#soufcakmistress Tumblr posts

  • soufcakmistress
    22.01.2022 - 6 hours ago

    The Stronger they Rise

    Part I

    A/N: Hi babies, I pray that you are having a happy new year! This is my first story not in the Black Panther universe. I have a slight obsession with Jonathan Majors and The Harder They Fall, so this is my twist on the movie with an original character of my own! Please let me know how yall feel! Fair warning, Nat is not in this first part, but I have the second part already done and will be posting right after this!! The bolded and italicized words are from the past, FYI. Comment, like, and reblog so I can know what’s up!!

    Pairing: Nat Love x Thick Black OC

    “All right now, children before you leave the schoolhouse, I want all of you to write out your resolutions for the new year! Remember when we talked about setting resolutions? Think long and hard. I reckon that every single one of you can do whatever you put your minds to! When y’all are done, put your paper face down on my desk, and fetch you a treat on ya way out!”

    Lenora Fontenot was the town’s school teacher, and beloved she was. The old school house was dilapidated and completely unfit. These babies deserved better than that, so she took care of the cost of the new construction herself. The whole town pitched in with the remodel, nailing down desks and chairs, cutting glass for windows, painting the facade and what have you. It was her pride and joy, and the nail in the coffin to memorialize her old life.

    Born to a French Creole father and a West African mother, Lenora’s childhood was far from typical. They lived in the Treme neighborhood of New Orleans, living under the cover of her father, Alcide. Alcide passed all of his life, and was the sole male heir of his father’s estate. As life would have it, Alcide fell in love with a formerly enslaved woman named Marceline currently in service of grumpy Old Broussard in the garden district. Every time they would cross paths in the French Quarter, she tried to avert her eyes and would fail every time.

    Alcide Fontenot was dashing and handsome, not to mention rich beyond all imagination. Marceline had a quiet strength about her with creamy umber skin and the sweetest dimples a man did ever see. Distant lovers they became, until Alcide got the gumption to ask for her hand in marriage from old Broussard and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

    Needless to say, Alcide made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. They were wedded in holy matrimony soon after and a bouncing baby girl came from their union. Lenora lived a sheltered life. She and her mother hardly ever left the grounds. Alcide maintained his place in society by posing as a white man and his wife as his placée. It was not readily known that Alcide’s mother was African as well, and to keep chatter to a minimum, they made very little public appearances as a family.

    Reading, writing, arithmetic, French, Spanish, viola lessons—Alcide spared no expense for his baby girl to be her best. This world would pull no punches for her, so he and Marceline ensured that she knew how to be self sufficient. Lenora took after her mother with her dusky skin and dimples and her father’s light eyes. At 15, she was filling out like a woman; a few of the male servants never hesitated to spare her a glance.

    A breezy November night, Lenora sat at her console table brushing her hair before bed like always. Humming the tune she learned just earlier, a large crowd could be heard from up the road and was approaching closer and closer. The scent of smoke and kerosene caught her nose as she peeked her head outside of her window to see the ruckus. Something wasn’t right.

    Marceline bursted through her door and dragged Lenora to the basement. “Mama. Mama, what’s going on? Where’s Daddy?” She didn’t answer immediately. She led Lenora to the basement, dank and dark. Marceline fished through a few cabinets with Lenora trailing behind her wide eyed and confused. The mob was moving closer and now a symphony of crude insults and slurs could be heard that sparked a terror that was foreign to her.

    “Cher, you listen and you listen good. This town done found us out. Someone done found out bout your father’s mammy. That puts us in dire straits. Your daddy and the male servants are fixing to defend this place, God bless em. So WE have to go.” Marceline never raised her voice or spoke out of turn. Lenora didn’t hardly recognize this woman before her—fast talking, frazzled and fearful. She put on a pair of britches and passed the other pair to Lenora.

    “So what now? Is Daddy gonna be okay? Mama, I’m so frightened.” Lenora couldn’t help but to blubber.

    “Now hush it up gal. This ain’t no time for all that hollering and carrying on. Now me and your father fought and bled so you ain’t have to know the life I lived. That his mammy lived. And them crackers…..it downright pisses them off to see me and you treated so good. We always planned for the worst. And the worst done come, and I aint letting them take you.” She pushed a bag into Lenora’s arms and wiped her daughter’s face. They embraced tightly and held each other for a beat. The clamber of a stone cracking a window broke them out of their trance and they scrambled from the basement to the kitchen.

    Marceline filled the other bag with food for wherever they would end up at, and led Lenora to the stables. Their horses were already saddled and they were able to hightail it out of there. Gunpowder and soot dispersed through the air coupled with the thin veil of rage and hate so palpable, it overwhelmed. Lenora looked back and saw a mob of more than fifty crowded around the property and suddenly, the estate went into flames. The only home she had ever known was destroyed and desecrated while she had no idea about how her father fared.

    The mob was clever and had people on horseback circling the property. Marceline and Lenora clicked their tongues and had the horses run double time to escape them. Another quick look back and there was a covered wagon trailing behind them with two men shooting at them to take them down once and for all. “Mama, watch out! They have guns!!!!”

    No sooner had she said that was Marceline struck in her lower back, writhing in agony. Blood gushed down her saddle and exhaustion made its way in. The horse was galloping so fast yet she was too weak to hold herself up.

    “Mama, hold on!! We’re almost there!!”

    Breathing heavy and barely conscious, Marceline held her wound trying to hold on for her baby. The blood seeped through her fingers like a sieve and at that point she knew what she had to do. With her last bit of strength, Marceline created a diversion and intentionally fell off her horse. The two maniacs in the covered wagon stopped immediately and grabbed Marceline up from the muddled ground.

    Lenora realized what she was doing and the gut wrenching feeling of seeing her mother manhandled sparked something unholy in her. The last thing she ever saw of her mother was of her mouthing a Hail Mary before her throat was sliced and she was thrown from the wagon.

    Lenora’s world as she knew it imploded in the blink of an eye. Barely a woman, and she had the wherewithal to ditch her horse and hide in the swamp for two days to stall them out. No food and no water. Just insurmountable hate and rage to live on.





































































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  • soufcakmistress
    21.11.2021 - 2 monts ago
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  • soufcakmistress
    21.11.2021 - 2 monts ago

    Pretty girls have dreads too ✨

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  • soufcakmistress
    10.10.2021 - 3 monts ago

    Sunday brunch tings ✨

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  • soufcakmistress
    18.09.2021 - 4 monts ago


    A/N: Heyyyy babies! I pray all of you are doing as well as can be expected right now! I’m making it a personal thing for myself to stop taking months and months to update. I know the readership has lacked but I still wanna write for y’all because it’s so fun and I need some uplifting in my life rn! Sooooo stay tuned for the new new!!

    Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

    To have and to hold. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. Til death do us part..

    The penthouse suite housing the bridal party overlooked downtown LA with classy Art Deco decor and accents, a full wet bar, and two full sized bedrooms. Your husband to be spared no expense for the best day of your lives. Six makeup artists and hair stylists for six bridesmaids, custom Rodarte dresses in every style, and all the Moet and hors d’œuvres they could stand. Sitting slouched and deflated at your chosen vanity, a small Bluetooth speaker quietly played Boyz II Men while your hair stylist tucked the last few strands into your chic chignon.

    This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You and the love of your life would live in bliss as husband and wife until you returned to the earth one day, with a great legacy to show for it. But no. That wasn’t how you felt. Terror. That’s what you felt. Your knight in shining armor was anything but honorable. For months you had been scheming for a way out, to no end. He knew everyone, had ears and eyes everywhere and was made privy to everything concerning you. You were trapped.

    Eduardo Nazario. He was an Afro Cuban entrepreneur and business owner who immigrated to the states as a teenager for a better life. At least that’s what you were told. Eduardo came from nothing allegedly and yet had amassed a small fortune by the time he was 25. He’d invested in several ventures—tech, healthcare, and pharmaceuticals. Legal and black market.

    It was like a fairytale. It always is in the beginning. You met while you were walking your favorite trail, as you did every morning. Apparently, as you rummaged through your Fanny pack, your keys fell onto the pavement. Eduardo found them on his run and caught up with you to return them. One look into those hazel eyes, and you were a goner.

    Things moved quickly with Eddie as you called him. Four dates in, and he wanted you to move in with him. That should have been your first clue. But you were blinded by infatuation and quite honestly, the upgrade to your life. You had a decent job that provided for you with an okay apartment and car, but with Eddie, you rolled in style. No more Honda’s, you rolled in a custom Audi with all the bells and whistles. Eddie’s sprawling condo in the middle of the city had high ceilings, marble floors, granite countertops, stainless steel everywhere and all the finest accoutrements to add. You fell hard, and you fell deep…..just as he wanted.

    All of your coworkers gagged over the constant deliveries of ornate bouquets and him swaggering into the office to pick you up for lunch every day. He was tall, dark and handsome, and gave you the world as far as they could see. You beamed like a star every day pulling into your job’s parking garage. After a while, he started to take you to work while his body man followed behind you in the G Wagon. Eddie “hated to see you go in the mornings”, and found this as a way for you to bond even more. Not quite.

    Eventually those keys of yours magically vanished from your purse one night and now you had your own driver, courtesy of your fiancé. He insisted it was for your safety; this was a point of contention for you. Your autonomy was being encroached on and you didn’t appreciate it. Eddie’s temper flared in a way that you hadn’t ever witnessed before and you never brought it up again. Slowly but surely, you were being molded into Eddie’s Black Stepford wife with not an original thought in your head.

    Eddie was so cunning about how he isolated you from your family and friends. He would allow only so many visits, and made sure you and him were conveniently busy any other time. Trapped. A puppet in his marionette theater and it happened right under your nose.

    A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and you wiped it quickly so it wouldn’t be noticed. This makeup costed too much. Your stylist uses the holding spray to keep everything neat, and yells for your bridesmaids to come see the finished look. They all file in and squeal like a bunch of hens. You force a feigned smile, and try to push some warmth into your eyes. Your maid of honor, Denitra could tell though. Something wasn’t right.

    “Y’all, give me and my best friend, the beautiful bride, a second to talk! Go on now, I am the maid of honor after all!”

    Denitra was the Solange to your Beyoncé—two different flavors and yet connected on every wavelength. Everyone exited the room and she came around and pulled a chair across from you.

    Cradling your hands, and looking at you dead in your eyes, Denitra quietly sighed. “Cold feet?”

    You gulp, and exhale loudly, contemplating how to put what you feel into words. “No, not at all. It’s the happiest day of my life!”

    She scoots closer, and squeezes your hands, looking genuinely concerned. “Sis. Y/N. I haven’t seen you like this since your father found out about you totaling his Benz in college. I KNOW you. Look, Eddie is perfect on paper. Checks every box. But……..is that good enough for forever?”

    Your bottom lip trembles without your permission and tears fall instantly. Your best friend immediately finds the tissue box and dabs at your eyes, careful not to add to the mess you were making. “He’s awful. He-he watches my every move. I’m fucking suffocating! He made me quit my job, the one thing that gave me some purpose to my lonely ass days. Said I wasn’t fully focused on building our home. Why the fuck does that matter? He overrules everything I suggest.”

