacky-wacky?” Smoke cooed, dragging along a snicker.

Stack’s lips tightened in a line, faintly twitching at the nickname from Smoke. Scoffed it off.

“The fuck that mean?” Stack asked rudely, squiting hard at his brother.

“You wack, Stack,” Smoke shot back, snickering faintly.

A laugh spilling out of your lips, as Stack cut his eyes at you, but your lips went into a tight line. “Ok, it was a little funny, Stack!” You chimed in, shrugging.

“Guys, I have to tell you something. So I had trouble sleeping a couple of nights ago,” You confessed, your eyes darting between the men.

Smoke’s brow arched, blinking twice. “Nightmares?”

Stack chimed in, his face softened. “Insomnia?”

You swallowed hard, clearing your thoart. “N-no. It was a sex dream about you, and Stack. I was between the two of you, and it felt real.”

“A sex dream?” Smoke & Stack say in unison, intrigued yet bewildered.

A rush of heat flooded your face, embarrassment couldn't creep in. You weren't feeling like that anymore, the release was needed. Rose from the couch, your eyes darting between the twins. Your face softened, with something unreadable.

“Yes, and honestly, I want it to come true for me and I should get y'all out of my system,” You drawled softly, your hand resting over the nape of your neck.

Smoke & Stack exchanged longing gazes, fighting off a slow bite of their lips. Their faces softening with love, something deeper was brimming inside of them. A war

“You should get us out of yo’ system, Y/n? You sure ‘bout that sweetheart?” Stack spoke up first, his voice dangerously gravelly, and raspy.

You blinked twice. “Yeah, why?”

You wouldn't be surprised if the women they fucked separately, or together the women wouldn't be able to get Elijah, or Elias out of their system, or forget about them.

Smoke & Stack rose their positions from the couch, their posture straightened, and still. The twins stepped forward, yet flanked you on either side of you simultaneously.

Smoke leaned in, his lips inches away from your ear. Heat sank in your body, breath hitching. Caught in your thoart. His gaze on you, possessive, and salacious.

“Once we fuck you. Y/n, you’re our girl. You know how we feel about you, baby?” Smoke drawled, his voice deepened with his accent. His warm minty breath tickles your skin.

“Ya'll know how Sage is,” You say, nervousness in your tone.

Stack’s head tilted slightly, glancing at you, as if he was ready to take you down. His finger slides under your chin and his thumb rests under your lips, forcing your gaze to his.

Heat spreads through your body as you meet his gaze softly, trying to hold it as if it could prevent yourself from melting.

Despite this, you involuntarily moaned, your pulse pounding loudly in your ears. Pointless. Your panties were already wet enough, even before any touch by either of them.

You liked this, you inhaled sharply. “Are y'all clean?

Smoke & Stack nodded in reassurance. “Yeah, we’re clean. We get checked every day, and wear condoms..”

You wanted to feel them instead, entirely. “T-that’s good. But can I feel y'all this time..”

“All you have to do is say it, and we'll fuck you how you want. Just like that lil dream of yours and I know. Even better than that dream, baby.” Smoke whispered in your ear, watching your shiver in front of them.

One twin in your ear, and the other twin in front of you.

It was the classic trope of a devil and angel on your shoulders, but this time there were two devils. One wore the blue hour, while the other was dressed in crimson red.

“You grown, ain't you? What’chu worryin’ ‘bout her for?” Stack asked, controlled, and inviting.

You leaned forward, arching your back instinctively. Your thighs clenched together, catching the eyes of both Stack and Smoke, whose lips curled into mischievous smiles in perfect unison.

“Just fuck me already,”

—————

You lie flat on your stomach, with your chin resting on your arms, folded. Naked, as your eyes flickered toward the twins who stood bare at the edge of your bed, their dicks were thick, deep brown, swinging near their thighs. The weight of their dicks was heavy. Yet you waited for them, desperately.

Damn. Now, you saw why.

“You can touch me..” You whispered, audible enough for the men to hear.

Smoke kneeled on the bed, sliding toward you with a small smirk of mischief, his movement, forward and dangerously deliberate. His palm pressed against your stomach, fingers splayed possessively. Gently pushing you down on the soft violet bedding, your legs spreading wide for him. Elijah wanted to taste you first, his tongue gliding over his lip.

