"BURN IT ALL!"

“Look Daedae, we only security guards, okay? Ghetto security guards at that. We ain’t Cops, we ain’t America’s Most Wanted, NYPD Blue, none of that shit you watch.”

“We somethin’ like them.” - Friday After Next

—

“—usually calm. Make sure ain’t nobody fighting, stealing, or parking where they not supposed to be. That’s it and that’s all.”

“Why you look at me when you say that??” 

“Because,” Delilah placed a hand on her hip. Pointed one long red fingernail across the counter at the 23 year old that was basically her nephew. “You act like God ain’t gave you no sense most days.” 

“Awe it’s like that auntie?” Stack pulled his toothpick from his mouth, glint in his brown eyes playful, as a grin stretched across his face. One that was too damn big for Delilah’s liking. 

“I’m not playing with you, boy.”  Her eyes jumped from the right to the left. “Either of y’all.” 

Smoke hadn’t been paying them any attention. The older Moore’s mind was elsewhere, focus split between the rent him and his brother were always short on and the french toast with blueberry compote Delilah placed in front of him 10 minutes prior. On another day, there wouldn’t be anything but crumbs left, but it was hard to have an appetite when money wasn’t right. 

At her words, his fork paused, head coming up and eyes squinting in the corners like, ‘what she say fuck me for?’ 

“You heard me,” Delilah raised her brows pointedly. “None of that Smoke and Stack nonsense today. Y’all are Elias and Elijah. Security guards. Secure my plaza, get paid, and go home. That’s all y’all gotta do.”  

That was all Smoke planned to do. It was easy money. Not the most money, but it’d add up all the same eventually.  

“You know we got you auntie,” Stack was seated on the stool next to his twin, plate clean, hand moving in the air like he was waving Delilah off. “We gon’ have this bit- this place locked down. Ain’t nun’ movin’ witout us knowing about it. Ain’t that right, Smoke?” 

Smoke glanced at him, “We gon’ sit in that booth and watch the parking lot, like we getting paid to.” 

Stack waved him off next. “Auntie D —” He placed his hand over his heart. “We ready to die behind this shi– stuff.” 

She couldn’t laugh at Elias, because all that did was encourage him, so Delilah shook her head instead, “You heard what I said Elias. Don’t be playin’ in my plaza, cause I will fire y’all, family or not. It’s bad enough I lost my last security guards.”

“You ain’t ever tell us what happened to them.” Smoke pushed his plate to the side, deciding he was done with breakfast. Then he checked the clock on the wall, like he wanted to make sure they were out of here before people started piling in. 

Delilah paused her wiping down of the already clean counter. And then she continued. It happened so fast, anybody else would have missed the break in motion.  

Smoke wasn’t anybody though. 

“You ain’t ever ask,” Delilah glanced up at him and then back down. “And it don’t matter anyways. Like I said, watch the plaza, make the money, and go home.” 

Smoke’s eyes narrowed, “Nah, what happened to the last —”

“Nigga come on,” Stack was sliding off his stool. “I ain’t get up at 9 in the morning to play 20 questions.” 

“You didn’t get up at all,” Smoke frowned. “I had to drag you outta bed.” 

“That ain’t the point,” Stack was already walking towards the door, only stopped to turn around after he’d reached it. “We got ‘dis auntie. Watch.” He saluted Delilah as if that was supposed to be reassuring and then used his back to push the glass open. “Chop chop nigga,” He clapped at his brother. “World ain’t gon’ save itself.” 

A ding went off as the door closed behind him and Smoke frowned harder. 

This was gon’ be a long ass day. 

“Stop lookin’ like that,” Delilah brought him out of his thoughts, leaning forward over the counter and hitting his arm playfully. “It’s gon’ be fine. If anything it’ll be boring. Just…watch yo’ brother.” 

He was gon’ do that anyways. Had been, since he could hold his head up damn near. 

Smoke wiped his mouth, dropped the napkin on the plate, and stood up from the counter. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And Elijah…” Delilah hesitated. Knew he wouldn’t like what she had to say, but tried anyways. “You know I don’t mind just giving y’all –” 

“Nah, D —” Smoke’s words were sharp and he fixed his tone immediately, fingers twitching at his sides like he was irritated. With himself. Her. The situation. “Me and Stack ain’t lazy. We don’t mind workin’. And I’m gon’ make sure things run smooth today. You ain’t gotta worry.” 

Delilah didn’t push. Never pushed. She just nodded her head and smiled softly. “I know you will, baby. I ain’t worried at all.” 

Outside, Stack was busy ‘fixing’ his clothes. He’d already untucked the grey uniform shirt from his black pants and had seemingly pulled a sharpie out of his ass to cross out ‘Elias’ on his name tag and write ‘Stack’. 

He’d moved on to undoing the first couple buttons of the shirt when Smoke stepped out of the diner.

“‘Bout time,” Stack started towards his brother. “Come here.” His hands reached for Smoke’s shirt then and the older Moore promptly stepped back, slapping the hell out of Stack’s hands in the process. 

“Nigga, stop touching me.” 

Stack screwed his face up, looking at his brother like Smoke was the one tripping. “I’m tryna help yo’ ass. She got us walking around in these stiff ass uniforms. You frowning like the world coming to an end. We gotta’ come better than that, we top flight security of the world now Smoke.” 

“Only thing we securing is this months rent. Don’t nothing in this plaza require you to have all that energy.” Smoke was already walking past Stack, moving from in front of his aunties diner and across the parking lot. 

Clarkdale’s “plaza” wasn’t anything more than 5 odd businesses with the same location. There were two clothing boutiques, Delilah’s diner, Slim’s music store, and a random ass gift shop that Smoke didn’t expect to stay open long because who was really stopping here for souvenirs? 

As he headed for the security booth that looked more like a phone booth, the sun beat down on his back, that Mississippi heat unrelenting as always.

“‘Dat’s yo’ problem,” Stack followed behind his brother, easy swagger nothing like Smoke’s steady gait. “You ain’t got no vision. You need to be thinking big nigga.” 

“And you jus’ need to think,” Smoke cut his eyes to the right. “We short on rent and you playin’.” 

Stack shrugged, “Cause it’s gon’ work itself out. It always do.”

That was true. Odd jobs, a missed meal here and there, a little scheming on the side — whatever paid the bills, is what they did. 

Hence the ‘stiff ass uniforms’ their late mothers best friend had them wearing. Smoke didn’t feel no particular way about the job — it was just another way to make ends meet. The only thing wearing on him, bothering him, was that his constant grind never quite produced enough. 

“Besides,” Stack continued as they maneuvered around cars. “I already told you what we could be doing to make some real mo—”

“And I told you we wasn’t doing it.” Smoke stopped dead in the middle of the parking lot. “Stop bringing it up.” 

Stack didn’t blink at the edge in his brothers tone. “I only brought it up, cause you stomping around, ‘bout to pop that damn vein that’s in the middle of yo’ forehead. I’m coo’ with being top flight.” Stack spread his arms wide. “Shit — this plaza need a nigga like me. Ima fuck around and get a key to the city the way ima have this bitch running.” 

And he was so serious. 

Smoke looked at his twin smirking and felt it — that same vein in the middle of his forehead throbbing again. 

“Stack, we ain’t here to play no fuckin’ cops and robbers. We gon’ stay out the way and make this easy money.” 

It was the only easy money Smoke would allow himself to entertain, because that shit Stack kept talking about? They wasn’t doing that. Was gon’ be better than that. 

Stack shrugged, “If a nigga jump stupid in my aunties plaza, Ima have to show him somethin’ Smoke. I ‘ont care nothing ‘bout it getting out of hand. We run this shit now.” 

Smoke squinted, “You hear yoself? You get a whistle around yo’ neck and go on a power trip.” 

Stack blinked like he was saying ‘so’ and Smoke decided he was done with the conversation. 

“You heard what I said Stack,” He gave his brother a look and then started walking again, “Come on.” 

“Man I swear, niggas be born a few minutes early and think they the boss of errybody —” as Stack talked his shit, he made sure he was moving though, loud voice carrying through the air. 

“– and we ain’t little no more! You ‘ont intimidate me, nigga! I’m top flight of the world, Smoke!”

“This boring. Ain’t nun top flight about this shit.” 

Stack tugged at the collar of his shirt, shifting for what had to be the tenth time in the last ten minutes. 

Next to him, Smoke snorted quietly, never taking his eyes off the legal pad he was currently scribbling on. It had been in the booth, along with a #2 pencil, and was probably intended for note taking. There were no ‘notes’ to take though, so Smoke was working on a budget instead. 

“That’s how it’s gon’ stay.” The older Moore crossed out one number and replaced it with another as he spoke. “What chu’ think gon’ pop off at the gift shop, nigga? Just sit back.” 

The plaza had woken up. Closed signs flipped to open, cars pulling in and out, the hum of conversation gradually getting louder and creeping through the booths window. 

It had Stack restless and they’d only been ‘on duty’ for about an hour. 

In the younger Moore’s defense, it wasn’t in his dna to sit still. To watch the world move around him and not be at the center of it. To stand by, waiting for something to happen. And that’s all this job was — a whole bunch of waiting. In a hot ass, cramped ass booth, that was barely big enough to fit the two metal chairs they were seated in. 

Stack shifted again, “Man, if I knew all I was gon’ be doing was sitting here in silence wit’ yo’ ass —”

“It ain’t sitting in silence if you keep talking.” Smoke crossed out another number, brows furrowing in the middle. 

Stack sucked his teeth, mumbled something that sounded like, “Yeah ight,” and then graced Smoke with three blissful beats of silence before — 

Yeahhh, we finna set it off in this mufucka’ ya heard me?

Boosie’s voice came out of nowhere. 

Correction. It came from Stack’s phone. The same phone that currently had Apple Music on display and it’s volume turned all the way up.

You wonna talk shit? You wonna run yo’ mouth? You want some gangsta’s front yo- motherfuckin’ hou–

Stack was bobbing his head, the whistle around his neck slapping against his chest as his arm bumped Smoke’s every other second. He had three blissful seconds of chaos before —

“Turn that shit off,” Smoke snapped, head turning in his direction. “Got that loud ass music all in my ear.” 

Stack just grinned at first, shoulders jumping with the beat, southern drawl thick as he rapped.

“We’ll set this bitch off, yeah, set this bitch off!” 

And then Smoke sat up. 

And Stack stopped the music.

“Ight nigga, calm down.” Stack laughed as he held his hands up in surrender. “You need to lighten up damn. You don’t want me talk. Don’t wonna vibe out wit’ a nigga. What I’m ‘sposed to do?” 

Smoke…Smoke had to take a deep, deep breath before he spoke again, lids closing and opening slowly, like he was gathering patience. “All you gotta do Stack, is Watch. The. Parking lot.” 

So, Stack watched. Gaze focused on cars backing in and out and people moving from store to store for five whole minutes. 

And then he spotted two specific people, two strangers in one car that made him sit up straight. That made that bored expression on his face completely transform. 

“Awe shit,” Stack was already half way out his seat. “We got action!” 

“What??” Smoke looked up from his budget in confusion. Was met with nothing but the sight of Stack’s back as his twin damn near speed walked out of the booth. 

If Smoke was the type, he would have thrown his whole damn head back.

Instead, he let out a breath that sounded like it took every ounce of patience he had with it, mumbled “This nigga,” as he threw the legal pad down in front of him, and got up to follow behind his brother 

“Aye, y’all can’t park right here.” 

Annie was already parked. Had just pulled into the spot actually, when a loud voice coming from her left made her and Pearline look over. 

Both girls blinked, Annie’s brow furrowing in the middle while Pearline’s whole head cocked. 

It looked like…a security guard approaching them? One with a whistle around his neck, pants hanging low on his hips and a smirk on his face that screamed unserious. 

“Excuse me?” Annie’s doors were off of her jeep today, so her voice and that incredulous tone reached Stack’s ears clearly. 

“Y’all can’t park here,” He repeated himself as he stepped up to the side of the jeep. 

“And who are you supposed to be exactly?”Pearline jumped in and Stack’s eyes darted over to her. Smirk on his face growing before his head jerked back, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Now I know you see ‘dis,” He patted his chest, right over the crest in his shirt that was shaped like a badge. “I’m security, baby.” 

Annie rolled her eyes. Could already tell he wasn’t securing a damn thing. 

“Stack —” Another voice joined the conversation then. It was deep. Low. Sounded irritated. And it caught Annie’s attention immediately. 

Her eyes left the fake ass rent-a-cop, to look over his shoulder instead. There was another ‘security guard’ approaching them and his uniform was fitted to his body. Shirt tucked in, buttons done up, pants sitting correctly on his frame. 

He had brown skin, stiff shoulders, and thick brows that were pulled together in the middle. For a second, Annie felt like she wanted to take her thumb and smooth them out. 

“Awe now you wonna patrol wit’ me??” Security guard one had glanced over his shoulder when he heard the voice. “Nigga I got this covered, I already let ‘em know they can’t park here.” 

“What chu’ talking about?” Security guard 2 reached them, still looking disgruntled, and not even sparing Annie and Pearline a glance. “This spot ain’t reserved. Nigga come on.” His eyes flicked to the jeep then, gaze jumping from Annie to Pearline and back again. “I’m sorry ‘bout him. Y’all can park here.” 

His voice was completely flat. He truthfully didn’t sound apologetic and all. 

And for whatever reason,  Annie was intrigued. 

Both girls spoke at once. 

“Y’all brothers? Twins?” That was Pearline, leaning up in her seat, eyes jumping from one Moore to the next. 

“How you work with the public, when you can’t manage to even sound sorry?” That was Annie. Lips quirked playfully, eyes focused on one Moore and one Moore alone. 

