ā.ą³ąæ šššššš šššš šššš į° Itās 1932. Seven years after Smoke ran to Chicago. He returns to the Delta, knowing heāll have to face what he left behind. He expected to see you around town, just not with a baby girl on your hip. Jealousy simmers, bitterness rises, and the memories of every failed attempt at a family. At first, there are only sharp words and heated exchangesābut as you break down each otherās walls, the fire between you reignites, and you resume right where you left off all those years ago, trying for a baby.
šš¬šØš»š¼š¹š°šµš®ā¦ Elijah āSmokeā Moore
šŖš¶šµš»š¬šµš»ā¦ SFW & NSFW į° All Genres [fluff, angst, smut, hurt/comfort], non-canon/canon, fem!reader, envisioned as black!reader while writing, established relationship [not specified], infertility issues, emotional, crying, vulnerability, second chances, arguing, cursing, pregnancy, soft!Smoke⦠sexual intercourse [p in v, oral, and handjob], missionary, kissing, heavy dirty talk, mention of belly bulge, implied breeding kink, sub/dom undertones⦠southern/country dialect used. implied southern/country accent. 1930ās time period.
š«š¼š¹šØš»š°š¶šµā¦ 12.6k words
š¾š¶š¹š«šŗ šš¹š¶š“ š¾š¹š°š»š¬š¹ā¦ This fic is inspired and taken from this idea by @starliis [click post & read to get more details about the story below! Spoilers are included so beware!] I had a really good time writing this story because this is my first time writing a oneshot this emotionally complex, using all genres, and with a word count this large. @starliis when I read the post I loved the idea so I really hope you like my interpretation of it!
As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading yāall reactions! I hope you guys enjoy!!
š³š°šµš²šŗā¦ Sinners M.List ć»Sinners Taglist ć»Main M.list
The sun is beating down on the Delta like itās holding a grudge against the south. High noon on a Saturday in Clarksdale means the heat is scorching, children are running around sticky with ice cream from the downtown ice cream shop, and the market is swarming with folks trading gossip faster than groceries.
Smoke hasnāt been back in the Delta for a full day. Chicago is still clinging to him, you can see it in the way he dresses but he still has that southern twang to him that couldnāt leave him if he tried.
He split off from Stack a while back, saying they could get more done if they parted ways. Now heās on the way downtown to see Bo Chow, needing to talk to him about some business he needs taken care of before tonight.
He knew that coming back here would bring up some past memories, hurt, things he tried to forget when he ran up north, but he thought he at least had a few days before those things made an appearance, he didnāt expect things to crumble in less than twenty-four hours.Ā
When he gets out his truck and starts walking down the market strip to Boās store, his eyes land on you, standing near a produce stand, dressed in a faded yellow dress thatās hugging your curves just like he remembered.Ā
Smoke hasnāt seen you since he left for Chicago. He didnāt expect to see you here but since the opportunity to talk to you has introduced itself, heās going to take it.Ā
Right when heās about to make his presence known, greet you in a respectful manner, one that would make it seem like heās happy to see you, you turn in another direction, giving him a full view of yourself.
Thereās a baby girl on your hip, canāt be any older than two years old. She has big, bright eyes, curls wild across her head, and sheās gnawing on some candy like she didnāt eat breakfast this morning.
Smoke stops walking. He doesnāt say a word. He canāt even blink because then heāll feel like his eyes are playing tricks on him. He just stands there, like his whole body has forgotten how to move.
Youāre digging through a crate full of plums, slow and careful, talking soft to the baby. Something about the sweetness of the fruit and how you have to smell the bottom to know if it was ripe.
You look around, glancing at your surroundings and thatās when your eyes lock with Smokeās, making your heart skip beat. Time doesnāt just slow down, for you it completely stops. You never thought you would see Smoke again, not after how he left you high and dry, not even leaving you any type of explanation about his sudden disappearance.Ā
Your lips part, like you want to say his name but no words come out. After staring each other down, Smoke finally approaches you but not the way a gentleman should. He just stares at the child, then at you with a face expression cold as ice. āThat baby yours?āĀ
Your arms tense around the girl, adjusting her on your hip before acknowledging Smokeās presence. You blink at him once, tilting your head to the side, your attitude coming to the forefront while your lips curl with bitterness. āYou aināt seen me in almost a decade and thatās how you approach me? Donāt even ask how I been?ā
Smokeās jaw flexes, his hand twitching where it hangs by his side. He glances back at the little girl, eyes narrowing just enough to show the storm brewing behind them. āIs she yours?ā he asks again, completely ignoring your previous words, voice much sharper than before, like he aināt got time for you to give him the run around.
You press your lips together, not answering him right away. Instead, you sway the baby gently, rubbing her back like you didnāt feel his question hit you in the gut.
You wipe the sweat from your brows with the crook of your arm, letting his question hang in the air like smoke from a low-burning fire. āShe eat like she mine. Sleep like she mine. Cry like she mine.ā you say with an annoyed tone, looking at him as if heās asking the dumbest question on Earth. āNow, what that tell yaā?ā
Smoke let out a breath through his nose, sharp and quick, trying to push down the smart remark thatās burning his throat, not wanting to get smart with you. āShe looks too young to be yours⦠sure as hell aināt mine.ā He mutters, averting his eyes from you and looking at the little girl whoās resting her head on your shoulder, ready for her afternoon nap. āSo whose is she?ā
āAināt none of your concern, Smoke.ā
āThe hell it aināt.āĀ
āI aināt yoā woman no more, not since you left. You donāt get to ask me questions like that.ā Your walls are up, that much is clear. Smokeās looking right into your pretty brown eyes but he can only see a coldness in them, he doesnāt see that shimmer you always carried inside them before he left.Ā
āWhatchu want witā me, Smoke? Why did you come ovaā here?ā You ask, tired of standing in this smoldering heat talking to him when the only thing he cares about is if this child was your daughter, not even asking about your well being since he ran off in the middle of the night for Chicago.
Smoke doesnāt immediately respond, he just stands there, jaw so tight it looks like heās gonna break it. His eyes flicker from the baby to your face, trying to piece together parts of your life that aren't none of his business anymore.Ā
He knows he doesnāt deserve to ask you things like this anymore, doesnāt deserve to know what's transpired in the last seven years since he left but that doesn't end his curiosity, it doesnāt make him not care about you.Ā
He shifts his weight, looking down before taking off his blue scalley cap, his eyes becoming a tad bit softer than before, looking as if your previous words hit a nerve. āMe and Stack openinā up a juke joint. Down at the old sawmill.ā
You donāt say anything. Just raise an eyebrow, bouncing the girl on your hip slowly, still swaying like the heat itself is keeping time with your movements. You hum softly, clearly unimpressed by this voluntary piece of information. āAnd you tellinā me this ācauseā¦?ā
āFigured youād wanna come, check out the place.ā
You let out a breathy laugh, one with no joy in it, one thatās not in the mood to dance or drink in the same room with Smoke and act as if everything is alright between the two of you. āWell, you figured wrong.ā
A silence between you and him, both of you just looking into each otherās eyes before Smoke breaks the quietness. āI aināt know if Iād see yaā again. Thought you woulda left the Delta by now.āĀ
āWell, you done seen me. Reckon you can go on ābout your business now.āĀ The little girl shifts against your shoulder, her candy-sticky fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. You stroke her back soothingly, but your eyes donāt leave his. You want him to see what he ran from and how you havenāt let it break you.