“Fuckk,” Smoke groaned raspily, as he wrapped his lips around your clit, your mouth fell into a silent gasp once his tongue traced teasing, slow shapes over your clit. He was in sync with every tiny heartbeat, your hands shot out, fingers gripped the bedspread and the heels of your feet dug into the mattress. “Oh—-fuckk!!” you moaned again, and again.

Smoke’s hands slipped under your knees, gripped, and lifted, resting over his shoulders. Your voice spilling out in a plethora of loud choked moans, cuss words. “OhmyfuckingggGodddd!” you mewled, nails clawing at his back, almost drawing blood. Smoke growled raspily across your clit, and your lip poked out, whimpering softly. His tongue lowered to your brown folds, tongue kisses your folds deep as if they were your lips. “You sayin the wrong name..” Stack grunted lowly, lapping your cum in his mouth. Slurping, swallowing, as his lips opened, closed simultaneously.

Your body squirmed, shook, in his tight grip. Your hand over his head, Smoke swayed his head from side to side over your folds crazily, your back arching over the wet sheets. He made a mess of you, everywhere.

“Nah, baby, you pray to us,” Smoke rasped, the pad of his thumb flattened over clit. His fingers nudged your folds open, curling into your G-spot. “Elijahhh!” You lost your mind, begging him. Smoke added suction, the sounds of your pussy swallowing his fingers, and your moans brought a simmering anger in Stack. Finger fucking you like a madman. He could make you cum like that, twice as fast. “You get wetter when I do this?” he cooed, smirking devilishly. Your cum splattered all over his palm, creating a bigger pool. “Yesss!”

Stack stood there, arms crossed. Eyes rolled. Unfazed. He kneeled, and slid behind you, his gaze darting to you, and Smoke. His palm rested over his dick, closing his fist. Raspily groaned from his own touch, lifting his dick, in his hand. His hand mashed your face, yet you were unable to speak. “Open,” Stack admonishes, his moan spilled out, his head leaned over you, and your mouth parted wide. “That’s our girl..” he praised, before crashing his lips into yours, shoving his tongue in, as your tongue tangled with his, swallowing your feeble moans.

Your fucked yourself into Smoke’s fingers, your moans vibrating against Stack’s mouth. Stack broke the kiss, as he pushed his dick inside your mouth. You took him in as best you could, the weight of his dick was heavy, but your cheeks were hollowing around him. “Suck harder…” Stack hummed lowly, his eyes snapped shut and you did. Elicit raspy groans from the twins. The vibration from your mouth due to Smoke devouring you drove him insane. Jaw aching. “This mouth made for sucking dick..” You were already so sensitive, as you jerked away, his nose tickled your clit, Smoke didn't give you mercy. Are these men trying to kill you through pleasure? Yeah, they were.

Smoke’s hand & Stack’s hand reached out, fingers gently gripped at your titties, kissing each swell of your breasts. Stack teased your left nipple between his teeth, while Smoke copied him on the right, sharply rolling the areola between their canines, while Stack’s finger pinched your clit. “Pussy made for this..” Smoke says, sliding in one more finger. Your thighs clenched against Smoke’s temples. You whined loudly, “P-please—-Elijah!! Elias!!!” you moan muffled on his dick. Your hand stroked what you couldn't fit in your mouth. “Nah. Go on and suck..slut..” Stack grunted, groaned, and moaned against you, your cheeks hollowing.

He tapped the fat head of his dick against your uvula, spurting spit, beads of precum. Stack moaned lowly. You made muffled choking sounds entirely, your hand pumping him still. Stack moved your hand. “I said suck my dick..no strokin’ baby..” Stack teased. Such a bully.

Stack’s hand latched around your thoart, his palm felt your neck muscles clenching, and unclenching, the steadfast movement of his dick going in and out. “Lemme feel that mouth…” Stack tsking through a moan. Sweat clung to your bodies, half of your face covered by a halo of curls. “Mhmm!” Your body twisted, shaking. Meeting Stack’s lovesick gaze, radiating your lust for them. His dick jumping, twitching inside your mouth.