Both brothers blinked, before Stack grinned wider, while that scowl on Smoke’s face?  Deepened. While his eyes really focused in on Annie for the first time. 

“Nah, baby,” Stack winked at Pearline. Watched her damn near melt into the seat. “We cousins.” 

Smoke wasn’t saying shit. He was just looking. At dark skin and big curls and full lips. Looking at a solid build, that was sitting up high in that jeep. Looking at big eyes that felt like they could see through him.

He felt…hot. Like he wanted to fidget. And Elijah didn’t fidget.

“I’m Stack,” The younger Moore was still talking, because one glance at his brother had told him Smoke wasn’t gon’ be no help. “And this Smoke.” Stack moved a step closer to the car. “We keep eerbody safe around here and as fine as y’all is, I know y’all gon’ cause a commotion when y’all get out this jeep. I can’t allow no disruption like that beautiful’s. It’s dangerous. That’s why y’all gotta go.” 

Pearline’s ass started giggling. 

Smoke didn’t give Annie anything to laugh at though. He still hadn’t even responded to her question actually.

That smile that’d been on her lips lessened, one brow raising when she asked, “I got something on my face?” 

Smoke frowned deeper and for a reason he couldn’t explain, that irritation Stack had been causing all morning grew. His fingers twitched at his sides, arms came up as he crossed them. Like he needed to ground himself or something. 

“Nah.” 

Annie’s brow rose higher at the word. At the one dry word and sharp glare being aimed her way. 

Okay then. 

She’d been intrigued, for like a minute, but she wasn’t in the habit of forcing conversation — nor did she appreciate him mugging her, like he was offended she’d even spoken to him at all.

Her lips pursed as she broke their stare, gaze drifting back to security guard number one. 

Can’t get ‘em all girl. Shake it off. Finer niggas exist. 

Stack was talking as Annie tuned back into the world around her.

“How ‘bout ‘dis,” Stack pulled his phone out. “We let y’all park here, but y’all give us y’all numbers, so if sumn happen, you can reach us.” 

He was saying y’all, but really was just looking at Pearline. 

“Promise we’ll come runnin’ to y’all rescue.” 

Annie didn’t know if Pearline would hand her number over or not. Half of the time, her friend flirted just to flirt — not because she was actually interested in getting to know anybody. 

What Annie did know was that she wouldn’t be handing over a damn thing. Not that Smoke wanted a number from her anyways. 

When Annie’s lips pursed harder, it wasn’t due to the sting of rejection. It was because even though she’d looked away, his glare was still boring into the side of her head. She could feel it and it was starting to get on her nerves because the fuck was his problem? 

As if he heard her thoughts, his voice suddenly rang out.

“You don’t gotta give him nothin’.” 

All eyes went to Smoke. Stack frowning and opening his mouth, getting ready to rebuttal. Pearline blinking, like she’d just remembered there was another twin standing there. Annie’s head turning, stare locking with his for a long millisecond before he looked away and directed his gaze to Pearline. 

Annie found it funny how that glare suddenly lessened. How his mouth opened and magically created more than one word now that he wasn’t looking at her. 

Clearly I did something to him in the past life. Fuck it. Not my problem. 

That’s what Annie told herself as irritation thrummed in her chest. 

Meanwhile, Smoke was reaching for his brother as he spoke, keeping his eyes on the girl in the passenger seat. 

Forcing his eyes to stay on the girl in the passenger seat. Because the one in the drivers seat? He ain’t like her. 

Ain’t like how she talked to him all casual and soft when he walked up. How she pressed him, when he didn’t respond. ‘Cause strangers didn’t do that with Smoke; joke, press, hell — make conversation at all really. Most people gave him a wide berth and reserved the talking for Stack.

He ain’t like how she looked at him either; like she was curious. Like she already knew some shit about him he’d never revealed.

And he definitely ain’t like when she looked away from him — like she was writing him off. How most people did. 

Smoke decided right then and there, that he ain’t like nothing ‘bout her. She, whoeva’ she was, made him feel too fuckin’ big for his skin and he was ready to get back to the booth. 

Where he would have been in the first place, if not for Stack. 

When Smoke continued speaking it was abrupt and short. Voice still flat as he looked at Pearline — 

“He sorry ‘bout holdin’ you up. Enjoy ‘da plaza.” 

And then he turned. Hand wrapped firmly around Stack’s shoulder to pull his brother with him and gaze pointedly not looking back at that baby blue jeep in the process. 

Even if some part of him, deep deep down, felt like he wanted to. 

“Damn Smoke, let me go! She like me! Aye — I’m tryna do my job and secure some shit and you fuckin’ it up! Ima write yo’ ass up for insubordination!” 

Stack’s voice travelled across the parking lot as Annie and Pearline watched the brothers retreat.

The older Moore had Stack gripped up tight, long gait bringing both of them towards a small booth Annie had never paid much attention to.

He wasn’t rushing away, but he didn’t slow down. Nor did he bother responding to Stack.

Annie’s lips twisted, the annoyance she’d felt in her chest curling up and settling in as she watched them. 

He hadn’t looked over his shoulder once. Hadn’t spared her them a glance after he cut into the conversation and then retreated. 

He was…rude. Annie didn’t like that. Ain’t like him.

Ain’t like how he’d managed to capture her attention without trying. 

Ain’t like that he didn’t do anything with it when he had it. That he hadn’t bothered to throw more than one word in her direction, like he was to good to talk to her or something. Too good to be polite.

And she definitely ain’t like how he looked at her. Face frowned up. Eyes unreadable, like she’d committed some offense against him she knew nothing about. 

Yeah. She ain’t like nothing about him actually. 

“They were coo’.” 

Pearline’s words had Annie pulling her eyes away from the security guards to look over at her best friend incredulously. 

“Uh no. They weren’t.” 

Pearline had pulled the visor down to touch up her gloss. Was currently popping her lips together as her gaze darted towards Annie and then back to the small mirror. “Well my twin was. He was cute too — in a goofy fuckboy kinda way.” 

She said it like that made sense, popping her lips once more before shutting the visor and giving Annie her full attention. “Yours a little rude though. How he gon’ pull my man away before he could get my number?” 

“Pearline —” Annie said it like ‘please stop playing’ “—you were not about to give that boy yo’ number.” 

“And was.” Pearline crossed her arms, charms from the bracelet wrapped around her wrist jingling in time with the movement. “Security guards need love too, Annie. Besides — he look like he can eat the fuck outta some pus-”

“Alright.” Annie stopped her before she got started. “Give that man yo’ number if you want to.”

“And you need to give his brother yours. Then we can double date.” Her friends eyes lit up before Annie snuffed that light right on out. 

“It ain’t gon’ ever happen.” She shook her head. Nose wrinkling. Eyes almost drifting back across the lot before she caught herself. “Like you said, he’s rude. Can’t speak, but was lookin’ at me like he wanted to fight or something —”

“Or like he wanted to fuck.” 

“That literally wouldn’t be any better Pearline,” Annie’s voice was dry. Skin a little hot. “You do whateva’ you want with the rent-a-cop, but don’t include me.” 

“Mmhm,” Pearline watched as Annie gathered her purse, like she was ready to get out of the car and end this conversation. “You ain’t gotta front. I saw you looking at him, friend.” 

“Lapse in judgment,” Annie’s response was quick. A little too quick, maybe. “I don’t like nothing that’s mean and you already know that.”

It was true. She didn’t do rude. Nonchalant. Or disrespectful. And she’d decided Smoke was all of that. 

“Now let’s go, before ain’t nothing good left in here.” 

Just like that, Pearline switched gears, remembering the reason they’d come out in the first place. The summer sale at D Lady’s Boutique. The name could use some work but the clothes? All sizes, all styles, and the prices hit every time. 

“Awe shit, you right.” Pearline damn near jumped down from the jeep. “Let’s go, because I need them shoes I saw on their site, and I will sling a hoe for ‘em.” 

Annie was only too glad that they were finally directing their attention away from any and everything security related. 

“So, what if that was my future wife? How you gon’ sleep at night, knowing you fucked that up?” 

“She wasn’t yo’ future nothin’ Stack.”

Smoke was back in the booth, arms crossed, lips pinched, stare directed straight out at the parking lot. 

He was doing his job. Watching. And if a lot of that watching was directed towards D Lady’s boutique, so the fuck what? 

“You ‘ont know that, though,” Stack insisted, leaning in like he was really proving a point. 

“I do know that.” Smoke cut his eyes sharply to the side. “Didn’t you meet yo’ future wife already last week? Wasn’t one of yo’ future wives tryna’ key our car yesterday?” 

Stack frowned, “You always wonna bring up old shit.” 

Smoke didn’t respond. Just directed his gaze back across the parking lot. 

He’d seen her hop out the jeep and go into the shop 15 minutes ago and Smoke thought it was stupid — how she left her car open and unattended like that. If it came with doors, fuck was the point of taking them off? 

He added it to the list of shit he didn’t like about her — the one he’d been silently compiling in his head. 

“You know what I think?” 

“Don’t care.” 

“I think you jus’ hatin’ nigga,” Stack continued anyways. “My smooth ass was ‘bout to get ‘dat number, while you was fumblin’.” 

“Fumblin’?” Smoke’s whole head turned. “I ain’t fumble shit. Ain’t want shit either.” 

“Righttttt.” 

Smoke blinked at his brother. And then turned forward again. 

“You ain’t gotta lie, Smoke.” Stack was grinning now. “I think she was fuckin’ wit’ you, actually.” 

Smoke grunted, eyes narrowing just barely in the corners. 

He didn’t care who was or wasn’t ‘fuckin’ wit’ him’. Wasn’t concerned with most of the trivial shit other 23 year olds were. Since he’d been a teen, the older Moore had only three priorities: staying alive, keeping his brother alive, and making enough money so him and Stack didn’t end up somewhere out on their asses. 

His twin hustled with him, always. Understood the grind to a certain extent, but Stack wasn’t the oldest. Ain’t feel the weight of responsibility like Smoke did. Ain’t understand how nothing could derail Elijah from his mission. 

He was focused. 

How you work with the public, when you can’t manage to even sound sorry?

Smoke’s jaw clenched. Not hard. Just enough. 

I got something on my face?

He shifted his weight. Blamed the movement on the hard ass chair he was sitting in. 

“So you ‘ont like her? The thick one?” 

The older Moore’s face didn’t change. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the irritation crawling under his skin at Stack’s words. 

“I don’t know her. Don’t wonna know her. Seem like she got a attitude problem anyways.” Smoke felt like he was talking too much, so he shut up. 

“Man that girl ain’t have no attitude,” Stack smacked his lips. “She was tryna flirt wit’ yo’ uptight ass. But whateva’, stay sleep if you want to, ima get her friend regardless. That’s wifey nigga, I’m telling you.”

Smoke just shook his head, stare still on that jeep, mind flashing back to when she’d looked away from him. Like she was dismissing him. Like she couldn’t be bothered. 

She probably stuck up as fuck. 

Smoke added it to his list of dislikes, right along with her eyes, her mouth, her clear lack of awareness when it came to safety, and the way she’d made him feel. 

Slow. Awkward.

His jaw clenched again. 

“On a serious note though,” Smoke looked over as Stack started speaking. Was almost grateful for the distraction, until Stack kept speaking. “Listen to ‘dis and tell me if this shit hot or not. I been working on it for like…the past three minutes.” 

The younger Moore sat up in his seat, shoulder hitting Smoke’s in the process. And then he started banging on the ‘desk’ in front of them, whistle slapping against his chest, head nodding along with the beat he was creating as his mouth opened. 

“Me and my brotha’ bitch,

 We top flight for sho’ —” 

It was loud. The sigh Smoke let out through his nose. 

“— but he gotta get some game

 Cause he, scarin’ the hoesss, ” 

Smoke’s eyes closed, the same vein from earlier throbbing on que. 

Stack just grinned at his brother’s reaction,  nodding his head harder and rapping louder to his beat. 

“I just met my future wife and we gon’ be couple goalsss,

Smoke can’t relate, cause my brotha’ a lil slowwww…”

*picture the scene fading to black* 

A/n ~ If you made it to the end, I hope you enjoyeddd! I think this is the first thing I’ve written where I actually really like my execution of Smoke lmao so yay for me ☺️ Anywaysss, Happy Thursdayyyyy 🫶🏾 my results on the poll will determine what I drop next 👀

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@saradika-graphics on dividers 🫶🏾

Visionaries: @lizbehave @thebumblebeesworld @shereeluvssinners @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @bananajoeclone @aellesa @atpeaceinthestars @underated345-blog @hotebonynearby @hdfen2474 @chromexbarbie @honeytoffee @mmbee675 @waitingtobreatheagain @mikaelsonharem7 @cocochannelmoi

Smoke Visionaries: @brownskincheyenne @meannaim @blue4everrsworld @thedutifulone @partylikemajima @ladychzzcake @shamansha @og-goddesstrill @naibaby

the halls of the golden city no longer sounded like home. they echoed now. not with the ancient rhythms passed down by your foremothers. not with the low, ancestral chants that once settled over the palace like fog at dawn. no — they echoed with the weight of new boots on sacred stone. boots that did not belong to a king.

they belonged to a conqueror.

erik stevens — no, he called himself n’jadaka now — had taken the throne barely two weeks ago. the blood from the ritual combat had not yet fully dried in the sacred pool, and yet the council already bowed their heads to him, lips tight with fear. there had been no second trial. no challenge. the mountain tribe stood down. t’challa’s body had vanished with the river.

you’d known t’challa since you were children. you used to spar with him beneath the shade of the elder tree, both of you too proud to admit when you’d bruised. he trusted you to hold the long-view strategy for wakanda in your hands — one of the few civilians allowed in the high council chambers. strategist. advisor. loyalist. and now… traitor, by some mouths. prisoner, by others.

but erik hadn’t thrown you to the dungeons.

instead, he kept you close.