Smoke swallows hard, not trying to be vulnerable in such a public place but not wanting you to think heās just stone walling you. You can see him struggling, like he has a million things he wants to say but canāt find the right words. āJusā come by.ā he murmurs. āThatās all Iām askinā. Nothinā moā.ā
You stare at him a moment longer, letting out a puff of air before nodding once, not giving him a definitive answer. āWeāll see. Aināt makinā no promises.ā
You donāt give him a goodbye, just turn on your heels and walk away, the hem of your dress swishing behind you, dust curling around your ankles. Smoke watches you go, not saying anything to try and keep you here, his hand still gripping the brim of his hat, heart caught somewhere in the hollow space behind his ribs.Ā
He doesnāt know if youāre going to show up tonight and if heāll ever have the chance to apologize but he wants to make things right with you, even if you're going to chew him up in the process.
ā
The juke is currently thriving and alive. Sweat dripping down walls and everyoneās backs. Men clapping dominoes on tables, Sammieās guitar slicing through the cigarette haze, Delta Slim playing the hell out of the piano, and Pearline sings a song that has the crowd dancing across the wooden floor.Ā
Smokeās leaned up against the wall, cigarette between his lips, watching the door like a soldier watching the tree line. Heās been eyeing the door ever since they opened, hoping that heāll see you walking inside. Heās been trying to keep hope alive, but itās been a few hours and he hasnāt seen you yet, making him agitated.
āShe cominā?ā Stack asks, sliding beside his brother, making sure heās alright. Smoke doesnāt answer at first. He just takes a slow pull, eyes trained on the open door like if he stares hard enough, he might conjure you up outta thin air.
Stack follows his gaze, then huffs a little, shaking his head. āMan, we got a whole club fullāa pretty women and you worried about her. Ones that aināt cussinā yoā ass out in the middle of the market, too.ā Stack jokes, elbowing him lightly, trying to make Smoke feel better but it aināt working. Smoke gives him a look, stone cold and sharp, one that speaks for him, a look that says ādonāt play with me right nowā.
āAight, Aight.ā Stack mutters, hands raised in surrender, not wanting to make his brother feel any worse than he already does. āJust sayinā. Donāt burn a hole in the floor waitinā on somebody who might not show, āspecially after you fucked up.ā
Smoke doesnāt respond, he just sucks his teeth and turns back toward the door, lips pressed tight, taking another puff, trying to keep himself from wringing someoneās neck⦠and deep down trying to hold himself together.
He doesn't care about other women, never did, even when he was in Chicago. Not when his mind still played memories of the time heās spent with you. Memories of you laughing in the kitchen barefoot without a care in the world, or riding with him around town, hugged up in each other's arms, acting as if the world only revolved around the other.Ā
Seeing that baby on your hip today really shook him, even if he doesnāt want to admit it out loud. He's been standing around wondering if your her mother, if you were able to finally conceive a baby without him. Just the thought of it makes a pain strike his chest. It makes him feel sick to his stomach because that baby should be his, not some other man.
Smoke has gotten to the point where heās ready to give up, to leave his post and make sure Club Juke is running smoothly, thinking that his little brother is right, but right when heās about to go and find Stack, thatās when it happens.
The door creaks open, loud enough to cut through the swell of music. There you are, standing in the doorway, talking to Cornbread at the door, looking like heaven on Earth. Youāre in a soft colored satin dress, clinging to your figure like a second skin, lips painted a soft berry shade, hair done up real pretty, with your earrings catching the low light as you assess the scenery.Ā
As your eyes dance around the room, thatās when you find Smoke, standing a few feet from the bar. You take a few steps inside, slow and deliberate, hips swaying easily beneath the satin material, like you aren't in a rush, like you know heās been watching the door all night just hoping youād show. Cornbread tips his hat at you as you pass, and a couple heads turn too, the men whistling as you pass by but you aināt paying them no mind.
Smoke straightens off the wall, putting out his cigarette in a nearby ash tray, while his eyes boring into you like a wolf watching if itās prey is brave enough to run. He doesn't move toward you right away, doesnāt want to seem too eager, but he damn sure aināt letting you walk in without sparking up a conversation.
You cut across the room slow, graceful, while Smoke is already making an effort to meet you halfway, the heat between yāall thick as molasses. Folks move out the way without even thinking about it, sensing something in the air, like some drama is stirring up.
Once Smoke is in front of you he takes in a small whiff of your scent, the smell of gardenias and honey filling his nostrils, making his heart settle at the familiarity of it. His eyes drag over your face, pausing at your lips, then finally settling in your eyes. āAināt think you was gonā come.āĀ
āAināt think I was either, but my sister convinced me to show my face. Thought it would be good fuhā me.ā
You both stand there a moment, just taking in each other's presence, both of you secretly happy to see the other, even if your trying not to show it. āYou look good,ā his voice comes out rough like sandpaper but soft at the edges, his eyes gazing over each curve of your hips and the deep cut in your dress, accentuating the plumpness of your breasts. āReal good.ā
You hum, trying to repress the smile thatās trying to creep onto your lips from the compliment, not wanting to let him off the hook so easily. āAināt gotta butter me up, Elijah. Iām here now but me showinā up doesn't mean I forgot how we got here in the first place, how you jusā up and left.ā
His jaw ticks at the sound of his birth name in your mouth again, he aināt heard it sound that pretty in years. And hearing it now, even with the sharpness behind it, it still makes his heart flutter.Ā
A flash of frustration passes through his eyes, he already can tell where this conversation is headed. You showed up looking like sin wrapped in silk, just to remind him of all the ways he failed you and your relationship and ready to rip him a new one.
He doesnāt wanna do this down here, not with all these nosy folks watching and trying to catch a whisper of yāall business, wanting to have something they can gossip about come tomorrow morning. He steps in closer, close enough that his voice dips into something just above a growl. āCome upstairs.ā Itās not in the form of a question or a plea, just a demand.
And you blink, slightly taken aback since you havenāt heard him use that tone with you in years, the one thatās sprinkled with dominance. Itās the boldness, that edge in his voice, itās what cuts through your self proclaimed armor.Ā
Still, you arenāt about to make it easy for Smoke, not after what heās put you through. You tilt your chin up, squaring your shoulders like youāre thinking about telling him no, wanting him to sweat a little bit. After a few moments you nod slightly, lips parting as you murmur, āLead the way.āĀ
He doesnāt respond, just turns and walks, weaving through the crowd without looking back, knowing youāre going to trail right behind him. While youāre walking you feel holes burning into your skull, knowing people are watching. You just ignore the eyes that follow yāall path, ignoring the hum of whispers and curious glances. Folks always did love a good reunion, especially a messy one like this.