    Denitra is pissed, angry that she hadn’t acted on her previous suspicions. “How long has it been like this, Y/N? I had always had a feeling. I’m so sorry baby. This is NOT on you. I will go with whatever you want. You want me to let Man Man know? Because you know he ready to ride at any time—“

    “No! I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. You don’t send a rumble and tumble nigga after someone like Eddie. You need a fucking army. And I ain’t got one.” You get up from your vanity chair and pour a glass of champagne in attempt to calm your nerves.

    “Okay. Then leave, Y/N. Get out of here some kinda way and leave. I will stall for as long as I can, and I can come up with an alibi for the other girls. You only get one life. I won’t stand around and wait for that call that he’s finally blacked your eye or worse.”

    Denitra snatches the flute out of your hand and forces you to stand up straight. “Do you have access to cash?”

    Eyes wide and full of fear, you nod in response.

    “Okay you go get it. All of it. All that you can get. No paper trails. Take a couple changes of clothes and that’s it. You only need what you can carry on your back. Take a taxi, not an Uber. Go to the train station and pick a place. Call me at my office number, and I’ll have the calls forwarded to my cell, okay?”

    You’re really bawling now that your best friend is willing to blow this up for you and join in what feels like the last time you’ll hug her in a long while. She goes back into the room and instructs the girls to go to their own rooms to put on their gowns, and to give the bride some space. You stand at your bedroom door, waiting to make sure they were all gone. It was now or never.

    Slinging the silk robe with “Bride” embroidered in crystals across the shoulders onto the vanity chair, you keep your tiny white slip on, and find some jeans that were laying around. Your big bag was on the night stand and you pack the essentials. You were shaking so bad, you could hardly place things where they needed to be. A few pairs of clothes, basic toiletries, your wallet, and your phone. This is it.

    You pull a jacket on your shoulders and zip it up to your neck. Dark shades and the hood up, and you think you look fairly inconspicuous. Creeping out of the suite, you go to the elevator and there’s nobody inside the car. Deciding against taking it all the way down to the lobby, you get off at the third floor and take the stairs the rest of the way. You slip out one of the back entrances, and who but Eddie’s groomsmen are out on the patio, smoking cigars.

    “Shit..” you curse to yourself. You’ve made it this far. Taking a chance, you pretend to be on your phone scrolling the page as you walk by the gazebo. No one notices, and as soon as you make it on to the main road, you power walk to the shopping plaza up the street. The cab was finally called and you waited in front of a mattress store, tapping your toe. You felt slightly lightheaded, due to your nerves. Those nerves kicked into high gear when the texts came. Your parents, your bridesmaids, and other members of the bridal party were wondering where you were. You ignored them all. “I’m sorry guys..”

    “Union Station, please.” The cab arrives and gets you to where you need to go. Perusing the departures, you had a few options. Either the one way to Randolph, Vermont that departed in an hour or El Paso, Texas in 20 minutes. Knocking you out of your stupor, your phone vibrated. Eddie. The cat is finally out of the bag. One call after the other rolled in, and you felt physically sick. There were men probably on the way as you stood there. You turned your phone off and smashed it on the ground, glass shattering everywhere. A few onlookers stared with confusion, as you shuddered in impending fear.

    You find an ATM and get out as much cash as you can, surcharges be damned. It only makes sense at this point to go to Vermont. It’s further away, and you needed time to regroup before boarding the train. Buying a quick lunch of cold cuts and potato chips, you stuff your face, and stow away the extras. Gliding to the ladies room, to your luck, the line is a mile long. Fuck.

    Bouncing your leg, you try to exhibit patience. You were so scared. You were almost at the finish line. This couldn’t be taken from you. Suspicion picked up and you were looking all around for Eddie’s goons to appear. You knew most of their faces but not all, and that was a problem. The line for the ladies room hasn’t moved an inch. Across the way, at the top of the stairwell you spot five very muscle bound men conversing and then they split up. One of them was your driver. Shit. Your pulse skyrocketed and you run immediately to the men’s room, bumping into a few people.

    Busting through the door, you close it behind you and double over in tears. Every second was precious and you were stuck now. Shame was out of the window, and a man was staring at you cry as he dried his hands at the sink. Black, tall, had dreads, with a very pleasant face. He couldn’t help but feel like he intruded on a private moment for you. Tossing the trash away, he walked towards you and damn, he didn’t look this menacing from all the way over there.

    “Excuse me….ma’am. I need to make sure I catch my train.” His voice was low and gravelly and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his mouth. His teeth gleamed and his eyes were dark, albeit sympathetic.

    “Wait. Please. Help me sir. There’s—there’s people out there looking for me. I just need you to escort me to my train that’s all. If I’m with someone else, they might not suspect me.”

    The man steps back in surprise at your desperate insistence. He rubs the back of his head, that has shaved sides leading to his full head of locs. “I’m not sure if I want to get involved, miss. I’m just an ordinary guy—“

    At this point, you’re literally begging for some help. “Sir, I-I have money see? I can really make this worth your while. This can be yours if you just please…..please help me.” He could see you were in distress. A beautiful woman, in another life….you could have been his wife.

    Shaking his head, he took your bag off your shoulder and held it. “I’m gonna regret this. All right, take your makeup off right now. Wash your face in the sink. Are you natural?” He pulled your hood off, and was thrown off by the style. “Were you about to—?”

    “Yes. Emphasis on was.” You snatch your bag out of his hand and get your face wash. You use it a couple times because that makeup was set for the gods, and you didn’t want any trace of it on you.

    “Wash your hair too. Just rinse it, wring it out and put it in a ponytail. What time is your train?” The man peeks out of the restroom to see who could be looking after this lady. He immediately saw three stooges circling the area, looking for their boss’s most prized possession.

    “25 minutes, I think. I don’t have a phone or a watch.” You get paper towels and dry your hair and face to the best of your ability. The man opens his duffle and finds a sweater. He thrusts it into your hands and without shame, you take your jacket and slip off in front of him. He caught a brief glimpse of your breasts before he turned around to give you some privacy, but you were clearly past the point of modesty.

    A tattoo on your side looked oddly familiar to him. It looked just like the one on a Cuban lieutenant of a local gang in Havana that he accepted the bounty on. He’d seen them in his own personal studies. A Kongo cosmogram with a Haitian veve in the middle. But you…..nah. There was no way. Erik shook it off and got his mind right.

    Even more beautiful to him with a fresh face, you put on your shades and gather your belongings. He holds up a muscular arm to guide you, and pushes the door out to the first floor. “Stay close, keep your head down. I’m Erik by the way.”

    You cracked a tiny smile for the first time in hours, and introduced yourself to him as well. With your head down, you couldn’t help but catch a whiff of his masculine scent. He was so strong, and moved like he owned the place. Looking up at his profile, Erik’s nose and lips were so striking. He was perfect. Feeling your eyes on him, he looked down at you and winked. That was the first time you’d felt butterflies in a year.

    “All aboard for Randolph, Vermont! All aboard!”

    You made it. Fishing out hella $100 bills, you push it into his chest, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. “No. You’re gonna need it, Y/N. You take care of yourself.”

    A ball of tears you were. You nodded in acceptance and shook his hand. Warm and calloused, he snuck his card into your hand. Erik Stevens. Freelance Consultant. You wondered what his expertise was. “Thank you. When it’s safe…..I’ll be in touch.”

    You boarded the train, and got settled. Facing the window, you take off your shades and place your hand on the window. You got away. You didn’t know what was next for you, all you knew was what was in front of you. He finally shows you his beautiful smile on the other side of the glass, and the train began to whistle for departure from the platform.

    Little did you know that your former driver was only a few feet back from Erik. He saw everything. From you and Erik coming out of the men’s bathroom together. Your heart to heart at the platform. And the heartfelt send off. Videos and photos were already stored in Eddie’s iCloud. So this is who his bride jilted him for. Eddie pulled his man back, and stewed on a plan. He’d have you back….dead or alive.

    TAGS: @l-auteuse @sparklemichele @gdharpo @eclecticblkgirl @thadelightfulone @nickidub718 @theogbadbitch @thornedviolet @loveeeeandaffection @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @amirra88 @daughterofyeezus ​ @lostennyc @janelledarling @toniilaney​ @raysunshine78​ @stariamrry​ @fd-writes​ @bellasoulchild @dessianna1​ @thehomierobbstark​ @thickemadame @honeytoffee @erikaintdead @uzumaki-rebellion​ @mydemons-aremy-friends @bugngiz​ @xo-goldengirl​ @blackmissfrizzle @killmonger-fics @rbhp @sheisexcellent1 @viewsfromthesips @bbgiirrll @ljstraightnochaser @spicynoodlezzz​ @dashhoney25 @wassuduoo @shalynn-m @issimplyaamazinggg @msreshel @honeyandpeaches @miyuhpapayuh​ @majesticbrownjawn @dameshaemonique @seyven89 @everything-is-awesomesauce @tchallasbabymama @naysianaee @bigchoose

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  • soufcakmistress
    06.09.2021 - 4 monts ago

    9/6/1993 🧨🧨🧨🧨

    Happy birthday to moi and I pray to the ancestors for several more years of life, lessons, fun, joy, pleasure and everything denied to our people! I love y’all my babies, and I’m gonna be back in the game soon!!!

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  • soufcakmistress
    01.09.2021 - 4 monts ago
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  • uzumaki-rebellion
    27.08.2021 - 4 monts ago

    “Ice Cold Jax With Geechee!Erik Killmonger”

    For @soufcakmistress​ Happy Birthday, Sis! A little 1940s Geechee!Erik for ya!

    Mature Audience only.

    “The winter time is coming 
    And its going to be slow 
    You can’t make the weather baby 
    it’s dry long so 
    You betta come on in my kitchen because its going to be Raining outdoors…”
    Cassandra Wilson – “Come on in my Kitchen” (Written by Robert Johnson)

    There were two things Lulabelle Humphreys knew how to sell in Itta Bena Mississippi and that was moonshine and other people’s pussy.

    She did that very well until one night of the Harvest moon when cotton would soon be harvested by the local sharecroppers and itinerant Mexican men who traveled through the delta region looking for work like every other Negro or poor white trash far and wide. On that night under a sweltering heat full of drunk patrons and her smooth-talking whores inside her juke joint with the “special ladies” house attached by a rickety bridge that crossed over a tiny creek full of frogs and singing crickets, Lulabelle witnessed the showdown of all showdowns between the Plat Eye and the Crossroads Man, shonuff, right inside her little rambling hot music-havin’ and ice-cold beer havin’ establishment.

    And if it hadn’t been for that slow walking city-to-city wandering Geechee man with the gold teeth, slick smile, and flashy suit standing by her with the smarts of his low country kin back in South Carolina, why Lulabelle might’ve lost everything that night like she lost me so many years ago when that Plat Eye stole me away when we was teenaged girls in these backwoods. But thank the Lord up above for Erik Stevens ramblin’ through with that shiny switchblade, and his Gullah ways, cuz shonuff, that was a night to remember and I’m gonna tell it exactly how it happened from top to bottom and all the sides in between. I ain’t been dead long enough or forgotten long enough to not tell it all…


    “Mavis, how much lavender water is left in there?”