“a mind like yours shouldn’t rot in a cell,” he’d said, the day after the coronation. he’d spoken it low in your ear, like a secret only you were worthy of. “nah… i want you right where i can see you.”

and now here you were — standing in the war room, your thick frame wrapped in deep blue and gold robes, tension stiff across your shoulders. the rich fabric clung to the slope of your hips, accentuating the body that no uniform could hide. you could feel his gaze on you before you even turned around.

“what you think, strategist?” erik’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. deep, deliberate, heavy with that oakland-born bite. “we hit london first? or new york?”

you didn’t look at him right away. instead, you traced the holographic map glowing across the table with your fingers, watching the borders pulse with potential violence. cities were marked in red. colonizer capitals. your jaw tensed.

“wakanda does not conquer,” you said, carefully. not too soft. not too sharp. “that is not our way.”

“yeah,” he muttered, stepping closer. “and where that get y’all? watchin’ while your brothers and sisters got they necks stepped on. wakanda been hiding.”

he circled behind you like a panther. not quite touching. but close enough that your skin prickled where his heat brushed you. you refused to flinch. he wanted to see you rattle. it was the game, now. every day — the game.

“this ain’t about revenge,” he said, lowering his voice. “this about balance. and power.”

“power built on blood doesn’t last,” you replied, turning finally to face him. your eyes locked. his were molten — dark and unreadable, but sparking with something cruel and magnetic. “and what you’re building… it’s made of bones.”

he didn’t blink. just smiled slow, head tilting.

“so?” he asked, tongue dragging across the edge of his teeth. “that bother you?”

he was too close now. tall, broad, shirt open at the chest. gold fangs flashing beneath full lips. skin dusted in the faintest sheen of sweat and sun, each raised kill mark down his chest a monument to pain — and victory. you hated how magnetic he was. how his presence filled the air so fully it pushed everything else out. his scent was warm metal and cedar. his voice was gravity.

“you loyal to t’challa,” he said, voice dipped low again. “i know that. but you still here. still breathin’. still dressin’ like you got somewhere to be.”

his eyes dragged down your figure — from the tight fold of your waist wrap, across the swell of your hips, to where your thighs brushed under soft fabric. you shifted. not out of discomfort — but because you could feel how intently he watched you.

“you tryna prove somethin’?” he murmured. “or you just don’t know where else you fit now?”

you straightened, spine like steel.

“i serve wakanda,” you said. “not the man who sits on the throne.”

his laugh was soft, almost amused. but there was no kindness in it.

“sound like you tryna convince yourself.”

each day after that followed a pattern. you studied maps, advised on diplomatic approaches you didn’t believe in, and fed him half-truths through clenched teeth. still, he kept you near. always asking for your perspective, always testing your loyalty. his soldiers looked at you with suspicion, but they didn’t touch you. not without his permission.

he was possessive like that. even when he didn’t say it out loud.

and slowly — sickeningly — you started to understand him.

not agree. never that. but understand.

how anger had carved itself into him, root-deep. how power was the only language he’d ever been taught. he wielded it like a weapon, sharp and beautiful. and when he wasn’t using it to dominate a room, he used it on you — with whispers, glances, and challenges he knew you’d rise to.

he never tried to force you. he didn’t need to. erik killmonger was more dangerous than that — because he made you want to play his game.

he’d lean close during briefings, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured critiques. he’d stand at the top of the royal steps while you debated councilmen, watching your every word like a test. and when you succeeded — when your voice swayed the elders just enough — he’d nod, slow and proud, like he was claiming you for it.

“look at you,” he’d say, later, while passing you alone in the garden corridors. “still tryna save people who would’ve let you die with the old king.”

you hated how deep those words burrowed. hated how you still walked the halls after dark, pulse racing at the sound of his voice in the distance.

one night, weeks in, you found yourself summoned.

not by a guard. not by a formal scroll.

just a voice in the corridor. soft. direct. one word.

“come.”

when you stepped into the throne room, it was empty but for him. torchlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows across the black stone floor. the panther statue loomed silent behind the throne.

erik sat on it like he was born there. legs spread. arms relaxed. gaze dark and direct.

you didn’t bow.

you didn’t speak.

he studied you in silence for a long moment, then motioned you forward with two fingers.

“you believe i don’t deserve this,” he said, voice level. “say it.”

your throat tightened. but you forced yourself steady.

“i believe your rule is built on a lie,” you said. “wakanda’s legacy is not yours to twist.”

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. but his voice dropped, slow and rough.

“and yet here you stand.”

your lips parted — to argue, maybe. or to defend yourself. but no words came.

“i ain’t stupid,” he said, rising from the throne. “i know what this is.”

he stepped toward you again, each stride deliberate.

“you hate me,” he said, stopping just inches away. “but you watch me. every time. you listen. you fight back.”

his hand didn’t touch you. but it hovered just near your jaw. his heat was a weight. your breath quickened.

“ain’t no loyalty in that,” he said, eyes burning into yours. “that’s desire.”

you said nothing.

but you didn’t step back.

he smiled. slow. teeth sharp.

“loyal little queen’s dog,” he said, voice dripping heat. “you ever wonder how it’d feel to break?”

your pulse thudded between your thighs.

but your voice stayed even.

“never,” you whispered.

his eyes dropped — from your lips, to your chest, to the curve of your hips.

“we’ll see.”

his fingers ghosted along your jawline, calloused and hot, but still not touching. erik didn’t rush. no — he never did. dominance for him was earned in slow, suffocating inches. he wanted to watch you squirm under your own restraint. test the shape of your resistance until it shattered on him.

“ain’t gotta say yes,” he murmured, voice low and thick like honey-drenched smoke. “but you ain’t leavin’ either. so what that tell me, hm?”

his thumb dragged — barely — across the curve of your lower lip. your breath hitched. he felt it.

you hated him.

but you wanted him more.

you turned your head just enough to break the spell, stepping back one pace. but that inch was his permission — and he followed, advancing like he owned the ground beneath your feet. your back met the edge of the throne before you realized he’d corralled you there. trapped between carved stone and muscle-thick heat, your body buzzed like war drums. your thighs clenched without command.

“mm,” he laughed, low in his chest. “there she go. wakanda’s finest. thick as the land itself, still actin’ like she ain’t dyin’ to break for me.”

you didn’t respond.

not with words.

you reached for him instead — finally, with fingers curling into the front of his open vest. not a surrender. not exactly. just… the beginning of something too old for language.

his mouth met yours like fire. brutal, claiming. teeth clashing, lips hot. it wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t sweet. it was a fight dressed in heat, breath on breath, until you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against your teeth. the taste of him was sweat, blood, and something darker — control.

his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, open slap.

you gasped, clinging harder.

“yeah,” he growled, sliding one thick thigh between yours, forcing them open. “you like that, huh? all that royal pride, but this fat lil pussy tryna talk to me different.”

you rocked against his leg before you even realized it — heat pooling deep between your thighs, clit desperate for friction. the throne room was silent but for your breath and the echo of his voice wrapping around your moans.

“what would t’challa say, huh?” he teased, hand curling around your hip as he pulled you harder against his leg. “his loyal strategist grindin’ on a nigga she swore to kill.”

you bit your lip, tried to turn your face — but he caught your chin in one hand and held you there.

“nah,” he said, low. “you look at me.”

his eyes pinned you in place, molten and unmoving. you couldn’t look away if you tried. not now. not when his fingers slipped beneath your wrap and found your bare skin, dragging slow up the inside of your thigh.

“this what you been hidin’ under all them robes?” he whispered, voice almost reverent. “this fat-ass pussy been waitin’ on me, huh?”

you whined — not in surrender, but need.

he chuckled deep.

“bend over.”

you hesitated.

his gaze sharpened. darkened.

“ngenze njalo.”

the words hit your core like a flame. do as i say.

you obeyed.

hands braced against the throne, you bent for him — thick ass high, legs wide. you heard the hitch in his breath as he stepped back to take in the sight.

then—

smack.

his palm cracked across your cheek again. not too hard. but enough.

“keep that arch,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds from behind. “mm… this shit wet as fuck. and i ain’t even fucked you yet.”

you moaned, low and shivering.

he knelt behind you, breathing hot over your inner thigh. his mouth pressed to your pussy — not kissing, tasting. tongue flat and deliberate, slapping your clit before sucking it with slow precision.

“fuck—!” you gasped, knuckles white on stone.

he didn’t rush. took his time. tongue moving like he owned the rhythm of your body. your thighs trembled, fat and soft against his jaw. he moaned into you like the taste alone was divine.

“you ridin’ me tonight,” he said, rising behind you again, voice thick with hunger. “on my throne. i want them pretty titties bouncin’ while i watch you fall apart.”

you turned as he shed the rest of his vest — then his pants.

his dick hung heavy, thick, the kind of size that made you pause. covered in veins, head dark and already leaking. he stroked it slow while he stared you down.

“come on, queen,” he murmured. “show me what loyalty look like now.”

you climbed onto the throne — his throne — hands braced on his chest, thick thighs spreading over him as you straddled his lap. his hands found your hips, pulling you down so the head of his cock teased your entrance. you both breathed ragged.

then — you sank down.

inch by inch.

his mouth dropped open, teeth grit.

“god damn,” he hissed. “this pussy heavy as fuck.”

you rode him slow at first — adjusting to his size, your walls clenching tight. his eyes never left your face. not once. his hands guided you, rhythm building with every bounce of your thick ass. you bounced harder. louder.

smack.

his palm slapped your ass again. then again. red prints bloomed.

“take that dick,” he growled. “look at you — thick lil loyalist, takin’ a real king’s cock.”

you whimpered, rolling your hips faster, sweat sliding down your throat. your tits bounced, full and heavy, catching his eyes with every thrust.

“say who this pussy belong to,” he demanded.

you moaned, too far gone to think, riding him like salvation. like war. like you hated him — and loved the way he destroyed you.

he grabbed your throat.

“say it.”

you whispered it.

“…you.”

his eyes lit with fire.

he flipped you in one swift motion — your back now against the cold stone of the throne, legs spread as he pounded into you, harder, deeper, cock hitting every spot like he knew you already.

you were nothing now. just gasps. heat. slick. sweat.

he grunted, one hand pressing on your lower belly as he fucked you deeper.

“you feel that?” he rasped. “i’m in there. ain’t no goin’ back now, mama.”

you clawed at him, body coiling tight.

your climax ripped through you like thunder — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry.

he followed seconds later, spilling deep inside you with a growl, hands fisting in your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.

you laid there afterward — still on the throne, legs sprawled, his breath heavy on your neck.

he kissed your shoulder once.

then again.

not gentle. not soft.

just… his.

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

Keep playing with fire…eventually you get burned.

The flame lit up on a random Saturday. Burning slow one second and engulfing her whole the next.

It was still early — after breakfast, before lunch, that sweet spot where heat hadn’t settled too thick and the wind still cared enough to throw a nice breeze. The sun was currently playing peek-a-boo, ducking behind clouds and then rising high, not taking its job serious at all. Giving a little grace, before it actually clocked in for the day. 

The typical noises that usually drifted around the neighborhood — screen doors banging shut, loud phone conversations held on porches, cars beeping as they were locked and unlocked — all ceased to exist at the moment. Slean street was quiet right now. Calm. A result of half its residents being at work, while the other half remained in bed sleep. 

Annie took full advantage of it; the weather and the stillness. She was curled up in her egg chair on the porch, smoothie on her left, pen dragging across the page in front of her, and mind far from the present — mind focused instead on yesterday morning, when Smoke had been cutting her grass. 

He walk like it’s heavy. 

I mean…they both do. 

Smoke though…shit. 

Annie glanced towards her yard, like he was still out there, strong arms flexing as he pushed the mower across her lawn. Smoke walked with a wide stance, gait steady and just a little uneven, like there was something thick hanging between his legs that got in the way. Annie’s teeth sunk into her glossed lip as she thought about it. Gaze flicked back to her page. 

He walk like…whatever he got swinging, he know how to use. Walk like he rearrange souls. He could rearrange mine, just for one night.

Cutting her grass was a chore Annie’d never asked him to take on — she shared a long porch with the brothers, but technically she had her own yard, and she’d been tending to it, or paying someone else to do so, long before she’d known the Moore’s existed. Smoke had put an end to that almost immediately after the twins moved in though. They took over the left unit of the duplex, while Annie remained on the right, and Smoke cut her grass whenever he cut his and Stack’s now. She’d fought him on it, a couple times, and then let him have his way because well…why would she stop him when he looked so fucking good doing it? 

She’d been throughly entertained yesterday — seated on the porch like she was now, except she’d had shades perched on top of her head then and a book in her lap she hadn’t bothered to read a word of. Her attention had been on him instead. He’d been dressed for the weather; grey cotton shorts, black t-shirt, durag covering the waves Annie knew were brushed deep into his hair. It made her shift right then and there  — just thinking of the way his wide chest had stretched that cotton, the grey shorts that’d left nothing to imagination. 

Yeah, it’s heavy. Probably got a curve too, one that can hit every spot I have without trying. He could’ve proved my theory yesterday if he wanted to. Could’ve fucked me right here on this porch. 

Annie sounded like music as she moved. Literally. Had Citrine and Black Tourmaline wrapped around her wrists, along with stacked copper bell bracelets that jingled in the quiet every time her pen glided across the page. Finally working out some of energy she had pent up.

That’s probably what he need. Some pussy to help ease that tension he always carrying around. 

She’d spent yesterday drinking him in like water from her spot on the porch. Studying him. Smoke’s eyes would cut in her direction occasionally, like he felt her shifting, and clenching, and watching — and Annie never bothered to look away. Had held his stare instead. Smiling too sweet, like she was daring him to do something. 