You follow him up the creaky stairs, heart hammering louder with every step. The music fades behind you, replaced by the low thump of your own pulse and the sound of your heels clicking against the old wood. The second-floor hallway is dim and hot, lit only by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
He leads you down the hall and opens the door to a small room. Itās private, clean, and itās far enough away so your voices wonāt be heard downstairs. The room is just a table, chair by the window, a trunk full of the twins' guns and ammo, and a safe for their valuables. A fan clicks lazily overhead, doing little to fight off the heat but it does help.Ā
Once you both are inside, he shuts the door and leans against it for a beat, while you stand in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight over your chest. He watches you. Watches the way you shift your weight from one hip to the other, your expression trying to stay hard but your fingers twitching like you arenāt as composed as you pretend to be. āWhy now, Elijah?ā you ask softly, wanting some answers from him. āWhy you come back here, after all this time?ā
Smokeās never been the type to show much emotion. But right now, the weight behind his eyes is heavier than youāve ever seen it. When you talk to him in that tone, look at him with those hypnotizing eyes, he canāt help but become vulnerable, allowing you to break down his walls and get him to open up. āI aināt know how to stay,ā he says, pushing off the door and coming towards you. āI aināt know how to look at you every night, wantinā somethinā I couldnāt give you.ā
āYou think leavinā fixed that?ā you ask, voice cracking in the process. āYou think disappearinā made the ache go away?ā
āI aināt know how to handle it. Felt like I failed you. Watchinā you in that bed cryinā and couldnāt do nothinā but hold your hand. I felt like shit, like I was less of a man.ā
The time yāall were together before he left for Chicago, your days were filled with doctor visits, herbs, prayers, and tears soaked into your cotton sheets. You cried yourself hoarse each time you found out you werenāt pregnant.
You and him were trying to conceive for a long time, trying to fill your womb with a child, wanting to bring a life into the world that was a mixture of you and him, but for some reason it never happened.
Any method you learned about in books or from talking to the neighborhood midwives who delivered more babies than you can count, you and Smoke tried and yet you could never become pregnant. You and Smoke tried to keep each other lifted up, tried to keep hope alive but after months turned into years it started weighing on both of you.
You both were at your breaking point so when Smoke had the opportunity to leave for Chicago, he was gone on the first train smoking, leaving you to deal with the pain of not being able to conceive alone.
āYou was my man, Elijah.ā you snap, your voice sharp and trembling, not being able to hold back the storm of emotions thatās been brewing inside you all these years. āI never wanted perfect. I never wanted you to fix the problem, I just wanted you but you ran. Like it was easier to vanish than stay and hurt witā me.ā
Smoke swallows thick, chest rising with a breath, like he doesn't know how to hold right. āI didnāt know how to sit in that pain, not with you lookinā at me with that hurt in your eyes. I felt useless to yaā.ā
āYou think I felt useful?ā you spit, stepping toward him now, eyes flashing with anger. āEvery month, bleedinā, gettinā another reminder that I aināt having your baby. Every time somebody else in town got pregnant and I had to smile like it didnāt feel like I was dyinā inside? Having to see my friends take care of their kids and pretend I wasnāt jealous. All those times I needed you here, not runninā around Chicago like you aināt got a woman at home.ā
The silence between you crackles, heavy with grief, fury, and years of love stretched too thin because of sorrow. Youāre both breathing hard now, standing in the middle of the room like two hurricanes about to collide. He doesnāt speak, not because he doesnāt have anything to say, itās because youāre right.
After watching Smoke just stand there in silence, seeing the hurt in his eyes and feeling the sting of his actions in your own heart, thatās when you break.
You try not to, try to stay hard and proud, but the pain rips through you anyway. āYou left me with nothinā but an empty bed. You aināt send me a letter, try to get a call to me, nothinā. I aināt hear from you in seven years, Smoke. Seven damn years.ā you whisper, voice raw and tired, tears starting to spill freely down your cheeks. āI hated you for it. I hated you so much, but I couldnāt stop lovinā you either.ā
At this point in your life, your tired of crying over Smoke, tired of the pain you just canāt shake no matter how much you try, but thatās what happens when you truly love someone. No matter how hard you try, you just canāt let them go, even if what they did is unforgivable.
He doesnāt ask permission, just crosses the room in large strides and pulls you into his chest like heās been dying to touch you since the moment he saw you at the market.
His arms wrap around you tight, and your fists beat against his chest once, then twice, then a third. You try to fight his embrace, not wanting to weaken under his touch but after a few moments your arms fall limp, clutching his vest, resting your head against his shoulder while your tears soak his clothing.
Silence stretches like wire strung too tight before your voice cracks just enough to show the emotional bruise on your heart, showing the true wound thatās been hurting you for years, the thought thatās been plaguing your mind since he left. āI thought I wasnāt enough for you anymore. That without being able to give you a baby I was less of a woman, that I couldnāt make you happy anymore.ā
Smokeās breath stutters against your temple, your words splitting him clean down the middle. His voice is so low you barely hear it over the creak of the fan above but you catch every single word. āDonāt you ever say that, aight? You always been enough fuhā me.ā
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, tilting your head up at him and then pressing his fingers into your waist like heās trying to make you feel every word before it even can leaves his lips. āYou the only thang in this world that makes me feel whole. I left ācause I felt like I wasnāt enough for you, not ācause you aināt.ā
āThen why you aint jusā say that? Why you aināt tell me you was hurtinā too?ā
His jaw flexes again, and you can see it, shame, writing all over his face. It rolls off him in waves, thick as Mississippi fog. You can tell heās ashamed of how he left things, how he practically abandoned you just because things were overwhelming. āI aināt know how,ā he confesses, his voice soft and vulnerable, a side of him you donāt see often but when you do it makes butterflies flutter around your stomach.
His way of being open, honest, and raw has always had that affect on you, even when you were kids. āWasnāt raised to talk ābout no feelings. Wasnāt raised to sit in pain. All I know is how to survive, and I thought leavinā was survivinā, tryinā to find another way to provide for us. Tryinā to forget the pain.ā
And thatās when your breath catches, because you can tell he means every word. You can see it in his eyes. All the self-loathing, all the love, wrapped up in one tortured look. Your lips part, but nothing comes out, lost for words at the moment.Ā
He lowers his forehead against yours, the heat of his breath brushing your face, making your skin prickle. And for a second, itās just the two of you, truly seeing each other past the masks you put on for other people. You see the pain brewing inside, the hurt of your past, and the ache of your love, weighing on both of you like a stone.
For a while Smoke just holds you. His arms donāt shake, no tremble in his hands, but his breath does, hitching in his chest as he leans into you, a single tear rolling down his cheek, another expression of his vulnerability and how apologetic he is about the whole situation, filling in the gaps where his words couldnāt.Ā
The fan creaks overhead, spinning slow and lazy, the outside noise muffled through thick walls and heavy heat, but none of it matters. In this room, itās just him and you, buried under years of silence and heartbreak, finally getting things off your chest.
āIām sorry,ā he says, voice full of conviction and thick with regret. āsorry fuhā how I left yaā. Iām sorry I made you carry all that weight alone. I aināt askinā for your forgiveness ācause I don't deserve it. But I wanna make things right, get back in your good graces.ā
You stare at him, your hands still clutching his clothing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Youāre quiet for a moment, like youāre testing the truth of his words by the rhythm of his breath. Itās clear to you that he means what he says, that he isnāt just telling you what he assumes you want to hear so you decide to give him some truth as well.
You pull back to look him in the eye, telling him the thing thatās been burning him up inside since he first saw you. āThat baby you saw me with earlierā¦ā you begin softly, brushing a tear from your cheek before wiping the one thatās cascading down his. āShe aināt mine. Sheās my sisterās little girl.ā you explain. āI was jusā babysittinā her cause she had to run some errands, is all.ā
You didnāt tell him your true connection to the baby at the market because you wanted to see him hurt, wanted him to think you could just move on and sleep with another man, wanted his blood to run hot with jealousy. You had to give him a reality check, make him realize that the world doesnāt revolve around Smoke, that what he does hurts people, hurts you.