    Lulabelle shouted into the open door that led to one of the “loving” rooms inside her special house.

    “There’s one bottle left,” Ruth called out.

    The young woman was nothing but string bean arms and toothpick legs, however, she was a favorite among the darker-skinned Black sharecroppers who admired her fair skin and limp shiny black hair. Even the high yella gals envied what Ruth could pull in because the men were willing to part with more money to fuck what was as close to a white woman as they would get.

    Lulabelle knew clearly what a fetish was, so she used Ruth for the high income, but she also had Mavis, a crystal Black pearl with a dark hue so deep that negro soldiers from the military base lined up for hours waiting to part her dusky thighs to taste the sticky sweets within. There was someone for everybody at the house. Big women. Little scrawny women. Big Bodacious titties and itty-bitty mosquito bites. For the richly endowed there was Starla with a pussy so fat and deep that blues ballads were written for her. For the poorly imbued, there was Tweety Pie, a tiny woman with a small tight snatch that rivaled Starla in particular-sized fans.

    For the men who didn’t fawn over the womenfolk, there was Honey Boy, a twenty-something pretty little thing with bow lips, high cheekbones, and a fat ass that posed as a houseboy who brought fresh after-sex towels, water for the whore baths, and rubbers for the men who forgot to prepare for penetration. Honey Boy could dress like a pretty woman and serve clients fat wood if that was to a patron’s liking. Lulabelle was surprised at how popular he was becoming on the low low, especially from the men in the military. Men with men had always been a reality, but Honey Boy was multidimensional. He could turn into a Butch boy from a chain gang, to a bullying Army sergeant to dominate and spread male ass cheeks that needed fat balls against balls. Or he could be a dainty femme movie star in a bra and heels with his hard dick swinging. Lulabelle kept a ready supply of costumes for him, more than the women. All the ladies needed were pretty underwear, strong garter belts, and lipstick. She kept quiet that she paid Honey Boy more than anyone else.

    The second world war was putting money in her pockets. 1942 was a profitable war year for Lulabelle. Her pocketbook was fat with cash, and she could now afford real jewelry instead of the cheap costume fare she sported the last three years. She could even maintain a steady hot comb appointment at Mamie’s Wash and Curl uptown. Her latest favorite style was imitating Joan Crawford’s immaculate curls that she saw in the talkies at the Bijou theater. When she really wanted to look glamorous, she would have Mamie swoop up her thick hair on top of her head with a pinned curl on the front and an under curl in the back. The rich white women she saw in the new color catalogues wore their hair like that.

    She wore her hair like that for that evening. It was a special night. The Harvest Moon was going up, and the men would be arriving in droves to drink, dance, and fuck.

    He was coming too.

    The Gullah man. That sly Geechie with the gold teeth.

    Erik Stevens.

    His arrival always coincided with some new moon every few months. She’d dress up extra special when she thought he was coming through. Her pussy was already twitching thinking about him.

    “I’ll have Honey Boy get you a fresh bottle,” Lulabelle said patting the back of her hair.

    It was hot already, and she worried that her hair wouldn’t maintain until Erik saw it. Ruth stepped out of the room. The yellow silk camisole Lulabelle bought for her came to her thighs and had enough lace in the front to cover the baby bulge that was threatening to peak out. The girl got knocked up and none of the home remedies the cook Eva concocted worked in knocking the unwanted pregnancy out. Ruth could probably hide the truth for another month or so, but eventually she would have to go on convalescence and Lulabelle would have to rely on the other women to please the Ruth fans until the woman returned or left for a new life in the North. Until then, Ruth was about making her money and camouflaging the bump.

    “Can you tell?” she asked.

    Lulabelle squinted.

    “These men will be too drunk to notice. Keep the garment on and don’t worry about it.”

    Lulabelle checked in on the other ladies and all was well. Seven rooms, seven whores, seven sources of revenue on top of the juke joint next door. She peeked in on one of the mirrors inside a room and felt satisfied. Her beige dress hugged the curves of her big wide hips and large backside. Her heels made her short body have a little height. She needed a little more powder for her round nose, and the grease pencil she used for her eyes held the dark wings she gave herself.

    “Eat your heart out, Joan,” she muttered to herself.

    She crossed the little wooden bridge that led to the juke joint making sure her crème bow top summer pumps didn’t get dirty. Her name was painted in fading blue letters above the entrance. By Christmas she hoped to get a fancy electric sign that sparkled “Lula’s”. Honey Boy swept the porch entry and she could smell the grease being heated on the kitchen stove inside by Eva. There’d be fried chicken, black-eyed peas, collards with ham hocks, and plenty of buttermilk cornbread to sell with the ice cold Jax beer and corn liquor.

    Her eyes scanned the lowering sun over the canopy of Tupelo trees. A loud shriek startled her and made Honey Boy stop sweeping.

    “What was that?” Honey Boy asked.

    His pressed hair was slicked back, and his copper brown skin was moist with sweat from the oppressive heat.

    Lulabelle clutched at her chest. The sound came from deep in the woods. The darkness there shrouded any mysteries that lived within it.

    “Sounded like something caught,” she said.

    The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

    A memory.

    Being a young teen girl with…

    No. Don’t think of her. That was the past.

    Lulabelle pushed down on the terror in her throat and hid her shaking fingers in front of her dress.

    “Probably some unlucky racoon ran across Old Man Rickers trap,” she said.

    “Yeah, you prolly right, Lulabelle. The man been hunting out there this week.”

    She heard the doubt in his tremulous voice. The lie hung in the air like dark sap on a dying tree between them.

    “That sounded like death is on his way,” Eva said.

    The older plump woman opened the screen door of the juke joint while wiping down a plate.

    “Don’t say that, Eva. It’s just an old coon, or a slow wild pig—”

    The shriek pierced the air again.

    “Lord have mercy,” Eva said.

    The older woman cradled the cheap gold-plated crucifix around her neck.

    Rifle shots sounded in the distance and Lulabelle jumped, then smiled.

    “See? Just some hunters putting some fresh meat down. Let’s get ready for tonight, y’all.”

    Not one of them moved from the porch until Archie started tinkling on the piano keys inside the juke.


    Pussy poppin’ in the whorehouse, music jumping, bodies swaying, lips sucking down moonshine and dark beer, Lula’s juke shook on its foundations. Dollar bills came in hand over fist as Lulabelle strolled around the property checking in with customers and hustling Eva to fry up more chicken plates. She rounded the corner of the makeshift stage shaking her hips to the hot sounds when her eyes slid to the entrance and saw Geechie Erik swagger in. Double-breasted gray suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Steel-blue silk tie, and black and gray woven Oxford shoes had the Geechie man draped. Lulabelle already knew he smelled like a million bucks even though she was standing nowhere near him. Erik took off his black fedora hat. He had kicked up the waves on his close-cropped hair, and his lightly bearded cheeks gave him a pronounced sophistication compared to all the clean-shaven military men taking up most of the space in the joint.

    His eyes scanned the wide room and when they fell on her, her heart sang a minuet in his honor just to see those dimples in his cheeks. He strode toward her with long confident strides and when he circled his arm around her waist, she shivered at his touch.

    “Lulabelle, Lulabelle. You get prettier every time I see you.”

    He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek, and she swooned. His scent was expensive leather, imported cologne, and Murray’s hair pomade.

    “Lemme get you a drink, Daddy,” she purred.

    “No, let me get you a drink. Stay right here.”

    He sauntered over to the big counter and within minutes he brought her back a small glass of whiskey to match his own. They toasted, tossed the liquor back, and he led her to an open table in the low-lit corner as bodies pressed together dancing around them. His thick lips were on her neck before she could gaze into his eyes, and his thicker fingers were already under her dress creeping over a seamed stocking, her garter belt, and the bottom of her girdlette. He inched closer to her core.

    “Goodness gracious, you already hot down here,” he whispered in her ear.

    His finger swiped across Lulabelle’s panties bringing her clit to life.

    “Oh… there it is… my jewel,” he crooned before he slid the garment aside and fingered her slit.

    Erik had her sopping wet by the time the band switched tunes. Two of his warm fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making her pant and writhe on her seat next to him.

    “You gon’ sweat my hair out already!” she yelped reaching for the back of her neck.

    Erik flipped his digits over palm-side up and finger fucked her until a puddle of creamy juices flowed out onto her chair. Once her legs shook and she squirmed uncontrollably, he bolted up from his seat and grabbed her hand. His dick jutted out from his pants and he dragged through the side door that led to the wooden bridge and the loving house.

    “Get the fuck out,” he told a patron having his dick sucked in the first room they came to.

    Tweety Pie was on her knees, her bright red lips puckered around a small light brown penis. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Erik and the rigid length straining against his zipper.

    Erik whipped out his switchblade and flicked it open.

    “Out!” he barked.

    Tweety Pie scrambled from her knees and pulled her customer by his hand with his trousers dragging around his ankles to another room. Erik slammed the door shut on the gawking eyes of the other whores and pushed Lulabelle against a mahogany cabinet that held lingerie.

    “Turn around.”

    The snarl in his voice made her spin and toot her big ass out toward him. He dragged the cool blade up against the bottom of her stockings until it dipped just under the hem of her dress. He yanked her dress up around her chest and the sharp blade skimmed across her black satin-covered ass cheek. With just a little more pressure he could break the skin on her fat rump through the material and make her bleed. Erik jerked the blade and sliced her panties off. She gasped and clutched at the smooth wood of the cabinet for balance. She heard his zipper peel down slowly and felt his hands fumble for a rubber.

    “You miss Daddy?”


    He parted her folds before she could catch her breath. The fullness stretching her out made her shout his name and grit her teeth. Pumping into her slowly at first, he teased the hell out of her by pushing in deep, then pulling all the way out so that her pussy lips throbbed needing his dick back inside of her.

    “I missed this pussy… so much… taking me so deep!”

    His switchblade rested on the middle of her naked spine and tickled her skin purposely.

    “Take this dress off!”

    He helped her wiggle her arms out of it before unfastening her bra with his hands. Cradling her heavy breasts, he made her cheeks clap as his weapon clattered to the floor. His full concentration was on pleasing her body. Rough wide palms spread her ass cheeks wide as he grunted and pushed down on his thighs to hunch over her.

    “Lula, shit… Lula…”

    Erik gripped her hips and slammed into her before pulling out and lifting her up. He tossed Lula on the soft lumpy bed, undressed, and plunged back into her. The gold in his mouth glinted above her as he thrust harder and faster knocking the breath out of her body.

    Her garter belts bunched up then stretched with her girdlette when he pushed her thighs back.

    “Big legged girl… mmmm,” he groaned.

    He shoved his head down to her folds and sucked on her lower lips before spitting on them and sinking his girth back inside her walls.

    “Daddy hittin’ that bottom yet?”

    “You in there… real deep, Daddy.”

    “Lemme get deeper…”

    Her ankles met her earlobes and the heavy pressure from his dick made her cock-eyed a spilling gibberish from her mouth.