Smoke pushed Stack a few feet away, he almost thrashed into the headboard but his palm on the wall. Before he could cum for you, by your command. Stack fisting his own dick, grunting loudly. “Here’s a reward, baby..shit..” You poked your tongue, mouth parted wide. Stack’s tip spurted thick spurts of cum white, landing on your titties, stomach, in your mouth. You swallowed, moaned devilishly. “Gonna..cummm!” you cried hopelessly, your breathing grew frantic, still breathing through your nose.

Their mouths released your breasts, yet your hips shoving into Smoke’s fingers, almost knuckle deep. Twisting, and curling his fingers into a ‘come here’ motion. “Eli—pleaseee!” but your choked moans fell on deaf ears, he only wanted you to feel it. His fingers slid out teasingly, he grinned at you with a heated gaze. “I ain't done eatin’ baby,” His tongue darted endlessly, tongue fucking you like you were the last meal. “This lil pussy suckin me in.." Smoke teased, scissoring his fingers over your G-spot. You twitched, and opened with every flick and suck, constantly oozing white cum.

Abruptly, you released, drenching Smoke's face, on his tongue, gulping, devouring your pussy completely as if he could engulf it all in his mouth entirely, "Elijahhhhh!!" your body arched over the mattress, maintaining that. “Can't stop cummin’ sweetheart? Make a mess on me.." he teased, the pad of his thumb tracing the outer shape of your folds, squelching noises. Of course, you couldn't. He was the cause and effect of your climaxes. His tongue flickered across your tight asshole, gliding a wet stripe. “Aahhh! Ughh!” You cried helplessly, nails dug deep into his neck.

You shrieked uncontrollably, stifled groaning, your eyes rolled back, Elijah thought he glimpsed white, while you witnessed stars flickering behind your closed eyelids, vivid colors exploding, whispering his name, sanity slipping away, body quivering, your pussy still emitting white droplets of cum, squirting again. Your body collapsed, chest falling, and rising. “Like how you taste?” Elijah groaned, low, and mean.

Smoke leaned forward, his hand gripped your thoart. Crashing his lips into yours, your mouth parted wide for a dragged-out wild moan, as Smoke shoved his tongue in, tongue wrestling with yours, swapping spit, and your white cum. Before you swallowed, slurping his tongue clean. But Stack’s hand gripped the back of your neck, yanking you away. Stack tongue kissed you deeply, tasting you. “Taste better…real sweet..” Stack praised, his tongue glides across his lip.

The Moore twins ruined you, did more than ravish you. These men were walking catastrophes. You were theirs.

Stack leaned into the headboard, his back cradled by the pillows. His hands held onto your waist, hoisting you up straight. Resting his chin on your shoulder, as you straddle him. “Make a mess on me..” He whispered, his voice deepened. Your pussy slides back, and forth against his thigh. Head fell back, dragging a raspy moan.

Your essence trickles all over his thigh. “You somethin’ else..shit..” Stack groaned raspily, he watched you fucked yourself on his thigh in awe. “Elias..” His teeth sank into his lips, moaning quietly. His thumb circling your clit, pooling his finger with your essence. His digit traced a trail of your essence around your nipples, you shivered. “Fuckkk..need youuuu!”

Stack lifted you, angling his dick at your wet pussy, as he lowered you onto him, you gasped loudly for oxygen once his tip pushing past your swollen folds, fitting every inch in push by push. “All the way down on it..” Stack hissing through it, the curve of his dick hits a certain spot that made you cry helplessly in pleasure. “E—Elias!!! Elias!” His hand latched around your thoart once he was fully inside and forced you to face him, veins pulsating against your slick, soft walls. “I'm fittin’ you right in..” he says, voice raspy, and mean. Your fingers gripped the sheets, for dear life. “Ain’t you tryna get us out yo’ system? Just talkin’ plain ol’ shit..” he taunted once more, and he felt your walls grip him tight.

“Ride this dick..the right way.…” Stack admonishes, your walls clenched around him instantly, as if it were a muscle memory.