Smoke blinks slowly, shoulders drop in the kind of relief thatās so heavy it almost knocks the wind out of him. āShit,ā he murmurs, running his hand down his face, wiping the beads of sweat thatās surrounding his brows. āI thoughtāā he shakes his head, letting out a thankful sigh. āthought you moved on. Thought I came back too late.ā
You shake your head, lips curling into something too tender to call a smile, followed by a bitter laugh coming from your lips. āI aināt moved on, Elijah. Been stuck right where you left me.ā Your voice cracks just a little, but this time with something softer. āI tried to forget you but no matter what I did, I still wanted you. Still do, even with all we been through.ā
That does something to him. Smokeās whole frame seems to shift, like his heart just lifted back into place within his chest. His jaw unclenches, his brow eases, and the way heās looking at you now,Ā like he would fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness if you asked.Ā
He cups your face with one calloused hand, thumb dragging slow across your cheek, wiping away the last wet trace of tears staining your skin. āI was a damn fool.ā he says quietly, voice thick with grief, his tone apologetic. āBut I aināt finna be one no more. Iām gonā spend every day tryinā to prove to you that I still know how to love you right. That Iām worthy enough to be with yaā.ā
You exhale softly, the heat in the room no longer stemming from the Mississippi heat or from Club Juke being packed from wall to wall with people. Itās the air between you, charged with years of everything unsaid, thick with all the thirst and longing for the others touch. Your fingers tighten around the front of his shirt, playing with the buttons. āThen show me, ālijah. Prove that you mean what you say.ā
You barely finish the sentence before his lips are pressed against yours. Itās not gentle, at least not at first. Itās desperate, seven years of silence, hurt, desire, and love pouring out into a single kiss. His mouth claims yours like heās scared youāll slip through his fingers again if he waits too long, and you donāt resist. You part your lips leaning into him like your body remembers this rhythm, this man, the one itās been waiting on all this time.
His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him, allowing you to feel the bulge growing in his slacks. The second your mouth parts and your tongue brushes his, everything changes. The kiss grows hotter, deeper, like you both just realized how much you missed this. You break the kiss long enough to whisper against his lips, āLock the door.ā
Smokeās already two steps ahead of you. He pulls you backwards with him and he reaches behind blindly and turns the lock, the soft click making your pulse stutter with anticipation. Once itās locked heās back on your body, kissing you like heās been starving for years, because he in fact has.
You start taking off his vest, taking loose the few buttons before taking it off him and starting the whole process over with his dress shirt. After fidgeting with one thatās giving you trouble, you just rip the shirt open and throw it on the floor once his arms are free, along with his gun holster.
Smoke doesnāt even flinch when you rip open his shirt, he doesnāt care about the buttons scattering across the floor like dice, he just lets it happen and allows you to take the lead.Ā
You pull up his white t-shirt, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, and once you see his body glistening before you, a small smirk curls at your lips.
His body is just as you remember, broad chest, taut muscles beneath his brown skin, a few faded scars and wounds carved into his skin, a reminder of everything heās endured over his thirty-ish years of walking this Earth. You press your palms flat against his pecs, like youāre trying to memorize the feeling of him again after all this time.
You trace your fingers down the slope of his shoulder, down to the scar that runs over his ribs, a scar you remember from a fight with some hotheads back in 1923, a fight he got into because the men were catcalling you, saying some filthy things he aināt appreciate being spoken about you.Ā
Smoke watches your hand move, eyes half-lidded with heat and memory, like the feel of your fingers on his skin brings him back to every piece of who he used to be when he was with you. Your touch is gentle but thereās a certain fire behind it, a look in your eye that tells him you want to swallow him alive.
āAināt nothinā changed,ā you murmur, dragging your hand back up to his jaw, tracing the stubble that has grown thick and rough around his lip and chin. Your hands trail down his chest, fingers grazing the faint trail of hair leading into his slacks.
His breath hitches when you reach the waistband, your nails scraping against his skin, sending a shiver across his skin. āI still know every inch of you.ā you whisper, lips trailing his neck, moving up his to his ear and swirling your tongue around his lobe, making him close his eyes and let out a groan.Ā
āGoddamn.ā Smokeās eyes flutter closed for just a second, jaw tightening as your tongue teases his ear, that sweet, warm breath of yours sending a bolt straight down his spine. He lets out a low grunt, deep, guttural, the kind of sound that vibrates from somewhere low in his belly, a sound he hasnāt let out in years, a sound only you can pull out of him.Ā
Your fingers keep tracing slow paths across his skin, like youāre relearning him, mapping out all the places you used to kiss, used to bite, used to hold when the nights got too heavy. His breath hitches with every pass of your hands, his body coiled tight like heās only hanging on by a thread.Ā
You pull back just a little, your lips still brushing his throat, your voice coming out sounding like honey but your tone stern like you mean business. Asking him a question thatās been burning a hole in your mind since you heard through the grapevine he was living it up with Al Capone. āYou let any women touch you while you was up there in Chicago?ā
Smoke opens his eyes slow, looking down at you, holding your gaze steady like itās the only thing thatās ever mattered. āNo.ā He says smooth as butter, without a stutter or crack in his voice. āAināt nobody touched me but myself. Aināt want nobody else.ā
You stare at him for a second with a raised brow before allowing a pleased smile to dance across your lips. āGood,ā you mutter, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach again, teasing the waistband of his pants before pulling the loops out of his belt. āāCause if you did, I woulda cut yoā ass too thin to fry.ā
That pulls a small smirk out of him, half amusement, half awe, but full of lust. āShit, I believe yaā.ā he murmurs, voice thick with heat, eyeing your full hips and pretty physique, licking his lips while he looks you up and down, feeling you pull his belt from around his waist and opening his fly, leaving only one more step before you see the part of him you missed the most.
In one swift motion, he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you without warning, walking over and laying you down flat on the wooden table towards the back of the room.
Your breath leaves your lungs in a soft gasp, the wood cool against your back, your dress bunched up around your hips, thighs parted just enough for his body to slide between them. His hands slide down your waist, rough palms catching on the satin of your dress.Ā
You slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting them fall before pulling the dress over your head, with some assistance from Smoke, helping you avoid messing up your hair even though heās about to sweat it out.
Your body is now on full display, your full breasts sitting pretty in your brassiere, plump against your chest while your sex is being covered by your cotton panties, keeping the part of you Smoke desires the most hidden.
Smoke takes his time admiring your body, especially since he hasnāt seen it in years. His eyes move slowly, as if heās savoring the moment, like every inch of you is a hymn he forgot the words to but still knows the rhythm of. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with something too heavy to simply be called desire.Ā
What Smoke currently feels is hunger. Not the kind that lives in his stomach, but the kind thatās rooted in his veins. The kind that started the moment he walked away all them years ago and never died. Just sat there. Festering. Waiting for this very moment.
He leans over you, big hands dragging up your thighs, prying them open as he lowers his mouth to your belly, pressing slow and purposeful kisses against your skin. One kiss. Then another. Then one more just above the waistband of your panties. āYou still the prettiest thang I evaā seen.ā he murmurs against your skin, voice raspy and raw, like it burns his throat as the words pass through.
Your breath hitches as you feel his hand reach up, thumb grazing the swell of your breasts, his lips trailing higher, brushing the valley between them. He doesnāt unclasp your bra just yet, he cusps them like heās trying to mold a piece of clay, reminding himself what itās like to have his hands on a womanās body after having no intimacy for seven years.