    “Oh, Jesus!” she yelped when his fists rested on her sides and he bucked into her, slapping his balls against her ass.

    Before he could press his mouth into her swollen pussy again to glisten his face, she clenched up around his dick and squeezed it with rhythmic pulses she had no control over.

    “That’s a good girl… let that pussy talk to Daddy’s dick, Lula.”

    His eyes watched her contractions yank on his length, and when he finished talking her through her release with high praises and slow wet kisses, he pulled off the rubber and stroked himself against her clit. The silky curls of her pubic hairs were wet with her creamy orgasm and became even wetter when Erik splashed hot cum all over her vulva. His shouts of pleasure filled her with quiet confidence.

    “That’s it Daddy, cum all over your fat pussy.”

    He hissed when she said that, and his heated glare encouraged more of his release. A thick rope of semen painted her stomach, and he collapsed on top of her with hard ragged gasps.

    “God, I wish I could be in this pussy every day, Lula.”

    “You could,” she said stroking the waves on his hair.

    He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with her.

    “Not with the work I do. I try my best to get here when I can. But shit, baby. If I didn’t get this pussy for free, I would pay a fortune for it.”

    She rolled on her side to look at him, happy that he thought of her like that. His eyes were still on the ceiling, but there was a frown on his face.

    “She’s in the room, y’know. Up there hiding in the corner.”

    “Don’t say that, Erik. You know it scares me.”

    “If you did what I told you to do, she’d go away.”

    “As long as she don’t start no foolishness around here, I can live with a ghost.”

    “Can you? Then how come you’re scared?”

    “She was my friend. I know she blames me for getting away and not her.”

    “A good coating of haint blue all around the doors would keep her out…”

    “I can’t. I can’t do that to her. If she’s just lingering as a ghost, it makes me feel like she can live a little.”

    “If you say so.”

    “Let’s not talk about her.”

    His eyes were still focused on the ceiling, looking at Elizabeth, her childhood friend from so long ago. She couldn’t see the dead teenager at all.

    “She mad?” Lulabelle asked.

    “She loves you. It’s why she stays around… floating from room to room… following you.”

    Lulabelle pulled his chin toward her.

    “Don’t look. Please.”

    Erik slipped his tongue in her mouth. A knock at the door interrupted them.

    “Lulabelle, sorry to disturb you and your Mister, but I need this room,” Tweety Pie squeaked out.

    “Give me a minute.”

    Lulabelle peeled the rubber from Erik’s dick and tossed it inside some tissue and chucked it out of the window into a well-placed bucket outside.

    “You ruined my panties,” she scolded as she jumped up to rinse her privates and stomach in lavender water at a large basin sitting on a maple console table.

    She dried her folds and fixed her bra back around her breasts.

    “Don’t need ‘em, I’ll be back inside of you soon enough,” he said.

    Pulling her dress back on, Lulabelle tried to fix her hair and make-up in a mirror.

    “You look fine,” he said zipping his pants.

    Erik picked up his switchblade and opened the door.

    Tweety Pie had a new man with her, a handsome young soldier with lust in his eyes.

    “Pardon us,” Erik said as he guided Lulabelle back to the juke joint.


    Lulabelle sat on Erik’s lap as he joked with some patrons and slammed back shots of moonshine. She fed him cornbread and pieces of chicken bites with her fingers, and occasionally she would bounce on his hardness that rested against her backside. He tortured her clit with occasional strokes under her dress, but he wouldn’t let her cum. That would happen later when he was ready to plunder her pussy once more. Tradition held that he would fuck her at least four more times before he disappeared until the next new moon in the future. She sat on that hard meat all hot and bothered knowing he was going to be cruel by plucking at her bud and sticking his tongue in her ear all night. She watched him dance with a few women and flirt while she checked on her women out back and collected her money, stuffing it in her bra.

    Erik was a little too handsy with a couple of fancy ladies and she had to check him. He’d become contentious then, argued with her until she argued him down threatening to cut his balls off if he cheated on her. If she pushed him, just a little too hard, his neck would move in a hostile way that put her in her place and made her drip down her thighs. He liked her mouthy and jealous, but not too jealous if he caught her rubbing her ass against some other patron to provoke him. He’d spank her hard and tell her about herself until she stopped being bratty and soothed his ego. That was his way every time he came to the juke. Arrogant. Loud. Threatening other men who got too close to her, then all seductive when he needed her loving once more.

    When no one was looking, Erik unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and slid her on top of it raw at their private table. Her dress covered the action, and he lifted her up and down.

    “You bet not cum,” he ordered with harsh breath.

    “I won’t, I promise,” she insisted with clenched teeth.

    She was snug on his dick, and the friction was too much to bear. She clutched onto his knees and leaned forward, dropping her weight on his thighs. The rhythm was perfect until a slender man as tall as a Tupelo crept over to their table and sat down. He didn’t seem concerned that he was witnessing a woman getting fucked within an inch of her life in the midst of her own rowdy and lascivious establishment.

    The man’s face was long, and he had long teeth… and long fingers… and long legs… and a long tongue that lolled around in his mouth. He had skin the color of a soft sunset and one big eye in the center of his face. The music and dancing slowed all around her, and all she could see and hear was the long man with his long deep breaths.

    “Lulabelle… Lulabelle…” the slender man said, and the voice that spoke her namesake was not pleasant and inviting like Erik’s. It was sinister. Conniving. Filthy to her ears.

    Erik thrust up into her walls, and she gasped. The slender man smiled with his long teeth, and his one big black eye blinked and Lulabelle fell forward and down into a vortex of hideous darkness until she landed on soft grass in front of the crossroads that led into the dark woods near her juke joint.

    “Lulabelle, hurry up! If we don’t go now, we’ll chicken out!”

    Elizabeth ran ahead of her. Dear sweet Elizabeth, eighteen and glowing with a gorgeous figure and good hair, and the good sense to know that Itta Bena was to be left behind. They were going to New York to become showgirls in Harlem, leaving all that country backwoods shit living behind. No sharecropping or cleaning after white folks for them. They were young. Beautiful. Full of life and ready to see the world. That meant crossing through the woods at the old dusty crossroad just as the sun was setting. The last train outta town was due in an hour. Going through the woods was the fastest route to a new life.

    But then the slender man came. The Plat Eye. The Haint that haunted the trees and lingered in the darkness deep inside the woods.

    Lulabelle, full of eighteen-year-old spunk, dropped her heavy suitcase and pulled Elizabeth back with a hard tug on her arm.

    “Dontcha see him, girl?” Lulabelle shouted.

    “Oh, he’s just another traveler headed outta here too, pick up your suitcase---”

    “It’s the Plat Eye. You don’t see its face. The one eye? The long teeth?”

    “You so silly girl! Look at him… just a man tryna run like us.”


    Elizabeth dropped her suitcase and stood with arms all akimbo.

    “If you don’t wanna go, then say that, Lulabelle.”

    “You don’t see that monster right there?!” she shrieked, and it startled Elizabeth.

    The Plat Eye smirked.

    “Fine, stay here then you big baby. Hey, Mister, wait up!”


    An arm grabbed Lulabelle’s elbow stopping her from running after her friend.

    “Don’t move, gal.”

    The voice didn’t have Mississippi in it. It was low country and slower than cold molasses. South Carolina lived in it.

    “She done made her choice and if you move one inch, I can’t protect you.”

    Lulabelle didn’t turn to look at the stranger. His words were wise, and she did as she was told.

    “Elizabeth! Come back!”

    “It’s too late, Lulabelle.”

    “How you know my name?”

    “I’ve seen you ‘round here before with your friend.”

    She tried to turn around, but firm hands held her shoulders in place.

    “Don’t hurt me, Mister.”

    “Nah, I wouldn’t do nothin’ like that.”

    The Plat Eye grew taller almost reaching the height of the nearest tree.

    “She can’t see what it is?”

    “She see what she wanna see.”

    The thing that was as tall as a Tupelo bent down and opened its tall mouth and Elizabeth stepped into the dark maw…

    Lulabelle gasped and her thighs sensed the strong muscles of Erik’s legs holding her up once more. He fucked her still, hitting her walls harder. His hands gripped her breasts as he grunted and rolled her nipples with agile fingers. The slender man of her past smiled, his greasy lips splitting wide as he was long. That single eye a tainted monstrosity to behold on its face.

    The juke joint partied on, and men filed out through the side door to pay their money for an extra good time with her girls. The Plat Eye reached out for Lulabelle’s arm and Erik slammed his switchblade down on the table.

    “Nah, haint. This one here belongs to me.”

    The Plat Eye blinked that Cyclops eye in shock and its mouth fell open.

    “Should’ve known you’d be around here,” The Plat Eye grumbled sitting back in his chair.

    A clammy wetness dampened Lulabelle’s neck. Memory boomeranged back into her chest. The low country voice. The strong hands that held her waist so that he could rut into her pussy.

    Lulabelle turned her head and the glint from Erik’s gold teeth became a glowing source of ethereal light. The full lips and bright white teeth still looked human but the reverb of hidden power sat under the guttural rasp of his voice.

    The man from the Crossroads.

    The one who stopped her from entering the throat of the Plat Eye and turning into a floating haint that lived in the ceiling like Elizabeth.

    The Geechee Man.

    “Ya don’t play fair,” The Plat Eye grumbled again.

    “And?” Erik said.

    Erik’s firm hands skated up her sides and rested on her shoulders. Lulabelle’s pussy squelched on his dick all rude and loud. Plat Eye licked his fleshy lips.

    “This here the one I wanted. Not that other one—”

    Lulabelle snatched up Erik’s switchblade and jumped up from his lap. Her pussy throbbed from being removed from his erection. She held the open switchblade against his throat. Why couldn’t anyone else in her juke joint see or hear what was happening?

    She knew the stories. All kinds of frightening things could be met at a crossroads. And if the Crossroads Man himself showed up—

    “Put that down, Lula. It’s not a toy to be played with,” Erik said zipping up his pants.

    The Plat Eye leaned forward and shot his arm out to grab her, but Erik was quicker. He snatched the switchblade back faster from her grip than she could blink, and he slashed the creature’s arm. Black festering ooze seeped from the wound and sizzled as it splashed on the table burning holes through the wood.

    “Give her to me,” the Plat Eye demanded.

    Erik stood up and straightened his tie.

    “Nigga you ain’t getting shit but an ass kicking if you keep playing with me. I told you already. This one is mine. Get on about yourself before I send you on your way to a very bad place.”

    “There are rules!”

    The Plat Eye leapt to his feet and towered over Erik. Not by much though.

    “I make the rules,” Erik said.

    An arrogant chuckle tumbled out of the Plat Eye’s mouth. He gripped the lapels of his suit and blinked that one beastly eye. His open wound continued to drip ruining her good table.

    “My man,” The Plat Eye said and held up his long fingers to placate Erik.

    The creature slid out from the juke joint with no one the wiser. Erik turned to face her and Lulabelle jumped away from him.

    “Stay back!”

    “Lula… c’mon, baby. I’ve been coming to you ever since you opened this place. Have I ever harmed you once?”