By his command, you bounced fast, and ruthlessly. “You like this?” You whispered, tongue trailing along his neck, biting him deep. His eyelids closed shut. Your ass clapped against him, fucking him back as he said yet he smacked your ass again, disapproving. “Harder..” he commands, you bounced harder than you could. Overstimulated. “I—Elias..” your voice desperate. He shook his head, his hands latched around your waist. Your hips rolling, feeling a new sensation, your body buzzing with warmth. “Not enough moanin…” He whispered softly.

Smoke’s fingers pinching your clit mercilessly, you panted, crying softly. Tears falling down your face, your lip poked out. The twins paid that no mind, you were adorable to them. Your essence dampened his fingers entirely, white over brown skin. Rubbing your cum around your ecret brown nipples, you shook uncontrollably. “Elijahhh…Eliass! Ahh!” and Smoke wrapped his mouth around your nipple, licking it clean, tasting you, and fingers twisting your nipple. He moaned in appreciation, sucking it roughly, he gave the left nipple the same treatment..sucking, pinching, playing with them.

Stack opted to push upward, violently. You moaned desperately. “Takin’ too long to ride..” Stack gritted. Smoke’s hands fondle your breasts in teasing circles, and Stack was fucking you like he was molding his dick size in your pussy. Sexually frustrated. Your thighs burned in exhaustion yet you kept going, as his pace sped up, his hips slamming violently. “And I'm doing the fuckin’ for yo’ lil ass..” Stack teased, eyes rolling back. The chokehold of your pussy around his dick made him work for it, drilling into you, grunting your name, beating his climax.

Smoke resumed to play with your boobs, and flicked your throbbing, bruised clit. “Is it that good? You screamin’ like you ain't had dick like this” Stack asks, his hand gripping your jaw, facing him. Smoke let out a loud, wet pop, biting your nipples. “So fuckin good! So good!” These men were fucking the life out of you. Your feral screams rippling from your thoart. Back arched. Pussy bruised. Swollen. Sweaty. Asscheeks covered in their handprints.

You were out fucked by them. “This pussy got magic in it…only takin’ what we give you..” Stack taunted raspily, his hand moved Smoke’s hand out of the way. His digits pinched your nipples. “We wanna hear you say it..” Stack grunted, yet you bounced and he let a groan. Heat pooling through your stomach, you grew tighter, tighter, wetter, desperate. He was still fucking you deep and fast, as if he hated you.

“Say it…” “Ahh—fuck! I'm yours! Y-you and Elijah!”

You panted out of breath, as Stack gave you long, deep thrusts, fucking you like a beast untamed. Bouncing on him grew useless, when he gave it to you, watching you squirm, cry like a deprived woman of pleasure. “And you gon’ know it every time we around, fuck what folks say..” Stack mumbled, meaning their sister as well. At this point, you didn't give a good goddamn if their sister found out or not. You were theirs, and theirs alone.

Knots in your stomach grew tighter, and tighter, threatening to unravel. Beckoning for a release, your voice, raspy, and low. You could barely scream, but there was still volume. “Ain’t done with’chu..” Stack was still fucking you unforgivingly, while Smoke played with your body, your hands shot out, and gripped Smoke’s shoulders. Stack’s hands slipped under your knees, and bounced you himself. “Ahh! Ahh! Elias!!! Elijah!! I’m gon—!” You begged them, yet those smirks across their faces knew you were close.

“Make a mess..”

You creamed, squirted everywhere all over Stack’s dick, leaving a huge mess on the sheets, while Stack drilled into you fast, fucking you through your climax, while he growled, grunted, and groaned in your ear. “I’m gon fuckin’ ruin you…”Smoke tongue kissed you messily, swapping spit. You moaned through each thrust, bouncing after every time Stack pushed his hips upward. “Already ruined that pussy…” Stack says, caught a pool of cum in his lap, nails marks on his brown skin. Your head fell back against his buff chest, first one to break the kiss. They already ruined you, turned you out, fucked you every which way, and fucked you loose.

Stack shoots his fat load of cum inside you, gritting his teeth, snapping his eyelids shut, seeing stars bursting. “Ahhh! Shittt!” Your mouth parted wide, but no sound came out. The impact of the climax, and rough fucking knocked the wind out of both of you. Stack pulled out fast, yet your mouth opened, as he came onto your tongue. You moaned devilishly, and swallowed quickly. Stack fell over the bed, and panting raspy, heaving, chest falling, and rising.