You tilt his chin up, forcing him to look in your pretty eyes. āThen come get whatās yours.ā And those words are all it takes for Smoke to finally unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor with all the other clothing that no longer matters.Ā
Your nipples harden under the air and his harsh gaze, and he leans down to wrap his lips around one, sucking slow and precise, his tongue swirling while his hand kneads the other, making you moan softly as your back arches off the desk. āMissed this mouth.ā you whimper, running your hands along his arms, gripping onto his muscular arms.
He hums against your breast, switching his attention to the other side without missing a beat. āMissed you.ā He mumbles while his hand slides down your belly, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and dragging them down your thick thighs, the same thighs he loves putting his head between whenever he gets the opportunity.Ā
He watches your body the whole way down like itās some kind of sacred text heās not worthy of reading but refuses to look away from. He lets out a sharp breath when he sees you bare. When his eyes fall into your wet core, seeing how your is slick smeared across your sex and how it makes your puffy folds glisten in the warm lighting, he canāt help but curse. āDamn, this pussy sexy.ā
You grin through your blush, biting your lip while looking at him with darkened eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him worshiping your body again like the way he used to but also missing the feeling of his lips wrapped around your clitoris until you see stars. āStop starinā at it anā do somethinā then.ā
And that he does. Smoke sinks to his knees, spreading your legs wider and planting wet kisses to the inside of your thigh that makes your breath stutter. Within a few minutes his mouth is attached to your pussy, tongue moving meticulously, licking long, lazy stripes up your slit before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it soft and steady.
Your fingers run across his coarse hair as your head falls back, a whimper escaping your throat. His hands grip your thighs tight, keeping you in place while he eats you like heās been starving for years. He moans into your heat, like tasting you is the first time heās been able to breathe since he crossed state lines out of Mississippi.
You grind your hips up into his face, one hand tugging his hair, and the other gripping the edge of the table, your chest heaving as your mind starts to become fuzzy. āShit, Elijahā¦ā you breathe. āDonāt stop.ā
āBaby, I wasnāt planninā on it.ā He says as he comes up for air before diving back into your heat. He sucks harder, tongue circling and flicking your shining pearl until your thighs begin to twitch. His nose presses into the mound of your pussy, his warm breath causing your skin to prickle.
The more he devours your sex, the more your whimpers and moans bounce off the wooden walls of the room. Smoke wants to warm you up as best as possible for whatās to come, so he places his fingers at your folds, scissoring them open and allowing your slick to collect on his digits and once thereās a good amount he slowly pushes them into your pussy, making you gasp from the sudden insertion.
You arch off the table, thighs tightening around his head like your bodyās trying to trap him there, and honestly, he doesnāt mind one bit. You could be suffocating him and he would still be happy, knowing that he has the opportunity to taste your sweetness on his tongue.
Smoke grunts low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your wetness as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow at first, but picking up rhythm with every moan that spills from your lips.
His mouth never stops showing your clit attention, tongue flicking simultaneously with the curl of his fingers, still remembering how you like your body caressed and touched after all these years youāve been apart.
Youāre singing for him now: soft gasps, whispered curses, the kind of sounds that echo with the ghost of every lonely night you spent wishing his mouth was between your legs instead of your own fingers. Your voice comes out broken, barely hanging on, like the coil in your stomach is only a few moments, or a few kitten licks from snapping. āIām so close, babyā¦āĀ
That ābabyā unravels something in Smoke. It makes him groan deep and double down in your heat, making a sharp gasp spill from your lips. He adds a third finger, stretching you nice and wide, thumb rubbing circles where his mouth used to be so he can look into your pretty eyes while you fall apart from his touch.
āThatās it, baby.ā he murmurs, looking down at you with those deep brown eyes that always make you buckle and listen to his every command when he speaks. āGonā āhead and give it to me, mama. Let me see that pretty face when you cum.ā
And you do just that. Your back bows off the table, legs quivering as they rest on his shoulders, a cry ripping from your throat so sharp it could make a mirror shatter. Your pussy clenches around his fingers like itās trying to keep him inside, slick gushing down his hand and past his wrist as your orgasm rolls through you like a Delta heatwave.
Smoke doesnāt stop massaging the sweet spot inside you until your body jerks from the sensitivity, and your hand weakly pushes at his head, telling him you canāt take it anymore. He obeys this time, deciding not to push you past your limit just yet.Ā
He pulls away, pulling his fingers out of you slowly, making you whimper once you feel him exit. āTastes better than I remembered.ā He states, his voice thick with heat while he licks your juices off his digits. āSweeter, too.ā His lips curl into a soft smile, something he doesnāt flash often but when he does it warms your heart⦠and your pussy.
You blink up at him, chest still heaving, a lazy smile spreading across your lips. āThatās ācause I been waitinā on you.ā
Smokeās gaze lingers on your face, soft now, as he leans over you, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, making your toes curl at the sensation. āI aināt ever gonā make you wait like that no moā.ā he murmurs against your mouth.
āYou better not, not after all this time.ā you breathe, placing your hands around the base of his neck.
He chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips. āYou gonā punish me if I do?ā Smoke has never been the type of man who would openly admit he likes a woman whoāll dominate him, but there've been multiple moments in your relationship where you had Smoke right under your finger, submitting to your every move so you punishing him sounds like music to his ears.
You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. āDamn right I will.ā Your hands move down his body, running down his chiseled frame until you reach his slacks, pulling them down towards the floor, removing the last piece of clothing keeping him from being close to you as humanly possible.Ā
Once his pants are at his ankles, you take him in your hand, watching his brows knit when your palm wraps around his heavy length. His breath catches, head tilting back as you stroke him slow, feeling his thick, aching dick throb against your palm as his pre-cum leaks down your fingers.
He was already painfully hard from eating your pussy but feeling your hands wrapped around him, heās hard as concrete. āTold you I aināt let nobody else touch me,ā he says. āAināt want nobody else, ācause nobody else makes me this goddamn hard.ā
You grin at that, slow and satisfied, eyes flicking up to meet his while your hand keeps moving in smooth, steady strokes. āGood,ā you murmur, voice thick with pride that your soul ties so deeply to Smoke that he canāt even look at another woman sexually or romantically.Ā āāCause I aināt lettinā you go now that you back.ā You grab him by the chin and pull him closer to you, putting your lips right against his ear, wanting him to hear every word. ā Iām gonā keep yaā so deep in this pussy, that you wonāt ever wanna leave the Delta again.ā
Smoke bites his lip and feeling your fingertips glide over his protruding veins, making him groan. Your words hit him just as hard as your precious touch. He watches you like heās starving, like every inch of you is something heās been fighting to survive without.Ā
Smokeās eyes darken, the sound of you talking filthy tightens something in his gut. He places one hand behind your neck, the other stroking your cheek, his thumb dragging down to rest on your lip. āIām gonā fuck this pretty pussy so deep yoā body aināt never gonā forget me, no matter how long Iām gone.ā
As he mutters his last words, he takes his dick out of your hands and guides himself to your entrance, the tip of it dragging slowly through your slick-covered folds, making you moan at the feeling.Ā
He doesnāt rush. He teases, rubs, and takes in the way your pussy flutters and twitches for him, how itās so wet and open, begging for his dick stretch you out.Ā
You whine, nails digging into his arms, tired of him playing around when he sees how much youāre aching for him. āSmoke, donāt play with meāā
He cuts you off with a roll of his hips, pushing into you slowly, creating a delicious burn to spread through your core. Your mouth falls open, back arching as you feel every inch of his cock fill you up. āOh, fuck!ā you exclaim, holding onto him like heās the only solid thing left in the world.