    “I just give you good lovin’ when I can.”

    “That’s why you can’t be with me all the time?”

    He nodded.

    “I guard the way, and I open it up. Everywhere.”

    Lulabelle ran to the bar and made Eva pour her the biggest glass of moonshine possible. She gulped it down. Erik sauntered over to her.

    “Don’t be scared of me, Lula.”

    “What are you… really?”

    “Your man.”

    “You ain’t no man.”

    “I’m no demon if that’s what you’re worried about.”

    “God forbid if I’d been fucking the devil.”

    “I’m no devil, girl. Far from it.”

    He stroked her face.

    “Let’s go to the back. I need you… right now.”

    His voice made her insides tingle. This was their time. But how could she go back and make love to… to a what? Spirit? Guardian angel? Supernatural being?

    He never did hurt her. And never once did she suspect that he wasn’t anything other than a switchblade carrying Geechie that made her backbone slip.

    “Are there others?” she asked, “Others like you around here?”

    “Always. But you don’t have to worry about nothin’. You got me. No one fucks with me.’

    “How come you didn’t save Elizabeth?”

    “She didn’t want to be saved.”

    “But I loved her. She was my best friend. Why would she leave me?”

    “She’s still here. She’ll never leave until you chase her on.”

    “Is she happy?”

    “Like I told you, she loves you. If you’re happy, she’s happy.”

    “God won’t punish me for being with you, will he?”

    “She won’t. I promise.”

    “What about me selling pussy and a little dick?”

    “Not even on her mind.”

    Lulabelle smiled.

    Erik slinked over to her and rubbed his big body against hers and nudged his bearded face against her soft cheek.

    “How many women have you seduced over the years?”

    “You my favorite.”

    “That didn’t answer my question.,” she said putting a hand on her hip.

    “You wanna argue or get some more dick, gal?”

    Lulabelle checked the room. Her patrons were happy and not having a care in the world. Eva cooked more food, Honey Boy kept the girls refreshed in their loving rooms, and the Harvest moon spilled in through the window behind the juke band.

    Moonlight bathed Erik’s face and he slid his hand under her dress again.

    “Daddy needs to take care of you… oh see now, my sweet jewel is all plump again.”

    He removed his hand and licked his fingers sticky with her essence. She rubbed on his crotch and he gifted her with a hard bulge. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.

    “Elizabeth wants you to get all this,” he said grinding against her.

    “Can you tell her that I miss her? That I love her?”

    “She already knows.”

    Erik lifted her up and carried her across the rickety bridge and back to the soft lumpy bed.

    That’s their story, and I ain’t tellin’ it twice. Lula and her Geechee Man played nice for a long, long time. I keep watch and makes sure that stays true. Until we meet again on the next new moon…

    #Geechee!Erik Killmonger #Ice Cold Jax #1940s AU#Uzumaki Rebellion #Happy Birthday Soufcakmistress
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  • soufcakmistress
    23.08.2021 - 5 monts ago
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  • soufcakmistress
    21.08.2021 - 5 monts ago

    I’m writing something….👀 will y’all still read my shit?

    My life has been HECTIC, to add upon that. But the end of the tunnel is near and I have ideas that are itching to get out. I hope y’all are staying safe!

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  • soufcakmistress
    07.08.2021 - 5 monts ago

    A new woman 🪐

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  • soufcakmistress
    10.06.2021 - 7 monts ago

    Started locking my hair in January. The video was recorded yesterday. It’s been a journey and ive honestly never felt more beautiful, raw and vulnerable since this began. As they grow, so do I and I’m finally becoming who I always needed to be 💫

    #soufcakmistress #it’s ya girl #black woman#black panther#virgo#locs#dreads #locs for women #women’s loc styles
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  • soufcakmistress
    06.06.2021 - 7 monts ago

    the ramblings of soufcakmistress 💫

    A shift is happening in my life and I’m equal parts excited and terrified of where it’ll take me

    I miss my ex even though I know I shouldn’t. But something tells me my ancestors got something or someone even better for me

    I truly do have powers lol I just need to meditate more and do the work so they can benefit me and mine

    I really need to get on this fashion design. I need all the literature and fabrics so I can just fuckin START

    I got three pretty decent fic ideas that I wanna get out, I hope y’all still fuckin with me 👀

    I need some sex, like yesterday

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  • soufcakmistress
    01.05.2021 - 8 monts ago

    I miss writing for y’all. I promise I’m working on a few new adds this weekend. I’m relaxing and writing this weekend because I truly miss the community and I wanna add a piece of joy to this hellsite. Any requests? What fic do you wanna see in particular? Talk to me babies

    Yes I am a little drunk but that’s neither here nor there

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  • soufcakmistress
    26.02.2021 - 10 monts ago

    A thirst trap for this Venus day💫

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  • soufcakmistress
    24.01.2021 - 11 monts ago
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  • soufcakmistress
    23.12.2021 - 4 weeks ago

    I posted 13,525 times in 2021

    32 posts created (0%)

    13493 posts reblogged (100%)

    For every post I created, I reblogged 421.7 posts.

    I added 84 tags in 2021

    #soufcakmistress - 18 posts

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    Longest Tag: 57 characters

    #lowkey tryna see what dealing with a hoodoo nigga is like

    My Top Posts in 2021



    Part IV

    Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

    TW: Implied mention of abuse

    The Present..

    A fly could have made a home in your mouth, it stayed agape for so long. You looked extra guilty, sitting on a complete stranger’s lap to your man’s knowledge. In tow, David carried a breathtaking arrangement of orchids, dressed casual and looked a bit tired around the eyes. Palpable tension engulfed the room while Erik sized David up. He wasn’t impressed to say the least, and rose up slowly next to you.

    “David! Baby. I thought you would be back tonight.” You traipse over to him to kiss him on his cheek, and take the arrangement from him. David had been rendered speechless to the scene he walked in on, not holding a shred of warmth behind his eyes. Erik squared his shoulders and stepped forward and extended his hand to David. “Erik Stevens. Me and Y/N grew up together.”

    “David Lafayette. Grew up together, huh? That’s interesting. Y/N has never mentioned you.” David grits his teeth slightly and gives Erik a firm handshake. David had a few inches on Erik but Erik outweighed David by 20 pounds or more, which alone made this matchup that much more intense.

    Erik’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he felt his blood start to pump. You already feel where this was heading, so to stop the train from crashing, you scramble between them, and give the fakest smile you can muster and rub both of their backs. “Guys, I really need to get my life together and start to wind it down for the day—“

    “Yeah, we did. We lost touch after she moved unfortunately. When I heard she was back home, I made sure to hit Shug up. We’ve actually been catching up every single day since I got home. Making up for lost time.” Your eyes bugged out once Erik said that, with the most smug smirk on his face. Literal steam was coming out of David’s ears at this point. You pinched Erik on his back since he blew up the spot even more, and he cut his eyes to your frame. You had to end this now.

    “Okayyyy, Erik thanks so much for coming. We’ll talk soon, yeah?” You rush him to your office door, and bum rush him out to the lobby.

    “Was it something I said?” Erik quipped with so much snark.

    “N’Jadaka. Really? Are you purposely trying to stir shit up with my fiancé?” Your chest was falling and rising so quickly, and you were shaking from the adrenaline. Erik’s fists were tightly clenched with his nostrils flared.

    “You trying to keep me a secret or something? Y/N, we were closer than family. How the fuck have you never mentioned me to him? Fuck do you have to hide?” He had never taken this tone with you, realizing that as soon as the words left his mouth, but what you failed to realize was that he stood tall on everything he stood for and backed down to no one.

    Taken aback by his ferocity, you’re left speechless and go back in the office with a disgruntled husband to be. The door slammed behind you, leaving Erik stewing in his thoughts. How did we get here?

    David sat at your desk, fingers laced and visibly perturbed. You run your hands through your hair and let out a frustrated groan. “So…are you gonna start talking or will you leave the questions to me, Shug?”


    The Past..

    Day was starting to break, and the crack in the blinds began to shed light in Erik’s eyes. Yawning and stretching, he finally peeled himself off of the couch to assess the damage to his spot. He was way too blowed to deal with the mess last night. Thanks to Bast, no holes in the walls or damage to any paint. Just a shit ton of trash and empty liquor bottles. Light work.

    Adjusting himself in his black basketball shorts, he checked on you in his room. When the party finally died down, he removed your shoes and snuggled you under the covers. You were too adorable with your moderate snore and one half of your fro smushed into the pillow. Still sleeping peacefully, he gently closed the door and took a quick shower to ease his hangover.

    Hard fists knocked at his front door, as soon as he stepped out. Damn near knocking it off the hinges. Then a shrill voice broke through, one he wasn’t likely to ever forget. “Y/N!!!!! Girl you better be in there! Just wait til I get my hands on you girl!!” Loud knocks were combined with an incessant ringing of the bell, and Erik was sure that you had been awakened.

    Erik gingerly walked to his front door and peeked through the side window. A middle aged woman and man stood at the door, who dressed like straight out of a Blaxploitation movie. He finally answered the door and received a look that could kill. “What the hell is going—Y/N!!! Get your Black ass out here this instant!”

    Juanita was belligerent and already slurring her words this early. She reeked of cheap liquor and perfume; her partner in crime looked like a straight up weasel and definitely could not be trusted. Several loud thumps came from the hallway, alerting Erik to you waking up. “Ma’am. You don’t have to yell. Y/N fell asleep last night and she was completely safe, I assure you—“

    Juanita’s eyes rolled to him so hard they could have gotten stuck and she let out such a disrespectful scoff that made him wanna snap. “Young man, where are your parents? They know that you having wild ass parties and letting young ladies spend the night? Now, it’s best if you mind your business and let me deal with my child as I see fit. Y/N Y/L/N, this is the last time imma say it, bring your ass!”

    Almost busting your ass trying to put your left shoe back on, the sight of seeing Erik in only a towel stopped you in your tracks. Not a blemish to be found on that skin and for a split second—time stopped. He noticed the slow measured eye movements over his torso, and he blushed a little to be ogled by you. He smiled at you and the morning sun made his slugs gleam. “Really girl? You gon make googly eyes at this nigga right in front of me??”

    Juanita grabbed you by your ear before you could apologize and kicked you in the butt to get you on your way. Isaac had been watching the scene unfold and almost relished in Juanita’s wrath over you. You walked past him with smudged eye makeup and a pout, and he made sure to whisper in your ear before you stepped to the driveway. “You gonna get it now, girl..”

    Erik overheard the thinly veiled threat, and felt something unnatural and overwhelming consume him. His instincts were right, and these two sorry excuses for guardians shouldn’t be around someone who was a light like yourself. Isaac winked at Erik with a crooked smile, and coolly followed the circus act Juanita was orchestrating. Erik let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and watched the car pull off.

    The next few days at school, you kept your distance from Erik. The level of embarrassment was too much for you to handle. Erik finally got to witness firsthand how your mom and her shithead boyfriend treated you. Erik wanted to talk to you…more than anything. You weren’t responding to his texts or private messages on social media. You made sure to get in class right before the bell rang and as soon as class was dismissed, leaving zero time for meaningful conversation.