He hadn’t though. 

He’d just pinned her in place with his eyes instead, let his hands flex around the handle of the lawn mower like he’d rather be grabbing something else, and then got back to work. It’d happened more than once; the staring, the silent tension, the building of anticipation. Had left Annie just that much wetter every time.

Whatever he got pent up? He can take that all out on me. Swear I’d be so good for Smoke. As soon as I got done being bad.

 I wonder who fuck better, him or Stack? Wonder who thicker? Who longer? Who meaner? Stack probably nastier. Gotta be. I know that mouth is. 

Annie shifted again. Continued writing.

That fuckin’ mouth. I wonder what else it’s good for besides talking shit. 

Stack had been gone for most of the time her and Smoke were outside yesterday. Had arrived back home loud; music blasting, engine roaring, turning the corner fast for no reason. It’d made Smoke shake his head. Had made Annie smack her lips together. And her stomach tighten slow.

Despite the driveway they shared, the younger Moore always parked by the curb — like he wanted to be able to leave without delay, whenever he felt like it. Today was no different. He parked on the street smooth, killed his engine, and hopped out like he hadn’t just interrupted all the peace in the neighborhood. 

“Damn nigga,” Stack’s lips were curved up, voice carrying across the yard, chain around his neck glinting dangerously as it caught the sun. He had his head turned towards Smoke, even as his legs brought him to Annie. “You still out here cutting grass? Yo’ ass tryna put on a show, you ain’t slick.” 

“Fuck up,” Smoke turned the lawn mower off, head following his brother. “You get the papers?” 

“Told you I wouldn’t forget. When I ever say I’m gone do somethin’ and not do it?” 

Smoke squinted, top lip jumping up like ‘nigga please’. 

Stack’s smirk didn’t drop. Matter fact, it only grew as he finally turned his head towards her, climbing the three steps to the porch.

Annie had her lips around the rim of her glass. Was shaking her head because he was so ridiculous — and so damn fine. 

Bronze skin, dark eyes, dimples that caved so deep he didn’t even have to smile for them to pop. Stack moved like water — easy, unbothered, unassuming. It worked for him. Was how he pulled people in, before they realized what really lay under all that…easy.

“You wearin’ this for me?” His eyes were already sweeping over her; the fresh island twists she had pulled in a bun on top of her head; the pink tank she wore — with straps thick enough to support, and push up, her full chest; the denim shorts that hugged her tight — distressed at the bottom and cutting off mid-thigh. His stare stopped at her feet, at her pretty toes that were painted a soft green, pushed comfortably into her favorite pair of slides. 

Annie let her home made lemonade slide down her throat before she answered, “That’s all it take to get you started? Some shorts?” 

“Ain’t about the shorts. It’s ‘bout how you wearin’ ‘em.” 

“And how am I wearing them, Stack?” Her anklet shimmered as her foot swung lazily — back and forth and back and forth.

“Like you tryna start some shit you ain’t prepared to finish.” 

The hum that left her throat was low. Too sensual to be mistaken for amusement. Annie shifted, let her foot keep swinging, let the heat that was Elias settle over her.

“You ain’t even said good morning to me. You need to learn how to greet people.” 

“You like how I greet you jus’ fine.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Stack stepped in then, pushing into her space like he owned it. “What you drinking on?” His eyes jumped from her lips, to the glass in her hand, to the identical one she had sitting on the small table next to her. “This one mines?” 

He was already reaching before she answered and Annie didn’t hesitate to smack his greedy ass hand away.

“That’s not for you, that’s Smoke’s.” 

There was a shift in the air between them then. Stack pausing, Annie’s head cocking boldly. Both breathing a little deeper for different reasons.

“We hittin’ now?” His lips were still curved. Just with an edge. 

Annie’s foot swung faster. 

“Stop tryna touch stuff that don’t belong to you,” She kept her gaze locked with his. Kept a smirk on her face. “You not the one out here cutting my grass, he is.” 

“Niggas get rewards for walking back and forth across yo’ grass?” Stack’s dimples caved, gold flashed. “What I get for playing errand boy ‘den?” 

He held up the two bags he carried in his hand. Full of items she’d texted him to get when she found out he was stopping by the store. 

“Thank you for playing errand boy Stack.” She brought her glass back to her mouth. “My thanks is the reward.”

“Man–” He reached again, for her glass this time. Wrapping his hand around it and pulling it directly from her lips. 

Annie’s mouth dropped, fingers sliding from the glass, body coming forward like she was being dragged out the seat. 

Stack’s eyes stayed locked with hers. Playful. Dark. Two things that shouldn’t even mix.

He rotated the glass deliberately, placed his thick lips directly over where hers were just resting, and then sipped slow. 

Until he had his fill. ‘Till Annie’s own mouth felt dry – in a way that had nothing to do with needing something to drink. 

He never broke their stare. Not while he swallowed and not when he finally pulled the glass down. 

His lips were wet, tongue came out to clean them and Annie’s eyes followed the movement until Stack spoke, accent as thick as whatever was brewing between them, “Dat’s jus’ as sweet as you, baby. What I gotta do to get some more?” 

Annie tightened the grip on her pen, blue ink blossoming across the page as she continued writing. 

 I feel like I’m going crazy. I almost backtracked last night and texted Ra, just to give me some relief. I don’t want Rashad though. I don’t want lazy strokes and decent head. I want my soul touched. Wonna be done so nasty, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror the next day. Wonna be dropped on some dick long enough to touch the bottom. Don’t wonna be able to even move when it’s all done.

Annie’s hand glided effortlessly, tongue sliding across the sweet gloss coating her lips. 

I want Smoke. I want Stack. And I don’t know why they actin’ scared. Smoke always glaring, like he ready to punish something, but then don’t ever do shit. Stack always barking, running his mouth like he get paid for it, but then don’t ever bite. Let me find out the SmokeStack twins can’t handle nothing, outside of cutting some grass and talking some shit. That’d be…sad. 

Annie snickered to herself, bell bracelets singing as her wrist dragged. 

Almost like they were warning her to proceed with caution. 

Let me find out Smoke can’t stroke. Let me find out a joke is the only thing Stack know how to crack.

More snickering. More singing from her bracelets. 

The same warning. 

I played in my pussy again this morning. Feel like that’s all I do, since I met them. I wander if they ever hear me…moaning out they names while I fuck myself. Imagining Stack’s mouth. Smoke’s eyes. I swear he can see right through me.

“I’m ‘bout done wit’ the front. Gone get the edges and then move to the back.” 

Stack had stepped inside the house, leaving Annie to her view. One that was now coming up the stairs slow, rag thrown over his shoulder, face serious as ever.

“You know I can get Gerald to do the back right?” 

She didn’t mention the 20something year old who cut grass for the neighborhood because she actually wanted him in her backyard. She mentioned Gerald, because it would get on Smoke’s nerves. Because it would make them eyes narrow. Make that nose flare a little in the way it did whenever he got aggravated. Whenever she was playing and he didn’t allow himself to do something about it. “He just told me last week he keeps my spot open for the day I decide to start back being his client.” Annie’s voice was sugar. Warm, pointed, and petty. 

Smoke didn’t speak immediately. Took a second. Let the bees buzz and the wind whistle and the heat from the sun press down heavier. 

“You was showing off for dat nigga the way you do for me — I bet he did say that.” His eyes pierced hers. Voice rough in way that made her center heat. 

“Showing off?” She tilted her head, as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. As if her lips weren’t already quirking up. 

“Dats’ why you out here, ain’t it?” His gaze didn’t waver. “To be watched. To give me somethin’ to look at while I’m out here cuttin’ yo grass.” 

His words weren’t teasing. Weren’t playful.

They were blunt. Matter of fact. It was almost mean the way he said it. Carried an edge. One that stemmed from desire and restraint. 

One that didn’t bother Annie at all. 

She didn’t need playful from Smoke. Didn’t need teasing. 

She wanted Smoke exactly the way he was. 

“I’m sittin’ on my porch, reading my book.” Her lips were still curled up. Voice a little….breathy in a way she couldn’t, or didn’t, try to hide. “That’s not my problem if you’re distracted, Elijah.”

Elijah. 

She said it like she was tasting it.

And Stack always let that shit slide. But Smoke? His eyes narrowed. Sharpened. 

‘Cause Annie wasn’t ready for what came with Elijah. For what came with sitting pretty on the porch, showing off skin, and being a fuckin’ tease while she dropped his government like she had the right. 

“Why you lookin’ like that?” Annie blinked up at him from where she sat. “I can’t say your name? Don’t be mean, Lijah.” 

The sound that left Smoke’s mouth wasn’t really a laugh. Couldn’t be, because his lips didn’t even twitch. 

That jaw did though. 

Them hands did too. 

And when he spoke, it was in that same blunt tone. Words weighted with that same rough edge. 

“It’s Smoke. You ain’t earned Elijah. And you ain’t seen mean.” 

Annie didn’t even realize how deep she was breathing. How hard her hand gripped her pen. How her thighs pressed together even harder.

I want them to ruin me. 

One night. All night. Wherever they want me. However they want me. For as long as they can go. I wonna be able to play in my pussy and remember what they did to me. Remember how they broke me in properly.

And I want it sooner rather than later. 

-AP ❤︎

The sound of her journal closing was nearly non-existent. Her sigh though? That was louder. Impatient. Wanting. Coated with attitude.

Playing with the twins — finding reasons to knock on their door, going back and forth with Stack, pissing Smoke off just cause she could — it was all…fun. 

Having fun wasn’t getting fucked though.

And that’s what she needed. What her body needed. 

Annie reached for her smoothie, settling back into her egg chair, eyes roaming around the quiet street. 

“Sooner rather than later….” She echoed the words she’d just written on paper. “Before I actually lose my damn mind.” 

The only response she got was the wind. Blowing in the same easy way it had been all morning. 

The calm, before the storm. 

—

Sooner came later on that day. 

After her key broke off in the lock of her front door to be specific. 

One second she was turning it and the next —

“— it just broke in half. I called Leon, but you know his ‘I’ll be out that way in a hour’ really means he gon’ take four.”

Annie stood in front of Stack, island twist hanging free and long, canvas bag she’d been using at the farmers market on one shoulder, while her purse sat on the other. It was yellow, matched the sandals on her feet, and made the little white sundress she was wrapped in pop. The same dress that looked perfect on her dark skin and brushed her thighs every time she spoke, in a way that’d make anyone look twice. 

In a way that Stack was taking his time looking at right now. 

“You must want me come over and play handy man, huh?” He was leaned against the door jam — arms crossed, voice teasing, eyes dragging up her slow. 

Annie let him take his time  — shifted casually, so her dress brush her thighs again and make him look longer. 

“I want you to be a good neighbor and let me wait over here.” 

Stack’s basket ball shorts sat low and extra on his hips. White wife beater covered nothing. Cuban link glinted like it was calling for her to pull on it. 

Or maybe that was just the heart beat between her legs talking. 

“That’s you askin’ nicely?” He had that smirk on his face — the one she always pictured when she was three fingers deep in her pussy. “Where them manners you always sayin’ I don’t got?” Stack settled deeper into the door jam like he could do this all day. “Ain’t you ‘sposed to say please or somethin’?”

“Now you worried about manners? Stack you gon’ let me in whether I say please or not.” Annie sounded completely unbothered. 

Was so bothered though, that her gaze wouldn’t stop drifting. From his eyes, to his thick lips, to them arms that looked big enough to raise her in the air and keep her there. 

She liked that about the twins. How solid they were. How both of their bodies came with broad shoulders, and strong arms, and hard abs. Stack was a little slimmer than Smoke — but the point stood — they looked like they could do damage. Like they could handle her. And that’s what Annie needed. 

What’d she’d convinced herself she could handle with no problem. 

“Is ‘dat right?” The low sound that left Stack’s throat was amused. A lil dangerous too. “You prolly ain’t wrong. Can get whatever you want when you wearin’ this lil ass dress for me,” His eyes hit her body pointedly again; legs, hips, titties sitting so high they were damn near in his face. “Betta’ be careful wit’ that shit. Walkin’ ‘round lookin’ like trouble.” 

Annie’s head cocked, “Is that not your favorite thing to get into?” 

Attitude and honey. That’s what her words were coated in. 

And they gave Stack pause. Left them both standing in silence for a second — silence that went just as fast as it came. Like it always did with them. 

“You swear you funny,” His smirk sharpened. Whole body leaned in closer to her. “What chu’ gone do when its my turn to laugh?” 

Her shoulders rose then dropped, “Laugh wit’ you I guess.” And then she crossed her arms, pushing her chest up further. “Now are you gon’ let me in?” 

He let her in. Feet moving one step to the side, creating space but not so much that she could get past without brushing against him.

“Thank you, Elias,” She threw the words over her shoulder, arm grazing his chest, legs carrying her into the lions den with ease. Like she belonged there. 

She didn’t wait to be led. Didn’t glance back when he mumbled something slick under his breath. Didn’t pause to see if he was following either. Cause she already knew he would be.

There was noise coming from the living room and Annie let that be the guide to her strolling. Let it take her deeper into the unit, sandals clacking on hardwood, the same bell bracelets from this morning announcing her presence like she was a special guest. 

She saw Smoke as soon as soon as she reached the entry way. Sitting on the couch — black t-shirt, grey sweats, attention directed towards the game playing on tv. Not that it stayed there for long. 

She had all of 3 seconds to take him in before he sensed her presence. Before he turned his head in her direction and then kept it turned. He didn’t look surprised to see her. Didn’t look confused either. He looked like he always did — like he was examining her. Like she belonged to him and he was making sure everything on his property was still intact. Like he was making sure his property hadn’t gotten in no trouble while she was out of his sight.