The stretch burns at first, just like it always did but especially now since itās been almost a decade since a man has been inside you. But itās a welcomed pain, one youāve missed more than youāre willing to admit. Your walls flutter around him, greedy and wet, clinging to every inch as he slowly thrusts inside you.
āGoddamn,ā he mutters, brows furrowed, hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. āYou feel so fuckinā good.ā As he thrusts his dick into your pussy, trying to reach that sweet spot before really doing some damage, he gets a moment of Deja Vu.Ā
The feeling of your walls tightening around him each time he kisses your skin or mutters out compliments that are dripping in pure filth, he remembers when you and him were just teenagers, pressing your bodies against each other for the first time, trying to express your love for each other in the best way possible.
Smoke presses his forehead to yours, his chest heaving as he pushes deeper into your warmth. The sound of your breath catching, the way your mouth hangs open, and the way your walls squeeze around him like you want to stay connected like this forever, edges him closer to his orgasm.
āBeen thinkinā ābout this every fuckinā night since I left.ā He grits through a moan, starting to move once he bottoms out, slow at first, dragging his hips back just enough to feel some resistance, then pushing in deeply, making your breath hitch. āAināt just ācause I missed yoā pussy⦠I missed how you sound. Missed how you smelled. Missed everythang ābout you.ā
You whimper beneath him, legs trembling from the deep drag of his thrusts. One of your hands moves to cradle the back of his head while the other claws lightly down his back, leaving faint trails on his skin, one of your methods to claim him as yours. āMissed you too,ā you breathe out, voice catching on a moan as he rocks into you again, deeper this time. āMissed feelinā you like this...ā
āYeah?ā he asks in a growl, jaw tight as he sinks deeper into you, giving you one long hard thrust, while the heat of you squeezing around him like a vice floods his veins. āMissed this dick fillinā you up?ā He presses against your lower body, hand against the bulge his cock makes each time he thrusts inside.Ā āMissed feelinā me reach yoā stomach?ā
āYes, missed it so much!ā You yell out before crying out his name, tightening your grasp around the back of his neck, holding onto him for dear life as he starts thrusting into you at an agonizing pace.
Smoke grits his teeth at the way you cry out, like your moans and cries are chipping away at his self restraint, like your body is begging him to release all seven years of pent up sexual energy into this very moment.Ā
His mouth presses against your throat, licking and kissing and sucking your soft and supple skin while his hips grind into you deep and slow, thick strokes dragging every sound you can make right out your mouth.Ā
Even through the lust-fueled heat and haze of endorphins, thereās a softness in the way he holds you, a type of gentleness that only comes from your souls being tied to one another. āYou want me to stay?ā he pants, his voice low and husky in your ears. āHuh? Want me to stay right here⦠keep yaā fullāa this fat dick?ā
You answer him right away, nodding frantically while a fire starts spreading through your body, throwing your legs around his torso, locking him in place, wanting him to stay deep inside. āYes, Smokeādonāt stop, pleaseāfuckāyou strechinā me out!ā
The back and forth between you and him continues, your bodies locked in a rhythm older than memory. You and Smoke match each other in every way: body, rhythm, desire. Smoke touches you like a man whoās been lost, finally made his way back home, and hoping what comes next will make up for the time lost.
His hand slides between your bodies, thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble harshly around his waist. āDamn, girl,ā he pants in your ear. āYou takinā me so good⦠like this pussy know exactly who it belong to.ā
āIt belong to you,ā you whimper, leaning more into his body, wrapping your arms around his back to hold him even closer, like you can pull him into your soul, like if you hold him close heāll become fused with your body. āAlways did.ā
Hearing that makes his eyes flutter closed for a second. You feel the tremble in his arms, the way he slows his pace just enough to look at you again, to really look into the windows of your soul. He can see everything your feeling, even the things you havenāt voiced yet.Ā
He can feel a yearning in your spirit, not for him, but something else, something youāve wanted for years, even since you were a little girl and honestly what heās been wanting since the day he met you.Ā
Smoke opens his mouth and speaks low, almost like itās a secret between just you, him, and the wet sounds of your bodies colliding. āStill want that baby?ā Smoke asks softly, like heās scared of what your answer will be, like heās in some type of uncharted territory.Ā
He knows heās been gone for years, and he knows that trying to have a child is one of things that put a strain on your relationship but he canāt stop thinking about bringing a beautiful baby into the world with you.Ā
The question makes your breath hitch, makes your eyes snap open at the mention of a baby. Even in the midst of his dick continuously pushing against your womb, sweat dripping down your skin, and insides being rearranged, the question still lands heavily in your mind.Ā
It takes you by surprise for sure, you werenāt expecting this conversation so soon, let alone in the middle of sex but you arenāt opposed to talking about it since you know itās one conversation that has to be discussed.
You blink up at him, eyes glassy with tears you refuse to shed, overwhelmed by the feeling of finally having him in your arms again and what could be if you become pregnant. Your hands cup his face as you repress a moan, your voice a little breathy from all the physical activity but still clear as day. āYou still wanna give me a baby? You⦠you still want that witā me after everything?āĀ
Smokeās eyes searched yours, raw and honest in the dim light, holding every ounce of hope and fear tangled inside the pit of his stomach. āāCourse I do.ā he whispers with a strong tone, gliding his thumb across your skin and whiping the tear you finally allowed to roll down your cheek. āI still want that baby. I want our baby. Never wanted anything else.ā
You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing against your chest, flooding you with a mix of longing and cautious hope. Youāve dreamed of this moment many times, but hearing it spoken from his lips and not your imagination makes your heart swell in a way you hadnāt expected.Ā
āI want it too, Elijah. I always did. Aināt never stopped wantinā a baby with you.ā Your fingers trace slow, delicate circles on his cheek, feeling the roughness of his facial hair beneath your touch. āI wanna get round with yoā baby. Carryinā somethinā of us both inside me.ā
Smokeās eyes soften even more, like a weight lifts off his shoulders once he hears that you and him are on the same page. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours, breath and saliva mingling with yours. Smoke starts thrusting again but this time his hips jerk into you a little harder than before.Ā
āThen Iāma give yaā one. Gonā make you a mama jusā like you want.ā he promises, voice shaking as he starts to lose control, his need of wanting to breed you taking over. āGonā make sure my seed sittinā deep. You gonā walk outta here witā it drippinā out of yaā.ā
Before responding to him vocally, you place your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him in for another kiss, sliding your tongue so far down his throat you can taste a mixture of yourself and the beer he was drinking earlier.Ā
The kiss is full of fire, passion, love, and all the above.Ā In the beginning, this escapade was just full of hot passion but now, talking about trying to make a baby, it quickly turns intimate, making both you and him soften up.
Your lips part from his, swollen and slick from the kiss, and you keep your forehead pressed to his, eyes fluttering shut as your hands rest on his shoulders. His weight, his warmth, itās all wrapped around you, and for the first time in years, it feels like you can finally breathe again.
Smoke rolls his hips into you at a delicious pace, each thrust deeper than the last, but not rushed. Itās slow and sensual, something both of you have been craving since you and him were apart.Ā
His hands slide under your back, holding you delicately like the diamond you are. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing his body against yours, clinging to him like a lifeline. Your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the kind born from years of loving each other, of knowing every scar, every mole, and every inch of skin by heart.