    Figuring that he couldn’t catch you at school, maybe he could switch it up and see if he could catch you at your usual bus stop to get home. Erik dipped out as soon as the bell rang, dodging Jalisa’s thirsty ass and whipped out the junior lot. He parked a block away to wait for you to arrive at the stop, looking sad and pitiful. There’s something going on, and he needed to see what was to it.

    Like clockwork, you showed up wearing black leggings and an oversized sweater in the summer time in California. He revs up and pulls around to the stop, and leaves it running while he peeks out of his window. Your stomach drops to your butt because you knew exactly who it was when you heard the engine. That purr did something to you just like the driver did and your world crumbled when he saw you at your lowest. “Aye. Aye, Y/N. Get in, girl. I told you I could always take you home.”

    See the full post

    111 notes • Posted 2021-06-30 17:50:45 GMT



    Part IX

    Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

    Due to such a rambunctious day, Erik slept terribly that night. Catching only a few winks here and there, he gazed at her chest to make sure that it was rising and falling still. This innate feeling that came with creating a new life put Erik in an unfamiliar headspace. For as long as he could remember, self preservation was key and it didn’t matter who or what had to be destroyed to keep that a reality. Not anymore. This shit had him thinking different.

    Through the slits of the bamboo and the tiny holes of the thatched roof, day was beginning to break and helped to illuminate Gabby’s face for him. Her fever finally broke, and her skin wasn’t as pallid as before. Still, to keep her cool in her slumber, Erik dampened a rag in tepid water found in a small jug inside the tent where they rested, provided by Tarni. Gently, he wiped her face, under her neck, around her ears, and along her chest and collarbone.

    Gabby’s skin was impeccably plush, without a flaw to be found. Soaking the rag again and wringing it out, he pulled the cover back over her naked body sheathed in the linen shift, and hot air rushed from his lungs. She was soft and cushioned, and she felt so good underneath him. With caution, he removed it from her body over her head, careful not to disturb her stitches. He brought the damp rag down her chest and under her breasts, down her sides and back to the front, stopping at her belly. He couldn’t tell how far along she was by just a glance, though he estimated that it couldn’t be that long.

    Erik timidly reached and flattened his hand on her stomach, hoping that his love could be transferred through a light touch. He couldn’t fuck this up; this baby deserved a fighting chance to be protected and loved properly. It made his self loathing grow exponentially for the danger Gabby was subjected to, and how he failed to shield her from harm. Caressing her lower belly, he bends down to place his lips right under her belly button. Erik’s eyes close and he exhales deeply. The touching moment was interrupted abruptly when he heard Tarni conversing with one of the guards outside.

    Erik’s ears perked up as he covered Gabby back up, making sure she was comfortable. Tarni was speaking a language he couldn’t readily identify and braced for her entrance that was sure to come. As soon as she stepped foot in that hut, she would see Katherine’s body and he would be suspect #1. But with what proof?

    He quickly laid down close to Gabby, draping his arm over her middle, and his face in the crook of her neck. He would never get tired of her natural scent, his lips grazing her ear so softly. Tarni walked in the hut, trying to not make so much noise. Erik’s eye peeked open and he watched her lurk over to Katherine’s body. Tarni looked her over and by first glance, nothing seemed out of place. But her chest wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing. Tarni checked her pulse and found nothing. Erik could feel Tarni’s confusion from the other side of the hut and pretended to sleep deeply.

    “Waru. Have three guys dig a grave. Over with the rest of them. The white girl didn’t make it through the night. She’s cold as ice. She must have lost too much blood. *sigh* and I’ll need your help with carrying the body out of here. Come.” Tarni briefly stepped out of the hut and returned with Waru. They both crouched around her, with Waru at her feet tying the blanket around them, while Tarni examined her face. The color drained from Katherine’s skin leaving her clammy and white as a ghost.

    She would be lying if she didn’t have a thought that Erik might have been involved. No puncture wounds, no bruising around her neck. She did have some slight bruising around her face that wasn’t there the day before. However she did get into a fight with Gabby as well; it’s possible she sustained those from that incident. Tarni turned her head, and Erik was sitting up, watching them wrap the body. Waru finally flopped her over his shoulder and took the body to the impromptu graveyard. Their eyes met; Tarni with a nondescript look that gave nothing away and Erik looking taciturn and defensive.

    Not a word was spoken until she stepped out of the hut herself and followed Waru. She gave the guys instructions and went back to her personal quarters. Slouching in a rustic chair made by one of her guys who happened to be a carpenter, she huffed and pulled her hair out of the simple bun. Another body. This was by far not the first time she’s seen death up close this way, and yet it never seems to get any easier. They’ve been stranded on this island for a year now, and even with the misfortunes they’ve experienced, something tells Tarni that their experience was an outlier.

    The plane landed on the crest of a cliff, not too far from where they’ve made their home. There weren’t as many casualties on impact as there was for the newcomers. There were several indigenous people on the flight who knew and lived the old way, simply taking a vacation to the States. Tarni, her daughter Kalinda and several other women hopped to it by leading the evacuation of the plane, and directing the able bodied men to clear the plane of food, clothes and any necessities.

    Those first few weeks were rough. With fifty survivors, fifteen succumbed to exhaustion and hunger. They struggled with learning the terrain and finding fresh meat to sustain everyone. Kalinda proved to follow in her mother’s footsteps, leading hunting excursions and working with the healers on mending anyone who needed aid. Tarni and the group of survivors were getting into a rhythm finally after several failed attempts at putting out an SOS for any activity in the sky. Then the worst day of her life happened...

    Kalinda and a team of her choosing decided to move further onto the island to see what could be of use and hopefully find more food. There had been torrential rains for days, leaving the ground muddy and unpredictable. They left as the sun was beginning to rise, and didn’t return for 2 days. Tarni’s anxiety skyrocketed inwardly, having to be strong for everyone else. But all she wanted was her baby back. Imagine her shock when only 2 of the 6 team members returned bloody and limping.

    A mudslide occurred on one of the cliffs connecting to a waterfall and the team fell thirty feet at full speed into rushing water with hundreds of jagged rocks at the bottom. The remaining man and woman escaped only by clutching a rooted tree with every ounce of their strength. It took a day and a half for them to reach the camp, and Tarni’s world crumbled.

    Gabby reminded Tarni so much of Kalinda, it ached every time she laid eyes on her. Maybe that’s why Tarni had such a vested interest in her well-being. To do for her what she couldn’t do for Kalinda. Tarni pulled herself together and pulled together some rations from the makeshift pantry they created for themselves. A few salted fish and sugarcane were portioned out for their new additions. She made her way back to the medical area, and placed the food at Erik’s feet.

    “Eat. You need your strength. You look awful.” Tarni quipped, and a dimple appeared on Erik’s cheek. He hadn’t slept or showered for two days and the stress was starting to show on him. He nodded and began to eat fervently. He finished the plate and looked at Tarni with all the honesty and vulnerability. “I want to thank you for taking care of her. You didn’t have to do that. I’m man enough to know when I’m not in the position to make demands, and I wanna contribute to whatever this is if you’ll allow her to stay here and heal.”

    Taken aback at him being so candid and open, Tarni took him all in and looked him over. “There’s always something that needs doing around here. You’re strong. You obviously believe in something and you’ll do anything to protect who and what you love. It would be a privilege to have you and Gabby here.”

    “I have one more favor. I want to take these braids out of Gabby’s hair today and wash it. All of our stuff is back at the cave. Could I get some shampoo for her?”

    “Absolutely. We’ll coordinate a time for us to get back to your cave and retrieve your things. We can also see how your efforts are best applied here. I’ll bring them to you. Sit tight.” Erik nodded and made himself comfortable next to Gabby.

    Tarni brought some shampoo and conditioner for Erik and left him to his devices. Erik kept the knife concealed in his shoe, and started to cut the braids. He wasn’t sure how long her real hair was, so he started clipping the ends to make them easy to unravel. An hour or so passes and all of the braided hair were left in a pile next to the oversized jug prepared for him. Soap made from animal fat was given along with a travel size bottle of conditioner. Moving the pillow from under her head, he laid Gabby gently on her back. Erik lathered the soap in his hands and began to wash her hair, using his nails to cleanse her scalp.

    He wished more than anything for her to wake up. So many things had already changed for them in the matter of 24 hours, and Gabby wasn’t conscious of any of it. Erik loved how her curls popped now and wondered how she looked in her every day life. He was a full on simp for her especially after this. But she deserved it and more, certainly since she was carrying his child. One more wash and light detangling of her hair with the conditioner, and Erik poured the jug over her hair. Making sure all of the soap was gone, he wrapped her hair in a towel and secured it on her head. He quickly placed the pillows back under her neck.

    Peeking in, Waru nods at Erik to come as Tarni is asking for him. Still unsure of Waru and his intentions, Erik rose to his feet, and didn’t move readily at his request. “Tarni needs you. Let’s move.”

    Erik bent down to kiss Gabby’s lips for good measure and exited the tent. Tarni stood ahead with fresh clothes, a towel and more soap for him. “Get cleaned up. If it’s okay with you, I can braid Gabby’s hair while you get yourself together.” Erik gulped, slightly overwhelmed and uneasy to accept her good tidings, even though she’s proven to be an ally. “Erik. She’s safe. You’re safe.”

    “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.” He took the toiletries and Tarni showed him the way to the waterfall where they kept clean. Tarni entered the hut shortly after with a comb and aloe Vera gel from her own stash. She sat behind Gabby with her legs crossed and propped Gabby’s upper body into her lap. Two French braids with a middle part would suffice for now.

    She parted her hair, and let out a light hum to an old ditty from when she was a kid. Making the middle part and then placing the gel in the part, she heard a small cough. Starting the braid on the side of Gabby’s head with the injury, labored breathing got a bit louder and Gabby’s bloodshot eyes began to open. “Mmmmm. Er...Erik?”

    TAGS: @l-auteuse 



    See the full post

    124 notes • Posted 2021-05-02 21:47:31 GMT



    Part II

    A/N: Yes, it’s like two weeks late, don’t yell at me. And yes, I went there! I sure diddddddd. Stay tuned, babies!!!

    Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

    The curtains blow with the breeze of the ceiling fan, and you shift to make yourself more comfortable. One thigh on the outside of the covers, one hand resting on your stomach, while the other supports your head, and a pair of soft lips graze against yours in your slumber. Erik had been watching you sleep like always, and couldn’t resist. He kissed your little nose and on your Cupid’s bow, careful not to wake you. So soft—his body couldn’t help but to react. Blood rushed to his groin as he slyly pulled the covers back to look at your naked form.

    He hisses at the covers touching his sensitive organ already, biting his lip anticipating what he’ll do to you. You start to stir, your hand searching for the sheet to cover yourself up. Erik sits back to let you find the cover again, poised in waiting for the best time to strike. You settle again, and he listens intently to your breathing, making sure you’re relaxed. He softly grunts as he prowls closer to you and pulls the covers off again. The curve of your hips, the cushion of your soft belly—all entice him further.