It was sick. The way that ache between her legs was already starting and she hadn’t even been in their presence for five minutes. 

Smoke sat up slow, placing elbows on knees, as he started taking stock of Annie; her dangerous brown eyes and glossed lips, the purse that sat on one shoulder and the canvas bag on the other, the small “A” pendant of her necklace currently burying itself between her cleavage, the short ass dress that flared out around her waist but hugged her chest too fuckin’ tight up top. 

He was done with his examination in seconds.

 “Where you get ‘dat dress? And where you comin’ from?” 

It was expected. Smoke never warmed up to anything. Didn’t mince words. Didn’t bother with niceties. Didn’t see anything wrong with questioning her like that. And even though it probably shouldn’t — wouldn’t if it were anyone else — his questioning always made something twist in her belly. Something more hot than warm. A feeling completely contradicted by the way Annie playfully shook her head. “Yes, I’m doing good. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

Nothing.

No response, no laughter, not even a twitch of his cheek. He let silence sit instead. Let it stretch. Used it like his own personal weapon. His own personal warning.

One that Annie savored.

That look he was giving her — it made her throat dry and her mouth water all at once. Made a smile break out and a light airy laugh leave her mouth as she looked him dead in his face. 

“I’ve had this dress since before I even met you. It’s pretty, ain’t it?” She tugged on her hemline. Made her deep cleavage that was on display, bounce. “And I was at the farmers market.” She adjusted how the canvas bag sat on her shoulder.  “My key just broke and I’m locked out, so y’all are keeping me company until Leon gets here.” 

“It’s short,” That’s what he gave her back. But he thought the dress was pretty too. She could tell, because his eyes wouldn’t stop dragging over her. Jaw jumping a little harder than before with every pass. That was the only thing that gave him away as his stare met hers again. “And Leon gone take all day. Me or Stack’ll have yo’ door open in five minutes.” 

“Told her I’d get it open,” Stack came into the room behind her, feet keeping him there for longer than necessary.  “Think she jus’ missed us forreal.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Annie pulled her eyes away from Smoke, to glance over her shoulder. “Y’all are not damaging my door tryna break into my house. Playin’ host for a couple hours won’t kill y’all.”

“Ain’t nobody say we had a problem wit’ it, baby.” That lazy drawl hugged her ears as Stack finally passed her, heading towards the left end of the couch and sinking down into the cushions. His legs spread wide first, arm got thrown over the back, attention stayed on Annie as one of her hands landed on her hip. She did it real extra and she looked real fine. 

“Why do I gotta keep reminding you that’s not my name?” 

Stack’s head dropped to the side lazily. “That is yo’ name. You daddy’s baby. You ‘ont want me sayin’ it, put somethin’ in my mouth that’s gone shut me up.” 

The image flashed in her mind out of nowhere — her standing over him, thighs encasing his head, hips grinding her pussy against his tongue, cumming all over that gold he kept in his mouth. He would talk while he let her drown him. Say some shit like, Daddy eating that pussy good, baby? Giving you what the fuck you been wantin’? Yo’  ass need to say thank you. And she’d respond. Sliding her pussy over his face. Panting loud. Thank you daddy. Thank you so much daddy — shit Stack. 

Annie blinked. A couple times. Until her vision came back into focus and she was no longer standing over Stack but looking at him. And the slow grin stretching across his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

Daddy’s baby. 

“You ight over there? You breathin’ a lil’ fast.” 

“And you listening a little hard.” Annie smacked her lips, sound as loud as the pulse that was thumping in her ears. “You need a filter.” 

Her words weren’t as playful as usual. Weren’t as light. Not because she was mad or offended, more so because she was caught off guard.

Annie was a grown woman. Experienced. Knew exactly what she liked and what she didn’t. Knew how much control she was willing to give and how much she wasn’t. 

Daddy’s baby. 

And for a second them two little words had her feeling like she wanted to give it all over. Had her feeling raw in a way she loved and hated? 

This was her game. Her rules. She was in control. She wanted to be ruined, yes. Wanted them to do whatever they wanted, however they wanted — on her terms.

The way that ache between her thighs grew though? Like being daddy’s baby was everything she needed no matter how much control she’d have to give up? 

It gave Annie pause. And she needed to recalibrate. 

She forced her eyes away from Stack — and immediately got trapped in Smoke’s gaze. He was still leaned up, face blank as ever, dark orbs studying her. Closely. Clocking reactions and filing them away. 

He could probably sense it — the way her clit was thumping.

“Yes, Smoke?” Her twists swung as she inclined her head. As she made her voice light.  

The older Moore tracked the movement of her hair, fingers twitching where they hung between his legs, before his eyes found hers again. He didn’t rush to respond. Took his time. Almost like he was making her wait on purpose. Like he was letting her know this wasn’t her game actually. Not really.

Annie shifted, impatient, wet, still slightly on edge. And then Smoke opened his mouth. As if that was his que.

“You gon’ wait for Leon all day, standin’,” His head just barely tilted. “Or you gon’ sit and catch yo’ breath?” 

“Nobody is out of breath.” 

Her neck moved as she spoke, pretty eyes so busy rolling she missed how the brothers glanced at each other; Stack smirking, Smoke very pointedly not, and silent understanding passing between them regardless. 

“I will sit down though.” Annie continued speaking as she finally moved from the entryway — dress swaying, hair swinging, hips switching in a way that didn’t do too much, but still caught eyes regardless. Four eyes to be specific. 

She floated around the living room, re-gaining her footing with every step she took. It was the familiar prickle settling over her skin that helped, the one that came from both twins cataloguing her every move. Annie had always liked when they stared, when they couldn’t help but stare, and today was no different.

She bypassed the wood coffee table and the couch with ease. Didn’t even glance at the entertainment system or the mounted flat screen on the wall. She headed directly for the arm chair in the corner instead and when she reached it, she did what she intended, sliding her canvas bag down off her arm and placing it in the seat. And then she was turning right back around and heading for her real destination. 

Annie’s lips turned up in the corner, eyes jumping from Smoke to Stack and back again as she came closer. 

“‘Scuse me,” She came from the left, stepping over Stack’s legs and right into the space between the couch and the coffee table. Her voice was breezy, movements unhurried as she gave them her back — setting her purse down on the wood in front of them, brushing her long twists over one shoulder, sliding her sandals off before taking a small step backwards. 

And then sinking, right into the middle cushion of the couch. 

Stack had to move his leg suddenly, Smoke had to shift his whole body over, and Annie? Didn’t care. Planted herself in that small spot between them anyways, wiggling like she was getting comfortable, thick thighs expanding like dough as her dress rose up a little. 

It encompassed her immediately; the dark scent of cedar and danger, the heat both of their bodies gave out, the tension that settled over the three of them — real thick and real delicious.

“You a trip.” That was Stack — side eyeing her, mirth in his voice. 

“Don’t be stingy with the couch,” Annie’s head turned in his direction. “Sharing is caring.” 

She blinked innocently when she said it, but she wasn’t fooling nobody. Not when that smile still sat on her face. Or when that teasing tone mixed in perfectly with her Nola accent. 

Sharing is caring. 

For a second, nobody even reacted to the words. Felt like time itself stilled as both brothers zeroed in on her  — in a way that was real twin-like.

It probably should have unnerved her. The attention. The quiet. The way the temperature in the room felt like it went from zero to a hundred. 

All it really did though was make her fight a bigger smile. Make her feel more in control than she had a few moments ago. 

And then Stack broke the silence — laughing low. Amused — but not really. 

“You heard ‘dat Smoke?” He didn’t pull his eyes away from hers when he started speaking to his brother. “Sharin’ carin’ now.” 

There was another beat of silence before eleven words disrupted all of that. 

“It’s carin’ tell it got her ass stretched wide and cryin’.”

Annie blinked and if you listened close enough you could almost hear the audible scratch of a record. 

“Excuse me?” Her head whipped from left to right. From an edged smirk to a narrowed gaze — one that said she better tread lightly. She couldn’t even clarify what’d she just heard before Stack was speaking again, grabbing her attention and making her turn back towards the left. 

“You droppin’ one liners like it’s a comedy show and you ain’t even prepared for what’s gon’ happen when the curtains close.”

“Think she ready, but she ain’t.” Smoke again. His words were short. Clipped. Nothing loud. Nothing extra. Just stating facts.

“It’s that sweet shit between her legs that got her talkin’ bold like that.” Stack’s eyes dropped down to her thighs. “Pussy been crying out for months. Hurtin’. Hungry.” 

“Too bad we can’t feed ha.” Smoke stayed focused on Annie’s face. “Not ‘till her mama learn how to fuckin’ act.” 

The reasonable response would have been to back track. Leave. De-escalate the situation. 

Annie though… Annie just let out an airy sigh that was supposed to be a laugh and then shook her head.  “This how y’all talk to guests?” She tsked like she was disappointed. Like she didn’t know what she was doing, or who she was playing with, or the fire she was feeding. Like they didn’t all know exactly where she would eventually end up — between Smoke and Stack, holes fucked, pussy punished, body used until both Moores’ were sated. 

“The next time I see mama Moore, ima let her know how y’all be actin’.” 

She did her best to watch her breathing. To look unaffected, but they caught it anyways. Stack saw them thighs pressing, heard that catch in her voice. Smoke saw the uneven rising of her chest — that break in rhythm that occurred whenever she had tension building. He saw them big eyes darken too. Saw ‘em start to glaze over, even as her mouth ran like she wasn’t feeling nothing.

“Girl –”

Annie didn’t let Stack get his words out, cutting him off and leaning forward to reach for her purse before she lost the upper hand she’d just barely gotten back. “If y’all are done discussing me — and what y’all never gone get anyways — I’m tryna mind my business.”

Her words settled over them as she did just that — digging around in her purse, applying a fresh coat of gloss, pulling out her journal and then feeling around for a pen next. She moved as if there wasn’t an insistent throbbing between her thighs. And she only bothered to spare them a glance after she’d settled back into the couch. 

“Weren’t y’all watching a game or somethin’?” She raised a brow, looking from left to right. 

Smoke didn’t respond. Not verbally. But that jaw clenched just right. Made her want to act up and behave at the same time. 

Stack shook his head, chuckled under his breath, “Think a nigga worried about a game, when you talkin’ slick and flashing them thighs every otha’ minute.” 

Annie almost laughed, ‘cause it sounded like the little brother was being pushed to his limit. And that was just a little too bad.

She repositioned herself, just to flash her thighs again. Didn’t look back at Smoke. Didn’t bother supplying Stack with a response. And for the next 10 minutes, everybody acted like they had some sense.

Smoke remained on her right, eyes on the tv, jaw still held a little too tight for anyone to believe he was thinking about basketball. 

Stack remained on her left. Leaned back, arm laid out behind her, gaze jumping from Annie to the game and back again — in a way he didn’t even try to hide. 

And Annie, herself? Remained in the middle, leg sliding against one brothers, arm sliding against the others, fake paying attention to the tv right along with them. 

It was….calm. 

If calm meant heavy and still — like the air itself had stopped flowing to see what would happen next. 

The game continued and when number 13 missed another free throw, Annie sighed, messed with the hem of her dress, and decided to occupy her time another way. With her journal. 

The pen she’d grabbed from her purse clicked, attention drifting down to the worn yellow book that held her thoughts, and dreams, and desires. 

She opened the journal to where she’d left off this morning, didn’t bother with a new page, because it wasn’t a new day. She opted to position her pen a couple lines down instead and then let the ink talk. 

I’m so wet I can feel it. 

“She ain’t prepared for what’s gone happen when the curtain close.”  

“She think she ready but she ain’t.” 

Yeah, okay. 

They swear somebody scared of them. All that barking. All that glaring. 

I wander if Smoke know my clit jump every time he start talking reckless? Every time he call himself asking questions like he somebody daddy. 

I wonna play in my pussy right here. Spread my legs and make them see what they do to me. Make them clean all this mess I’m making up. 

I want Stack’s tongue. Want his mouth sealed to me while Smoke buries his face between my titties. 

They feel so heavy right now. I need him to hold them up and feed. Need him to make me feel it. To leave a mark. And then I want them to switch. 

As Annie wrote, her lashes fluttered. Bell bracelets sang out. Breath increased just barely. 

Smoke probably take his time eating pussy. Probably take that just as serious as he does everything else.

I want him to put his whole face in it. To make me cum ‘till I forget how to breathe. And then I want him to fuck me so good that I’m not even worried about breathing. 

It wasn’t her lashes or her bracelets or the way her chest rose and fell a little faster that got her in trouble though. It was her hips that did that. She kept moving. Small shifts, to the left or the right. Thighs squeezing together. Then separating. Then squeezing together again. And every time she combined both actions at once, a small shift of her hips and a flex of her thighs? It made her grip on the pen tighten. Put pressure on that spot between her legs. Felt so good, she just….didn’t stop. Brushing against Stack when she shifted left. Then Smoke when she went right. Then Stack again. Stimulating her clit the best way she could, damn near playing with her pussy, right in front of them. 

And they noticed. Because of course they did. 

“What chu’ over there doing?” 

Smoke’s voice was harsh, cutting through the haze she’d fallen into and causing her pen to stop moving immediately. 

“Fuck is you doing actually?” Stack’s head was already turned in her direction, gaze jumping over her — from the side of her face to the bottom of her dress — like he could already see the dripping pussy that sat underneath it. 

Annie wasn’t as quick with her response as she usually was and that didn’t go unnoticed. Or unchecked. 

“You ‘ont hear me talkin’ to you?” Smoke’s words were typically wrapped in an even unyielding tone. One that drove Annie crazy when she first met the older Moore, because he never sounded affected by anything. Regardless of what was going on or what she was doing to get under his skin. There’d been some cracks lately though; the other day when she borrowed sugar or when he came over last week to mount her new tv. Or right now, this very second.