āGod, I missed you.ā you whisper into the crook of his neck, your voice breaking as you feel the tip of his dick pressing against your cervix.
Smoke groans low, the sound vibrating from deep in his chest. āMissed you too, baby. Gonā stay right in the Delta with you. I sweaā.ā
He buries his face into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin that intoxicates him every time he inhales. His breath is shaky and warm against your throat, causing your skin to prickle. The gentle rocking of his hips turns more deliberate and forceful, and you can feel the difference almost instantly.
Every stroke is intense, every moan and whimper he pulls from you feels like a prayer. Your fingers thread through his hair, nails grazing his scalp, and his arms tighten around you like he is trying to mold your body to his.Ā You whisper against his ear, voice trembling as your words become vocal, āSo deep, baby⦠feel so full.ā
Smoke lifts his head just enough to look at you, sweat glistening along his brow, jaw tight from the effort of holding back, not wanting to completely wear you out during the first round. āI love you,ā he says in between kisses against various areas of your body. āAnd this pussy.ā
Your eyes fill again, tears catching in your lashes, but you donāt blink them away. You allow him to see it, see how much he still moves you. How much you still love him. He brushes a kiss over each cheek, then your lips, then your chin. His mouth lingers everywhere and each place his lips touch leaves a trail of fire behind.
Soon he starts to tremble. Hips stuttering, breath going ragged, while you feel your own release stirring inside you, slow and consuming your body and soul. It wraps around your spine, makes your toes curl and your walls tighten around him. āIām close,āĀ
āMe too,ā he grits through another surge of pleasure, hands slipping down to hold your hips steady. ā Let it happen, baby. Come witā me.ā His speed doesnāt lessen, it only rapidly increases, making it feel like his dick is reaching the depths of your soul.Ā
Every drag of his hips feels like heās trying to make up for every night you cried and every moment you thought he forgot you. And with every moan you make, arch to meet his movements, and whispers of praise, you let him know that never stopped wanting him.Ā
Your second orgasm hits hard: tighter, deeper, it makes your body quiver as your walls convulse around him. Your mouth parts in a moan that sounds like his name, your legs trembling around his waist, as your juices splash against his pelvis and your cream surrounds the rim of his dick.Ā
And thatās all it takes for Smoke to follow, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep, groaning into your neck as he spills his seed into the depths of your womb, not wanting a drop of it to escape because every droplet counts when trying to have a baby.
Once he releases he doesn't pull out right away. He just stays buried inside you, allowing his seed to travel inside you to its rightful place. Both of you are breathing hard, bodies tangled, skin slick with sweat, and your hearts pounding in sync. He runs his fingers along your jaw and gently kisses you, like a man whoās finally at peace.Ā
You run your fingers along the strong line of his back, the soft curve of his nape, eyes closed and body humming with the aftershock. āI hope it takes.ā you whisper, gliding your hand against the back of his head.
Smoke doesnāt respond right away, first he kisses the curve of your shoulder, then soft of your cheek, and lastly he looks in your eyes. āThat baby already on the way,ā He mumbles, reassuring you while moving a few strands of your hair out of your face. āI can feel it.ā He places his hand on your stomach, rubbing your skin like he already feels something growing there.Ā
You laugh softly, feeling a flutter in your chest when you see him acting as if youāre full of his child already. āDonāt play. Once you get me pregnant, you stuck with me fuhā good.ā
Smoke lifts his head, eyes locked on yours with a serious expression on his face. āI wanna be stuck. Wanna have a house full of kids,ā he murmurs while his hands still linger against your skin. āWant all of āem lookinā jusā like you.ā You smile when you hear him say that, Smoke has always had a way of saying the words that make you feel all mushy inside.Ā
You pull him in for another kiss, allowing your lips to linger against his before pulling away. After you and him take a few moments to gather yourselves, you find yourself tangled together once again but this time you're on top, you canāt let have Smoke have all the fun of being in control.
For the rest of the night it's just you and him in the little office. Rekindling your love, fucking each other senseless, while the scent of sweat and love lingers in air. For the first time in a long time, both of you are right where you want to be, in each otherās arms.Ā
ā
ONE MONTH LATERā¦.
The morning started slow, like most have lately. Youāre sitting at the small wooden kitchen table, sunlight slipping through the curtains and beaming on the tablecloth your mama gifted you years ago. The smell of frying pork fat still hung in the air, and the biscuits you made sits half-eaten between you and Smoke.
Youāre wearing one your many nightgowns, cotton thin and soft against your skin, while your feet are propped on the edge of his chair, knees bent. Heās eating quietly, calm as always, big hands steady as he sopped up syrup with a piece of biscuit.Ā
He doesnāt seem to have a care in the world but your mind has been running wild all week. Something in your body has been feeling off. Youāve been nauseous almost every morning, tired all the time, snapping at Smoke for no good reason, and your breasts have started to to become tender.Ā
Thereās a weight to you now that wasnāt there before. A stretch behind your ribs, a mysterious heat low in your belly. Youāve been trying to brush it off. Tell yourself itās too early to get your hopes up, reminding yourself it will take a while before your in the family way. But this morning you canāt hold it in anymore. āElijah?ā
He glances up, chewing slow, then wiping his fingers on a napkin. āHm?ā
You hesitate at first, fidgeting with the food on your plate, pushing the scrambled eggs around with a fork, before speaking. āI⦠I think somethinā goinā on witā me.ā
His brow crease as he straightens up in his seat. āWhat kinda somethinā?ā
āI donāt know. I jusā feel different. Been tired, sick in the morninā, and my body been achinā. I think iām cominā down with somethinā.ā
You look up at him for the first time since sitting across from him, searching for any sign of emotion in his face. At first Smoke doesnāt blink. He just stares for a beat, then his face softens just a little, making your heart flutter. āI been watchinā you.ā he says, voice low and still filled with sleep.Ā
Smoke is an attentive man, his eyes are always on you no matter what. So when he noticed you moving slower, how you could no longer stomach certain foods, and how your emotions have been all over the place, his mind started to spin with his own ideas of what could be going on. āBaby, ion think you sick.ā He looks down at your belly, then back at you. āI think you pregnant.ā
Your heart clenches at the mention of a baby possibly forming in your womb. You set down the fork and rest your hand on your stomach, feeling your nerves begin to get the best of you. āYou think so?ā
He nods, standing firm in his statement. āDonāt jusā think it. I feel it.ā
āI aināt wanna get my hopes up. Not after all we been throughā¦ā You express to Smoke. With everything you and him went through years ago, all the emotions it brings out of you and the strain it can cause on your relationship, you donāt want to go through that again. You know you wonāt be able to handle it a second time and Smoke does too.
āI know.ā Smoke says as he takes a deep breath, reaching across the table and lays his palm over your hand thatās tapping nervously against the wood. āBut this time feels different. You feel different.ā
You sigh sharply, feeling yourself calm down just a little when you see how confident Smoke is about you being pregnant even though thereās a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you itās impossible after youāve only been trying for a month plus all the prior failed attempts. āYou think Annie would come by? Check me out?ā
āSheāll come,ā Smoke reassuringly tightens your hand before standing up, reaching for his tweed jacket thats hanging off the back of his chair. āIāll go get her myself.ā Before he walks out the door, he places a kiss on your temple, making a soft smile come across your lips.