While you collapsed on the mattress, chest falling, and burned out, blinking away tears.

Smoke’s leaned in, facing you forward. His brows rose in concern, and his hand cradled your face. “One more round for me, baby?” Smoke cooed, his hand latched on your jaw.

You weakly nodded, giggling. He pulled in for a passionate kiss, deep, and slow. Now, it was Smoke’s turn.

His hands held on tight to your waist, flipped you on all fours before sliding his dick in fully. You moaned greedily, wildly as if you were a dying woman. Almost gut-wrenching but in immense pleasure. “Elijahhh!” With that, his hips rolling, deep and slow thrusts, dragging every stroke just to feel the constant twitch, grip of your pussy. “Ain’t enough?” Smoke rasped, gravelly grunting through his teeth, fucking you harder, shoving you across the mattress toward Stack. “I-it’s enough!!! Fuckk!!!” You shrieked, your hands thrashed into the mattress, softly thudding. Smoke’s palm slapped across your ass harshly, the sound echoed in the room and you moaned ferally.

You spoke some sort of gibberish in a slut like moan, softer. Your mouth drooling, eyes half lidded. Stack’s hand gripped your jaw, grinning down at you taunting like a bully. “Look at that face…” he says, in amusement. His thumb traced over your lips, your mouth parted wide, just after he shoved his thumb inside. “Thought you could handle all that..you can’t handle us..” Stack bullied, his smirk menacing. You whimpered patethically “Fuckk..” Your tongue twirled around his thumb, sucking it while your back was blown out by Smoke, he held you down by your waist to keep you still.

“Don’t give much lip when you take dick?” Smoke teased, his voice gravelly. Rutting against you, hitting a spot that Stack couldn't reach. You whimpered in response, and the brothers chuckled darkly. “Definitely don't…” Stack mumbled, a smirk etched on his face. All you could do was let out feral moans, cuss, or say their names in between, and take Smoke’s dick which you knew you could do. Your hair was a mess, mascara running down your face. A beautiful sight to them.

You clawed at Elijah's arm, yet he moved your hand out of the way, pushing his dick in deeper as if it couldn't fit. Your mouth fell open, jaw aching, body still buzzing in heat. You couldn't make noise anymore, lowly moaning. The Moore twins wore you out, until Smoke pulled out immediately.

You interjected, your voice came out in sharp bursts of air, raspy still. Your hand gripped his arm, pulling him back toward you. “N-nooo! Put it back in…” you whined loudly, your lip poked out but Elijah smacked your ass disapprovally.

Smoke turned you on your side, lifting your left leg, hooked tight under his buff arm just after sliding himself back inside, and, you immediately came just from Smoke enetering you alone. Embarrassing. Smoke didn't laugh, only his half hooded gaze down at you. Heat rising in his chest, pushing forward hard, yet slow, and long thrusts. "So fuckin’ greedy..” he says, as if he didn’t have enough your essence on his dick alone. Smoke was a dangerous one, he knew how to talk to a woman in the bedroom. Your head fell back against the pillows, moaning loudly again, clutching at his arm. “Elijahhhh..”

You didn’t want him to stop, but the pleasure he provided drove you to your limit. You felt lightheaded, your vision clouded with tears as your pussy clenching around Smoke’s dick repeatedly with loud, wet noises, the thick white ring around him expanding with each thrust. "You and this lil pussy gon' be the death of us.." Smoke gritted, biting back a rough moan.

He pumped into you unexpectedly, hitting G-spot made you scream crazier, your hans tightening around him in a vice-like grip, wetter than before, your back arching for him, his tip hitting a new spot that Stack couldn't, as the intensity increased to sweet torture yet relentless.

Stack's hand shot out, his fingers rubbed your clit in fast, teasing circles. Your hips undulating, bucking into his fingers while you took Smoke's dick, your eyes snapped shut, stars twinkling, virbant colors brusts. You sighed blissfully at the overstimulation from them, chasing the pleasure, trying to halt your climax. Stack's free hand reaching over, palming your breast, moaning at the pleasure he was giving you, you cried hopelessly. "Ahh! Ahh! E-Elias!!! Elijah!! Fuckk!" Your voice dragged out in soft pleas for more, but how much more could you take? It was driving you insane. Your climax closer than you expected.