Nothing about his tone was even at the moment. He sounded impatient actually. Voice was rough. Heated. Disbelieving in way that was more pissed off than shocked. Like even though he’d asked what she was doing, he already knew. Like he’d felt her brush him the first time. And the second. And the third. Like he’d listened as her breath increased and then watched out the corner of his eye as she dragged that pussy back and forth against his couch. 

“You deaf now?” Stack sat up completely, closed in from the left, while Smoke came from the right. “My brotha’ talkin’ to you. What you over there looking at?”

Annie was still frozen — thighs no longer clenched, pen pressing down on paper in one spot, head angled towards her journal but when Stack’s head angled, trying to read what had her attention, she snapped out of all of that. Damn near slammed her journal before looking up and meeting two sets of molten eyes. 

She blinked. Tried to sound as nonchalant as she always did when she finally managed to answer, “I’m minding my business. Didn’t we just disc—”

“You humping yo’ pussy against my 3,000 dollar couch,” Smoke cut her off. “You done lost yo’ mind?” 

Annie inhaled sharply, already denying, trying to play coy in a way that wasn’t going to work right now. “I was not—”

“You humping yo’ pussy against my 3,000 dollar couch,” He stressed every word as he repeated himself, brows furrowing like he was still wrapping his head around it — how bold she was.“You sitting between me and brotha’, ‘bout to nut on yoself, like you ain’t got no fuckin’ home training.”

“Well, we know she ain’t got no training.” Stack’s voice sounded like danger wrapped in velvet when he cut in. Look on his face said he wasn’t mad. More like…darkly amused. “She come over here, flauntin’ that pretty ass body like she can’t help herself, damn near erryday. It ain’t really surprising she don’t know how to control that pussy.”

Annie couldn’t even move they had her boxed in so tight. Staring dead at her while her brain scrambled to put together words. She’d have something witty to say in a minute, but she really was caught off guard, because she hadn’t realized what’d she been doing. Her body just moved without thinking around them. It was really their fault.

The gold in Stack’s mouth flashed mean when she remained quiet. 

“You got all that mouth any otha’ day and still actin’ like you can’t talk?” His eyes didn’t let up from her face. “This why you ‘ont wanna be my baby, huh? Cause you over here actin’ like a slut instead?”

Annie’s stomach twisted so wrong it felt right. And she physically couldn’t help it — how her entire center pulsed even as her mouth opened to bark back. 

“Elias who are you—”

“You get wet on my leather, Annie?” Smoke cut through their back and forth before it could even start, drawl lined with something sharper than she’d ever heard it.  “If that pussy done leaked on my leather, you gon’ clean that shit up wit’ yo’ tongue.”

Her mouth parted, like she was surprised. Stack laughed, like he wasn’t. 

“Ohhh, you in trouble, baby.” His head cocked. “You know what me and my brotha’ do to sluts like you, right? To ones who can’t control they pussy?” 

Shit was going from 0 to 100 again. And it was moving so fast, she didn’t have time to intercept. Didn’t have time to pull them back from the edge she’d just pushed them over.

“I must be talkin’ to myself.” Smoke was shifting in a way that wasn’t like him. In a way that said he was tired of talking and not being answered. 

“Must be brudda.” Stack’s eyes dropped. “She too busy holding on to that fuckin’ book. I still wonna see what she was writin’. What got that pussy so wet we can smell it.” 

And then he was reaching. Swift, quick, bold as always. And when he moved, Annie moved with him.

“This is my journal — Stack move,” Annie tightened her grip on the journal, holding it up and away from him. He leaned in, she leaned back, and Smoke? Let her. 

Annie didn’t even realize her mistake, until it was too late. 

Because when Stack followed her, lifting off the couch, hand clasping around the journal and yanking it out her hand, there were already fingers around her throat stopping her from lurching forward and getting it back. 

Her hands went up on instinct, a little gasp born from surprise more than anything leaving her mouth, “Smo—”

“Don’t say my name. You ain’t have nun to say five seconds ago, so you gon’ sit yo’ ass still and let my brother read what got you actin’ like a bitch in heat.” The hand around her neck flexed, hold not tight enough to hurt, but not so loose that she mistook this for playing. Because Smoke wasn’t playing. Had never been playing actually. “That ain’t yo’ journal no more. That’s me and my brothas’. We own everything in this fuckin’ house.” His lips grazed her ear, chest rose and fell against her back, tight grip on control slipping. Just a little. 

‘Cause she needed to be punished. Corrected. Needed to be bent over, tied down — and then she needed that ass spanked. Raw. 

And Smoke was fuckin’ itching to do it. 

Annie was pressed against solid muscle, dress fanned out and twisted up from the 2 second tussle with Stack. Her heavy breasts were damn near spilling out the stop, red lace of her panties peeking from under the awry hemline, pulse in her neck beating against the fingers wrapped around her throat. 

She could’ve put her foot down. Fixed her dress, told them they were doing too much. Taking it too far.

But she didn’t. 

“Let me see what’s making them big ass thighs press together. What got that pussy actin’ up.” The curve of Stack’s lips cut deep into his face as he took her in. As he felt the familiar weight of his dick gettin’ heavy. 

When he opened the journal, it was right to her last page, like the Universe itself was guiding him. 

He didn’t even look down at first. Just kept staring, that same fire that was always brewing between them? Catching alight. 

“I like you like ‘dis,” That deep ass grin of his stretched. “Mouth shut, titties damn near out, pussy tryna’ say hi to a nigga. You like it too, don’t you baby?” 

Annie’s skin was burning hot. Body sprawled across the couch at an angle, pussy so wet she could feel it on her thighs now. Her big eyes blinked like she was saying ‘yes daddy’. But her mouth remained shut ‘cause she was stubborn, even with one brothers hand at her neck and the other looking crazy enough to help him squeeze. 

That stubbornness made Stack laugh low. 

Smoke on the other hand, ain’t really get the joke. 

“Read the shit, nigga,” The older Moore’s voice cut through the silence, made Stack chuckle again.

“My bad.” He blinked at her. “You ready, baby?”  

And then he was reading — to himself at first.

Random words jumped out, from her morning session and the one that’d just been interrupted, like they were begging to be read. 

Stack, Smoke, wet, nasty, same time, want them to switch, want them to ruin me, played in my pussy again, wander if they ever hear me, wonna play in it right now, don’t know why they actin’ scared, Smoke can’t stroke, a joke is the only thing Stack know how to crack, almost backtracked last night, break me in properly, make them clean all this mess up, for as long as they can go, wonder who fuck better, wonder who nastier, wonna fuck Stack’s mouth —

Annie probably felt it before both of them. The air going from thick to suffocating, as that smirk on Stack’s face dropped. Completely.

“You writin’ ‘bout me?” His head snapped back up towards her. “Bout my brother?”  

“What?” Smoke’s voice was sharp. 

“She writin’ ‘bout us,” He was talking to Smoke. And didn’t look away from her once . “Bout playin’ in her pussy. How she think about fuckin’ us while she do it.” 

The fingers around Annie’s throat flexed as Stack continued. Summarizing her words at first — 

“She say she want us break her in. Want us at the same time. She been wondering who fuck better. Who get nastier. Say she wonna play in her pussy right now cause she so wet thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

And then reading them verbatim. 

“Listen to dis’ shit.” Stack’s eyes jumped from hers back to the journal. Southern accent getting thicker the more he spoke. The more worked up he got. ‘I want ‘dem ruin me. One night. All night. Whereva’ they want me. Howeva’ they want me. For as long as ‘dey can go.’” 

White hot embarrassment rushed over Annie. It started in her cheeks and made her overheated skin grow hotter. Traveled down to her stomach and made it tighten with what felt like shame and arousal twisted together. And then ended at her pussy, made her hips flex, pushed her back further into Smoke. 

Stack’s stare met hers again. “She want us take turns on her ass. Pass her back and forth ‘till we ain’t got no more nut to give. Till she can’t move. Say she want me slurping on that pussy, while you suck them big ass titties she got, and then she want us switch. ‘Dis what she was writing, while she slid that pussy all over the couch.”

Annie whimpered as the hand at her neck tightened. As Smoke’s voice hit her ears, deep and dead calm. So calm, that it wasn’t. 

“Is ‘dat right?” 

“Mhm,” A smirk was crawling back across Stack’s face. Sharp and messy. “She got jokes too —” He still sat on the edge of the couch, whole body facing her, tensed up, like he was ready to lunge. “Said we scared of the pussy. Said we can’t handle shit but cuttin’ grass and talkin’ shit. What you write in here, baby?” He asked a question he already knew the answer to. “Smoke can’t stroke? A joke the only thing Stack know how to crack?” 

The words sounded childish when he said them. And they were, because her journaling session this morning was nothing but venting born from sexual frustration. Venting that took place in the privacy of her own journal. Whatever shit she’d talked, wasn’t even something to really be mad about. 

The breath hitting her ear? Was deeper than before though. And the laugh Stack just let out? Well — the only word Annie had to describe it was unhinged. 

“She think we some bitches. Said she almost hit some other nigga to come through and fuck ha’ since we too pussy to handle the job.” That is not what Annie had written. But that’s exactly what Stack had read. The younger Moore suddenly closed the journal, tossing it on the coffee table, letting that same low crazy ass laugh ring out. “Imagine ‘dat—” he leaned in towards her, eyes flashing, “—you givin’ anotha’ nigga some pussy that’s been dripping for me since I met you.”  

And then he moved. Upper body suddenly coming forward, two hands claiming a spot on her thighs, fingers sinking in rough as he forced them open. As he forced them to spread as wide as they could in her current position. It made Annie completely sink into the hard body behind her, left one of her legs on the ground and the other folded at the knee in Stack’s lap. Put that slick mess that’d been building between her legs, all out on display.

Her panties stretched over her center obscenely — fat lips barely covered by the delicate material. She was drenched — wet coating her thighs, a big sticky spot right in the center of her lace, panties clinging to her pussy as it contracted around nothing. 

Her voice was breathy. Thick. “Stack—”

“Look at ‘dis shit,” His eyes were focused between her legs, hands flexing around the fat of her thighs, head cocked like he was studying art. “It’s dripping for me right now. This fat, wet, bad pussy.” 

He shook his head. And then out of nowhere —

Smack. 

One of his hands came up and raised back down, right between her legs. 

His palm was heavy. Hard. Unforgiving. 

“Pussy needa learn how to act. Rememba’ who make it get like this.” 

Annie’s mouth fell open in a quiet gasp, hips pulling back instinctively, legs trying to close as a sweet stinging sensation traveled through her and stopped directly at her clit. It wasn’t nothing but a lil love tap, and her body was already trying to cave in. 

There was nowhere for her to go though. Stack was already back to keeping her legs held open, making her feel what’d he’d just done. 

“Stack—”

“Shut that shit up,” Smoke cut her off. “I ont’ wonna hear no whining. And ain’t gone be no running. Look at me.” His fingers moved to her jaw, making her neck crane awkwardly to the side as he brought his face forward until their eyes met. “You walk in here, bouncing around in this dress, smellin’ sweet, smilin’ innocent, just to sit between me and my brother and write about bein’ used like a whore.” His voice was smoke, sinking into her skin, burying its way so deep, she’d never forget it.

“You worryin’ ‘bout what you think I can’t do. Sittin’ next to me tryna figure out who dick bigger, when you ain’t ready to take either.” His face was hard, nostrils flaring, something thick and long growing in his sweats and pressing right into Annie. “But you wonna be used right? Want yo’ holes fucked so bad you was ‘bout to nut on my couch just thinkin’ ‘bout it?” His fingers pressed deeper into her jaw. “If you want it, you gone take what come wit’ it, and I don’t wonna hear shit out yo’ mouth but ‘thank you daddy.’”

His words dropped like a weight. And they brooked no room for argument. Or negotiation. She’d take it all — whatever him and Stack had to give — and this was the last out he was granting her. The last time he was letting her slide. 

Annie’s breath mixed with Smoke’s as she panted soft. As she remained pressed against him, thighs still spread, pussy drenched, heart beating faster than what was probably healthy. 

She didn’t really stop to think about the repercussions — what this would start, what it could change, what they were about to do to her. 

All she could focus on was the pulse between her legs. How close she was to finally getting what she wanted. And she let that ache, that yearning, talk for her. Let it put the final nail in her coffin. 

“I hear what you sayin’,” Annie licked her lips, spoke like she wasn’t already spread wide and hemmed up by the throat. “But why would I tell my daddies thank you, when they still aren’t doing shit???”  

Nothing happened at first. 

Nobody moved. 

Nobody blinked. 

Felt like breathing flat out stopped for all three of them. And it stayed like that.

Up until everything unpaused at once.

Stack let her thighs go, stood up from the couch. Smoke slid his hand back to her throat, practically barked out his next words, “Stand yo’ ass up!” 

Annie didn’t really get the chance to move herself, before she was being moved. Smoke was rising and she had no choice but to rise with him, legs scrambling, both feet just planting themselves on carpet before he let her neck go and spun her around. 

“Think you like pushin’ cause ain’t no nigga eva’ pushed back,” His hand was already reaching for her again, fingers re-wrapping around her neck, pulling her in until her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He was breathing deep, eyes so dark they didn’t look brown anymore. “By the time me and my brotha’ done wit’ you? All ‘dat brat shit? Gone be out the window. You gone be takin’ dick, swallowin’ nut, and talkin’ polite, like a real good girl.” 

She couldn’t think of a response before his mouth swallowed hers. 