After almost thirty minutes, Smoke shows up with Annie trailing behind him inside the house, basket in hand with all of the supplies she needs for a full exam, her haint blue dress hugging her full figure. Annie is your closest friend, and you trust her to guide you through this journey more than any backwoods doctor or midwife.Ā
Sheās caught babies all across the county and laid hands on sick folks so long, folks say her touch can pull a fever right out the skin. Her first love is hoodoo but her second is bringing new life into the world. She sets her basket down with a thud and gives you a look, letting you know that something sassy is about to roll off her tongue. āYou gonā make me dig around or you gonā tell me whatās goinā on first?"Ā
āIām late,ā you say quietly, fidgeting with the lace pattern along your dress that you changed into before she arrived. āBeen sick, tired. I jusā wanna see if Iām...ā
Annie knows how hard it has been for you and Smoke to conceive, and how long youāve yearned to become a mother so she understands the weight of this moment, and how its hard for you to allow the word āpregnantā to slip through your lips until you know for sure. She flashes you a soft smile and gives you a comforting hand on your shoulder. āAlright then. Letās see whatās goinā on.ā
You lead her to the back of your home where your bedroom resides and you lie down on your bed, with Smoke right by your side. Most men donāt want to be around for exams like this, thinking itās just āwomanly workā or gross but Smoke is far from that mindset, he wants to be included in every phase. Plus, you donāt want him far. Youāve separated from each other for far too long and you need him right by your side holding your hand, whether itās good or bad news.
Annieās touch is gentle as she presses and prods your body, asking you a series of questions, humming under her breath while her eyes are half-closed like sheās feeling more with her spirit than her fingers. She uses a series of instruments, including a Pinard Horn, searching for a fetal heartbeat to fill her eardrums.
After what feels like hours of long silence and tension so thick it can be sliced with a knife, she completes her routine exam. When she first looks up at you and Smoke, her face is neutral, not really showing any sign of emotion until she flashes a smile. āHoney, you with child.ā
Your throat closes and it feels like you canāt breathe for a second. The air leaves your lungs in a rush, chest heaving while tears immediately fill your eyes. You cover your mouth with your hand, trembling all over. āReally? Iām⦠Iām pregnant?ā The word finally emerges from your throat, your tone sounding like you barely believe what Annie despite her many years of expertise.
Annie nods, her smile growing even wider. āYes, y/n. You pregnant. Bellyās already startinā to swell. You aināt too far along. Maybe five, six weeks, but itās a baby in there, no doubt.ā She says, rubbing your belly softly. āBaby strong too. I heard that heartbeat clear as day.ā
The tears fall freely now, spilling down your cheeks as you turn your face into Smokeās shoulder. Heās already there, leaning down, wrapping you up in his arms before you have the opportunity to fall apart. āBreathe, baby,ā he murmurs against your temple, voice calm despite his own brewing excitement, soothing you in the moment. āYou hear that? You carryinā. We gonā have a baby.ā
āI canāt believe it,ā you say, fingers clutching at his jacket, holding on like you might drown in your own of tears and waves of emotion. āwe tried for so long. I thoughtā I thought it would neverāā
Smoke tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are wet too, though he hasnāt allowed a single tear to fall. He just looks at you with his usual brooding intensity, but much softer now. āBelieve it. I told you. I felt it. From the night I put it in yaā, I knew.ā
You choke on a laugh, even through the tears, not believing he said that right in front Annie without a care. āYou so sure of yoāself.ā
Annie clears her throat gently, gathering up her things, wanting to give you and him some time alone to reflect on the joyful news. āIāma leave yāall to it. Let her rest, Smoke. Donāt you let her lift nothinā heavy, and make sure she eat good.ā She gives you a wink, letting you know that you and her will be talking later, before slipping out the door, leaving the two of you wrapped in silence.
When sheās gone, you lie back against the pillows, still trembling, your hands covering your belly as if you could already feel something moving inside. Smoke gets in the bed with you, pulling you close to him until your skin presses against his own.Ā
His hand rests on yours, circling his thumb against your very slightly swollen belly while a warmth spreads through him that heās never felt before. Since that night in Club Juke he believed you would become pregnant, he just didnāt know exactly when but now that the day has come he is the happiest man on Earth.Ā
He can now become a āPapaā to little boy or girl. āThank you,ā he whispers with a vulnerability you haven't heard from him since that long talk you and him in his office. āThank you for givinā me a second chance. For givinā me this baby.ā
You run your fingers through his hair, caressing the strong line of his nape, then smoothing over the crown of his head, something you know he loves, something that always makes him melt a little no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
Smokeās hand never leaves your belly, he just rubs gently against your skin in a way that calms your soul. His head dips towards you, his full lips pressing against your temple, your damp cheek, and then the curve of your jaw. Your tears quickly turn into sniffles, chest still hitching as you let out a trembling laugh while Smokeās lips continuously press against your skin. āYou gonā smother me, Smoke.ā
āI aināt smotherinā you. Iām lovinā on you.ā he corrects, wrapping both of his arms around you while giving you one last kiss. āYou, me, and this little one. We gonā be alright.ā Despite Smokeās seven year absence, heās a good man, you know that. One thing heās always been is devoted to you, even hundreds of miles away.
Now that Smoke is going to be a family man, his devotion and love for you will only grow stronger, heāll never cross over state lines without you by his side.
One thing Smoke loves about you is how nurturing and loving you are, how strong you care for the people you love. In his eyes, you have all the qualities to be a perfect mother to your baby boy or girl. āYou gonā be a good mama.ā
āAnd I already know you gonā be the best papa.ā When he hears that he canāt help but smile. With all the trauma he experienced with his own father, heās always vowed that once he had children he would treat them with love, kindness, and most of all respect.Ā
He leans down and kisses for the millionth time, slow and sweet, like thereās nowhere else heād rather be than by your side. āWe gonā have a house full of babies. Jusā like I told you.ā The words run off Smokeās tongue so easily, like heās already planning future pregnancies before you can even complete your first trimester.
You giggle softly, shaking your head at the seriousness in his tone. āOne thing at a time, Smoke. Lemme give birth to this one first before we talk about havinā more.ā
In this moment, with Smokeās warmth around you and the spark of new life growing inside your womb, you feel like all the trials and tribulations that you and Smoke went through in your relationship is worth it.Ā
Everything youāve ever wanted in life has now fallen into place. Smoke has come back into your life, your womb has been filled with a child, and your relationship couldnāt be better. In the end, all the pain, crying, longing, and tears were worth it. Your heart is now complete.
š»šØš®š³š°šŗš» ā @Yungblud423 @nostlicions @loveabledovee @secretisme4 @pinkkycherrish @bl3ssyn @shamansha @queenofklonnie22 @rios-st4rs @Secretlifeofpreshap @bxrbie1 @t-wylia @bendoverboo18 @milesf4vg1rl @secret89sblog @gabbysbl0gg @li-da-savage @minyara-kun @st4rrdrexm @rose-bliss @sajoi @plan3tch1ld @queenofklonnie22 @n-ae-vis @3tallions @weirdwhimsicalblackgirl @avatar4eva @d1gitalb4rbie @deexoxomuah @tnychellee @moundbayou @sweet13aby @whammyy @n-ae-vis
ā all rights reserved Ā©ššššššššššššš. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost repost on other platforms (ex. AO3 or Wattpad) nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.