"There you go, just cum already. You know you want it.." Stack cooed, taking his fingers from your mouth before biting his thumb. He smirked salaciously at you, and you already bottomed out, body still chasing the sweet relief of the release. “S-so…c-closee!! Ah shit! Right there!!” You wanted to. Desperately. You whined loudly for them, begging for them to keep up. Your jaw dropped, Stack crashed his lips into yours again, and swallowed your moans. You broke the kiss with a gasp for air, eyes shot out at the overwhelming sensation.

“Go on, and cum. You wrapped around my dick like this when you tryin’ so hard not to cum…” Smoke coaxed you on, fully enamored. That voice of his alone made you cum already, he knew what he was doing. His dick jumping, twitching inside you, your walls soft enough for him to slip, and slide easily. You whimpered for dear life, any source of something.

You screamed feral in hopeless pleasure rippling from your thoart, tears falling down your face, losing your voice again. Smoke watches as your pussy clings to him, gushing around his dick. He pumped into you until a guttural moan rippling from his thoart, just after spilling his thick load of cum inside you, fucking through your orgasm.

His hips slowed, halted instantly, pulling out, his cum trailing down your thighs. Smoke groans lowly as he watches. His eyes flickered toward you, his hand cradling your face, loving, careful, and you moan softly at his touch. Your body shaking, twitching. Passionately kissing your lips, peppered soft kisses along your neck, and suction on you collarbone, giving hickeys.

“You good over there, baby?” Stack asked in concern.

“Y-yeah. I just can't move…” You says raspily, chuckling softly.

Smoke & Stack rose up, while pulling up their sweatpants, Smoke lifted you in his arms, and carried you bridal style before he left Stack kissed your temple. “T-thanks, but we have to figure a way to tell your sister.” You says, voice almost nervous.

Stack waved it off. “She’ll be a’ight,” as if it wasn't a major issue.

Honestly, she would have to deal with it, somehow.

“You know she won't be. We fucked her friend.” Smoke chimed in, his voice controlled, and strict.

“Her friend fucked us back, remember? She’s our girl, man. This relationship is genuine.” Stack bragged with a shrug.

Smoke & Stack exchanged concerning looks, before nodding in agreement. “We'll be in the room wit’chu to tell her. Like Stack say, you’re our girl. We gon’ be right there.” Smoke says, his voice held an southren edge.

Smoke prepared a comforting bath for you to relax in while you cleaned up.

The twins swapped out the sheets for fresh ones and requested to use the other two bathrooms for showers, to which you granted permission.

Afterwards, the men took charge of cooking dinner as you moisturized your skin. You shared a meal with them, then readied yourself for sleep.

It was clear that the twins stayed over, a decision you made as you weren't ready for them to leave just yet.

All you had to do was prepare yourself for their baby sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me get $20 on pump five.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, no response from you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You

*image attached*

I made it home safely

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

Elijah

Let me take you out tomorrow for brunch.

You

Straight to the point, I like you. 

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

Elijah

I promise it’ll be worth it. 

You

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What I tell you about rolling your eyes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Smoke and Stack both watch you. 

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

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

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

“So you know about it too?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, that’s starch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smoke is old school.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns and crosses his arms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

You grumble in sleepiness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His phone buzzes with a text from you. 

Babygirl♥️

Be home soon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Lord, that’s a shame!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few of the older traditional men hum in agreement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annie Boudreaux. Formely Annie Moore. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what brings you by?” Annie questions. 

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

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

“I am.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” She states. 

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

“I really appreciate you, Annie.”

“Likewise.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You visited Annie today?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my gosh, Stack, move!” 

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

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

Stack

*video attached* 

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

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

*Smoke liked your message*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your hand,” You said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please…” you whine into the room. 

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

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

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

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

You gasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you can give me one more?” 

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod weakly. 

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

“M’coming Papa. Right there..”

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm, m’good Papa. I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, babygirl.”

“I love you too, Papa Bear.”

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

“Elijah?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you turn on the fan?”

He chuckles, “Course I can baby.”

End.

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