The kiss didn’t start off gentle. Or slow. But it wasn’t sloppy either. It was demanding. Thorough.  Entitled. His tongue stroked into her mouth like it belonged there, like he was claiming her. Like she was already claimed.

He didn’t wait for them to create a rhythm, he set it instead. Head tilting, lips forming a seal with hers until she had no choice but to breathe in him and nothing else. They weren’t really kissing so much as she was being kissed — with such nasty precision she felt it in her pussy.  It made Annie moan — a sound that was swallowed before it could even be heard. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, wet sounds ringing out louder than the bracelets on her wrists every time the two parted and came back together. Every time his tongue fucked into her mouth with purpose. Annie moaned louder. All she smelled, all she felt, all she could think of was Smoke. Heat bloomed in her stomach, nipples growing hard and achy, tongue seeking out more of him, now that his mean ass had finally cracked. Her pulse thudded hard against the hand still locked around her throat —

And then a hand wrapped around her twists, the same ones swinging long and free, and pulled.

The hand at her neck dropped as Annie’s head was yanked back, the sharp sting making her eyes fly open, vision immediately filled with the sight of Stack smirking down at her. 

“You forget about yo’ favorite twin?” 

He closed in immediately — grip around her hair firm, angling her head until it turned to the side and then kissing her from where he stood behind her. Extra, wet, and nasty. She couldn’t even catch her breath, before it was taken again. 

Because that’s what the brothers did — took, possessed, and consumed. 

That’s what they were going to do to her. 

Stack kissed rough. Slick. And he tasted like sin. Sweet, dark, and addicting. The music their lips made was loud — greedy smacking sounds born from the way his mouth moved against hers. From how he used her hair to pull her mouth deeper into his one second and then to yank her away the next.  

“That mouth so sweet —” His stare was like lava when he pulled back, the same gold in his mouth flashing like a warning she’d already decided not to heed. “‘Dis how the fuck I want you greet me from now on. Straight tongue, none of ‘dat smart mouth shit.” 

He pulled her back in quick, like he was feigning for more already. Whimpers climbed out of Annie’s throat as their mouths moved together. As their saliva mixed, Stack kissing her deeply and then sucking on her tongue, as if he wanted to bottle her taste. It felt like he was trying to fuck her mind rather than her mouth. And it was working. Annie was dizzy. Was craning her neck for more when he finally pulled away, a long strand of spit keeping them connected before it broke off.

Her mouth was kiss swollen, lips and chin wet, body leaned back into Stack’s like she was unsteady on her feet.

“Yeah, my mouth good for something else besides talking shit, huh?” Stack echoed the words he’d read in her journal, kissing her rough one last time before he let her hair go. 

And as if they’d practiced the transition, Smoke stepped right back in. 

“Get ‘dat dress off.” No please. No hesitation. Just direction. Direction she should have been quick to follow, considering this was all she’d been wanting. 

Annie never did what was expected though. Wasn’t known for making things easy. 

Instead of complying, she let her heated eyes wander, from Smoke’s piercing stare, down to them lips she’d just felt for the first time. And then further, past his stiff shoulders and wide chest and big arms. She let her gaze drag all the way, right to them grey sweats. To the cotton that was stretched, soft fabric molded around something that looked lethal. That looked so lengthy and fat she felt her throat constrict. 

Smoke hadn’t touched himself. Hadn’t readjusted nothing. Hadn’t grabbed. Hadn’t stroked. And his dick was demanding attention. Sat heavy in a way he couldn’t hide. In a way that caught Annie’s attention. And then kept it. 

Stack was still behind her, all up on her, body hot and tone instigating. “Look at ha’. Ain’t even got her breath back and she still focused on the wrong shit. She so fuckin dick hungry.”

“I ‘ont care what she is. She betta’ get that dress off, for it get ripped in half.” 

That got her attention. Made her eyes jump right up to Smoke’s face. Made her lip sink into her teeth. Because she could feel that he was on the edge of showing her exactly what she thought she wanted. 

“He mean that too, baby.” Stack’s breath hit her ear. “And if he ont’ do the honors, I will.” It was crazy encouraging crazy. 

And as she stood between all that crazy, breathless and wet, she only grew wetter. Only had a stronger urge to keep pushing. To keep taunting. 

So, what exactly did that make her?

“I can’t get the dress off if y’all don’t give me space to move,” She attempted her usual tone — defiant, sarcastic, unbothered — but her voice came out too wrecked for that. 

And she didn’t get the chance for a redo. 

One second her dress was sitting pretty on her frame and the next — Smoke moved like a solider executing an order. No hesitation and no remorse as his arm shot out, hand clasping the front of her dress and then yanking — pulling the thin material down in one strong controlled movement.

Annie gasped as the straps of her dress were forced off her shoulders, burning her arms as her breasts bounced free — full, heavy, sitting up on her chest with just the perfect amount of hang. And then came her soft stomach, her prominent hips, that fat lace covered mound that sat perfect between her thighs. Every inch of her dark ebony skin was exposed in seconds as white fabric pooled around her feet. 

She blinked, like she was surprised or something. 

“Done repeatin’ myself to yo’ hard headed ass.” Smoke met her wide stare unflinchingly. “You gon’ learn how to listen.” 

“And we gon’ have fun teachin’ you. You see ha’, Smoke?”

Stack couldn’t have gotten a full look at anything yet. 

And he still sounded like he was starving. 

Acted like he was too. 

The palm against her ass came out of nowhere — landing on the side of one of her full cheeks with so much force Annie damn near lost balance. 

“Stack —” She said his name loud. High. Hand flying back on instinct as heat spread across her skin.

“You know what me and my brotha’ ‘bout to do to this ass?” Stack’s fingers locked with hers, his hands grabbing the one that’d flown back, not to comfort, but to move her out his way.

SMACK. 

His palm rained down again. In the same spot. Harder than before, like he couldn’t help himself. 

“What chu’ even got panties on for? They not covering shit. Lace ain’t doin’ nothin’ but gettin’ swallowed by this big ass.”

He moved a step back, got a better angle. 

SMACK.

Everything on Annie jiggled when his hand made contact with her again — thighs, ass, stomach, them full breasts Smoke was currently fixated on.

“Stack —” The sound that left her throat wasn’t really a cry this time. It was a moan, followed by Annie taking a half step forward — like she didn’t know what to do with the pleasure and pain twisting together inside her body — before she was promptly pulled back. 

SMACK.

Stack’s hand came from the left, bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he watched that ass jump. Deep voice washing over Annie in a way that drove her crazy.

“Don’t run baby. You know a nigga like me, like to chase.” His palm rained down again, the loud thwack of skin against skin echoing throughout the living room. 

“‘Dis the same ass you was bending over the otha’ day right?”

SMACK.

“Now you ‘ont wonna show it off? My lil slut actin’ shy now??” 

SMACK.

Annie’s throat was dry. Mouth wide open. Things happening inside of her body that didn’t even make sense. She was overheated everywhere. Overstimulated and not stimulated enough. Pussy clenching around nothing. Mind blanking as she was forced to feel that sting wash over her repeatedly. As a bow formed in her back, only serving to push her ass out further. 

Meanwhile, something was shifting inside Stack’s chest every time his hand connected with her. Something dark and primal. 

“You was ‘bout to give anotha’ nigga this pussy?” His dimples caved in as he spoke. “Let him see this perfect ass bent over, when you know daddy right next door ready to give you what you want?” 

His palm cracked down sharp. 

“Stack -”

“You gon’ make that shit up to me, Annie. Gon’ stand on all that shit you be talkin’.”

The bow in her back deepened, titties sitting high in the air as loud pretty moans fell from her mouth.

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Left cheek. Right cheek. Left cheek again. 

He wasn’t giving her time to warm up. Didn’t take baby steps. Didn’t pause in between hits and let her get adjusted. He just kept going, hand cracking down, eyes glittering like he was hungry. To feed. To fuck. To punish. 

And Smoke? 

Just watched.

Roamed his eyes over every dip and curve she had, studied the way her face twisted up when his brothers hand landed, the way she panted, the way them big ass titties bounced — hard chocolate nipples pointing straight at him like they was begging to be sucked. 

He eyed her soft tummy, how it moved in time with everything else on her. Took in her prominent hips next, them big thighs and long legs, that fat dripping pussy. 

Annie was moaning like it hurt. Puttin’ on a real good show. But that shine coating her thighs? The way they keep squeezing and rubbing together? 

Told a different story. 

SMACK.

“Look at ‘dat shit move. Fuck Annie.” 

Stack’s palm rained down again. And again. And again. Like she was his toy and he was entertaining himself.

“Stack — shit! Okay, daddy! Mmmm — baby, okay!” Her voice was thick, pleading. For him to keep going. For him to stop. For him to leave her ass alone and give some attention to the ache between her thighs. She went from a bow in her back to leaning forward — and that only gave him better access. Only allowed him to grip her forearm now and really lock in.

“Awe now you daddy’s baby?” He laughed at her. Dick jumped, angry and thick. Hand came crashing down again. 

“Oh my God. It feel so — !” Annie didn’t think it was possible to cum from this, but every time his hand connected with her full cheeks, the pain spread, everywhere at first and then directly to her clit. 

Stack would’ve kept going. Would’ve let her see just how possible it was. 

But Smoke put a stop to all that. On purpose. 

“Give ha’ to me.” He didn’t wait for her to be handed over. Was already reaching when Stack laid a parting smack to her ass, that loud clap mixing with Annie’s moans. 

“You gon’ drive me fuckin’ crazy girl,” Stack’s voice was guttural. He hadn’t slid inside her yet, hadn’t even tasted her, and still — he felt it. That greedy possessive feeling creeping down his spine. 

He pulled her up so she was standing straight, stepped back just as Smoke’s hands wrapped around her waist, moving in sync with his brother like they’d done this 100 times before. 

Annie was breathing like she’d ran a marathon. Skin achy, head spinning, legs unsteady. 

Smoke pulled her into him like he was ‘bout comfort her — had her titties pressed to his chest, his dick firm against her stomach, her forehead resting on his shoulder. He let her be for all of three seconds. And then he did what’d he been itching to do since she stepped into his living room. 

Her eyes flew open, a sharp hiss leaving her mouth when Smoke wrapped them twists around his hand and pulled till her head was upright where he wanted. He gripped her hair tighter than his brother had. Didn’t want her to be able to move unless he was directing it. 

He looked her dead in the face, voice hotter than a summer day in Mississippi, “You think you ready for us and you can’t even stand straight right now?” 

Annie was so busy trying to breathe, that she couldn’t answer. Smoke continued. 

“Stack playin’ wit’ you — nigga ain’t even got serious yet. I ain’t even started. And you already shakin’. Pussy damn near leaking on my floor. You ain’t ready for me lil girl.”

It was borderline condescending. 

Annie’s hips jerked anyways. Tongue came out to wet her lips. Big brown eyes glazed over, with so much want, so much need, that it made Smoke’s fingers flex. Made his grip on her hair tighten.

“And you ‘ont give a fuck. Don’t ‘een care what we do to you — long as we tend to that pussy, huh?” 

He said it like it pissed him off. Like it — she — was testing his control. And winning. 

“If you know that, stop making me wait.” Her words were drenched in lust and impatience. 

Because she’d never felt like this before. So small. So desired. So desperate. 

Annie was blessed with height that’d been intimidating people all her life. Had thick everything that only served to amplify her tall frame — soft arms, stomach, thighs, breasts. Had a mouth she let run. A stubborn streak that got on her own damn nerves. And while some men could handle it, most couldn’t. Not really.

Stack though? Smoke? Did it with ease. Handled her mouth. Her attitude. Her body. All without breaking a sweat. And it made her mouth water. Made her continue talking,  as she held Smoke’s glare. 

“Y’all supposed to be fucking me right now.”

Stack started, low and amused — “Pussy still got you talkin’ reckless.” 

And Smoke finished, eyes so dark she was damn near sinking into them. “Dat’s an order?“

The words came out so sharp they almost felt like a threat. 

And the obvious answer was to give no answer at all. 

“It can be,” Annie went a different route. Like she didn’t have a sore ass and Smoke’s hand tangled in her hair. Like her chest wasn’t still rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. “If that ‘s what’ll finally get you to listen Elijah.” 

Smoke’s eyes narrowed immediately and Stack let out something that sounded like a laugh behind her, “I know you tryna’ let her make it brudda’ but you gon’ have to show her somethin’. She beggin’ for it.” 

She was. And she was about to get everything she was asking for. 

Smoke’s arm flexed as he used her hair to tug her face closer. As he spoke over the low moan Annie let out. 

“You think ‘dis a game. Think this ‘bout to turn into whateva’ nasty shit you been writin’ in that book.”

Her lashes fluttered, brain going fuzzy from the sharp sting traveling through her scalp. From the feeling of Smoke washing over her.

“‘Dis ain’t no fantasy, Annie.” He remained unblinking as he catalogued every one of her responses. “ And you don’t run shit wit’ me.”

She was moving. Or rather, she was being moved. Went from leaning into Smoke, body frozen in one spot to being walked, forward first and then around the coffee table. 

“Smoke —”

“You that desperate for ‘dis dick?” He ignored her saying his name. Kept her body pressed to his. Kept stepping. Kept her braids wrapped his fist. “You gon’ learn how to ask for it. Can be Stack’s slut all you want, but you gon’ be a good girl for me. A good nasty lil bitch.”

The younger Moore liked the slick shit — the attitude, the mouth, the playing hard to get. It got his blood up. Had him damn near obsessed with Annie. 

Smoke though…Smoke liked obedience. Liked manners. Respect. And Annie was gon’ give him all that. Wasn’t gon’ have no armor with him. Wasn’t gon’ show no resistance. 

The two moved, Annie’s legs working to keep up with Smoke’s, a sharp groan leaving her mouth at his unrelenting grip. 