    Erik spreads your legs, kissing up your shin to your thigh, to the crease in between your mound and inner thigh. You start to wriggle a little, yet his agile hands hold you firmly but gently. He smells your mound, and his eyes flutter slightly at the aroma of him and you mingled together. Those incredible lips of his kiss your clit, teeming with tenderness, and your eyes pop open. Your President is in his own world, and you let him ravage you with that sinful mouth.

    “Good morning, baby..” he muffled between your thick thighs, and he really dives in. In a huff, Erik props your butt up and your knees are touching your chin. You don’t give a fuck if anyone else is in the clubhouse to hear your moans, you don’t want this to end. All of his hair is covering his eyes but you can peek at his nose and mouth that are drenched in all the love you had to give.

    His thumb starts to circle your back door, and you start to tense. Erik knows this takes you over the edge, and begins to lave your Pearl with heavy tongue and pulls away. You sit up on your elbows, with your chest heaving, your hands squeezing your boobs—bracing for the big one. He purses his lips and blows cold air in all directions on your clit and that sweet orgasm ascends through your body.

    Incapable of stopping yourself from shaking, with teary eyes, he lays your body flat, and climbs on top of you. He knows his keloids calm you, so he caresses his skin against yours. It’s a trick however. His hand slips between your bodies and he thrusts inside you fully, knocking the wind out of your chest. Erik’s signature smirk appears and somehow he makes you even wetter. If he thought he was gonna be off the hook that fast….he was fuckin right.

    After your morning romp, you wash up quickly until you can get back to your house for a real shower. Wearing one of Erik’s huge shirts, you sashay out of the clubhouse wearing some Nike slides you keep there, and are so pleased to find your car spic and span.

    The prospect was across the lot working on Erik’s bike as he asked him to the night before. As soon as he saw you, he ran to give you your keys. “Here you go, Miss Y/N. I was able to buff out that nick on the passenger’s side door for you. Nice little air freshener inside for you as well.”

    The rookie was adorable but he had heart and that’s why you liked him and was very happy that he wanted to be a part of the Dragons. You take your keys and kiss him on his cheek, and start the car up. Time to wash the night off of you.

    Being the oldest grandchild, you always felt responsible for the welfare of your grandmother in her old age. She raised you when your parents weren’t able to, and you owed her your life. Shortly after you got dressed for the day and left your home, you ran a few errands for your grandma—picking up prescriptions, some light grocery shopping, etc.

    Pulling up in front of her house, you get all of the things for your grandma and are greeted at the door by the full time caretaker that Erik has been helping you pay for. A life of smoking cigarettes left your grandmother riddled with emphysema, and unable to watch over herself.

    “Hey Muh’Dear. How are you this afternoon? Now I hope you’re behaving for Miss Carol.” You kiss your grandmother on her head as she ignores your presence while Gunsmoke is on. Homemade chicken noodle soup is what’s on the menu for supper and you stroll to the kitchen to pull out the vegetables, chicken breast and chicken broth.

    “Y/N, Erik called up here this morning asking about my pound cake recipe again. That boy just can’t get enough!”

    “And you kept it to yourself, right Muh’Dear??”

    “I will never tell, Suga, not even for a man that fine.” Muh’Dear lets out a few light coughs and gets comfortable again in her recliner.

    “That’s my girl!” You yell around the corner, as you give the veggies a rough chop. The evening went by without a snag, as usual. Unbeknownst to you, across the street was a new tenant moving into a rental. Shondra’s best bitch, Krista. When she pulled her car down the street, she couldn’t help but notice the tricked out Jeep. Imagine he’d surprise when the tags read “DRGNLDY”. This was your car. After you beat the shit out of Shondra for all of the Bay to see, that stirred something up in Shonda that Krista had never seen before.

    Vengeance was due in her eyes and it was going to be unmerciful. Krista took a picture of your plates inconspicuously and sent it to Shondra lightning fast. She gave her one directive and that was to watch you and to be on the lookout for you whenever she was home. And watch you she did, for weeks. Your routine was noted to the degree, and a plan was hatched. This made you vulnerable to them, and you didn’t even know it.

    One night, you left your grandmother’s house after dark. Due to the on street parking and it being the weekend, you had to park a little bit further from your grandmother’s house than usual. Looking at your car from a few feet away, it appears that it’s sitting on an angle. Confusion spreads in your brain, and you find that you have a flat tire on the front driver’s side.

    “Fuck! When did this happen??? I been here all damn day, ughhhhh! Lemme call E.” You pull out your phone, and immediately your legs are swept out from under you, and what probably was the butt of a gun, slams you in the back of the head, rendering you unconscious. A sack was placed over your head and your limp body was carried into the interior of a cargo van with your hands subsequently bound.

    Without verbal conversation, two assailants hopped in the back with you while the other two sat in the front of the truck. The signal was given, and the van peeled off the street without a trace. You were none the wiser until you started to sort of come to when the van came to a full stop hours away from Oakland with a killer migraine coupled with the urge to puke. Your digits were numb and the sack over your head blocked your vision from any and everything. What the fuck was going on?

    “Take the sack off.” As soon as you heard the voice you knew exactly who it was. A masked person sat in front of you with black oversized clothes and boots but there was no fooling you as to who would pull this. Couldn’t have been any rival MCs, they would have just shot up her grandmother’s house with her in it or picked her off in the street. This was deliberate and brash and only one person would be this stupid.

    “I spy with my little eye, four dead bitches walking.” You crack out and cackle at your own joke and they immediately lay into you. Punches that made you cut your own lip by your teeth, your legs and torso are stomped out all while you’re tied up like a holiday ham. Punk bitches. After they jump you, your head is lying in a puddle of your own blood and your eye is beginning to swell and throb. A pain you’ve never experienced courses through your body, all the thoughts in your brain scream for your man.

    “You see, Y/N? This was a lesson for you. A lesson to make clear to you that anybody can be touched. Anybody.”

    Who you believed to be Shondra stood up, opened up the side door to the van, and kicked you out into the dirt, face first. This fucking bitch. “This won’t make Erik love you.” You managed to spit out while wriggling like a worm trying to get some feeling back in your digits.

    Shondra chuckles, crouching at the door, shaking her head. “You won’t make it past morning. Not out here. Say a little prayer, Y/N. Don’t you worry your pretty head, Erik will be well taken care of. I’ll make sure to pay Muh’Dear a visit, k?”

    Her uttering your grandmother’s pet name blinded you with fury, and you cursed her and her bloodline before and after her. The car door slid closed and pulled off, leaving you with a face full of sand and exhaust. Hot tears of deep pain and hurt fall down your dusty cheeks and you resign to your fate.

    See the full post

    175 notes • Posted 2021-10-12 22:25:41 GMT


    The Remodel

    Part III

    A/N: I know yall wanna fight me, I was supposed to have this up like five years ago soooooo yeah LOL. The last and final part to this wildddd ride. I sincerely pray you’re being safe babies wherever you are in the world right now. Like, comment, and reblog if you love it!!

    Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

    The lock in the door jamb echoes over the tense silence in the room. Things escalated so quickly. One minute, you’re tearing your room to shreds looking for your unmentionables and the next, Erik strides into your room like he owned the place, cradling said unmentionables in his hand. The look on his face reminded you of a big cat in the wild methodically biding its time to catch its prey. You stood perfectly still, simultaneously aroused and yet afraid to move. Erik locks the door behind him, and coolly moves forward.

    That thick bottom lip is caught between his perfect white teeth, anxious to get his hands on you. You back up towards your vanity, eyes wide, until your legs bump into your vanity chair. He gently pushes you to sit down before him in the seat, looking up at him like an innocent lamb. Little did you know what the big bad wolf had in store for you.

    “Well, what do you know? I think these are the missing panties. Are they not?” You open your mouth to protest, and reach to grab them, and he swats your hand away, making you yelp.

    “Uh uh. They belong to me now. You can only imagine how excited I was to find them. I imagine it’s similar to how you felt when you....took care of yourself in my office chair.”

    Erik could have knocked you over with a feather once he said that. The jig was up, and the lack of a poker face confirmed your guilt. The glint in his eye suggested that it turned him on that you took such liberties. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Fuck do I look like going to Oakland just for that?”

    You turn around and face your vanity, fiddling with a makeup brush. Deny, deny, deny until the end. Your whole body is heating up; he really pulled up on you with all of the arrogance and your inner thighs were already slick. His scent swirled in the intimate space; that combined with the mounting lust he radiated made your head swim. Erik bends over behind you, both muscular arms on your sides and brought his face to your ear. Looking at him in the mirror, you fought to bite your lip gazing at his beautiful side profile. That skin and those lips, he was driving you insane. “Tsk tsk, lying already. This won’t bode well for you, Mrs. Thomas. You’ll come to learn how much the truth matters to me and how I handle smart ass brats who tell fibs.”

    His lips graze your earlobe, trail a way to your neck and he starts to softly suck. A bruise starts to form and he bites in the same place, and the makeup brush drops immediately from your grip. Both hands grip the sides of your seat, and you can’t hold off the moan escaping your mouth. “You’re a clever little minx. Breaking into my office like that. Found one of my favorite shirts. And finger fucked yourself to the thought of me in that chair. You don’t know how many times I beat my dick to that, Y/N..”

    Erik presses his lips into your jaw sweetly, and stands up to his full height. His face morphs into stone, his left eyebrow raised and his lips in a straight line. “Now go find it. Bring it here.” His voice dropped a few octaves and he stood back to let you go to the closet. You tip off with your head down like you’re being scolded, and find the shirt in question stowed away in some bags at the back of your closet.

    Your tiny feet traipse back to Erik and he takes the shirt from you. Your head is still bowed almost instinctively to be submissive to this domineering individual. He raises your chin up, and immediately zeroes in on your lips that slightly tremble. You thought you had control of this situation but it was quite evident that the tables had turned without your permission. Erik wets his lips and kisses you ever so sweetly, stoking the fire blazing in your lower belly. His lips were bigger, and his tongue slithered inside your mouth and you both moon in unison. Your tongue curls around his and the grunt he lets out alerts you that his arousal is reaching new heights.

    Before he loses all control, Erik pulls back with glistening lips and points his head in the direction of your bed. You nod and go make yourself comfortable. The wheels are turning in his head of what’s to be done to you. This is the moment you’ve both been waiting for. And yet, he still doesn’t know where to start. However, watching them big hips switch prompts a few potential places to begin the lesson he’d been meaning to teach you.

    “The robe. It stays off. Hands and knees. Arch that back like I know you can.” His instructions delivered in his low tone make you shiver and you follow them precisely. “Like this, E?”

    He smirks at you checking in to get his approval. A smooth “yes, baby” comes from his chest and he makes his way behind you. Kneeling behind you, he can’t help but to admire all that ass, and your slice of paradise peeking through with plenty of shine. Erik kisses both of your cheeks, sprinkling a bite or two on your hips, thighs, and under the cuff of your ass. Your breath catches and you wiggle at the love bites. Without any warning, he alternated spanks on your cheeks, occasionally rubbing the sting away.

    His dick was already hard as steel, but seeing that ass jiggle tested his restraint further. “You’re a naughty girl, Y/N. Got more mouth than what I’m used to. But there’s a fix for that.” You hiss after every smack, and your skin is on fire. But the pain hurts so good, and your pussy is aching to be relieved. When he caresses your cheeks after a few spanks, his fingers gingerly graze past your pussy and your ass, but never fully touching them. You’re starting to sweat and your fingers ache because you’re grabbing the sheets so tightly.

    As soon as you feel your eyes water, he slaps your left cheek and twirls your clit, forcing a sob out of you. You blink your long lashes, a tear falling at the reprieve. Erik was punishing you and you reveled in every agonizing moment. His heavy breaths are turning you on and you have to turn to look at him. A fitted tee on that chest and work pants with the most unbelievable bulge you have ever seen....the energy in the space is off the charts already.

    “Open your legs wider. Just like that.” Erik throws his head back to get his locs out of his face and leaves wet kisses on your bum until he French kisses your entrance, taking you by complete surprise. The sensation makes you gasp and you raise up, prompting another smack to your ass paired with a wide swipe of his tongue through your folds. He holds one cheek open and licks you down, savoring everything. Your moans are incessant now, and you fight the urge to push his face deeper into your pussy.

    That feeling starts to rise from the soles of your feet and like Erik could seemingly read your mind, he unclasps his soft lips from your clit and slaps you right between your legs, stopping your orgasm in its tracks. “I don’t think so. You ain’t suffered enough yet.”

    He turns you around to sit on your butt and pushes a hair from your face. You’re fucking gorgeous and frisky and Erik liked that shit. You were doing so well so far and he was sure to make it pay off for you. He made you sit with your legs open at the edge of the bed. His callused hand traces your collarbone, past your sternum, tugging at the cups of your bra. Erik pulls your titties out and immediately plays with your nipples. You’re incredibly sensitive there, and he continues to play with them and took one in his mouth. Switching to the other, he curls his tongue around your brown bud and gently pulls with his teeth. Pulling back, he blows on them, and your coochie quivers.

    He leaves you like that and goes to get the shirt. Erik ties your hands in front of you and pulls your vanity chair towards the bed. He pulls his shirt over his head, a little sweat showing on his happy trail. Unbuckling his belt, he pulls his pants and briefs down together, and out flopped the most beautiful dick you laid eyes on. This man was even more beautiful than you could envision. His sculpted thighs flexed as he made himself comfortable and you wanted him to hurry up and put you out of your misery.

    Erik started pulling at his sack with one hand and stroking his shaft with the other. “Don’t touch my pussy. Sit and watch me like a good girl and you might get what you want.” Your chest is starting to heave, and your wetness is overwhelming. You nod in agreement, and yearn for him while he strokes that big dick like a pro. You’re both so horny, as seen by the precum dripping from his tip. Erik is making himself feel so good and it’s a marvel to witness.

    “I want that dick. Please. I-I cant..” His ears perked up at your heartfelt plea, and gave the most mischievous smile. He’d broke you. Tightening his grip on his dick, he stands up and moved closer to you, all that meat in your face. His jaw is clenched and he grabs your face, squishing your cheeks. “What do you want? I didn’t hear you.”

    This nigga. He was gonna pull it out of you. He wanted total submission from you and wouldn’t budge. Your hands were tied....literally. You sucked up your pride and said with your whole chest that you needed that dick and you needed it right fuckin now. He instructed you to open your mouth and immediately filled it with dick. Sheer joy encapsulated you as you let him use your throat. He grabbed you by the hair, encouraging you to relax and take more of him. You were a fuckin troooper, and not timid at all when it came to sucking dick. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. That’s how you get what you want.”

    Pulling out of your mouth, he pushes you on your back and lays on top of you, your chests touching. Erik plunged his tongue in your messy mouth and slides his dick in between your slick folds. He wanted your permission before you became one and you gave enthusiastic consent. Grabbing a leg over his shoulder, he sinks into you in one stroke and the wind is knocked out of you. “Oh shit. Oh shit, I can’t hold it.” Moderate strokes opened you up and he started to mold himself in your walls. His hips swerved effortlessly, leaving nothing untouched. His kisses on your cheek made you blush, while the sinful sensation below your waist threatened to flood your mind.

    In all honesty, Erik was close himself but the warm and juicy treat between your legs made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe he hadn’t experienced it ever. He had you right where he wanted you, and it was even better than he imagined. He kissed you again, bottoming out inside you. It was a scumbag idea but he couldn’t help but to wonder if he should bust a nut in Keith’s wife. No doubt you’d be hungry for it, but he would act responsibly.

    “Cum. I’m telling you to cum, Y/N, I feel you throbbing. Let go baby.” You sigh and whine out a high pitched moan, wetting you both up. That took Erik over the edge and he pulled out and came on your fupa and mound. He rubbed it into your skin, his fat tip engorged and sensitive on your soft skin. Erik untied the shirt from your wrists, and kissed them both. He pulled you into him and caressed your back, his scars soothing your flushed skin. Mama finally got some action and it paid off handsomely. As soon as you both started to drift off in each other’s arms, muted footsteps are coming up the stairs.

    Keith came back from his retreat and had some gifts for you. He struggled to open the door with his hands so full, but the sight before him once it swung open was one for the books. Like a dutiful husband, Keith placed your gifts next to your vanity and tried not to disturb you and your lover from your slumber. Your happiness is what counted and he absolutely knew you had a thing for the contractor. When you’re satisfied, Keith is satisfied.

    Three months later....

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    188 notes • Posted 2021-02-13 03:00:34 GMT



    A/N: Heyyyy babies! I pray all of you are doing as well as can be expected right now! I’m making it a personal thing for myself to stop taking months and months to update. I know the readership has lacked but I still wanna write for y’all because it’s so fun and I need some uplifting in my life rn! Sooooo stay tuned for the new new!!

    Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

    To have and to hold. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. Til death do us part..

    The penthouse suite housing the bridal party overlooked downtown LA with classy Art Deco decor and accents, a full wet bar, and two full sized bedrooms. Your husband to be spared no expense for the best day of your lives. Six makeup artists and hair stylists for six bridesmaids, custom Rodarte dresses in every style, and all the Moet and hors d’œuvres they could stand. Sitting slouched and deflated at your chosen vanity, a small Bluetooth speaker quietly played Boyz II Men while your hair stylist tucked the last few strands into your chic chignon.

    This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You and the love of your life would live in bliss as husband and wife until you returned to the earth one day, with a great legacy to show for it. But no. That wasn’t how you felt. Terror. That’s what you felt. Your knight in shining armor was anything but honorable. For months you had been scheming for a way out, to no end. He knew everyone, had ears and eyes everywhere and was made privy to everything concerning you. You were trapped.

    Eduardo Nazario. He was an Afro Cuban entrepreneur and business owner who immigrated to the states as a teenager for a better life. At least that’s what you were told. Eduardo came from nothing allegedly and yet had amassed a small fortune by the time he was 25. He’d invested in several ventures—tech, healthcare, and pharmaceuticals. Legal and black market.

    It was like a fairytale. It always is in the beginning. You met while you were walking your favorite trail, as you did every morning. Apparently, as you rummaged through your Fanny pack, your keys fell onto the pavement. Eduardo found them on his run and caught up with you to return them. One look into those hazel eyes, and you were a goner.

    Things moved quickly with Eddie as you called him. Four dates in, and he wanted you to move in with him. That should have been your first clue. But you were blinded by infatuation and quite honestly, the upgrade to your life. You had a decent job that provided for you with an okay apartment and car, but with Eddie, you rolled in style. No more Honda’s, you rolled in a custom Audi with all the bells and whistles. Eddie’s sprawling condo in the middle of the city had high ceilings, marble floors, granite countertops, stainless steel everywhere and all the finest accoutrements to add. You fell hard, and you fell deep…..just as he wanted.

    All of your coworkers gagged over the constant deliveries of ornate bouquets and him swaggering into the office to pick you up for lunch every day. He was tall, dark and handsome, and gave you the world as far as they could see. You beamed like a star every day pulling into your job’s parking garage. After a while, he started to take you to work while his body man followed behind you in the G Wagon. Eddie “hated to see you go in the mornings”, and found this as a way for you to bond even more. Not quite.

    Eventually those keys of yours magically vanished from your purse one night and now you had your own driver, courtesy of your fiancé. He insisted it was for your safety; this was a point of contention for you. Your autonomy was being encroached on and you didn’t appreciate it. Eddie’s temper flared in a way that you hadn’t ever witnessed before and you never brought it up again. Slowly but surely, you were being molded into Eddie’s Black Stepford wife with not an original thought in your head.

    Eddie was so cunning about how he isolated you from your family and friends. He would allow only so many visits, and made sure you and him were conveniently busy any other time. Trapped. A puppet in his marionette theater and it happened right under your nose.

    A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and you wiped it quickly so it wouldn’t be noticed. This makeup costed too much. Your stylist uses the holding spray to keep everything neat, and yells for your bridesmaids to come see the finished look. They all file in and squeal like a bunch of hens. You force a feigned smile, and try to push some warmth into your eyes. Your maid of honor, Denitra could tell though. Something wasn’t right.

    “Y’all, give me and my best friend, the beautiful bride, a second to talk! Go on now, I am the maid of honor after all!”

    Denitra was the Solange to your Beyoncé—two different flavors and yet connected on every wavelength. Everyone exited the room and she came around and pulled a chair across from you.

    Cradling your hands, and looking at you dead in your eyes, Denitra quietly sighed. “Cold feet?”

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    285 notes • Posted 2021-09-18 23:28:25 GMT

    Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

    #my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review
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  • goddessofthundathighs
    22.12.2021 - 1 mont ago

    Nah cuz sis might’ve done something here 😂😂

    @theogbadbitch @chaneajoyyy @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @uhlxis @princessstevens @supersizemeplz @uzumaki-rebellion

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  • uzumaki-rebellion
    29.11.2021 - 1 mont ago

    Been busy...

    Waiting on edits from my editor for an indie book and I’m putting out another new indie book in February. Putting together a catalogue of indie books to release within months of each other. Giving my fanfic brain a rest while I do these things, then I’ll hop back into my Pantherverse to finish a ton of projects. Writing is my life now. I spoke to my Dad today over in Italy and he’s maintaining. The moment I get a chance, I’m leaving this country for a while. Nowhere is really safe for Black people (Black women in particular), but I miss my Dad and I am so tired of the U.S. He left back in the 80s and never come back. Like the Black ex pats before him, the U.S. is hostile to Black people flourishing. My Dad has been telling me for years, but I’m still connected to this country because of my Hoodoo roots.

    My dream is to travel next summer to Texas, Mississippi, New Orleans and South Carolina. I’m working on a supernatural NaNoWriMo project that deals with Black southern folk tales that @soufcakmistress reminded me of when I wrote “Ice Cold Jax” for her. My brain has been swirling with ideas and many of them come at me fast. I just love Black people and want to see our stories out in the world.

    Just wanted to let y’all know what I’m cooking up since I haven’t been updating. Been working roots and going more spiritual because of all the b.s. that’s been going on in the U.S.

    Sending you all positive vibes. Stay safe and healthy.

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