He didn’t let go until they reached the center of the room. Only let go because unbeknownst to her, Annie was about to be on her —

“Knees.” 

He didn’t have to yell for the one word to sound like exactly what it was — a command.  

Annie’s big eyes opened slowly. Skin buzzing. Scalp tingling. Pussy so wet she felt like she was one shift away from cumming. 

Stack had just bent her over and spanked her. And Smoke had just dragged her around this room. Like it wasn’t nothing. 

“Fix yo’ face.” She had the audacity to look shocked. To look even more turned on than she had a second ago. “I let you walk wit’ me jus’ now. You gon’ be crawling by the end of the day. Now get on yo knees Annie, for I put you on them.” 

She listened. For what was probably the first time today. It could’ve been the shock that made her act right. Could’ve been the look Smoke was giving her. Could’ve just been her pussy controlling her actions. But either way, she listened. And she didn’t look away from him once. Not as her legs started to fold. Not as her breasts bounced softly in time with her movement. Not as her knees finally hit carpet. She kept her pretty eyes locked with his. Moving graceful but with an edge. Blinking slow up at him like she was asking ‘this what you want daddy?’. 

6ft, clean fade, mean eyes, permanent frown — that’s what she was looking up at. That was the view Smoke provided as he looked down on her, hands at his sides, jaw jumping. 

Jaw always jumping in her presence.

“Ain’t got no business lookin’ like ‘dat. Sweet ass face wit’ all ‘dis fuckin’ body. You see what you do to me?” 

What she did to him couldn’t be missed.

“It look so big.” 

Big. Lethal. Dangerous. 

His sweats hid nothing. She could see how wide he was. How long. How hard. And just like earlier, she was damn near entranced. 

Smoke licked his lips slow. An action he wasn’t even aware of. “You ‘bout to take all ‘dat. Gon’ keep every inch in yo’ mouth ‘till I decide you can breathe. Gon’ swallow my nut like the pretty lil bitch you is. And then you gon’ thank me.” It all flashed in his head, every time she’d bounced over here smirking like she couldn’t be touched, every time she’d pushed, every smart ass remark that’d left her mouth. “Dis’ what chu’ been wantin’ from me ain’t it? What chu’ been waitin’ on?” 

“Yes.” 

She didn’t hesitate to respond. Because it had been what she waiting on. Because she felt like she deserved the dick. Because regardless of how she’d gotten to this point, she was here now and this is all she’d been wanting. As far as Annie was concerned — some hair pulling, some spanking, was worth it, as long as she was getting her twins. 

And that was her second mistake of the day. Thinking it’d gotten as…rough as it could get. 

Smoke scoffed, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. How fuckin’ needy she was. “Don’t nothin’ else tame ‘dat mouth, but you get some dick in front of you and know how to act? Shit not gon’ save you Annie. Don’t make up for nothin’.” 

Annie…was getting her bearings back. Wasn’t being touched or dragged. Was able to think now. To play. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” She looked back up at him. Almost sounded like she meant what she was saying too. Woulda’ been convincing, if not for the smirk on her lips. “You gon’ let me keep tryin’?”

Her hands moved on their own, smirk still on her face, fingers gripping the waist band of grey sweats and black briefs and then pulling slow. 

The dick popped out fast though. Had of mind of its own. Every single inch of it. 

Annie’s head moved back on instinct. Smirk dropped so fast it wasn’t even funny. Throat worked to swallow spit. Spit that she’d need in a second. 

The dick didn’t curve to the left or the right. Didn’t change shades half way down the shaft. Didn’t look like any part of it would be easer to take than the other. It was consistent — like its owner. Stood straight out. Had a wide mushroom head and an even wider base. Was thick. Heavy. Just like she’d predicted. And the tip was leaking already.

Annie just…stared. 

“Ain’t never seen her dis’ quiet, Smoke.” Stack’s voice rung out. Lazy and dark.

“Don’t need words for what she ‘bout to be doing.” Smoke. Studying her as she studied him. “Dis’ what chu’ been beggin’ for Annie. What you so sure you can take.” The older Moore laughed then. Short. Quiet. Layered with something thick and mean. “Shoulda’ jus’ stuck to playin’ in yo’ pussy lil girl.” 

-

Annie had dick in her throat. Spit running down her chin. Tears in her eyes. And Smoke didn’t even seem close to finishing.  

“Swallow dat’ shit Annie — swallow that fuckin’ dick — there you go. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.” 

Annie whimpered, peering up at him, lips wrapped tight around his shaft. It was obscene. How wide her mouth stretched. How her titties bounced freely. How every wet slurp was accompanied by a drawn out moan and some variant of, “It taste so good, daddy”, “Thank you, daddy” “This what I needed, Elijah” “I love this dick so much, Elijah.”

He’d cracked something in her. And it was written all over her face. 

When she’d started, she’d been in control — because Smoke allowed it. Had let her kiss the head, stroke him slow, work every inch inside her mouth little by little. And she’d worked it. Had been alternating between swallowing his length whole, sucking him in deep one second and then playing with just the tip the next.  Running her tongue over that big mushroom head, testing his sensitivity, and catching every drop of precum while her hands twisted around his base.

She’d been making love to the dick — wet sloppy kisses, tight sucks, controlled swallows of her throat. 

Smoke had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be teaching her something. Had gotten caught up in them big eyes and that mouth that felt like velvet. Had been swallowing down sounds, gritting his teeth, getting more and more worked up every time he thought about where she’d learned this shit. Every time she’d moaned around him, sending vibrations traveling up and down his dick. 

And Annie had been watching. Saw the way his lids started to close. They way his throat worked to swallow down a groan. It’d made her blood rush. Made her cocky. And she gotten just a little ahead of herself. Had slid her mouth off him with a loud pop, lids low, face wet, full lips splitting into a smile. And then she’d started talking. 

“Why you keep this dick from me again? Cause I can’t handle you? Or cause you can’t handle me?” 

That was all it’d taken. 

Smoke had gotten back in his body. Went from letting her suck him, to fucking her throat like it belonged to him. And he hadn’t slowed down since. 

“This throat feel like home. Think I’m gon’ keep you like dis’. On yo’ knees, hands behind yo’ back, mouth open, waitin’ for me to use everyday.”

Smoke held her head still. Grunting as her throat squeezed around him. As she took it like her breathing didn’t even matter to her no more.   

Because it really didn’t. Not when it felt so good to have Smoke carving out space in her throat. Not when she got to see his lashes flutter every time her tongue brushed one of them thick prominent veins he had running down his shaft. 

Annie’s body felt like it was on fire. And she kept her mouth wide and let Smoke continue to stroke the flame. 

He didn’t play with her. Wasn’t pulling his dick out and smacking the head against her tongue. Wasn’t making her chase it around. He was focused. Sliding every inch into her mouth, over and over and over again. With long, deep, thrusts. 

Annie gagged, a filthy helpless sound, and the hands around her wrists tightened.

“Lil slut would prolly like ‘dat. Wouldn’t you baby?” Stack’s voice fell over her and amplified everything she was feeling. Made her whine around the dick in her mouth.

The younger Moore was behind her. Bent a little at the waist, one big hand locked around both of her wrists. Pulling her arms back and away from her body. 

It left her feeling helpless. Completely out of control. And it was her fault. 

She’d tried to touch her pussy once. Had slid a hand between her parted thighs while Smoke used her mouth like a fuckin’ flashlight. Had just barely grazed her center when Stack came out of nowhere, snatching her wrists up and talking low.

“Nah, baby. Only thing you focus on right now is my brotha’. Get yo’ hands off that greedy ass pussy. That’s mine.”

He hadn’t let her wrists go since. And she’d been left with her mouth and only her mouth doing the work. 

“Answer my brotha’.” Smoke glared down at her. Almost mad at how good she was taking this shit. How good she felt. “You’d like that shit wouldn’t you?” 

He pulled out of her mouth, a loud wet sound filling the living room, long strands of spit stretching from the head of his dick to her now glossless lips.

Annie was panting. Chest just as wet as her chin. Thighs squeezing together. Every ounce of attitude in her body seemingly non-existent now. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Who you talkin’ to?” Stack sounded like he was smirking. “Me or him?” 

“Both of y’all.”

She was staring straight at Smoke as she spoke. Watching the way his head dropped to the side. Listening to how he grunted low. 

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll make that shit happen for my good girl.”

Her entire center throbbed. A high needy sound climbing out of her throat. Neck stretching as she leaned forward to suck him right back up.

She didn’t know what they’d done to her — what Smoke had done to her — but all she could think about was earning that nut. Tasting it. Tasting half of the SmokeStack twins. She wasn’t even fixated on the ache between her legs anymore. Not entirely. Because all she could focus on was pleasing them. 

It was something she’d have to unpack later. When she could think clearly. 

Right now, she let her brain turn off. Let her body lead and really — it was doing that already anyways. 

Annie dragged her mouth up and down his length. Tonguing his shaft. Swallowing every time Smoke’s head hit the back of her throat. She made it sloppy — made it nasty, hands free and all. And Smoke…Smoke was damn near ready to say fuck being neighbors and move her in forreal. Was ready to bust and give her what she was working so hard for.

The twins started talking to her then, right over all that noise she was making. All that mess. 

“Yo’ mouth made for dis’.” Smoke. 

“Mouth made for suckin’ and body made for fuckin’. She need ‘dis shit.” Stack.

“You gon’ be my stress relief from now on,” Every time Smoke opened his mouth, he fucked into her mouth rougher. Controlled, mean movements. Her lips were kissing his pelvis every other second, as his nuts drew up tight. “You gon’ calm me down every time you piss me off. Gon’ do it just like this.”

“Takin’ me and my brudda’s nut. That’s yo’ job now, baby.” Stack’s thumb rubbed one of her wrist softly. Like his grip wasn’t the complete opposite of soft. Like her throat wasn’t being worked like a toy. The contrast made her see stars. “I think we gon’ keep you, Annie.”

“She already kept.” 

The words were final. So final, they should have worried her.  But her brain was clouded with Smoke. With Stack. And her mouth was busy, jaw aching, pussy so wet it felt like she could cum from this alone. 

Annie had spent the last few months wanting to be fucked. This wasn’t that. 

This was ownership. Possession. A reworking of her soul. And she wasn’t even really aware of it yet. 

“You think you deserve this nut?” Smoke watched her blink hazily, keeping all nine inches down her throat for one long beat and then forcing himself to pull out completely. The sound that left Annie’s mouth as he took his dick away, as he gripped the base of his shaft to hold that nut back, was one of pure displeasure. 

It made Stack smirk. Had Smoke that much closer to painting her throat. Had his hand sliding up and down his length in quick short movements before he could stop himself. 

If Annie was able to move forward and swallow him again she would have. Instead, she moaned out a long, pretty sounding, “Yess, Elijah.”

“You don’t.” His rebuttal was quick. Sharp. Harsh. But his eyes were heated. And his voice was tight. And his hand was still moving, stroking his member, something like a tingle starting at the base of his spine. “But you look so fuckin’ hungry for it ima give it to you. And if you spill a fuckin drop —” He shook his head, hand stopping right at the tip and twisting. “Fuck.”

He was close. Shoulders tense. Brows furrowed. Breath heavy. And something about seeing him like that — so close to losing control — woke up that impatience in Annie. The same impatience that’d gotten her in this shit in the first place. 

“I’m not gon’ spill it, Elijah. Give it to me.” 

It wasn’t a request. Wasn’t a plea. It was more of a demand than anything.

She was talking to him like she was in charge.  

Talking to him like she still hadn’t learned.

Smoke’s hand froze abruptly. With his chest heaving, and nuts drawn up tight, and dick throbbing angrily. He still stopped. Because even when he was on the verge of losing control, he still had it.

Annie frowned and behind her, Stack shook his head. Dropped her wrists. Mumbled something that sounded like, “Damn, baby. This ‘bout to be a long day for you.”

In front of her? Smoke had completely let his dick go, left it standing straight out, head leaking, shaft damn near pulsing. And then he stared at her for a second. Flexed his jaw and …smiled? 

“Stack,” He took his eyes off of Annie, to look at his brother. “Get the fuckin’ rope.”

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A/n - If you made it to the end I hope you enjoyed 😬😬😬. I couldn’t call this a drabble cause the shit 14.3k words butttt sorry if it feels a little jumpy and inconsistent? I do notttt have the capacity to write really fleshed out stuff right now. I feel like grief permanently altered my brain and I hate it so badddd y’all because I don’t be having the stamina no more (hence me getting sooo lazy in the second half 😭😭😭) Anyways, I may spin the block on this little world in the future when I can write normally again cause this was a little fun or w/e lmao, for nowww feedback is appreciated, Thank’s for rocking w/ me even when I when I fall off the face of the earth and Happy (late) Wednesday - Lil Bitt out 🫡🫶🏾

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Visionaries (not tagging my Smoke and Annie girlies b/c Stack all in the mix) - @lizbehave @thebumblebeesworld @shereeluvssinners @miss-spiders-sunny-patch @bananajoeclone @aellesa @atpeaceinthestars @underated345-blog @hotebonynearby @hdfen2474 @chromexbarbie @honeytoffee @mmbee675

“That is yo’ name. You daddy’s baby. You ‘ont want me sayin’ it, put somethin’ in my mouth that’s gone shut me up.” Unfortunately I would’ve been OVERLY going.

“You gon’ calm me down every time you piss me off. Gon’ do it just like this.”

“She already kept.”  Iktr!🙂‍↕️🤏🏽

“Stack,” He took his eyes off of Annie, to look at his brother. “Get the fuckin’ rope.” The way I HOLLERED when I realized this was the end omg

You feeling like it’s consistent and jumpy is insane! The way this just took me through there??????